Remake Volume 1 Chapter 1 Part 8 – To the Fall of 2006
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Translator: Flowingcloud Editor: Nara
About a week has passed, each person’s field of expertise were roughly determined… Or rather, the inability of the other three’s to do simple housework came to light.
In the end, it was decided that I was in charge of the general stuff such as cleaning and cooking, Tsurayuki was in charge of manual labor and throwing away the garbage, Nanako and I took turns cooking (her cooking was barely edible), and Shinoaki…… had no particular strong point, so she was in charge of helping everyone else.
And today, the two males, lost in a game of rock, paper, scissors, were in charge of cleaning up after dinner together.
“Tsurayuki, you’re bad at rock, paper, scissors.”
“You.. you’re saying that shamelessly even though you lost too.”
The quarrel between Tsurayuki and I, who out of the three rounds of rock, paper, scissors, lost them straight out magnificently, was pointless.
“This, isn’t this Shinoaki’s?”
Tsurayuki, who wiped the table, picked up a small orange pouch that was left behind.
“Ah, probably. I recognize this.”
When I answered, Tsurayuki softly threw the pouch over.
“You’re both on the second floor, take it with you.”
While going up the stairs, I remembered the the words of Tsurayuki from the day we moved in.
“Well, Shinoaki is cute, right.”
Not only her face and personality, but despite entering the filming department, she was not well-informed about films, her practical side of life is entirely no good, a part of her is free from worldliness…… she seems strangely stupid.
Nanako is also a good person, but if I became her boyfriend, there’s likely to be trouble. I’d immediately put up my hands.
If it’s Shinoaki, the desire to protect her would gush forth. In that situation, it’s kinda like a partner that you have to protect no matter what. To begin with, it’s mostly for girls ten or younger.
Not to mention, this college is a survival place with a strict female professor.
“O—i, Shinoaki, you here—?”
I knocked on the door, but there was no reply.
However, when I listened carefully, faint sounds could be heard from within the room.
“Are you there……?”
She might be listening to music or something with headphones or earphones.
I opened the door quietly, and entered inside.
“Shinoaki, you forgot—”
Being alive, it’s not often you’d find yourself being at a loss for words..
That’s because there’s no such thing as literally losing words.
In the first place, an amazed voice, “uwa” kind of scream, and words of admiration such as “amazing” and “so cool” were almost all applicable reactions.
Therefore, at that moment, being at a loss for words, I objectively “displayed” it.
A mountain of books largely covered the room. Regardless of oil paintings, water paintings, canvases or drawing paper, it was a forest of sketchbooks. There was no place to stand because it was covered with a grasslands of art materials. Every single thing that made up their existence there, was related to ‘art’.
Only the sound of the tip of the drawing tablet pen resounded within the room. Enthusiasm gushed out from the owner of the pen. The stroke of the pens were strong, and heavy. That owner, who was supposed to be small, clearly emitted a different atmosphere from their back.
The lights were off. However, there was light in the room. It was the monitor’s light. The 20-inch liquid display monitor (LCD), there colors were leaping like they were throbbing, and one drawing was made.
It was a picture of a girl.
It was a painting of a girl smiling in the middle of a sunflower field on the whole surface.
The straw hat that look like it’d fly off with the wind, and she pinned it down with both hands with a slightly troubled face. The hem of the dress only slightly turned over, and the slightly suntanned thigh from there was casted with white light beautifully—it was that kind of drawing.
I quietly left the pouch there, and closed the door without making a sound and went outside.
While staggering, I opened my room’s door that was immediately nearby, and flopped into my room.
I threw myself on the futon that has been left out since last night.
Naturally, my laughter brimmed over from my throat and came out.
I didn’t know anything. About the fact that she drew and how much effort was put into it, I was definitely surprised at her fierceness that was before my eyes. Her vigor was so overwhelming that I did not think that we were the same age, and I also couldn’t say anything.
However, the reason I was speechless, was for another reason entirely.
The one illustration book that Kyouya Hasiba cherished more than anything else.
That book, called “Sunflower,” contained many illustrations that that artist continued to draw. And on the front cover, it used the illustration that was drawn ten years from the publication date going back to her student days. It was impossible to have mistaken it. The girl who stood in a sunflower field that I just personally saw just a few minutes on the monitor screen.
We’re in the same college, I thought it was the same college. Even though I’m near her, although it was not a mystery at all, and yet, I thought that she was a far off existence.
However, the existence that I yearned for, was by far closer than I imagined, it seemed like she was close enough to be able hear to her breathing in.
Although it was late, I realized that that name was a parodying of her real name Shinoaki.