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The creaking of the swings was the only sound that could be heard between the two of them.
Yūta was nervous and a little scared. He glanced at the girl sitting on the swing next to him. Her sullen gaze, the way her nose wrinkled slightly in a grimace of displeasure, and her lips pursed.
Yūta had been told she would be his friend, but he found it difficult to interact with her. Playing and talking with other children hadn't been so hard in his old home, but even though the girl beside him was as pretty as a doll, she had an imposing air about her.
"Hey, staring at others like that is rude. Didn't you know?"
The boy almost jumped, embarrassed that he had been as rude as she had said and that he had been caught in the act. He fidgeted with his hands.
The girl's name was Maki Zenin. Although she was a year younger than Yūta, they were the same height. Her hair reached her shoulders, and she wore a pretty kimono, but her manner of speaking was curt and challenging. She intimidated him.
"I'm sorry, Zenin-san," he apologized, embarrassed.
"I already told you not to call me that!" she snapped, her brow furrowing even more, and Yūta felt intimidated.
The boy remained silent, but his distress was too great. Everything was new to Yūta. Far from home, from his parents. Taken to a place he didn't know, with "relatives" he'd never heard of. In an environment that confused and frightened him.
Without realizing it, and unable to stop them, tears streamed down his cheeks. Hiccups and trembling followed. His chest ached, as if his heart were being squeezed.
"Why are you crying?" She snorted, confused. But it only made the boy sob more. If someone were to come looking for them in the garden and saw that scene, they'd think Maki had done something to the boy. Maki didn't want to be scolded, and she didn't know whether the Gojo clan used the same punishments as her family. "Hey, stop crying."
But it had the opposite effect, because the boy's tears and whimpers only intensified.
Maki was overwhelmed by the sudden crying. She thought maybe it was her fault, but he hadn't done anything that serious. Even so, she didn't think it was right to leave him crying and walk away.
With a small jump, she climbed down from the swing while rummaging through the kinchaku she carried. From the small bag, she took out what she was looking for. Standing in front of the still-sobbing boy, hands on her hips, she called to him in a clear, firm voice.
"You shouldn't cry just because someone scolds you. You'll be easy prey if you show yourself to be this weak."
Through tears, Yūta looked at her. He didn't understand what she meant. He wasn't an animal. How could he be prey to something? But only more hiccups seemed to choke him.
"Why am I here? Did I do something wrong?" He didn't understand why, after the accident with Rika, he had been brought to this place. Had he done something wrong? Thinking about it only made the pain in his chest intensify, and, with a broken voice, he finally said what he had locked in his heart: "I want to go home."
To his parents and his little sister. He didn't want to be in that big house with so many unfamiliar people. They were all dressed similarly to Maki, but the looks they gave him were strange and made him uncomfortable.
Maki's eyes widened briefly in surprise. She hadn't expected to hear him say that with such desperation. She didn't entirely share Yūta's desire to return home. However, it was impossible not to feel sorry for him. She remembered what she had been told about him and considered what she was about to say.
"You won't be able to," the sobbing became more desperate. Maki almost stepped back, surprised. Then she continued with a touch of urgency, "At least, not for now. I know Satoru studies in Tokyo, and he said we could too, but—"
"But what?"
"But he said we had to be strong first. That's why you need to stop crying."
Yūta tried to stifle his sobs, but the hiccups wouldn't stop. Besides his face being stained with tears, his cheeks, eyes, and nose were red, and something was running from his nose. To Maki, it was a pitiful sight. Somehow, it reminded her of her sister.
That must have been why, without thinking, she approached him and, with the handkerchief she'd found in her bag, wiped his face and nose. It should be unpleasant, but she was used to doing that with Mai. Maki's unexpected action took Yūta by surprise, and he fidgeted with his arms as he felt the handkerchief being rubbed against his face.
When Maki stopped wiping his face, Yūta shook his head quickly, and when his confused face turned toward her, Maki studied him closely. His messy black hair, his casual clothes. Above all, his large, bright, and sad eyes. Maki tilted her head, correcting her earlier thought. No, Yūta didn't remind her of her sister. He was more like an abandoned puppy.
Maki felt a pang in her chest as she remembered that she, too, was like an abandoned cat.
She clenched her fists and, with a determined look, took another step toward him.
"If you want to see your family, if you want to get out of here, if you want to survive, you must be strong. There's no other way, so don't cry anymore," she said, offering him her hand. He looked at her in confusion, but then tentatively took that hand, just as small as his own, and, with wide, expectant eyes, studied her closely. Maki continued in a softer tone, but no less determined, "You won't be alone, so let's become strong together."
Yūta was surprised. Even though Maki was younger than him, she was undoubtedly brave and determined. Maki wasn't just trying to comfort him; she was also offering him her hand and telling him she would be by his side. Enthusiastically, he nodded firmly at her words.
"I will. I will do my best to become strong."
In response, the hand holding his gave a squeeze, accompanied by a bright smile.
"You better be. You must become stronger than me, and I don't plan to make it easy for you. Understand?"
Yūta gazed at her with a mixture of fascination and admiration; the girl standing before him seemed bathed in the warm, bright rays of the sun. The sadness that had gripped his heart was replaced by something he couldn't quite name.
.
.
.
.
"Huh... What should I call you?"
Yūta asked as they were walking back to the residence.
"It doesn't matter, just don't use my last name. I don't like it, and besides... people here like it even less."
The hand guiding him was warm. Yūta hesitated, his gaze shifting nervously from the girl to the vast garden around them. "Maki-chan...?"
"No," she cut him off sharply. That was how her detestable cousin addressed her. Yūta looked at her, confused. "You can just call me Maki."
Even though she permitted him, Yūta felt uneasy at the mere thought of calling her so informally. He tried again.
"Maki-san..."
Maki resisted the urge to sigh. This boy was testing her patience. He is not as cute as Mai. Even so, seeing how difficult it was for him, she figured it was better than before. Surely, with time, he'd stop using that suffix with her.
"Okay."
The boy's face seemed to light up at her approval. With excited little jumps, he continued, "So, you can call me—"
"Yūta."
The smile with which Maki said his name, Yūta could only compare it to the rays of the sun.
"That's fine?" she asked when the boy remained silent. Yūta managed to nod, but couldn't speak. His heart was beating strangely. At his confirmation, Maki smiled again. And, urged him on, walked forward, and intertwined their hands. "Then walk faster."
It was bright and warm.