“My parents were incredibly strict. Ever since I was little, they forced me into one lesson after another. Calligraphy, piano, abacus, swimming, ballet... what else? Tennis, I think. Just... everything. I hated it. All I wanted was to chat with my friends or play house, but my father wouldn't hear of it. He was the worst. If I even breathed a word about wanting to quit, he’d fly into a rage, lecturing me about how I shouldn't throw away something I’d started. He’d be livid for the rest of the day, and I’d always end up huddled in the corner of my room, crying.
Living in that kind of cage must have done something to me, because my rebellious phase was a nightmare. But you know that, don’t you? You saw me back in high school. It started around my second year of middle school. I had a friend named Ishikawa, and the more we bitched about our parents to each other, the more emboldened I got. Before I knew it, I’d turned into a ‘rebellion monster.’ It was ugly, honestly. I refused to speak to my father at home and quit all my lessons without a word. I didn't care how much they yelled; I just ignored them. That attitude carried over into high school, and before I knew it, people started calling me ‘The Queen.’
To be fair, the people around me back then were mostly losers—people trying to use me to get to Akari, or people who wanted to ride my coattails so they could look down on anyone lower than them in the social hierarchy. But still, I enjoyed playing the Queen during those years.
University was... well, I’m not sure if I was actually doing well. I went to a different school than everyone else, and maybe it was because I’d finally left home, but I think I was living a much quieter life than before. I was still in the ‘popular’ group, I guess, but I wasn't at the top of the food chain anymore.
I-I’m serious, okay? I didn’t really go to mixers or anything like that. Even when I did, I wasn't interested in guys at all. I’m... I’m not lying, I swear.
Ugh... though I guess I did fall for that one asshole.
...Ahem.
Anyway, during university... I just wanted to stay away from my parents. To never go back home. That was all I thought about. Looking back, starting a relationship with a man like that was probably just a lapse in judgment.
When I contacted my parents to tell them I was moving in with him... even though they were the ones who officially disowned me, it was my way of saying I wasn't coming back. I knew my father would be furious if I told him I was living with a man. But I was fine with that. I think I probably just hated him.”
It had been a few days since I’d finally convinced Hayashi to go back.
Taking advantage of the two-day weekend, we were on the train heading back to our hometown. As the train approached our stop, Hayashi grew uncharacteristically talkative, dredging up old stories—likely a byproduct of her extreme nerves.
She was telling me things she never had before.
She became strangely hesitant at certain points, for reasons I didn't quite grasp, but I finally understood why she’d cultivated such a fierce persona in high school. Parental pressure. I see. It was a story I’d heard before, but it made sense.
“...Sorry. For making you listen to such a weird story.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was more entertaining than reading some cheap dime novel. More than anything, it felt real.”
“...I’m glad if it pleased you.”
Hayashi offered a modest smile. Facing the situation that awaited her, she clearly wasn't in the mood to laugh from the bottom of her heart.
“Also, I’m sorry. You were the one who suggested I go home. You probably want me to patch things up with them, but I’m not confident I can do that.”
“If you aren’t feeling up to it, I won’t force you to reconcile.”
“But my father is probably going to scream at you. He’ll say you seduced his daughter or something.”
“Well, the least I can do is stand there and get yelled at with you.”
“...He might even hit you.”
“I’d really rather he didn't.”
“I don’t want that either. If it were anyone else, maybe... but if he lays a hand on you, I don't know what I'll do.”
It seemed Hayashi still felt a deep sense of gratitude toward me for sheltering her. Honestly, I’d been indebted to her in plenty of ways too, so the debt should have been settled by now, but she was a loyal person.
“...Hey, Yamamoto?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you... suddenly tell me to go back home?”
I didn't tell her it was because her mother was looking for her through Akari.
I’d actually consulted with Akari about it at the university. I’d asked her if it would be better to tell Hayashi that she was the one who reached out. Akari had just laughed and told me it was absolutely forbidden. So, I kept her name out of it.
“This isn't the first time I've been concerned about your relationship with your family, is it?”
As I searched for a way to explain it, I remembered something. My words came out exactly as I felt them.
“It’s been about a month since you moved into my place. Your wounds are finally starting to heal. But the way we're living now... it's bound to fall apart eventually. That's why it's better to do this sooner rather than later.”
“...So you were just waiting for the right time.”
I stayed silent.
“Hey, Yamamoto?”
“What is it?”
“...Can I hold your hand?”
I wondered what had brought that on and looked over at her. Sitting there in the seat next to me, Hayashi was trembling.
Despite that rebellious phase she’d talked about, it was clear she was still terrified of her father. Between her story and her current state, it was obvious.
“...Here.”
I laid my left hand over her right.
My face heated up, just like it always did. I’ve never been able to get used to this kind of thing.
“...Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
I stared out the window at the passing scenery as the train began to slow down.