We Hate Each Other, But It Started With a One-Night Stand - Chapter 8

By the time they arrived at the aquarium, it was already close to seven in the evening.

Since there was still plenty of time before the penguin show, the two leisurely explored the aquarium, whose popularity was waning. Tropical fish, deep-sea creatures, crustaceans, mollusks—they toured the fantastical aquatic world inhabited by a diverse array of water-dwelling life.

Hatano and Shinomiya, finding it strange yet enjoyable to be touring the aquarium together. A situation that would have been unthinkable just days ago. Hatano, too, had initially thought it would be fine as long as Shinomiya enjoyed herself, but she ended up completely engrossed by the bizarre aquatic creatures.

“Ah, pufferfish!”

Suddenly, Shinomiya, unable to hide her excitement, relaxed her cheeks and pointed to one tank. Her eyes sparkling, she glanced at Hatano, urging her to look. Peering into the tank with its rocky terrain and sandy bottom, Hatano saw a dopey, puffed-up face that just happened to meet her gaze.

Unable to suppress a snort, Hatano quipped, “What are you looking at?” A few pufferfish came waddling over. Amused, Hatano watched the scene, while Shinomiya stared at the gathering puffers, her cheeks slack with delight.

Hatano gazed vaguely at Shinomiya, whose eyes shone, with no need to put on airs for anyone, looking like a girl beholding a treasure. Her refined profile, and a smile not meant to charm or deceive or mock, but a genuine one from the heart. So, you can smile like that too, Hatano murmured inwardly without voicing it, watching her until her interest waned.

Then, Shinomiya left the pufferfish tank with a satisfied air.

When Hatano glanced at her as if to ask, Had enough? the response was a story spun as they walked.

“…When I was a child. I used to draw pictures a lot.”

Hatano listened to Shinomiya’s words, spoken haltingly.

It was the first time she had spoken about drawing. Since she was about to share something related to her family background, which Hatano had been curious about, she couldn’t help but listen. Hatano feigned indifference, careful not to show overt interest or curiosity, and offered brief responses.

“I was never good at landscapes back then; I only chose subjects with simple, graspable outlines. Looking back, maybe constantly taking the easy way out led me to where I am now—but back then, I just enjoyed drawing fun pictures.”

Shinomiya occasionally stopped to gaze at schools of small fish, crustaceans, and them swimming gracefully in their confined world, seeing her past self beyond them.

“I often drew pictures of fish while looking at reference books. You know, elementary schools have book lending, right? I borrowed them often and drew at home. So, it was like copying. I was an ordinary creator, unable to produce anything moving or artistic on my own.”

Hearing the past tense, Hatano almost interjected. If she was an ordinary creator back then, what about now? Had she become an exceptional painter, or had she stopped creating altogether? She closed her mouth, about to ask, and stifled the unnecessary question. Hatano cast her eyes slightly sadly toward a nearby tank and locked eyes with a moray eel that had suddenly poked its head out.

“Just once, when I entered middle school, my older sis—my sister took me to an aquarium. With prize money from a contest, to a fancy one, not this one.”

What flashed back was that day, the exceptional person Shindo had shown her, and the watercolor painting she had created. Remembering that person, so similar to the one who had created a scene that seized the heart and was seared into her memory, Hatano murmured inwardly, So, there were impressive people too.

“She sounds like a good sister.”

“Yes. In every way, I was always indebted to her. When I struggled to improve, she taught me to draw. When I was about to break, she encouraged me. She took me to the aquarium just when I was thinking of running away from the world of painting.”

“She must have watched over you well,” Shinomiya said, narrowing her eyes nostalgically.

“…At the aquarium we visited then, I’m sure I looked at pufferfish like this too. It’s just a trivial old story I remembered now, of all times.”

With that closing remark, Shinomiya looked around the aquarium without meeting Hatano’s eyes.

She must have been a wonderful sister. Though Hatano still knew little about her family relationships, surely her sister always cared for Shinomiya. But witnessing the result that seemed unrewarded, Hatano felt a sense of helpless frustration.

She let out a sigh, squeezing it from her lungs as if pushing down her emotions, just as Shinomiya glanced back. It was that expression Hatano disliked—a faint sorrow masked by a smile.

The water’s reflection, created by the mercury lamps, swayed on her cheek for a moment.

“You’re the first person I’ve talked to about my family.”

It was by no means like the expression of special feelings in a romantic comedy; it was merely proof of friendship born from the intersection of time and emotion. Seeing Hatano’s complex expression upon hearing this, Shinomiya grinned, turned forward, and added,

“Please spend the rest of your life acknowledging that you’re just that much of a pushover.”

Even if told to think about the rest of her life, unfortunately, her life was too full of immediate concerns, not even seeing the halfway point. Muttering such thoughts to herself, Hatano watched Shinomiya’s back with a look that seemed to want to say something.

That she was a pushover, or that it was the first time she’d heard about her family. None of that mattered; right now, only the fact that she had turned away from painting gnawed at her heart. The reason she was so invested in Shinomiya was surely the friendship she felt for her deep down, but also because she could understand why Shinomiya had let go of her brush.

People who create things are a dime a dozen in this world. Unless you isolate yourself from society, you see countless people more talented than yourself. In her case, the person closest to her, the one who supported her more than anyone, was also the most talented.

Inferiority can break the brush in your hand with invisible pressure.

“Your paintings—I wish I could have seen them too.”

Trying not to let her true feelings show, Hatano said this casually. Not knowing what to convey, simply wanting the painter who had likely broken from disappointment to rise again, she squeezed out the words as if clinging to Shinomiya’s whims.

For a moment, Shinomiya’s pace faltered.

But she continued walking as if nothing happened, murmuring without looking back.

“You’re better off not seeing them. It’s a waste of resources.”

Murmuring this, Shinomiya had already stopped looking at canvases or anything of the sort.

The penguin show venue consisted of a small land stage surrounded by water and semicircular tiered seating arranged around it. Unlike dolphins, lacking dynamism and with no worry of getting wet, the venue was small, and the seats were close to the stage.

Eight PM. Surprised by the unexpectedly large crowd for this hour, the two sat side by side at the edge of the venue. The show seemed still in preparation, with awkward communication visible between the keepers and the penguins. When one keeper took out fish for food, the penguins spread their wings and waddled over. Each time one ate, the keeper patted it, but one started eating fish by sticking its head into a bucket—a rather chaotic scene. Yet, that clumsiness was endearing.

“Ador…”

Shinomiya, about to murmur, hurriedly closed her mouth.

Stealing a glance at Hatano, thinking she mustn’t show weakness, Hatano wore a somewhat listless expression, gazing vaguely at the stage. Seeing her like that, Shinomiya felt as if cold water had been poured over her heart.

It wasn’t a feeling of dissatisfaction or irritation toward her.

It was more like a faint sprout of anxiety.

That listless expression might be due to boredom. —Shinomiya thought so. She had proposed going to the aquarium, considering Hatano’s feelings, but was Hatano actually enjoying this time? Maybe she was just humoring her.

There was no need to feel guilty. The proposal had come from Hatano; she hadn’t been forced to come. But still, because a part of her had been excited about an outing with someone close, there was also a lonely feeling.

Shinomiya’s expression darkened slightly, and she was about to ask, Are you bored? But reconsidering, thinking it might sound accusatory, she closed her mouth.

Even so, Shinomiya couldn’t look away while holding this unease, and she cast her gaze at Hatano.

“…Are you bored?”

The moment she asked, Hatano’s vague eyes gained focus as if coming into sharp relief. Hatano turned widened eyes toward Shinomiya in surprise, remaining silent, unable to form words in her astonishment.

“You’ve had a bored look the whole time.”

Out of habit, her words toward Hatano almost took on a slightly confrontational tone, but she managed to restrain herself and ask calmly. After a moment, Hatano placed a hand on her forehead as if scolding herself and apologized, “…Sorry.”

Since she apologized so earnestly, Shinomiya couldn’t say anything more and fell silent. Even a white lie like That’s not true would have made things easier for both, but from their interactions so far, Shinomiya knew the person before her wasn’t the type to tell such convenient lies.

Hatano seemed troubled for a while, biting her lip and looking down, then slowly raised her face to look at Shinomiya. Her expression looked terribly pained.

“I’m not bored. Just—I was thinking.”

“…Thinking?”

“Isn’t it hard? Not being recognized by anyone.”

She repeated the words Shinomiya had once asked her, as if tracing them.

She hadn’t forgotten. Back then, envious and jealous of her dedicated way of life toward art, of the mental strength to live like that, Shinomiya had thrown those words. Realizing this, and that Hatano’s thoughts concerned her, Shinomiya showed a complex expression caught between guilt for making her worry and happiness.

“That you were superimposing your own image onto me, weren’t you?”

At Hatano’s continued pointed remark, Shinomiya didn’t know how to respond.

Of course, it was spot on. But admitting it outright might deepen Hatano’s worries into a labyrinth, and besides, it wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss cheerfully. Still, at this point, she couldn’t deny it, and Shinomiya resignedly closed her eyes.

“…And if I was?”

“I was thinking if there’s anything I could do.”

Shinomiya involuntarily opened her eyes wide to look at Hatano. She was staring at the stage with an utterly serious expression, deep in thought. She was saying, from the bottom of her heart, something almost naively kind—the sort of nice sentiment ordinary people would hesitate to say soberly—like an impossibly good-natured, boundless do-gooder.

Hatano, as a person, was genuinely trying to do something for her.

No, she should have known. Though Hatano pretended to be a cool-headed realist, her nature was that of a passionate teacher from a Showa-era drama who couldn’t abandon those close to her. She should have known, but hearing her say such things seriously again felt slightly surreal, and Shinomiya almost laughed.

And yet, she was aware of her own heart-warming to those words. There was a pleasant warmth, like holding your hands before a kerosene heater in winter. In a complex state of mind, as if beaten with a rolling pin, Shinomiya gazed at the clumsy person before her.

She liked being acknowledged by someone. Even if it was out of lust or jealousy, it was fine. As long as her existence as Shinomiya was affirmed, anything was okay. But this affirmation, different from anything she’d experienced before, felt pleasant.

It wasn’t pleasure or relief. Just a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Since I’m also someone who creates and delivers things, I think I can understand at least a little of the anguish you carry. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t ask, but if there’s something that would make you feel better to get off your chest, I’ll listen. If that anguish shaped who you are now, I want to do that.”

Hatano squeezed out the words with a terribly pained expression. —Really, such a pushover.

Shinomiya hid her cheeks, which felt like they might relax, with her hands and sank into thought.

The ‘Shinomiya’ household was a family of artists. Not just her parents and sister, but almost all blood-related relatives belonged to that world. Every time someone created something, people in that world praised the Shinomiya name. Among them, the extraordinary watercolor painter ‘Rokai’ achieved dazzling results transcending family background, circles, and national boundaries.

A genius called a ‘miner,’ who embedded unspoken deep-seated desires, wishes, and emotions into landscapes. That was Shinomiya’s sister, her parents’ pride.

“…About my family, no matter what anyone says, nothing will change.”

Shinomiya murmured quietly and looked at Hatano, who wore a sad expression.

Guilt smoldered in her heart like a banked fire. But this was her own problem, not something anyone could fix. It was the problem of her own weakness and running away, so she wouldn’t shift blame. Still, just a little, the will to open her heart to Hatano was sprouting within her.

After thinking for a few seconds, Shinomiya forced an expression that said, Well, fine.

“But, just once. Only once, okay? I’ll be honest with you.”

Starting from the worst first contact, and even though they were in a relationship where they couldn’t respect each other’s way of life. Opening her heart a little to someone who was agonizing for her sake was probably a perfectly healthy and correct action as a human being.

Hatano looked suspicious. Shinomiya, aware her face was growing slightly warm, glanced at the penguin show about to start and whispered so no one else could hear.

“—Right now, I feel incredibly fulfilled.”

Hatano’s suspicious expression turned to surprise. Embarrassed, her face grew so hot it felt like summer. Shinomiya hid her ears with her hands, futilely trying to cool down as she spun her words.

“Since abandoning painting… no, probably for the first time since the day I picked up a brush until now. Coming to a place like this with a relationship not based on gain or ulterior motives, seeing each other, talking seriously. For the first time, I feel like I’ve learned there’s this kind of joy.”

Her body grew so hot her throat felt dry, so Shinomiya swallowed. She hadn’t known being honestly open-hearted could be this embarrassing. Her face burned as if she might cry, and afraid to check how she appeared in Hatano’s eyes, Shinomiya looked down slightly.

But surely, the reason she favored this current relationship was because they could talk while looking each other in the eye, so Shinomiya, though embarrassed, raised her face to look at Hatano. She was looking at Shinomiya’s confessed feelings with an expression that seemed to say she couldn’t believe it. The faint blush on her cheeks was probably because she was a little embarrassed too.

After crossing various lines like sex and sleepovers, what were they even being shy about now, of all times?

It was absurd, but even that kind of relationship felt comfortable.

“I’m really happy you’re worrying about me so much, but right now, thanks to you, I’m having fun. So please, don’t worry about unnecessary things too much.”

That was the last of her honest words. She had said what needed to be said. Fanning her flushed face with her hand, Shinomiya suddenly turned her face away from Hatano. They were at the aquarium Hatano had brought her to, about to watch the penguin show she’d wanted to see. There was no time for any more unnecessary conversation.

Glancing furtively at Hatano, she saw her frozen with a still-surprised expression. Wishing she would just say something, Shinomiya held onto her vague unease as, beside her, Hatano finally moved.

After showing a slightly embarrassed expression herself, Hatano gave a small laugh. But as if to say such a smile couldn’t contain her emotions, a moment later, she showed a genuinely happy smile from the depths of her heart.

“I see. That’s good.”

The moment she heard those simple words and saw that unusually innocent smile for Hatano, Shinomiya felt something tighten around her heart. Her heart began to pound thump-thump, and in response, her blood and body grew hot. She felt a gnawing hunger deep in her gut.

But Shinomiya averted her eyes from what was beginning to stir in the depths of her heart and looked at the stage.

“…It’s starting.”

“Ah, yeah. Right.”

Shinomiya pressed a hand against her chest, which ached with a sweet, constricting pain, desperately trying to steer the conversation away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hatano watching the stage, having seemingly cast off all her earlier worries, enjoying it wholeheartedly. Objectively observing herself, as if mocking her own inability to focus on the stage this time, Shinomiya suddenly looked at Hatano’s hand resting beside her. She pressed her own hand firmly against her chest, as if to suppress the restless, leaping heartbeat, and took a deep breath so Hatano wouldn’t hear.

She felt like she might lose it if she didn’t do something, and she resented Hatano for it.

—It’s all your fault.

Muttering such an excuse-like thought in her heart, Shinomiya placed her own hand on top of Hatano’s resting hand. She intertwined her index finger, as if to not let her escape. Hatano looked at her in surprise, but Shinomiya, her ears burning hot, kept her gaze fixed on the stage.

It’s fine. I’ve always been this kind of person.

Using charm on someone, getting them to acknowledge me. So even now, she probably only thinks, ‘There she goes again.’ Staring at the stage with a bit of anxiety and tension, eventually, Hatano slightly bent her own index finger and grasped Shinomiya’s finger. Shinomiya almost turned to look at her in surprise but desperately held back. Pretending not to notice the emotion welling up slowly from the depths of her heart, she was finally able to focus on the stage.