simple people
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그래 아 우린 슬픈 거야
– 오혁, Bawling
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"Houtarou, will you be going back to Kamiyama this Spring break?" Satoshi asks over the phone, his voice now a little deeper.
The question makes sense as the two are in their mid-twenties, working adults.
"Hmm, why?" Oreki asks, eyeing his computer and listening to the dull chatter of his co-workers.
It's not that Oreki's swamped with too much work to take a vacation nor is he so attached to his work that he wouldn't want to leave it. It's just ... he finds it pointless to go back. He's building his life here, now, in the city; he's made a decision, he's decided and he will commit to it.
Oreki has never travelled around the world like his sister, he is not that exciting of a person. He is not spontaneous. He is simple. He graduated high school, went off to college and got a job. He followed life by its rules because he tells himself there is no point reinventing the wheel.
"The Doll Festival." Is all Satoshi says and it stirs something in Oreki's chest. "Chitanda-san is –" Satoshi starts, a new opening for his sentence before Satoshi's voice trails off.
Chitanda is what?
The small hesitation in Satoshi's speech gives Oreki time to sweep over his surroundings. His work place; an office job that is so simple, so small compared to life outside of its cubical world. It is grey and average, and so him.
Satoshi clears his throat. "This is the last year Chitanda-san will play as the doll for the Doll Festival."
"Ah," Oreki says, feeling the need to loosen his tie and breathe in a little bit more deeper. "I'll think about it."
"Mayaka and I are going." Satoshi chirps as if the fact that Ibara being there is going to change his mind.
"That's … nice." Oreki utters. Then the conversation ends just as awkwardly as it had started. Oreki excuses himself for a smoke break even though he does not and will never smoke, and grabs his white coat as he closes the door behind him.
Outside, near the stairs and on top of railings that stretch straight, Oreki tries to clear his head. It's so hot inside that stuffy company building; his collared shirt sticks to his sweaty back and Oreki is fortunate enough to have a breeze cool him down.
Feeling hot in the middle of Winter … it suddenly strikes Oreki of how different Kamiyama is compared to Tokyo and its busy city life.
Oreki looks upwards, gazing at the wide blue sky as birds fly freely. He is twenty-four and perhaps more than a little too late.
;;
Despite every fibre in his body telling him not to do it – as it goes against his motto, seeing that the trip is something that he does not have to do and it is not something he can do quickly – Oreki takes a week off anyway and rides the train back to his hometown.
The train is something Oreki has grown accustomed to, its speedy travelling is nothing compared to the slow bike rides he was once used to in his youth. It seems like a lot of things have changed (except, perhaps, him).
As Oreki slowly dozes off in his seat, clutching onto his worn backpack, he catches the sight of something pink from the corner of his eyes, but he does not blink.
;;
Satoshi is just as skinny and androgynous, and Mayaka is just as small and just as fierce when the day comes for the old Classics Club members to meet for the festival.
Regardless of all of this, Oreki can't help but think of every little difference. Especially now that he is standing among the oh-ing and ah-ing crowd, watching Chitanda from the front instead of the back. The taiko drums and Chitanda's traditional twelve layered junhitoe and the red umbrella brings him back to memories of when he was sixteen and grey.
.
.
.
He thinks … he thinks he has to talk to her.
(because what speaks more in volumes than unfinished business?)
;;
He sees her after Chitanda has washed off her make-up and dressed herself in regular clothing; a silky shirt and a long pink skirt. Her hair is still as long as the last time he saw her.
He goes up to her, wanting to ask for a chance. He wants to tell her he's changed for her, but when the silence answers him, he finds another reason, another excuse to talk to her.
"How are you?" He says because he doesn't know how to greet her. Because he no longer knows how to talk to her. But the question rolls off his tongue as easily as her endless curiosity comes in waves.
A gentle smile touches her face. Chitanda retells him the same old stories she tells everyone else. She tells him about the land and the rice fields, the old people and the ancient shrines. She tells him about Kamiyama and how she is tied to a place she believes cannot amount to much, not with its old ways.
Chitanda is retelling him these things because there is nothing new to tell him. She is bound to this land, and Oreki is not.
;;
They take a walk along the old dirt path and catch up for old time's sake despite it being clear that there is nothing to talk about.
He walks along her side, matching her pace and overlooking vast greens, a complete bridge and cherry blossom petals. It's Spring but …
Both sides have come to a dead end.
The silence continues, both saying nothing so Chitanda walks ahead and drinks in the view. The outline of her back faces him; hair falling over her shoulders, arms clasped and palms open. It all seems so familiar yet so different. His naïve sixteen year old self thinks Chitanda is in a different world; ahead of him, figuratively and literally.
.
.
.
His twenty-four year old self thinks so too.
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Oreki has always wondered why nothing had ever become of them … until it hits him – it is because he's been the type to look sideways, finding the easiest route out – "I don't do anything I don't have to. What I have to do, I do it quickly."
He's been so used to looking at her in the eyes that he's never bothered to look out for where she was going.
.
.
.
Actions speak louder than words.
(but he's always been the quiet type and he only does things if he has to)
.
.
.
We didn't do anything, that's why we're nothing.
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end
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Notes: Fuck you, brain, you're supposed to be finishing all these other 15 drafts and two other Hyouka drafts, what the hell is this?
– 6 August 2018