As I had established myself in the sociology lecture room, I sat at the most far corner, which was a quiet place.
The same monotonous lecture on societal norms and gender roles with its tonal approach to this matter, which the instructor delivered, lacked, in my opinion, any alternative to cruel irony. Even as I tried to focus on the images on the screen, my mind kept going back to the startling sight of my own hands, little and elegant, and not at all worthy of the tasks required of them like swinging a baseball bat or performing a deadlift.
This was comparable to a theatrically miscast theatre performance: I was an actor, thrown onto stage with a role, without any training, and each look and each murmur was a critical commentary on my acting.
The tight seated silence was broken on the vibrating ring of the bell. I gathered my writings in a rush that was brought by panic, keen on making me out of the hall before Hiroto could find me again. It was necessary to be alone, to breathe freely, without measure, without desire, without an examination.
I finally sought shelter in the courtyard, the place which is usually bustling but at that time of the day, quiet. under a cherry tree, weeping and its boughs covered with masses of pinkblossoms towards the end of the spring, I found a vacant bench. The tone was a welcome relief, in which I allowed myself to breathe out, and the weariness of the support of the Akari appearance to overcome me.
I said to myself, "This bench is the place of all places to lament in, is it?
The voice which responded was like the voice of wind chimes, pure, light, completely enchanting. I looked up and my breath was tasting the air as though the world was waiting.
Above, some figure of such unusual beauty had filled my vision; even Akihiro had known beauty, but this was something new. The long, straight black hair of her midnight colored hair was framing a visage which was a synthesis of classical grace with a sweetness which was very welcoming. There were faint creases on her uniform dress, and a pile of art books and half full sketchbook were carried about by her signs of her major.
She smiled, and the world seemed to become brighter; this was, of course, the cliche that was too much, but it was undoubtedly true. Not to worry, she added, and sat down on the other end of the bench rustling gently. I end up explaining strange things most of the time. I am Yui Kurosawa, a third year Fine Arts.
My head, which was under the control of the instincts of Akihiro, immediately estimated her presence. This was the type of perfection she represented, intelligent, soft-spoken, graceful things I would give myself much pains to interest myself at. But the expression of voice had been that of Akari: "Akari. I mean, Akari Tanaka. Second year, Sociology."
Yui smiled, her black eyes looking out into me with a warm and unstressed and uninhibited comfort, free of the carrion scorn of other male students. "I recognize who you are. The campus is not famous about keeping secrets. You are all called the Golden Blossom, owing to your hair, you see, she thought.
A contrained wince succeeded at the ridiculous epithet. Not too ambitious," I said to myself. Yui laughed a very fine sound. "Indeed it is. Yet precise. Akari-chan, you are undoubtedly beautiful, undoubtedly beautiful, undoubtedly beautiful....
There was something awkwardly lovely about a compliment which was given me by a really beautiful woman, without any promise or reply. At that moment an echo of the wish of Akihiro sounded, and he urged the temptation that, had I been myself otherwise, I should have sought reciprocity. Though as Akari, I had an overwhelming urge to have the real friendship in this tyrannical pretense.
In trying to continue with a veil of unconcerned nonchalance, I asked, "Do you habitually use this place as a getaway? Yui replied, only when the campus is too noisy. It is comfortable; no one here condemns it. She stopped and shook her head a little. "You appear... lost, Akari chan. Apparently you are still in search of the map to this place.
Her sense was disturbing, she could see what others could not, she had seen through, and seen what lay behind the surface of aesthetic forms. Well, perhaps that is so, I said to myself; and perhaps that is the modestest truth I had given myself the day before.
Yui smiled and her hand drew the cherry blossoms. Do not worry, do not worry, she said to herself. The map is in your hands, only make a choice of the direction you want to pass.
Calm replaced panic in a gradual way, looking at her illustration. Yui did not see me as something to conquer or something to unravel, she saw me as another person, on a bench. It is the first time when Akari, the girl, experienced an indisputable need of connection that was more than any romantic passion Akihiro had ever wanted to follow.
But still the part of the male kept on whispering: she would make a perfect partner. The sexual battle, then, was in search of a loveliest object.