Chapter 1
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Chapter 1: Happiness On A Flat Surface
“Fuuka, you’re amazing.”
When I was little,
I was really happy when Dad praised me like that.
But…
“Yumemi, you’re such a clumsy one.”
It was always my younger sister who got her head patted.
That made me feel very lonely.
[Fuuka’s POV]
May 23, 6:30 AM.
I woke up thirty minutes before the alarm was set to go off.
Without feeling like going back to sleep, I sat up in bed.
Opening the thin curtains and the poorly fitted window, I squinted at the sunlight and took a deep breath.
I like the cool, crisp morning air; it feels like it cleanses my body.
I put away the futon in the closet, took a hair tie from the small accessory box, and slipped it on my wrist.
Then, still in the sweatshirt I use as pajamas, I left my room.
Our forty-year-old house creaks noisily with every step I take.
But I don’t dislike that sound.
It reassures me that I am truly here.
Descending the narrow, steep stairs, I found Dad sitting cross-legged in front of the tea table in the living room, sipping tea.
Mom was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
“Good morning,”
I called out. Dad glanced at me briefly and replied,
“Oh, good morning.”
Mom, however, didn’t respond, keeping her back turned to me.
Since this was usual, I didn’t let it bother me and continued walking.
After using the bathroom, I headed to the washroom and found someone already there.
A small back.
Her light-colored hair was cut straight at the shoulders and looked soft.
She seemed to have washed her face, but couldn’t open her eyes due to the water. She was groping around for the towel on the sink.
Watching her silently, I saw her hand miss the towel repeatedly, so I reached over her shoulder, grabbed the towel, and handed it to her.
“Good morning, Yumemi.”
“!?”
Yumemi — my younger sister by one year — shuddered at the sound of my voice and pressed the towel to her face, her shoulders trembling.
She leaned back against the wall, looking frightened.
“You’re up early, Yumemi,”
I spoke, but there was no response.
Again, I didn’t let it bother me and stood in front of the sink.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I turned around to find Yumemi still there, which surprised me a little.
“Yumemi?”
I called her name, but she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact.
After waiting a while and seeing she wasn’t going to say anything, I turned my back to her and stepped out of the washroom.
“… Because I’m slow.”
A faint voice reached me from behind.
I stopped without turning around, and she continued.
“Because I’m slow, I have to get up early and get ready, or I’ll be late…”
Her small, halting, and raspy voice was hard to hear, but it was a response to my earlier words.
A conversation, if it could be called that.
Could it possibly be that such a thing could have happened just as a dream?
How long has it been since Yumemi and I exchanged words?
Maybe not since we wished each other a happy New Year.
On impulse, I turned around and briefly met Yumemi’s eyes.
She quickly looked away with a jerk.
I, too, became tongue-tied, turned forward, and simply said, “… I see.” before heading back to my room.
I changed into my high school uniform, stood in front of the mirror in my room, undid the hair tie, and lightly combed my long, straight black hair.
My hair is naturally straight and rarely gets a bedhead.
After finishing my grooming, I checked the time and saw I still had plenty of it.
Breakfast would probably be the usual: reheated miso soup from yesterday, some pickles bought from the supermarket, and maybe a fried egg if I was lucky.
Since my family doesn’t have the habit of eating together, I decided to stay in my room a bit longer.
Even if I went down early, I couldn’t expect a pleasant family gathering.
I reached for my study desk and picked up the sketchbook I’d left on it.
Flipping through it, I saw smiles on every page.
Dad.
Mom.
Yumemi.
The family I drew.
I felt my mouth twist into a smile.
Such beautiful smiles.
In reality, I had never seen them.
—I used to love drawing.
On a blank sheet of paper, I let the graphite run.
With these hands, I could create as much happiness as I wanted on a flat surface.
But…
In the end, they were just drawings.
My wishes.
As I kept drawing, that thought grew stronger and stronger.
Eventually, I realized I both loved and hated drawing.
Even so.
“…”
I sat in my chair, spread the blank page of the sketchbook on my desk, and picked up my pencil.
Today, too, I drew my wishes.
Giving in to the irresistible urge, I captured what I couldn’t put into words on paper.
Ten minutes later.
I looked at what I had drawn.
Yumemi’s face with a beautiful, almost artificial smile.
Another smile spread across my face.
Of course.
I was drawing something I had never seen in real life.
I closed the sketchbook with a snap, stood up, grabbed my school bag, and left the room.
In the living room, Mom was washing what I assumed were her and Dad’s dishes in the kitchen. Dad and Yumemi were sitting in front of the tea table.
Dad was lightly hitting the old, boxy TV, muttering about the poor reception.
Our TV was so old that it was long past time to replace it.
Noticing me as he sighed at the noisy screen, Dad withdrew his hand from the TV and took a sip of tea.
Yumemi, realizing Dad had noticed me, glanced at me briefly before quickly returning her gaze to her half-eaten breakfast.
I checked my prepared breakfast and went to the refrigerator in the kitchen’s corner. I grabbed some barley tea and returned to the living room, sitting next to Yumemi.
Yumemi’s small shoulders tensed up. I almost sighed.
Even though we live in the same house and repeat the same actions daily, she still reacts like this every time.
I steadily ate my breakfast.
It wasn’t particularly delicious, but it was the familiar taste of home.
When I glanced to my side, I saw that Yumemi, who had started eating before me, still had as much food left as I did, if not more.
Yumemi eats slowly.
She moves her hand to her mouth like it’s in slow motion, takes small bites, and chews slowly.
“Oh.”
Moreover, she’s clumsy and often drops food because she can’t hold chopsticks properly.
Silently, I picked up the pickles Yumemi had dropped on the tea table and placed them at the edge of my plate. Then, I wiped up the soy sauce that had splattered on the table with a cloth.
Yumemi flustered, watching me, but when I resumed eating as if nothing had happened, she slowly started eating again.
Then, Dad spoke up.
“How are you both doing lately? School and everything?”
It was rare for Dad to start a conversation, especially with me.
Caught off guard, I hesitated briefly before answering.
“No problems,”
Just one sentence.
I thought that was enough.
As expected, Dad nodded as if to say that was only natural for me.
Yumemi, who had been glancing at me timidly, also looked at Dad and began to speak. She lowered her gaze and mumbled.
“… Uh, I’m okay, too. Managing with studies…”
Her voice was small, like a mosquito’s buzz.
Yumemi was bad at lying.
Dad squinted and slightly furrowed his brow, saying, “I see.”
He looked somewhat sad but also a bit pleased.
He probably thought that Yumemi’s response and it’s truth were as expected.
That she was indeed his daughter.
I finished my breakfast during the conversation, said thank you, and stood up with my dishes.
Yumemi watched me and noticed the time on the wall clock. She hurriedly tried to eat faster.
Even though she woke up early, it seemed she had taken her time. Now, we were at risk of being late if we didn’t hurry.
I put my dishes in the sink, said goodbye, and headed to the entrance. I put on my designated leather shoes, slid open the door, and left the house.
It was a windy morning despite the strong sunlight.
Author’s Note: I’ll continue posting bit by bit since it’s tiring.
Translater’s Note: Moving this Novel from Galaxy Translation [Renamed to Dark Star Translation] to this New Planform [I have to deal with a lot of issues from the previous Website].