Her last line was delivered so stiffly that I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Saki definitely came across as a model student. She was the kind of person who couldn’t simply ignore a troubled child. In Saki’s eyes, I’d been labeled as a “troubled child,” like some kind of class representative for all misfits.
I’m in deep trouble. I never imagined finding myself being escorted by a girl.
Are you sure it’s alright? It’s lights out, right?” I inquired, glancing at the dormitory engulfed in darkness, resembling a house with all its lights turned off.
There was no longer any source of light to illuminate the area. When the lights were gone, the world took on a blue hue. The only glimmers of light were the flashlight in Saki’s possession and the pale blue moon glowing above.
“It’s fine. I’m trusted,” she reassured me.
“Trusted?”
“By Sasaki-sensei. She’s my supervisor and explicitly told me not to have anyone come to check on me so I can focus on my artwork until morning.”
“I see,” I responded, comprehending the situation.
“Therefore, even if it’s past lights out, nobody will come to inspect us. We’re in the clear,” she declared with confidence.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her self-assuredness.
“That’s quite impressive,” I playfully teased her like a mischievous child.
“I know,” she responded, equally confident. Her response only made me laugh harder.
“That’s why I'll walk you to the spring. I brought you here without asking, so let me at least do this much. Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep from worrying,” Saki insisted, her concern evident in her words.
Just go to sleep, I thought, but deep down, I knew if tried to go home alone, she would follow me in secret.
“Okay, let’s go to the spring,” I conceded, realizing arguing was futile.
Saki answered with a simple “Yeah,” and we embarked on our journey together. Walking alongside Saki, the distance to the spring felt much shorter, perhaps because we didn’t pass by any scenic spots along the way.
We found ourselves in a familiar area, nearing the spring. Amid the forest, I couldn’t help but worry if it was right for her to accompany me this far.
“Who needs an umbrella anyway? We can get one tomorrow, right?” I silently regretted not suggesting this earlier. However, as I glanced at Saki walking by my side, she seemed happy.
“Thanks, Saki,” I expressed my gratitude, the cool breeze brushing against my skin.
“What’s wrong? Suddenly thanking me?” she asked.
“No, I was just thinking that I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone,” I said, realizing her support throughout the night.
Various thoughts raced through my mind, but in the end, I chose to trust Saki’s kindness. Maybe it was the sight of her joyful expression that influenced my decision.
The path leading to the spring was dimly lit and had treacherous slopes. If I were alone, I doubt I would have been able to navigate it safely. I felt a sense of relief knowing Saki was with me.
We arrived back at the spring, greeted by a serene atmosphere. The surroundings were enveloped in silence, interrupted only by occasional whispers of leaves dancing in the wind. The chorus of cicadas, once echoing through the summer mountains, had now faded away, leaving behind undisturbed tranquility.
A faint image of the full blue moon adorned the surface of the spring, a reflection of the nocturnal scenery. As I gazed quietly at the night sky, a moon of the same deep blue hue hung directly above the spring, mirroring the one in Saki’s painting.
Without wanting to interrupt my contemplation, Saki stepped away, heading toward where the umbrella had been left by the spring. I couldn’t help but feel apologetic for the trouble I was causing her. As I observed her figure receding, an unfamiliar sensation tugged at my heart. We had only just met, yet there was an unexplainable ache within me.
Why was this happening? Why did being around her stir up such emotions? I questioned myself, struggling to fully comprehend the unfolding feelings.
Saki retrieved the umbrella and returned to my side, breaking through the perplexity that had gripped me. As she uttered, “Sorry to keep you waiting,” a gentle warmth embraced my heart. The sensation was incomparable, unlike anything I had experienced before.
“I’m home,” she said, and in that moment, I realized that being in her presence felt like finding a place I truly belonged. Was it our shared age? Our common interests? The answers eluded me, leaving me puzzled and uncertain about the depths of my emotions.
“Shall we head home?” she asked, and at that instant, a sense of unease washed over me. It seemed that I had yet to fully grasp the complexities of the emotions blossoming within me, leaving me in a state of confusion.
“Shall we head back?” Saki’s voice lacked its usual energy, and it was then that I noticed her trembling brown eyes, brimming with sadness.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, concern evident in my voice. Saki, who had returned from the spring, seemed visibly distressed.
“It’s nothing,” she replied, forcing a smile and shaking her head. But it was clear that her smile was not genuine, and something weighed heavily on her. It was as if she had left a part of herself behind at the spring, and only her empty shell remained.
“Saki?” I approached her, realizing that it wasn’t just my imagination. She was truly feeling down, and it was reflected in her expression.
Unable to find the right words, I reassured her, “If it’s alright with you, I’m here to listen. Whatever you have to say, I’ll be here for you.”
“Really… it’s nothing,” she replied weakly, attempting to be strong like I often did. In that moment, I realized how similar we were, both trying to bear our burdens alone.
I struggled to find the right words of comfort for Saki, who seemed different from her usual self. As I heard a faint rustling from Saki’s hand, my gaze lowered to discover a small white piece of paper. It was the note she had written earlier and tucked under the umbrella before we left the spring. Was this the reason for her melancholy?
My intuition, which was usually bad, sprang to life. I wanted to be there for Saki without any preconceived notions.
“I’m here until the blue moon ends.” Her words echoed in my mind. Her voice had carried a sense of loneliness as if a story she had been reading had abruptly come to an end.
What significance did the white paper under the umbrella hold? Was she waiting for someone in this very place? Was that white paper intended for someone other than Saki?
“That’s… a letter?” I managed to utter, my voice strained and barely recognizable.
Saki’s delicate shoulders quivered as she nodded, her gaze meeting mine. “Yeah… that’s right.”
A searing pain gripped my chest. At that moment, I realized that Saki’s trembling eyes, strained voice, and presence at the spring were not because of me. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I mustered the courage to ask, “Who are you waiting for?”
My curiosity about her deepened, intertwined with an inexplicable desire to remain by her side indefinitely. Then, I recognized the dormant emotions within me for what they truly were… love.
“Isn’t this what an older sister does?”
“I’m… a child of the Hinata Dormitory,” she said.
“Hmm… Good boy, good boy.”
A quiet silence filled the air on a summer night with just the two of us. Saki took a small breath and looked at me.
“I’m waiting for… my first love,” she said, revealing her answer.
The feelings that lay dormant inside me were surely… love. I was in love with her.