Chapter - 1

"Hey, Yohei, you're still dating Ayase from class 3, aren't you?"

"... I told you no."

I give my usual answers to these repeated questions.

But he doesn't seem to believe me.

"But we ate lunch together earlier."

"That was homemade, too.

"Hey, hey, hey, even stupid couples don't do that these days."

"... He's just looking out for others, and always has been."

You know it's not a good reason, but you say it anyway.

A boyfriend from a few years ago who has been holding out his left hand and saying "ah, ah, ah" even after he became a high school student...

To summarize it as "taking care of others" is a stretch.

"You know, since you're running away like that, other guys are getting their hopes up and locking you up."

"How many guys have you confessed to, only to be rejected with a "sorry"?"

"Probably because there's someone else who likes you no matter what."

"But you're the only one I can think of..."

It becomes annoying to deny while being lectured one after another.

He asks me more insistently if my silence has increased the momentum.

Even the guys who were pricking up their ears agreeing that he was right,

"Do you think you can convince me with the excuse that we are just friends?"

"Even when we're face to face, within breathing distance of each other?"

"The only guy she calls by name is Yohei."

"Yohei is the only guy she calls by his first name."

"But you, you're ..."

"But you're the one who calls me by name.

──Needles.

I can see countless needles. They protrude from their classmates' noses like swordfish.

"You know about Ayase's favor, but you're deliberately ignoring it, you idiot."

"Ahhhhh, how could such an idiot have such a lovely child..."

I agree in my heart with the scolding and lamentation.

I know. I know more than anyone else what kind of feelings Kurumi has for me.

Moreover, I also realize how outstanding Kurumi is from an objective point of view.

She has a soft face, a moderately friendly demeanor, a brightness that doesn't weigh down her long dark hair, a clear voice with a cool tone, and a slender, long body with just the right amount of curvature, which makes her especially eye-catching in gym class.

Normally, I would be happy to accept such a child if he or she was doing me a favor.

But I consciously avoid it.

I consciously avoid him because I know his mind very well.

There is something a little unusual about me.

I can "see" things that are invisible to normal people.

It's not exactly ghosts or other bizarre beings.

What I can "see" are people's emotions.

For example, when I was scolded by my mother.

I could see horns on her head.

Yellow conical horns like the masks of oni sold at festivals.

It's a funny sight now, but when I was a kid, it was strange and scary to see my mom with literal horns.

I would come home and tell my dad, "My mom had horns on her head!" and he would just laugh.

I naturally assumed that others would see something similar, and I was getting frustrated with the disjointed conversations.

While I was repeating similar events, I heard neighbors and relatives say, "Yohei is a daydreamer."

I desperately argued that it was daydreaming when it seemed so obvious....

The results were always futile. Even the child I was playing with, whom I thought was my friend, didn't believe me.

In the second grade of elementary school, I had an epiphany with a children's book I borrowed for a summer book report.

It was a story about a boy who could read the minds of the humans around him, a so-called "mind-reader".

He becomes unhappy because of this uncommon ability. Waiting is a lonely doom...

Overlapping herself with the boy, she gradually comes to understand that what she sees is invisible to others.

She also learned that revealing her secret would get her into trouble, and she hasn't told anyone since.

My family and relatives must have thought I had graduated from daydreaming because I stopped saying strange things.

But even though I said I could see people's emotions, it wasn't a very convenient ability.

Or maybe it shouldn't be called an ability at all.

It's more like a constitution than an ability because it's not something you can use at will, and it's something you see at will.

You can only see it when your opponent's emotions are directed in this direction, and when they're not, you can't see anything.

In other words, only "what the other person is thinking" is conveyed as a visual image.

For now, let's call this phenomenon "metaphor".

We can see that anger is a horn and jealousy is a needle.

However, it's not clearly categorized, so you have to read between the lines.

It's not convenient, but it's also not annoying.

I've never been the kind of person who'd go out of my way to read someone's complexion, so I've learned to just pay a little attention when I see a metaphor and not let it bother me.

After all, it's only a metaphor. You close your eyes and move on, and that's it. It doesn't interfere with my daily life.

And a metaphor is just a metaphor.

You don't know what the other person is thinking specifically.

Even if I did have a problem, it was much lighter than a psychic who can hear other people's true feelings even if I don't want to.

I first met Kurumi Ayase the summer before she turned 10.

Born in the spring, Kurumi was already 10 years old.

She had moved into the neighborhood and happened to be a transfer student in my class.

This gave us many opportunities to meet face-to-face, and when we first met, we became close while dodging fights or distributing the dishes she made, as she was very stubborn.

We weren't really childhood friends, but sometimes it felt like we'd been together since we were older.

Kurumi's favors had been counted since we met.

Whenever she saw me, a white flower bloomed on her chest.

It was a common, small, unassuming flower that bloomed on the side of the road, but I liked its warmth and simplicity.

There was a strength in its delicacy that seemed to threaten to break, a strength that seemed to want to take firm root.

It must have been in the sixth grade when the white petals gradually changed color to a reddish hue.

Suddenly, Kurumi's eyes were often glazed over or watery when she looked up.

She was also leaning forward more and more, trying to look natural.

I was puzzled because I thought I knew Kurumi's mind better than anyone else.

If I blatantly ignored her, spoke coldly to her, or pulled away from her, her flowers would twist.

It twists like wirework and stops dead in its tracks.

She would feel instinctively afraid, and if she apologized and appeased them, the twisting would resolve.

When I return to the pretty flower, I sweep my hand across my chest, but the red glow grows more intense with Kurumi's pursuing gaze.

By the time she reaches junior high school and puts on her school uniform, a large shocking pink blossom blooms on the inside of Kurumi's swollen chest.

A flower with an excessive need for nourishment, unable to survive in a place like the roadside.

A sharpness that bordered on the eerie. If I showed the slightest bit of heartlessness, it would bend and snap off its own stem.

The mere mention of a conversation with another woman causes its leaves to turn crimson and breathe fire.

As for her expression, she maintains a calm and gentle smile. Only the flower on her chest is red.

The difference between the emotions raging inside Kurumi's heart and her composed face has sent chills down my spine more than once.

Even though they haven't even professed to be in a relationship, Kurumi's exclusivity has grown stronger day by day, and the flower has grown deformed.

No one around them seems to notice.

If it weren't for the metaphor, I wouldn't know what was going on either.

I'm the one who deliberately keeps a constant distance because I know, and Kurumi seems to think I'm just dull.

But I wonder how long that will last...

"Yo-kun."

I turn around in surprise, and Kurumi is behind me.

Again. This guy always seems to be aiming for me.

Me, who spends her after-school hours in the library, and Kurumi, who is a member of the archery club.

We don't arrange a time to meet, and if we don't use our cell phones, we might miss each other, but we always run into each other.

Even on holidays. I've suspected stalking before, but I've never confirmed it, and I don't think this guy is idle enough to follow me around all year round.

So why...

"Come on, let's go back together."

He grins at me like I'm a lost cause, grabs my hand, and pulls me along, intertwining our fingers.

Her classmates whistled jeers from the outfield, but she didn't care.

Unable to resist, I tugged her hand away and peeked at her breasts, ...now much larger, beyond the bumps that simply pushed up her school uniform.

Maybe a year or so after entering high school.

──Kurumi's flower is now a carnivorous flower.