A sleepless night.
I struggled against drowsiness amidst extreme tension and anxiety, falling into a hazy, light sleep; when I opened my eyes, it was already nine in the morning.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw deep dark circles and bruised-looking sockets under my eyes, which, combined with my slightly curly hair, made me look like I had overindulged.
I sighed and put on a pair of black-framed glasses to cover them up.
The young girl's breath had brushed against my fingertips; the heart is connected to the fingers, and at that moment, a world-shaking change occurred within me.
Why did she do that?
It must have been out of guilt, or perhaps an accidental, subconscious gesture. That's the only way I can make sense of it and suppress the trembling in my heart.
Fortunately, things between us seem to have returned to normal; she spoke more to me last night than she had in the past few months combined.
I slapped my face hard, forcing myself to perk up. I had divided the local specialties that arrived yesterday into small bags, freezing some and refrigerating others; Kusanagi didn't get to eat them yesterday, but there would be plenty of opportunities to cook for her in the future.
Speaking of which, I didn't see her this morning; she left even earlier than I did. Was she avoiding me on purpose?
I silently glanced at my fingertip. The band-aid had been replaced with a new one, and where the wound was healing, that soft sensation seemed to linger.
Stop thinking about it. I already lost a night's sleep over it; I can't waste the day too. Making a snap decision, I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and headed out, only to see a man standing at the door the moment I opened it.
Alex stood there radiantly by his Mercedes, holding a bouquet of roses and sporting a neatly styled haircut.
Confused and puzzled, I walked over to him and pointed at the roses in his arms. "What's this?"
"These flowers are for the most beautiful lady," he said, thrusting the bouquet into my hands.
"..." I didn't know what to say. I couldn't decide whether to take them or not, but my first thought was: Thank goodness Kusanagi left, otherwise this would be a disaster if she saw.
"Thank you for the trouble, Senior, but the school is only a few kilometers away. It's less than a ten-minute walk."
"I'm willing to be your personal driver."
It seems I need to find a time to talk things through with Alex so we don't waste each other's time.
Holding the flowers was inconvenient, so I opened the back door of the car. Just as I was about to put the bouquet inside, I caught a glimpse of a familiar, slender figure out of the corner of my eye.
Oh my god, speak of the devil. Why hasn't this little ancestor gone to school yet?!
Kusanagi had already changed into her winter school uniform, wearing a beige scarf but still exposing her snow-white thighs. In her right hand, she carried two bags of milk and sandwiches.
I pinched my finger in frustration. It turned out she had woken up so early to buy breakfast for me, only to run into this right as she returned.
I could feel Kusanagi standing not far away. Her dark pupils were narrowed, her expression was somber, and her cold gaze was like a frigid sword.
"Miss Kusanagi, what are you doing here?" I quickly tossed the bouquet into the back seat and forced a smile at her, feeling inexplicably guilty.
Her gaze shifted from me to Alex.
"Isn't this our lead singer!" Alex didn't sense the tension at all. He greeted Kusanagi happily, "Hi, we meet again."
The girl's face darkened further, looking as if she were about to explode at any second.
Taking the initiative, I quickly put my arm around her shoulders and coaxed her softly, "He just happened to be passing by to take me to school. We're at the same affiliated hospital."
"So he's giving you... roses."
The girl took out a bottle of milk. Just as I reached out to take it, she let go, and it shattered into pieces. Milk spilled all over the ground like crushed pearls.
Looking at the remains on the ground, I immediately felt a headache coming on.
She's definitely angry. We just made up yesterday after so much effort, and now we're doing this again?
The girl sneered, "It's the first time I've seen a 'normal friend' give roses."
"This bouquet... he bought it for Li Shijia. Ask him if you don't believe me," I explained desperately. Having seen Kusanagi's temper yesterday, I knew she could be difficult like a stubborn child, so I had to placate her first.
"Senior, you bought these flowers for Li Shijia, right?" I winked at him.
"What?" Alex's emotional intelligence was practically zero. Not only did he repeat my words, but he also replied in confusion, "No, I brought these specifically for you, Miss Nozawa."
"..." I wished I could kill him with a single glare.
Now there was no way to explain. The evidence was right there. It was like the calm before a storm; the girl's face was unnervingly composed.
"Um, did I say something wrong?" Alex finally grasped the situation.
I shot him a look, and he immediately took the hint and shut up.
The winter wind was bleak and cold against the three of us, while the air conditioning inside the car was as warm as spring. Worried about Kusanagi's bare legs, I could only think of a way to get her into the car.
Alex respectfully made a "please" gesture. He had stopped talking, but he hadn't missed a single one of these little movements.
"Who wants to ride in your car? Can you just get lost?" the girl suddenly barked, making no attempt to hide her disgust and sarcasm.
Both Alex and I were stunned. This was incredibly out of line, no different from a public insult. Someone with a shorter fuse might have snapped right then and there.
"Little sister, have I offended you in some way?"
His good upbringing made him very tolerant of women. After all, he had only met her once, and he truly couldn't think of how he could have offended her enough to make her this angry.
"The roses are so beautiful. Is there something wrong with giving them to Miss Nozawa?"
"If I don't like it, I don't like it. What reason do I need?"
At the mention of the roses, the girl's anger, which had barely subsided, surged to its peak. "What garbage flowers! They're hideous. Let me tell you, Miss Nozawa doesn't like flowers, and she especially won't like flowers from you!"
Her words were truly excessive. Being so young, she didn't know how to hide her emotions and showed no mercy even in front of an outsider.
Alex was getting a bit annoyed. He had spent a long time carefully selecting these roses as a birthday gift. Why was this brat being so confrontational? It wasn't even for her, so why was she being so picky?
"Whether she likes them or not is for Miss Nozawa to decide." As if realizing something, Alex crossed his arms and said teasingly, "Wait a minute, why are you so angry that I'm giving flowers to Miss Nozawa? Do you have a crush on me?"
"Don't be disgusting," the girl said coldly. "I've never seen someone as thick-skinned as you."
Alex smiled. "Oh? Then why are you so angry?"
The girl glared at him, her dark, lustrous eyes filled with coldness. "I'm warning you, don't send flowers again. She doesn't like them, and Rainbow Media won't like it either."
Rainbow Media? Tokyo's Rainbow Media?
Now it was Alex's turn to be surprised. His father had mentioned the largest entertainment media company in Tokyo; his family's business relied on that company to run smoothly. Wait... Kuroki Kusanagi... the head of Rainbow Media's last name was Kuroki.
No way...
His casual, arrogant air mostly vanished, and he didn't recover for a long time. This was a threat. He really couldn't understand; he was pursuing Miss Nozawa, so what did that have to do with this Miss Kuroki?
"Is Kuroki Reika your father? Little sister, why are you targeting me?"
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
I listened from the side, completely bewildered.
"Take your stupid flowers and get out of here, and take your car too."
"..." Alex ultimately couldn't find any words to retort. He could only give me a helpless, pained look.
I'd have to be a fool not to understand what was going on by now.
"Miss Kusanagi, stop it."
It was the first time I had spoken to her with such emotion. By any logic, she shouldn't be saying such things to someone older, especially since he was a friend who had helped me.
Kusanagi was startled by my tone. Her red lips were pursed, and her eyelashes fluttered incessantly.
Seeing her expression, my tone softened slightly despite myself. "In terms of age, Alex is still your senior."
Alex had been helping me all along. As a friend, he was loyal, and as a senior, he had taught me a lot. Even if she didn't want me to have a boyfriend, she didn't need to treat every male like a threat, did she?
"Why are you friends with someone like that?"
"He's in the same major as me, he speaks Chinese, we're the same age, and we even share the same birthday. Isn't that enough to be friends?"
"Birthday?" Kusanagi finally seemed to snap out of it. She murmured, chewing over the words. "Your birthday is..."
"Tomorrow. Why?" The topic had changed quite rapidly.
Alex said resentfully, "Yeah, Miss Nozawa and I share a birthday. These flowers were meant as a birthday gift for her." He wasn't being entirely honest; that was only half the reason.
So that was it. I gave him a helpless look. Why didn't he say so earlier?!
The girl stood dazed for a long while. Then, she stuffed the sandwiches from her bag into my arms and turned to run away.
"You didn't take your own share, Miss Kusanagi!" I called after her, but she didn't listen.
Surely she isn't completely furious now.
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
I rubbed my forehead in pain, a wave of helplessness rising deep within me; high school girls really are the most difficult creatures in the world to understand.
Kusanagi had headed out early in the morning, guitar on her back, in a huge rush; she hadn't even eaten breakfast, as if she had something very urgent to attend to.
I guessed she was still angry, as she was still acting on her own terms, wearing a short skirt that revealed her two milky-white thighs.
It's truly impossible to guess what a high school girl is thinking. One day she's gentle and tender, and the next she acts too busy to even know you; if she weren't only sixteen, I'd suspect she was some kind of seasoned expert in love.
I sighed. It looked like I would be the only one eating these local specialties. It was a rare day off, after all—my twenty-fourth birthday—and with no classes or shifts, I could finally relax for a day.
It had been nearly two weeks since I last cleaned the apartment, and dust had accumulated in the corners; it needed a thorough cleaning inside and out.
After an afternoon of work, the fifth-floor balcony looked brand new. However, it was freezing, so I closed the windows and doors, turned on the heater in the living room, and started a video call to chat with my family.
Mom was wearing thick, dark red pajamas and fiddled with the camera for a moment to aim it at herself. "Daughter, how are things in Japan? In a foreign land, your health is what matters most. Take good care of yourself, and buy whatever you want to eat."
"I know, Mom. Mr. Kuroki is very kind; he left a large sum of money for me."
"Then you must thank him properly. He is your benefactor, and you should repay him if you have the chance in the future. By the way, how are you getting along with Mr. Kuroki's daughter?"
"Pretty well." I paused. "Where's Dad?"
"Your dad has been wanting to call you, but he's thin-skinned. He talks about missing his daughter every single day, yet he won't make a single call to you. If you have time, reach out to him more often; he'll be very happy."
"Okay." I smiled and took a sip of water.
"You're about to be a twenty-four-year-old young woman; why don't you have a smile on your face for your birthday? You've been stony-faced the whole time."
"Do I?" I touched my face. Only my mother could detect such subtle changes in my mood.
"I'm your mother, I can tell at a glance. Why are you looking so glum today?"
Since coming to Japan, the number of times I've chatted with my mother has decreased. I always assumed it was because of my busy studies, but I alone knew the truth: while there were many things to worry about, there was only one person who truly troubled my heart.
But this matter was sensitive, and I couldn't speak of it to my mother.
My mother was born to intellectuals who were teachers; she was the eldest and had a sister three years younger, whom I called my aunt. My aunt treated me like her own daughter, never failing to provide me with delicious food and drinks, and it was thanks to her strict demands regarding my studies that I was able to get into a good university.
"Mom, let me ask you something." I deliberated for a moment, racking my brain to come up with an example. "How was your relationship with my aunt when you were little? Were you like normal sisters, or just normal friends?"
"Why are you asking this all of a sudden?"
"Didn't you ask how I was getting along with Mr. Kuroki's daughter? She's seven years younger than me, so she's practically a younger sister." I smiled. "So I'm coming to you for advice: how do you get along with a younger sister?"
"That's a long story." Mom looked very nostalgic. "Your aunt and I used to bicker every single day when we were little. As the older sister, Grandma nagged me constantly to take care of her—'You're the big sister, you should yield to her more.' Why should I?! I was the one who had to cook and wash the dishes, while she—she just took advantage of being younger and did nothing, and she was doted on by your grandparents. Anyway, I felt that being the older sister was not good at all."
I rarely heard Mom talk about her childhood, so I listened with great interest.
"Being the older sister meant you were supposed to be a beast of burden. In those days, your grandmother's monthly salary was only thirty yuan. I wanted to buy a pencil case for two yuan, and she wouldn't let me, but when your aunt needed new glasses for her nearsightedness, they'd spend dozens of yuan without a second thought. Adults are often unfair; they can't treat all their children equally, and they always favor the younger sister more. Your mother here just had to suck it up. Back then, I made up my mind that I would only have one child in the future, and definitely not a second."
"So that's how it was." I made a cup of milk and stirred it as I spoke. "Mom, even though you say that, you still love my aunt very much, right?"
"Her? She's the only sister I have. If I don't yield to her, what else can I do?"
I smiled. Being domineering—it felt exactly like someone I knew.
"Then Mom, when you were little, did you ever want to kiss your younger sister?" I threw the question out casually. "Look, children are all very cute when they're little, all chubby and soft. Older siblings would want to get close to them, right?"
"Well, yes, I did, but only when we were a few years old. Once we grew up, she became annoying! Let alone kissing, even a dog would find her bothersome."
"Not after you grew up?"
"No. Occasionally, if I even touched her, she'd complain about me."
My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly recovered. "And when you bickered when you were little, was it always you who coaxed her?"
"Of course. The older one naturally has to coax the younger one."
"Then did you ever give your younger sister a bath? Did you touch her body?"
"Why would that be embarrassing? Bathing together between sisters is perfectly normal. But again, it's the same—after growing up, that stopped."
"I see."
We chatted for a while longer, and after Mom gave me some nagging reminders, I hung up the video call, my mind in turmoil.
According to that logic, the relationship between Kusanagi and me wasn't one of sisters, and certainly not one of friends, but rather a feeling that was impossible to fathom.
I thought I had grasped it, but it quickly vanished again—faint and elusive, itching at my heart from time to time. This feeling had reached its peak during the cultural festival, but could it really be that?
Suddenly, I couldn't think of a word to describe it.
I didn't dare to think any further and rubbed my brow.
After drinking a cup of milk, I felt a bit hungry, so I got up to make myself a pancake. My LINE message to Kusanagi had, as expected, received no reply.
She didn't intend to come back today; she was intentionally avoiding me.
I stared at my phone; it would be a lie to say I wasn't disappointed.
Before I knew it, it was 7:00 PM. The chilly wind of Tokyo, accompanied by snowflakes, drifted over the neon-lit land. I opened the balcony window, and snowflakes drifted one by one onto my palm. The distant rooftops were gradually being inlaid with a layer of silvery-white; the blanket of white snow had a unique kind of beauty.
It was the first snow. Tokyo's winter looked exceptionally beautiful.
Admiring it alone was, in the end, lonely.
I stared silently at the expanse of white. Through the falling snowflakes, I looked down from the balcony and inadvertently noticed someone standing at the entrance.
The young girl, with black hair and ink-colored eyes, was particularly conspicuous against the snow-covered ground. She was carrying a pure black guitar on her back, and white snowflakes had already settled on her jet-black short hair, which was enough proof that she had been standing at the entrance for some time.
She was wearing a beige scarf that made the tip of her nose look bright red, but even the large, fluffy scarf couldn't conceal her stunning features.
Her bare knees were slightly red, and her long, white thighs were pressed together as she stood still at the entrance.
My gaze could no longer be drawn to the snowy scenery; it was firmly locked onto her.
How many times had I warned her not to wear short skirts? Yet she was stubborn and disobedient, always insisting on doing the exact opposite.
Standing at the entrance, why didn't she come inside?
I was just about to call out to her, but then I thought that this young lady might still be angry with me. So, I simply put on my coat, pretended I hadn't noticed her, and opened the front door directly.
Kusanagi was looking down, hesitating and pacing at the entrance. She didn't expect the door to open suddenly, and the two of us locked eyes, caught off guard.
"Y-you, why did you come out?" she asked in surprise, a little bit of cute snow resting on the tip of her nose.
"Why aren't you coming home?" I stared at her face beneath the scarf, then scanned her thin school uniform, feeling a sudden, inexplicable pang of heartache.
"No, I just arrived."
She was truly terrible at lying.
"It seems the snow is falling quite heavily; you've only just arrived, and you're already covered in snowflakes." I didn't expose her lie. I took off my warm coat and draped it over her, instantly wrapping the slender, petite girl in it.
"If you don't intend to come in, at least put on another layer before you go."
The coat, which was a bit too long for her, enveloped her in the searing warmth of the other person. Her frozen hands and legs regained sensation, only to be overwhelmed by a sweeping sense of heart palpitations.
The young girl instinctively pulled the coat tighter around herself and took a deep sniff.
"So warm." She buried her face in the coat. "It smells like Miss Nozawa inside."
"If you don't like it, then give it back."
"I'm not giving it back; this coat is mine now."
So domineering. I curled the corners of my lips helplessly.
"Hey, the snow scene in Tokyo is beautiful. I'll take you to go tread in the snow." The young girl gazed at me earnestly with her dark, glossy, amber-like eyes.
Treading in the snow was quite a unique birthday present.
"Okay." I curved my eyes into a smile.