"To make things clear, I want to ask you directly: Would you prefer if I
wasn't…formal with you?"
"Yeah, it would be easier if we could be casual. I mean, I'm not
someone you have to respect."
"Okay. Got it."
I shrugged, dropping my formal tone.
Ayase's eyes widened in surprise.
"That was quick."
"I gotta admit, it isn't easy to talk to you like we're old friends, but it's
the least I can do, since you're being so straightforward. As long as you're
up front with me, everything will be easier."
"Aha. I thought so."
She smiled. It felt like my first peek at a softer side to her beneath the
flat, cold-as-concrete impression she usually gave off.
"It's nice that we can hash things out like this," she said.
"Hashing things out, huh? That's a good way to put it."
She was right. That's exactly what this exchange was.
Ayase had thrown me the ball first by suggesting that I didn't have to
be formal while leaving room for me to decline in case I had some special
religious belief. Then I tossed the ball back into her court by checking
what she preferred, and we settled on neutral ground based on her positive
reply.
You might have thought that sounded like a perfectly simple and
normal conversation. But it was actually my first time going over
something so smoothly.
In most cases, humans seek understanding and empathy from others:
"You should understand how I feel even if I don't explain myself!"
"Why can't you see that what you're saying irritates me?!"
…As if a person could look inside someone else's brain. Humans
always expect so much from each other.
It's easier to lay out all the cards at the start:
"If you say x, y, or z, I'll get angry." "This thing is really important to
me." "I see. In that case, let's do things this way."
Exchange information about yourselves, not because you're hoping for
mutual understanding, but to give each other an idea of how best to get
along.
"Things would be easy if the whole of humanity could just be chill,
like you and me," Ayase said.
"Well, yeah, but that's not how it works."
I didn't understand her sensitivity to formal language. But as long as I
knew it was something she didn't like, I could avoid pointlessly stressing
her out.
All it took was a practical, mechanical approach.
If everyone went over their emotions with honesty and figured out their
differences, they could all be happy. But for some reason, that wasn't how
the world worked.
"My friends at school don't take me seriously when I talk like this,"
she said. "Instead, they laugh and ask me if I'm trying to get them to sign
some kind of agreement."
"That sounds tough."
"Yeah. So I cut ties with all but one person."
"Wow, that's… Geez."
That sounded like quite a bold, daring move. But the way she laughed
cheerfully as she told me about it was strangely refreshing.
"They were all people I didn't mind losing," she continued. "Trying to
get on their good side seemed like a waste of time when I had no idea what
they were thinking or when they might explode."
"Point taken… Oh, speaking of time, standing here's kind of a waste.
Want me to help you sort out your stuff?"
"That's nice of you."
"You might repay me one day, so it's a win-win."
"I see you've thought this through."
"I wish you'd stop teasing me…"
"I meant that as a compliment. Okay, where should we start?"
She looked around the room, thinking it over, then started mumbling to
herself.
"I guess I gotta start with that. Otherwise, we won't get anywhere," she
said, pointing to a cardboard box. "I'd like to put that one away first. Do
you have a box cutter?"
"Yeah, sure."
I went to my room, got a box cutter from my desk drawer, and
approached the cardboard box she'd pointed to.
"Oh, just hand it to me. I'll do it," she said.
"Don't worry, it's no trouble opening a box."
"That isn't what I meant. It's just that…"
Ayase seemed to want to say something, but I had my back to her and
was already slicing through the masking tape. There was a loud ripping
sound, and I saw white material in the box. I understood her reaction then
and regretted what I had done.
"That box contains…clothes," she said.
"I wish you would have told me that sooner!"
I averted my eyes from what I had just seen and backed away,
panicking. Ayase chuckled at my reaction. It must've been obvious I was a
virgin.
"Ah-ha-ha. You don't have to treat it like it's contaminated," she said.
"That's a little insulting."
"Don't you know how tempting stuff like that is for a teenage guy?"
"It might be if I was wearing it, but once it's washed, it's not that
different from a handkerchief."
"Oh no, don't hold it up like that. Please."
She pulled out the white cloth and playfully fluttered it in the air. I
knew it was only a piece of fabric, but it made me oddly anxious.
We were on the same page regarding interpersonal relationships, but it
appeared we had some major differences.
"I'll handle my underwear," she said. "Would you mind hanging up my
school uniform?"
"Uniforms are pretty provocative, too," I shot back.
"Settle down. If you get excited by everything, you won't be able to
help. Come on, don't think. Just work."
"R-right. Don't think. Okay."
I repeated the words and picked up her uniform, which consisted of a
shirt, skirt, and cardigan. I couldn't help noticing how soft everything felt.
"Huh?"
My hands stopped moving. The tie, probably designated by the school,
was a distinctive light green—the color of young leaves. As soon as it
entered my field of vision, I was overwhelmed by a powerful sense of déjà
vu.
"Hey…Ayase. Is this from Suisei by any chance?"
"Yeah. Are you surprised that a flashy girl like me goes to a prep
school like Suisei?"
"That's not why I'm surprised… I go there, too."