We Hate Each Other, But It Started With a One-Night Stand - Chapter 9.1

It was already 9 p.m. by the time they finished watching the penguin show and left the aquarium.

Outside was pitch black, and despite being in the city center, there weren’t many people on the streets. Amidst the scattered figures of what seemed to be people on their way home from work, the two of them walked along the road leading to the station, blending in with the crowd.

An unawkward silence hung in the air, and Hatano surrendered herself to it, bathed in the late autumn night breeze.

The crosswalk stretching before them began to flash its pedestrian signal. Normally, she might have hurried across, but a momentary hesitation made her stop, and as if by mutual agreement, Shinomiya stopped too. Suddenly, Shinomiya glanced sideways at her and asked.

“How was today?”

Since she didn’t specify what, Hatano tilted her head slightly, not understanding what she meant—”What are you talking about?” Seeing Hatano’s reaction, Shinomiya seemed to realize her own lack of clarity, yet with a look of reluctance and dissatisfaction, she glared at Hatano. Pouting her lips, and blushing as if to keep her voice from the passersby who had started to walk alongside them, she whispered in a small voice.

“The date.”

She hadn’t even considered for a moment that Shinomiya would refer to the time they’d just spent together as such. Hatano’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Shinomiya, looking displeased, corrected herself, “…The aquarium!” It wasn’t clear whether she was trying to tease Hatano or had opened her heart just a little to act spoiled, but reconsidering that no one would be jealous even if she were being seductive, Hatano laughed.

“Do I look like someone just enduring boredom?”

When asked that, Shinomiya thought for a moment before letting out a sigh, as if relieved.

She didn’t inherently dislike entertainment venues. The aquarium had been suitably enjoyable, and since starting university, her opportunities to go out with someone for leisure had decreased. It was a good experience, a chance to reconsider that such times weren’t so bad after all. Plus, she’d gotten to see an honest side of Shinomiya, one unconcerned with others’ eyes, so she really had no complaints.

Gazing at the red-light bleeding through the faintly misty exhalation, Shinomiya narrowed her eyes.

“…You really are a strange person, aren’t you? Don’t people tell you you’re weird?”

Watching the cars speeding past before them, Hatano searched her mind for any basis for that.

“I’m known as quite sensible, you know.”

“That’s a lie.”

The immediate denial, devoid of any banter or insults, left no room for rebuttal. It was true, it was a lie. While she didn’t have many friends, most of them called Hatano an oddball. Shinomiya watched Hatano shrug her shoulders with a slightly amused look, murmuring, “Common sense and good sense are a bit more restrictive than that.”

Hearing Shinomiya’s words, Hatano stopped the words rising from the back of her throat, closing her mouth once. Gazing at Shinomiya’s seemingly detached profile, she reflected on herself.

“…I’ve been saying plenty of restrictive things to you too, haven’t I?”

She had, and she probably would continue to do so.

Hearing that, Shinomiya’s eyes widened as if remembering something, and after a moment, she gave a wry smile. “That’s right,” she muttered with a pensive expression, casting her gaze toward the traffic light, which had turned yellow.

The traffic lights changed like falling dominoes. The pedestrian signal turned green, and they all started walking at once.

Matching her pace to Shinomiya’s, which was slower compared to the office workers heading home, they finally reached the other side. Mumbling, her voice blending with the exhaust noise of a turning car, Shinomiya asked.

“Do you still think so now?”

Unable to grasp the true intent of the question, Hatano looked at her profile.

A dark expression that seemed to blend into the night’s darkness, and eyes harboring a loneliness reflected in the green light. Within the mask so diligently maintained by someone who yearned to be recognized by everyone, was the face of a perfectly ordinary, slightly cheeky girl, starved for affection from others.

Because she felt the distance between them had shrunk a little, she hesitated in her reply. However, changing one’s stance just because they’d grown closer went against her principles. More than anything, precisely because they’d grown closer, her stance wouldn’t change. Shinomiya’s destructive, twisted need for recognition was unbearable to witness.

“…I don’t particularly mind if someone uses their charms to buy someone else’s desire. But, a way of life where you can only fulfill yourself by stirring up someone’s jealousy like that… it’ll collapse someday. And if you have no support when that happens, it’ll be hard to keep standing.”

Vague and terribly ambiguous, she spun out the feelings she’d held for Shinomiya in her heart.

“Before, I didn’t care. Whatever life you led was none of my business. But now, I’ve come to know enough good things about you that I can’t just dismiss you as ‘none of my business.’ If you want to be recognized by someone, I don’t mind taking on that role. So—”

As she spoke, aware her words were heating up, Shinomiya’s expression changed into a happy, yet somehow pained smile. Swallowing her words at that indescribably agonized expression, Hatano blinked, and the next moment, that expression transformed into a resolved smile.

“Senpai.”

Shinomiya stopped, staring at Hatano, and against the backdrop of passing cars and the lingering afterimages of yellow and red lights, she called Hatano’s name. When Hatano returned her gaze, Shinomiya took it as an acknowledgment and continued.

“Do you have a little more time tonight?”

The place Shinomiya, who had only answered ‘an interesting place,’ led Hatano to was an art museum located about ten minutes from XX Station in the city. Hatano was left speechless by the astonishingly vast grounds and large, clean exterior, but Shinomiya seemed quite accustomed to it. However—the closed gate, the dark path, the time nearing 10 p.m. It was clearly past closing hours.

“Isn’t it closed?”

“It’s fine.”

She walked over to the security guard standing by the gate, took something out of her bag, and presented it.

The guard had been looking at them suspiciously, but the moment he saw what appeared to be a pass Shinomiya showed him, he straightened his posture and gave a polite bow. “Confirmed. Thank you for your cooperation,” he expressed his gratitude, then said something into his radio while looking toward the building.

Immediately, the gate began to open with a sound. He gestured for them to pass through the opened gate.

“Currently, personnel are working in exhibition rooms 1-A through 3-C. The final exit time is midnight, so if you’ll be staying past that, please notify a museum staff member.”

“Thank you—this person is also with me.”

Shinomiya gestured toward Hatano and reached into her bag as if to show a student ID, but the guard, without checking, said, “Understood,” and gestured toward the building. Urged forward, Hatano stepped into the art museum after hours, looking at Shinomiya walking beside her.

There were various things she wanted to ask, but Shinomiya didn’t seem in the mood for casual conversation. Besides, she’d probably find out the answers soon enough without asking. More than anything, she could guess.

Normally, one couldn’t enter an art museum after hours.

But Shinomiya came from a family of artists, and her older sister held solo exhibitions overseas. There was no reason she wouldn’t hold them domestically too, and if so, her sister, or perhaps her patrons, would surely visit the exhibition site at some point. Of course, passes would be issued.

It wasn’t strange at all for Shinomiya, as a family member, to possess one.

But the fact that she could enter like this meant that right now, someone connected to her was exhibiting something in this museum.

Glancing at Shinomiya’s profile, her eyes harboring a dark, smoldering emotion, Hatano looked at the notice board beyond.

‘Rokai Solo Exhibition’—seeing that piece, hailed as the work of a rare watercolor painter, her doubts turned to certainty.

Entering the building from the main entrance, a security guard who spotted them rose slightly from his desk. However, upon seeing the pass, he sat back down and gestured toward where the lights were on.

Following the indicated direction, they heard voices, like chatting and laughter, coming from further down the hallway, around a corner. Soon, several people appeared from there.

Some, noticing their presence, greeted with “Good work!” while looking puzzled. They were probably museum staff. Hatano didn’t recognize their faces, but they seemed to judge that anyone entering beyond security must be connected.

However, the group that didn’t look like museum staff, upon noticing Shinomiya, wore expressions of disbelief and surprise. As if seeing someone who shouldn’t be here. With such expressions, they looked at Shinomiya, then bowed deeply.

“Good work!”

A greeting fit for a corporate president from a major company, directed at a mere student, a young girl. Hatano and the museum staff stared wide-eyed. Shinomiya looked awkward, lowering her face at such a greeting.

The tall woman gestured toward Shinomiya for the museum staff, who wore expressions asking ‘what’s going on?’

“This is the teacher’s younger sister.”

Hearing that, the museum staff immediately changed their expressions and straightened their attire. “G-good work!” they said unevenly, bowing. Listening to words that sounded almost like an apology for discourtesy, Shinomiya’s expression revealed a faint loneliness.

“…Good work.”

It was the first time Hatano had heard such a terribly inorganic tone from her. Feeling like an outsider, Hatano refrained from unnecessary comments and simply watched the scene from the side. But ‘the teacher’s younger sister’ meant her sister was the ‘teacher.’ That meant this solo exhibition was being held by Rokai and her associates. And since, to those associates, she was the great teacher’s sister, this treatment made sense, perhaps.

The tall woman, who seemed to be the representative, glanced briefly at Hatano before asking Shinomiya.

“What brings you here so late at night?”

“I came to see my sister’s… Rokai’s solo exhibition.”

Upon hearing that, the tall woman immediately relaxed her tension and wariness. Then, a hint of joy appeared on her face. An expression as if a difficult child had finally shown understanding, as if her feelings had gotten through.

“I see.”

The tall woman showed a faint smile, staring into Shinomiya’s eyes.

“If you had come during the day, the teacher would have been delighted.”

“My parents probably wouldn’t want a dropout showing up in broad daylight as Rokai’s sister.”

When Shinomiya coldly dismissed it like that, the woman fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. Unable to affirm or deny, the museum staff flustered awkwardly in the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Hearing Shinomiya’s words, Hatano’s doubts turned to conviction, and she closed her eyes as if savoring it. What a family, not wanting the younger sister to visit the older sister in broad daylight. Simultaneously, she could easily imagine the kind of environment surrounding Shinomiya.

The tall woman showed a lonely expression before changing the subject.

“Just a while ago, all the contractors left, so no one is in the exhibition rooms. We’ll keep the lights on for a while longer, so please stop by the security desk on your way out.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Please, take your time and look. The ‘Ultramarine’ the teacher worked on last year is magnificent.”

Shinomiya nodded as if bowing her head and started to walk past the group.

However, the tall woman, who had seemed curious for a while, looked at Hatano and spoke.

“And this person?”

Just when Hatano thought she’d remain an outsider to the end, she was called out, and she scratched the back of her head. Shinomiya stopped at the woman’s question, glancing back at Hatano for just a moment. She seemed unsure how to introduce Hatano. After a pause, with an expression suggesting she’d settled on a safe option, she turned back to the tall woman and indicated Hatano.

“My university senp—”

“—A friend.”

Interrupting Shinomiya’s words, Hatano looked straight at the tall woman.

For some reason, she felt she had to say it.

Receiving Hatano’s unwavering gaze, the woman’s eyes wavered as if shaken. She started to open her mouth in surprise, closed it, fell silent, and looked at Shinomiya. Shinomiya also looked at Hatano with some surprise, but considering her distant sister, parents who likely didn’t want their connection to that sister shown to outsiders, and Rokai’s associates… If those living in the world of art interacted that way, then surely she, who stood apart from it, should be the one to acknowledge Shinomiya’s existence outside that world, to be her friend.

For a short while, the woman stared at Hatano, then closed her eyes as if savoring something and smiled.

“Rokai is a watercolor painter who began her rise from a small competition seven years ago. That same year, her rare talent was discovered, and a certain major corporation became her patron. The people from earlier are from a department organized within that company, a gathering of art specialists also on good terms with the Shinomiya family.”

Shinomiya spoke as she walked, eventually passing through the hallway and entering a spacious area.

There, various watercolor paintings by the watercolor painter ‘Rokai’ were displayed.

Quite long and carefully written explanations were prepared for each piece. Peering at them, they seemed to document the history imbued in each individual painting.

Raising her eyes from the explanations to look at the works, a burning pain shot through the nape of her neck. The captivating depth showed another world spreading within those frames. The delicate use of color and the new facets of familiar scenes brought forth by a unique sensibility. Though unfamiliar with painting, she understood, without anyone explaining anything, why Shinomiya’s sister was called a genius.

Suddenly, Shinomiya stopped before one painting. Then, she faced it.

Following her gaze, Hatano looked at the painting and immediately felt her blood flow accelerate.

“It was when my sister painted this. That I gave up the brush.”

The title was ‘Warfire.’ Depicted was a mesmerizingly vivid blue hour landscape, and mingling within it, clusters of red lights in the far distance. Across the distant sea, the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood on the opposite shore were portrayed as events of a distant world. How many lives did each of those red lights take? The moment she saw it, Hatano found herself pondering, biting her lip at the sensation of her heart being gripped.

“It’s a work from when my sister was sixteen. Until then, she was called things like ‘young prodigy’ or ‘child genius,’ but with this one piece as a turning point, artists who recognized Rokai as a child disappeared. A certain famous writer, when introducing contemporary painters, apparently described her as ‘a monster who wields a brush.'”

Shinomiya turned quietly, looking at Hatano with lonely eyes.

“Rokai is undoubtedly a genius. I realized, ‘I can’t catch up to this genius.'”

Saying that, Shinomiya started walking again. Hatano wanted to deny her words, but phrases like ‘effort is always rewarded’ are only uttered by those who have been rewarded or those trying to convince themselves of it. Rather, she should probably argue with objective facts. ‘You can’t win against this person.’

“The Shinomiya family is a lineage of artists passed down through generations. It’s not ‘just happened to be that way.’ The entire clan continues to thirst for that existence, and from birth until they gain awareness, they are only allowed to touch such things, as if choosing to live that way themselves. Any field is fine as long as they are someone who expresses beauty.”

It was a terrible story. For example, a child who grows up watching their parents’ backs and wants to live in that world follows in their footsteps. If it stopped there, it would be a nice story, but if they were only ever shown that path, then there was no freedom of choice.

Paving a road and laying down railway tracks are entirely different matters.