The first time they ended up in the same class together was in their third year of elementary school.
She always carried a book around with her everywhere she went. A big, heavy book. A field guide. She was scrawny, had awful posture, and wore the same sort of black and blue clothes every single day. Her hair was pitch-black, save for a blue ribbon, and her eyes were black as well. Looking into those eyes was like staring into a pair of deep, dark holes. Anyone could tell at a glance that she was weirdo, and Rukana Shizukudani was no exception.
That was Rukana’s first impression of Itoha Hiiragi: that she was a strange kid. Itoha was isolated from her peers. Ostracized even. When there weren’t any teachers around, her classmates could say anything they wanted to her—do anything they wanted—without fear of consequence.
Every morning, Itoha would arrive at school to find a collection of random items piled atop her desk. Wadded-up pieces of paper, scraps of used-up erasers, weeds plucked from the side of the road, roots still covered in dirt, and dead insects were some of the more common offerings. Without fail, her day would begin with a trip to the garbage can to dispose of it all—except, that is, for the dead insects. She wouldn’t throw those out. She’d take them outside and bury them in the school’s flower bed, whether they were ants, flies, beetles, or anything else.
Itoha always carried a big, heavy book around with her. It was titled An Illustrated Field Guide to Moths and Butterflies—500 Species from All Across the World in Full Color! Complete Edition. Whenever she got a chance, she’d bury her nose in that book. Apparently, she adored moths and butterflies, and seeing how she went out of her way to bury dead insects of all sorts, her interest probably didn’t stop there. She must have loved bugs in general.
Her classmates, boys and girls alike, hurled insults at Itoha like they’d hurl trash into a garbage bin. They called her gross, disgusting. They said she smelled and that she was dirty or creepy and called her a monster or a ghost. They didn’t say it behind her back, either. They went out of their way to make sure she heard them. Itoha, however, never reacted. Whether she was reading her book or just staring at the ground, she simply kept at it, never saying a word in response. Someone would say, “She’s not listening,” a few people would laugh, and the process would repeat itself.
Rukana didn’t understand what was so fun about any of it. She didn’t understand, but she faked a laugh anyway, just to fit in with the group—even while internally, she thought that they were being idiots and looked down on them for it. Rukana thought that her classmates were stupid, vulgar morons who didn’t even understand how despicable they were. She was more interested in Itoha the weirdo than she was in any of them.
Rukana managed to learn Itoha’s address in no time at all. She also learned that Itoha often wandered around a park not far from her house, alone. Rukana didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she pretended to pass by the park and stumble across Itoha by chance. That was when she called out to her.
“What’re you doing, Hiiragi?”
Itoha was crouched down by the base of a tree. She glanced up without bothering to stand, her hole-like eyes turning toward Rukana. “Larvae,” she quietly replied. “I’m looking for larvae.”
“What sort of larvae?” Rukana asked.
Itoha’s hole-like eyes widened. “Cicada,” she said. This time, her voice was much louder—but it also trembled. Rukana could tell what that meant. Itoha was excited. She was ecstatic. “I’m looking for cicada larvae.”