🌸Cherry Blossom Palette🎨
🌸Chapter 42: Introspection🎨
Written by EmtenDew
Edited by P. serrulata
Author's note:
PS: Here pretty much marks the end of the puzzle/pathos "arc". 10 chapters of buildup. I'm happy with the final product, but editing differently could've saved at least a chapter and maybe 5K to 7K words.
ED: Unfortunately, I had some technical difficulties this week, and I somehow lost the finished Chapter 42. We've been able to piece things back together, but the second half is taking some time, so here's the first half.
After the eventful day with Sakura, Naoto turns over everything in his mind. It gets a little earthy, but he's alone with his thoughts and actions.
I didn't mean for things to go this way, but this chapter and the "second half" of it are kind of a recap as well as their own things, being mostly expositional.
Look for the rest of what was supposed to be Chapter 42 in the next week. It was almost 8,000 words, so dividing it was probably what we should've done in the first place.
Please look at the Q&A section I set up at the end of the chapter. Ask us anything, and we'll add another section in the next chapter. I would be happy if you ask questions.
Please enjoy what I wrote.
Friday, July 12, 2018
Occasionally, at the end of an extra-long day, Naoto Hachioji liked to flop into bed, cleanly landing on his back. There was something satisfying about it, but on this occasion, he dared not.
Having gained at least three kilograms in kalbi and sides at a yakiniku restaurant a couple hours prior, he still felt very full, and sudden, abrupt movement—and physical activity in general—wasn't welcome.
He'd received a message from his mom as he'd been walking home, but he hadn't noticed right away. His parents were officially stuck at the office overnight, and this didn't surprise him. The fact he hadn't answered wasn't an issue, his mom assuming he may very well have already been asleep.
With his parents out, Naoto had a nice, long shower, which he only did when he could get away with it. His parents weren't freaks about water conservation, but they didn't appreciate "wasting" water on a luxurious shower.
If you want to take your time, take a bath!
Both of Naoto's parents each indulged in baths two or three days a week, given enough time at home!
It didn't make the most sense, considering a bath could use an assload more water than any shower, but it was easier to simply nod and go with it.
Dragging and decidedly zonked by the time he'd entered the house, the shower had perked him up and refreshed him.
His stomach wasn't even bothering him all that much any longer. The first thing Naoto had done after pulling off his shoes was pop a few antacids, and that had immediately relieved him. He even had a couple more on his nightstand, and he knew he might need them.
The added fact he'd just taken one manga-sized dump, after stepping out of the shower, further alleviated his fullness. His body had ostensibly decided it required more room to deal with all that meat, so it seemingly advanced its schedule, apparently taking a pressure-washer to his intestinal wall.
It was so serious a movement, he'd hopped back in the shower for a subsequent, short-term cleaning.
But with all that extra space inside the old mortal-husk, he was objectively lighter, and as his bowels reformed around his distended stomach, he could even stand up straight with no major discomfort.
Though he'd planned to study a little that evening/morning, he contented himself with just relaxing and digesting. His studies were going well, and he was better off getting some rest.
All in all, he felt alright, but it would be a bit before he could fall asleep.
…
Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Naoto found himself thinking about the Thursday he'd just concluded.
The alarm clock read 12:07 a.m., making it formally Friday.
Yup… He'd figured he wouldn't be in bed before midnight, and he'd been right.
It was too bad he hadn't gotten in a bit of study since leaving school—already more than six hours past—and he surely hadn't gotten in a lick of it at the restaurant, though it had been intended.
Reopening a text gotten about a half-hour prior, Naoto beheld his coconspirator in this marked absence of booking and the superfluous ingesting of beef:
Sakura Inori.
Having promised to drop her a line when he got home, he'd messaged
Made it home.
She'd sent him a picture-text in response.
He got a better look at Sakura's friend Mari, and she appeared none too pleased with being in the "sexy-ish" selfie, both girls lying on a bed, Sakura in a set of borrowed PJs matching Mari's.
Around the blonde's head was a towel, and one look told him she was still in the process of drying off.
She must've hopped right into the shower after I left.
And… nope. Nope, she definitely wasn't wearing a bra.
Her clothes are probably drying in the laundry… I know I don't like wearing something two days in a row without a wash.
Naoto supplied a grim chuckle. He had a not-entirely-baseless suspicion that if he'd messaged her a few minutes earlier, she'd have sent him a far sultrier selfie, one with her clad in nothing but a towel.
Sakura-san: 1 | Naoto: 0
He shook his head, smiling, sure that such an action wasn't beyond her.
In the pic, Sakura, furnishing a roguish grin, was hugging the unhappy Mari close, their cheeks smooshing together.
Hmm…
Mari was pretty cute. He realized he'd seen her a few times at school, though he hadn't known her name, but he almost didn't recognize her due to the glasses worn in the selfie; he'd only ever seen her in what must've been contacts.
Maybe that was why she was so upset about being caught up in Sakura's pic… being "found out"…
But she might've just not liked an image of her in her PJs—in bed— being sent who knows where at such a late hour.
To Naoto, the latter reason seemed more realistic than someone finding out that she needed specs, but it didn't really matter. Naoto often still wore his glasses at home—he was currently.
That selfie though…
After seeing what he had of Sakura, mere hours before, he wasn't sure if something like this was out of character or in character or what character it might've even belonged to.
In any case, it was the first time the gal had sent him a picture-text.
And he'd cheerfully responded with a safe
See you tomorrow.
Naoto, catching that his comeback was lame, thereupon expected her to give him a
Boring Asshole-kun!
Or
I wanted to see you too~!
But he was instead rewarded with
\😘/
And that beat a kick in the pants, six days a week and twice on Sunday.
…
Man… dinner with Sakura-san…
It had passed with a blur.
There'd been plenty of laughing and smiling, he knew, but he found he remembered only snippets of it.
How can you not remember over an hour of your life, especially when it'd just happened?!
Naoto figured he'd just been having fun. Or he was tired.
Hell, maybe he was just that happy to be there…
Aside from resurrecting their discourse in the Laws of Man and the Codes of Girl and Sakura conceptualizing the depravity of the "barking aardvark", he clearly recalled only a few things.
Apparently, the Videogame Club was petitioning the school and other involved parties for the funding to buy the newer version of the VR system they already had, but those passing judgement were hesitant to grant the hundred-some thousand yen necessary for the purchase, for reasons too obvious and practicable to even combat.
He learned that Sakura enjoyed knitting, and she promised to show him sometime.
They talked about art, specifically the "vague clarity" of impressionism.
…
That really was about all he recollected.
Indeed…
How can you not remember over an hour of your life, especially when it'd just happened?!
…
What Naoto did recall was everything else before he and Sakura had beaten the lousy weather to the yakiniku eatery. And he could without a doubt summon up the walk home just had.
Despite remembering everything, it survived in a jumble.
What stood out—besides the bad stuff—was he'd heard all manner of crudeness from the gal. He kept bringing up the analogy of her having a faulty filter, and whatever served her as such had let past an awful lot of pernicious particulate.
Hearing Sakura say "pussy" had been nothing. She'd let loose some whopper blasphemies, not that he hadn't said a few profane things too.
She had gotten him to laugh, whether immediately, or as he lay on his own bed, evoking the many humorous and/or shocking lines she'd fired out with such nonchalance, she could've been touching up her eyelashes.
Sakura's definition of what a "pervert" was had been off-the-wall! The concept of some creep "getting stiffies" over subpar specimens of the object of his fetish was beyond funny!
It was "beyond funny", being so outlandish, it more accurately existed as its own thing.
I read it in a manga series I really like~.
He was really interested as to what manga Sakura was referencing.
And it was about legs~. It's something the villainess said to the hero.
It sounded like a hentai/RPG or something! He could conceive of that happening, some demoness capturing and tormenting a knight of questionable character and sexual inclination, testing his limits.
That aside, he hoped she hadn't been referring to him in some way when she brought up legs, but she'd left it very ambiguous, so he tried not to worry about it.
At least he wasn't a pervert!
He loved women's legs, but he'd never gotten hard over a lousy set, so that was encouraging.
…
I SO wanna read that manga…!
…
"…!"
Why didn't I try talking to her about manga and anime?! Naoto rumpled up his pillow, bludgeoning himself in the face a few times. You had the best chance you'd ever had in your life, and you didn't even try it! She would've told you all about that series with the legs, and she prolly would've blushed s'more too!
Naoto could've just looked the series up—and he probably would—but the idea of casually chatting with a girl about anime and manga was the stuff of dreams, and he hadn't been able to take that (probably not so) simple step.
There would be opportunities in the future, but he'd really missed a good one!
Being able to talk with a girl… a really cool girl… a very PRETTY girl… a friend… about that stuff without being baselessly ridiculed (but sometimes a little ridicule might be understandable) would be outta sight!
…
Back to the matter at hand, what constituted perversion—
That was nuts! Naoto esteemed.
And it had been one of the tamer things to come out of her!
Of the wilder stuff, he made an effort to not even think about where Sakura and Hana's girl talk at lunch might've gone if he hadn't thrown a wrench into their exchange of incidents and ideas.
Of note, there'd be no looking at a pickled plum the same way again, that was for damn sure!
And Sakura hadn't even "gone out of her way" to capture the foulness of it! It was just locker-room talk!
Despite his wanting to put it behind him, Naoto prayed she was unaware of him listening in, though there was no logical explanation as to why she'd know.
It had never come up when talking with her later.
And it already seemed far away.
He once more committed to just pushing the episode out of sight and mind, hoping it never resurfaced.
Yes…
It never happened… Naoto opted. I can live with that!
…
…
…
As has been stated, Naoto had made no goal of going into certain things with Sakura, but he was finding he could talk to her about almost anything.
They could hold discourse regarding the weather, food and beverage, their group's dynamics, the degree to which Hana revered her senpai, the fact that Sakura tanned in the nude, that all women wished to be beautiful, and much more.
He'd even gotten away with saying a cloud they were gazing at looked like a set of ovaries, a uterus, and all the other internal female-plumbing! Sakura had even commended him for spotting this phenomenon!
That was wild! He squinted, shielding his eyes from the ceiling light. If I'd said something like that to just about anyone else, I don't even wanna know what'd happen…
The above were just a few of the pleasant things they'd shared.
Naoto had told Sakura things that day he'd never imagined telling anyone.
Not long ago, he would've been aghast over sharing with anyone the fact he was riding a razor's edge, ready for a good, hard crying-jag, and that it was over something he was sure just about anybody would laugh at.
But he'd told Sakura that he was torn to pieces over the study trio they'd formed with Hana coming to an end.
That he was upset he wouldn't be able to STUDY FOR FINAL EXAMS anymore?
It sounded pathetic, but he'd enjoyed his time with his two kohai, learning and laughing and sharing snacks and their individual sets of knowledge, more than anything in months.
His time with the girls?
It had saved him. It had at least helped, alongside other support.
He hadn't been in the best shape to begin with a week ago, but there was one thing that had nearly broken him.
Always on Naoto's mind, but not perpetually in the foreground, with gratitude, was that wretched Saturday afternoon he'd spent with Nagatoro. He'd given her the benefit of the doubt, not that it had been easy or immediate, that she hadn't meant to cause him such anguish, but he was hurting over it!
The process of forgiving her was just that—a process—and he'd barely even started, postponing his own reconciliation with the events of that day until he didn't have to worry about his final exams any longer.
Saturday evening and Sunday morning had brought him hopelessness, and a part of him knew he'd never be happy again… that he didn't matter.
…
Sunday had changed that.
Hana cared for him. Sakura pulled his head out of his ass. And his parents were there for him.
He could be happy… He did matter…
He knew he was fortunate.
…
Monday had changed that.
Not only had Naoto had a great time studying and visiting the ice cream shop with the girls, but a small comment of his, a small wishing of goodwill, said in the despair of his Sunday morning, had brought about something truly wonderful.
Hana's grandparents had been blessed with 50 years together! He'd asked Hana to relay his goodwill to them, as Sakura had, and the longtime couple had gifted both of them with their own goodwill and wishes and encouragement he hadn't even known he'd needed.
He'd wept, taking in the brief message that Hana had shared with Sakura and himself.
He could be happy… He did matter…
…
Tuesday and Wednesday had brought more of the same.
Naoto knew Sakura and Hana had become friends. He knew he was their friend.
It was a joy, the creeping and increasing realization of that.
He was happy… He definitely mattered…
…
Four days…!
Four days of knowing he was loved had saved him.
What it had saved him from…?
He tried not to think about it…
…
And he hadn't even gotten to his Wednesday encounter with Gamo-chan and Yoshi!
Nagatoro's two closest friends were also on his side, he knew, and he'd known this for a while, but a healthy aide memoire never hurt!
Yoshi, Naoto was still trying to figure out, but Gamo-chan…!
The knowledge that Gamo-chan venerated him, as she did, still beggared the imagination.
It had hurt, each of them thinking the other possibly held hatred, but that couldn't have been further from the truth!
He could contemplate the tears he'd seen Gamo-chan shed or how afraid or left out she sometimes felt, but that wasn't the thing standing out to him.
What had really gotten Naoto was parting ways with her, that Wednesday afternoon.
You said you'd come to karaoke, and I'm gonna hold you to it~! You're coming this time, even if I have to drag you by your short-hairs! We'll get everyone together and blow the roof off the dump!
Getting that out of her, strengthened in his knowledge that she held him dear, had hit him in a way in which he'd never precisely been hit.
That had done it, nearly putting to rest the sick-making sensation he'd suffered for almost 16 hours, Saturday into Sunday morning, stuck on the conviction that he was worthless.
The reason he'd been shot through the heart so powerfully was lost on him, but such it had remained.
Subconsciously, what he wouldn't give for the final nail pounded into that coffin.
The sensation was always there, other than when he was too blinded by optimism to take heed of his manifest reality.
…
…
…
The entirety of the last week mattered, yes, but it was still the events of Thursday that Naoto was mainly contemplating.
Everything had been all… inconsistent.
Naoto thought that summed it up well; the five or six hours spent with Sakura had been all over the map!
Where to start…?!
Well, first off, the perception of the indirect kiss was dead. What had caused him plenty of grief a few times in the past was no big deal anymore, thanks to taking a pull off the juice he'd bought for Sakura—after she'd sampled it.
Yeah, that was something! Maybe this is how normies think…
The culling of the ancillary smooch had been a bipartisan incident.
What hadn't been biparty were the multiple times Sakura had challenged him, intentionally or not, her questions and intrigues backfiring, each instance rendering her a blushing mess (and sometimes he did the same).
Naoto hadn't tried to make Sakura turn candy apple red, but candidly—though ramblingly—telling her that she was pretty when she was in doubt of her appearance had accomplished this.
She's the one that asked! He hadn't initiated any of it.
Not long after, the gal had "coerced" him into playing a game, the object being to find out where she stacked up against the other girls in the category of swimsuit. She'd wanted to see him writhe just a wee, little bit, but she wound up folding like paper when she realized he had few qualms seeing her amusement through.
Maybe he wouldn't need to hold back so much with her.
…
The day furthermore convinced Naoto of Sakura's charm.
And this was different than the concept of mere beauty! He wished to be clear with himself. "Charm" encompassed other things!
Watching her "innocently" play in a puddle of wet sand, enjoying the grittiness…
That had been strange-ish… but picturesque …
Seeing her sprawled out next to him, laughing until she cried…
It was magical…
Taking in the way her entire being shifted as she moved, following her through the park as she strode barefoot in the cool, green grass…
That had been a vision…
When she'd turned to face him, pedaling backwards… that smile…
It had been breathtaking.
He knew it sounded douchey, but "breathtaking" did justice!
Yes… the gal had quite the charm to her.
…
…
…
No matter what way things had wound up before the night was over, there was no ignoring the bad.
And it had been bad.
The simple fact they were alone almost guaranteed Sakura would share with him some truth he didn't wish to know. They'd had some good times together, but the "success rate" of something dreadful rearing its head had been 100% going in, whether it surrounded him or her.
And lying beside her, in the park, several hours before, Naoto didn't see that 100% decrease.
Even if just being alone with her hadn't convinced him he was in for some awfulness, her manner shown upon asking him to stay with her, when he was ready to split, did.
There was no better way to explain it:
She'd steered him into what she wanted to tell him before he knew what was even happening.
By the time Sakura had sprung her first trap, permitting him his question allowed by the earlier "swimsuit game", Naoto had known he was in for it.
He hadn't given up on escaping, even when she tried to force the issue.
But her second trap was far more subtle, getting him started in volleying her anxieties with Hana.
And the next thing Naoto knew, he was embroiled in the two darkest things Sakura had ever disclosed to him.
It was bad enough that his forceful actions towards her and on her behalf had—facing facts—sexually excited her.
It was worse—much worse—hearing that part of her had felt the same way, frightened and fully believing he'd been ready to ravage her on his own kitchen floor.
He hated the conclusion he'd come to, comprehending she possibly delighted in fantasies of rape, but it stared him right in the face.
There was no way for him to know, just lying in his own bed, but what else was he supposed to think?!
…
That? That had just been the first thing.
…
Naoto trusted Sakura when she'd said she hadn't meant for everything to go the way it did, that everything up to that point hadn't been a setup, but it did nothing to change what wound up happening.
Having goaded him into reprimanding her for telling him something "not healthy" and "sick", she'd said plenty.
Her senpai had broken the seal, revealing something he'd only very, very mildly considered:
Sakura had been bullied in the past. Badly.
Naoto previously reasoned that the gal "had problems", but he'd never imagined she'd been put into therapy over any of them.
Still, it wasn't her being a "14-year-old with a filthy mind" that had seen her treated (that came up later), it was that people had hurt her.
He didn't doubt he was better off not dwelling on any of this, but it was difficult to avoid it.
She had been bullied.
Was it only bullying?
Naoto knew he might be able to relate to that, not that he'd compare what he'd experienced with her own troubles. He didn't know what she'd been through, and they were two entirely different people.
It was unlikely to be anything domestic or sexual in nature.
This was even more treacherous terrain, but he'd met her father.
There was nothing but affection there.
There was no reason to suspect anything "un-motherly" either.
Naoto had never met her mother, but he knew a few things about her.
Sakura's words sounded in his mind, and it wasn't the first time he'd thought of them since.
I never thought anyone would be willing to do that for me… fight for me… other than my parents… other than Daddy… No one else ever did… when I needed it the most…
She'd said this, referring to his "not giving a fuck", lacking any hesitation to step out into that Friday night rain—now three weeks past—and fight Nobuo Takata.
More importantly, it defied all logic that she'd revere her parents in that way if anything untoward was going on.
Be that as it may, there were an almighty shitload of relationships, events, devices, and fascinations—great and small—that abandoned reason.
Humans aren't exactly ruled by logic, in the end!
The stance Naoto could take was that whatever might've happened to Sakura when she was younger, she'd changed nearly everything about herself, hoping to escape the past she held, and she'd been living as "the gal" for nearly a year-and-a-half.
And she was hurting… deeply.
Naoto wasn't a shrink or anything, but it didn't take a decade of schooling beyond high school to tell him or most anyone else that Sakura, in some fashion, disliked herself. She may have even hated herself.
One didn't need much practical experience to reach that conclusion, but it didn't hurt.
He disliked himself, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, sometimes very little or none at all, but he didn't know how to pursue that which had been uncovered.
That had been bleak, what he'd come to know earlier that evening; he had no other word for it.
Naoto had begun to believe that he had a weak handle on Sakura, but her revelations had turned his perception on its ear.
He didn't understand her.
He wondered if he even got her.
And he'd never seen another person cry like that. The way she cried had been just as powerful and intense as had happened in his home, but it was different.
There was no better way to define it. It was just different, and he couldn't place it.
As awful as all that had been, Sakura's confessions hadn't brought an end to the evening.
Things had managed to make one Helluva turnaround, at least Naoto thought so. It had just taken some time to get there.
It staggered the mind, the gal—and he, the young artist—being able to smile again so soon.
It didn't make sense, but what did?
…
Finally communicating about their confrontation in the Hachioji kitchen, Naoto Hachioji and Sakura Inori had reached an understanding of sorts. It had been unpleasant, but it had been due.
Occasionally, any two parties needed an icebreaker to help things begin to flow… or flow again. The necessary unpleasantness had seemingly shattered the floe keeping the ships Hachioji and Inori from berthing.
Perhaps Naoto didn't fully understand or get Sakura, but a few things were plain to him:
She wanted to be happy.
She wanted to love herself.
She wanted others to love her.
She wanted friends.
And Naoto wanted all of these for her.
As much, he wanted to be her friend… he wanted her to be his friend.
Blessedly, as the two of them left the park behind, getting on with the day, Naoto was even more certain of it:
He and Sakura were friends.
Q&A Section
Sakura tried guessing Senpai's top 5 swimsuit girl list and failed. How does she personally rank the same list of girls?
ED: Seriously, I think nine people commented that they were very curious to see what Sakura's thoughts on Naoto's thoughts were.
And yes, Sakura has her own personal list, including where she places herself.
5th Nagatoro
4th Nekoba
3rd Yoshi
2nd Sakura
1st Gamo-chan
Please look forward to the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Questions and comments are welcome!