Haruma-3
En route to the station, Chigusa strode briskly through the night.
She brought me out, parted ways with me and made plans to meet up tomorrow without as much as a by your leave. That free spirit of hers was evident through her long, luscious black hair, which bobbed up and down like a hopping rabbit.
As I gazed at her back through the corner of my eyes, I muttered under my breath. Volunteer for unpopular service, huh? Japanese sure is a difficult language to get one’s head around.
It was something I sensed vaguely, but a seed of conflict lay between Chigusa and I. We were worlds apart, as different as night and day.
“Hey, Chigusa,” I called out to her.
“Yes?” Chigusa swung around on the spot, causing the edge of her skirt to flutter.
“I think there’s a fatal discrepancy in what we’ve been saying to each other.”
“I agree. Since we don’t know each other well yet, I suppose that kind of thing is inevitable. However, even if mutual concessions are difficult, I believe there will be no problems if I come to understand you completely, Haruma-san!”
Chigusa spoke with sparkling eyes and a rather solemn air, but what she was saying was even more psycho. She had the eyes of a kid who had been sucked into some new-fangled religion.
Oh, and let’s not forget what she actually said. I gave up trying to understand Chigusa a long time ago. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, there is not one atom of her I want to understand…
Well, putting aside the fact that I wasn’t about to understand Chigusa anytime soon, I did grasp that there was mutual awareness of that between us… For once, I agreed with her about something! Not that it fixed any of our problems!
Chigusa skipped along like a baby deer, humming all the while. When she kept her mouth shut, she really did look like a model on the front cover of a magazine. There was no way I would ever understand what went on in Chigusa’s head or heart, but no matter how deceptive outward appearances may be, there are some things that can’t be mistaken.
As I trudged behind her, scores of squalid buildings blinded me with fake lights, and mobs of people spoke around us with strange, coquettish voices. The town’s sights were so familiar that they seemed nothing but bland, not that it bothered me in the least.
Haruma-3
En route to the station, Chigusa strode briskly through the night.
She brought me out, parted ways with me and made plans to meet up tomorrow without as much as a by your leave. That free spirit of hers was evident through her long, luscious black hair, which bobbed up and down like a hopping rabbit.
As I gazed at her back through the corner of my eyes, I muttered under my breath. Volunteer for unpopular service, huh? Japanese sure is a difficult language to get one’s head around.
It was something I sensed vaguely, but a seed of conflict lay between Chigusa and I. We were worlds apart, as different as night and day.
“Hey, Chigusa,” I called out to her.
“Yes?” Chigusa swung around on the spot, causing the edge of her skirt to flutter.
“I think there’s a fatal discrepancy in what we’ve been saying to each other.”
“I agree. Since we don’t know each other well yet, I suppose that kind of thing is inevitable. However, even if mutual concessions are difficult, I believe there will be no problems if I come to understand you completely, Haruma-san!”
Chigusa spoke with sparkling eyes and a rather solemn air, but what she was saying was even more psycho. She had the eyes of a kid who had been sucked into some new-fangled religion.
Oh, and let’s not forget what she actually said. I gave up trying to understand Chigusa a long time ago. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, there is not one atom of her I want to understand…
Well, putting aside the fact that I wasn’t about to understand Chigusa anytime soon, I did grasp that there was mutual awareness of that between us… For once, I agreed with her about something! Not that it fixed any of our problems!
Chigusa skipped along like a baby deer, humming all the while. When she kept her mouth shut, she really did look like a model on the front cover of a magazine. There was no way I would ever understand what went on in Chigusa’s head or heart, but no matter how deceptive outward appearances may be, there are some things that can’t be mistaken.
As I trudged behind her, scores of squalid buildings blinded me with fake lights, and mobs of people spoke around us with strange, coquettish voices. The town’s sights were so familiar that they seemed nothing but bland, not that it bothered me in the least.
