We went to the same high school, but Hayashi lived two stations away from me. in Tokyo, two stops might be a few minutes' walk, but in the countryside, that distance can easily be a trek of over an hour.
Stepping off at Hayashi’s station, I found an unfamiliar world stretching out before me.
"Let’s go."
For Hayashi, of course, this was a world she knew by heart.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled me along, heading straight for the ticket gate. Come to think of it, we were still holding hands.
The rhythmic drone of cicadas echoed from the distance. My hometown was even hotter than the city center; even now, in September, the midday heat was unbearable, enough to make sweat bead on my forehead.
"How long a walk is it to your house from here?"
"About thirty minutes, I think."
"There's no way we're walking that."
"I guess not."
In front of the gate, we reached a point where we had to let go. Hayashi released my hand with a lingering sense of reluctance. I suspected she dreaded returning home so much that she wanted to cling to the hand of someone like me for as long as possible.
Thinking that gave me a slight pang of guilt for bringing her here.
"Let's take a taxi," she suggested.
"Good idea."
I went along with it.
We found a cab at the station rotary and headed toward her house.
Perhaps because we were no longer alone, Hayashi’s words grew sparse. Lately, she rarely spoke to me when other people were around. I used to think it was out of a sense of disgust, but today, her silence felt different.
Watching the scenery blur past the window, she carried a nostalgic air about her. Not long ago, she had chosen to live with a man and abandon her hometown. She had likely believed she would never see this place again. Seeing it now must have brought a torrent of emotions welling up inside her.
"That’ll be fifteen hundred yen."
I paid the fare, and we stepped out of the car.
We stood together in front of a house in a quiet residential area.
"…Is this it?"
"Yeah."
Unlike her mood in the taxi, a heavy atmosphere now hung over her. Anyone could see how nervous she was.
"…I’m going to ring it."
"Go ahead."
Hayashi reached for the doorbell with determination. But her finger stopped short. It hovered there, unable to make contact, as if there were a vast, insurmountable distance between her hand and the button.
Her hand was trembling.
She had tried to steel herself, but the reality was different.
I didn't offer to ring it for her. Even though I had accompanied her this far, the issues between Hayashi and her parents were none of my business. I was an outsider. I couldn't be the one to force her hand.
Hayashi bit her lip in frustration. Her face practically screamed that she wanted to press it, but her body wouldn't obey.
Then, the front door opened.
"…Megumi?"
The woman who stepped out was presumably…
"…Mom."
Hayashi’s mother had come out for no particular reason, only to find the daughter she thought she might never see again. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes instantly shimmering with tears.
"Where have you been? Honestly!"
She pulled Megumi into a hug, her voice thick with emotion.
"…I’m sorry."
Hayashi’s apology was just as shaky. I felt like I understood exactly what she was going through—perhaps because we had lived together for a month. No, it was simpler than that; looking at her tearful face made it obvious.
"I’m so sorry, Mom."
On the train, Hayashi had voiced resentment toward her father, but she hadn't said a word against her mother. Since she was the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, the lack of complaints suggested she didn't hold a grudge. That was why she was able to be so honest now.
"…It’s all right. It’s okay. You came home. That’s all that matters."
"…Yeah. Y-yeah."
"And, who is this?"
The sudden shift in attention made me jump. I’d been so caught up in the emotional moment that I’d forgotten I was about to be dragged into a messy family confrontation.
"…Is he the boyfriend you mentioned before?"
"N-no…"
Hayashi was sniffling, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall.
"Oh?"
The mother’s gaze toward me turned instantly suspicious. Well, that was to be expected. I gave a weak, strained smile. A disaster right off the bat—I felt like crying myself.
"I broke up with him… He was abusive. He's the one who saved me…"
At her daughter’s sudden confession, the mother stood there agape. It was asking too much for her to process all that information at once. She likely didn't want to believe her daughter had been a victim of domestic violence.
"If it weren't for him, I… I… I could never have c-come back."
Hayashi’s voice was thick and congested as she sobbed. Her face was a total mess. Even when I had first taken her in, she had never let her emotions go this far. It proved that, despite everything, this was where she belonged.
The mother’s eyes softened toward me in an instant.
"…I see. I see… Thank goodness. I’m so glad you found someone kind."
She gently stroked the head of her weeping daughter.
"And you are… um…"
"Ah, I’m Yamamoto."
"Yamamoto-kun. …Wait, I think I remember seeing you at a high school class observation."
"You have a good memory."
I gave another awkward smile.
"I see. …Truly, thank you. Thank you so much."
"P-please, don't bow."
I flustered as she lowered her head deeply. I tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn't lift her head until she felt she’d expressed enough gratitude. Eventually, I just handed Hayashi a tissue I had on me.
Watching her daughter blow her nose with a loud honk, the mother looked strangely relieved.
"…So, Mom. Where were you going?"
Still standing at the entrance with swollen, red eyes, Hayashi asked her mother about her plans.
"Oh, that’s right. It slipped my mind."
The mother clapped her hands together playfully, then gave us a lonely, bittersweet smile.
"Since you’re both here, would you like to come with me?"
"Where?"
"The hospital."
The color drained from Hayashi’s face, as if she already knew what was coming.
"Your father," her mother said. "He's been admitted."