I, Haruto Maruyama, have a childhood friend. Her name is Kanon Kiritani.
Her mother is British, and her father is Japanese, and it seems her mother’s genes are quite strong.
She’s a beautiful girl with honey-colored hair, clear blue eyes like a pristine lake, and skin as fair as porcelain.
Despite her lovely, doll-like appearance, her personality sadly takes after her father, who is a university professor, making her quite difficult to get along with. She’s headstrong, stubborn, and with her keen intelligence, she isn’t easily swayed by shallow words.
Even now, she doesn’t have many friends, but it was especially bad when we were younger.
Well, that makes sense, since children don’t usually have the patience to put up with challenging personalities.
That’s why, the day we first met, she was all alone.
That day, I was in a different group at kindergarten, playing with my friends and keeping an eye on her so she wouldn’t get hurt.
Then, out of the blue, I noticed her crouched alone in a corner, so I went over to her.
She stood out, and I felt a bit of a maternal instinct kick in, wondering if her appearance had made her feel isolated.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching ants.”
“Is it fun?”
“Not really.”
I tried to speak kindly, but her blunt response made it clear she wasn’t interested in small talk. She didn’t even look at me, just kept watching the line of ants intently.
She was a tough one. Most kids would probably have given up at this point, and I chuckled, realizing this might be seen as meddling. Unsure if she cared, I decided to try one more thing before leaving her alone.
“Do you know why ants don’t get separated from each other?”
For the first time, she looked at me.
Her almond-shaped blue eyes, which seemed cold at first glance, held a flicker of curiosity within.
Ah, so she likes this kind of topic, I thought, and shared what I knew.
“Ants leave a scent on the ground that only they can recognize as they walk. So if you move some of the dirt in their line, like this…”
I scooped up some dirt, breaking up the path, and the ants, who had been moving together, lost their way and started wandering off in different directions.
“What do you think?”
“That’s interesting.”
“You like things like this, huh?”
“I don’t hate it.”
Showing a strong interest, she started poking at the ant line. It seemed she was the type who liked logical things.
This was how I met her, and, somehow, our relationship has continued ever since. Maybe it’s because my own background is a bit unusual.
I was born on Christmas, December 25th. Being born on such a special day, I am special in other ways too.
Why? Because I have memories of my past life.
I was born into an ordinary family and lived a quiet life as the oldest of six siblings. But on a snowy day, just as I turned thirty, I was hit and killed by a car that had skidded on icy roads.
I felt a gap between my mental age and those around me. Perhaps because of that, I could be patient with her personality and see the good in her.
She doesn’t speak much, but she never lies. Even if something isn’t convenient, she recognizes it as a fact. She’s rational, straightforward, and honest.
Her birthday gifts to me were practical, like academic books or a rugged, waterproof watch. I couldn’t help but laugh at her practicality.
Personally, I like her personality. Though, it does cause me quite a bit of trouble.
* * *
[Elementary School]
In elementary school, boys often teased her. Probably, they were just curious about her.
“Hey, you arrogant girl. Your hair’s as weird as ever.”
“…”
“Hey, say something!”
“You look like you don’t score well on tests.”
“How do you know that?!”
“I thought so.”
“Shut up, you!”
I didn’t interfere much, thinking it best not to, but whenever things got dangerous, I would step in.
I know it’s not the best personality trait, but having grown up with many siblings in my past life, I couldn’t help but look out for others.
“Hey, come on, let’s all play nicely. Look, I even made a quiz game that everyone can enjoy.”
“Haruto, quit getting in the way!”
“Look, there’s no fun in beating a girl in a fight, and your parents will get mad. So, let’s settle it with a game. I even included questions about your favorite soccer players.”
“Alright, fine.”
“Kanon, is that okay with you? You like things like this, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate it.”
The other kids must have found it interesting, too, and soon, a lot of them gathered, and we split into groups to play. Just as I was stepping back to play quizmaster from afar, Kanon tugged at my shirt.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Then could you let go of my shirt?”
“…”
She didn’t say anything, but her almond-shaped blue eyes looked softer, almost vulnerable.
“Alright, I’ll stay here.”
“Mm.”
Surprisingly, she can be quite lonely, though she’d almost never admit it.
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