The break ended before I was ready, dragging me back inside for the second lesson. It was math, boring as hell.
Eventually, the classroom doors swung shut behind us, marking the end of the lesson and the beginning of our journey into this new task with Suzu-san. As we stepped into the hallway, Suzu-san's suggestion about heading to the quieter courtyard seemed like a welcome idea.
"Sure, the courtyard sounds good," I replied with a nod, a flicker of anticipation bubbling within me.
Navigating the bustling corridors, we exchanged casual chatter, a blend of nerves and curiosity palpable in the air. The anticipation of what lay ahead lingered between us, our steps carrying us closer to the serene haven outside.
We made our way out to the courtyard. Finding a secluded spot with a few unoccupied benches, we settled down, placing the blank forms on the space between us.
Suzu-san's fingers traced the edges of the paper, her gaze flitting between the questions and me. "Shall we start?" Her voice was soft.
"Yeah, let's give it a go," I replied, feeling a mix of anticipation and uncertainty stirring within me.
The first page presented straightforward inquiries: name, age, and hobbies. Suzu-san's slender fingers hovered over the paper for a moment before she began writing, her penmanship delicate yet confident.
"Yamamoto Kenji," I echoed, scribbling my details with a bit more haste. Suzu-san's handwriting reflected a certain elegance, a contrast to my rushed scrawl.
"I'm Ayumi Suzu," Suzu-san said. I wrote that on the form.
The questions delved deeper on the second page, venturing into the territory of fears, aspirations, and personal desires. There was a big pause as we both hesitated, or that's what I thought. Suzu-san didn't care much about it, our eyes briefly meeting before glancing back at the forms.
"Do you want to start?" Suzu-san's voice was tentative, her eyes holding a mix of curiosity.
I nodded. "Sure." Taking a breath, I focused on the first question. "W-What's your greatest fear?"
Suzu-san bit her lip, thinking it over. "Probably... losing my independence." Her voice softened at the end.
"I get that," I said quietly. "Mine's... snakes, I guess. They're just creepy."
Her eyes met mine briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.
"I can't relate to that."
There was an awkward pause, so I quickly moved on to the next question after I finished writing her answer.
"What's a cherished childhood memory that brings you joy?" I asked her.
Her gaze softened, casting a nostalgic glow upon her features. She paused for a moment, as if wandering through the corridors of her past, seeking out a memory that held special significance.
"There was this one moment that stands out," Suzu-san began, her voice carrying a hint of reverence. "It was the day I bought my first piano."
Her words carried a weight, a depth that hinted at a profound experience embedded in her recollection. I leaned in, captivated by the story she was about to unfold.
"It was a warm summer afternoon, and I was about eight years old," she continued, a soft smile gracing her lips as she revisited the memory. "I had been yearning for a piano for the longest time. I remember pestering my parents about it endlessly."
Suzu-san's eyes glimmered with a mix of excitement and nostalgia, transporting her back to that pivotal moment in her childhood.
"One day, my parents surprised me," she recounted, her voice tinged with an unmistakable sense of wonder. "They took me to this small, quaint music store tucked away in our neighborhood. And there it was, this beautiful piano sitting in the corner of the store."
Her words painted a vivid picture, the anticipation, the excitement, and the overwhelming joy of finally encountering her heart's desire.
"I remember feeling this rush of emotions," Suzu-san continued, her voice carrying the same elation she had felt that day. "It was like I had found a piece of myself in that piano. I couldn't stop smiling."
She described the intricate details, the glossy keys, the smooth finish, and the melodic tunes that resonated through the store as her fingers danced upon the keys for the first time.
"I sat there, pressing random keys, imagining myself playing like a pro," Suzu-san giggled. It was the first time I ever heard her laughter.
Listening to her talk, I could actually see how much this meant to her. The piano wasn't just a hobby; it was something she genuinely loved.
"And you? What's your cherished childhood memory that brings you joy?" she asked me, looking at me and waiting for an answer.
"Oh, well.."
My brain stalled. How was I supposed to explain the total lack of joyous childhood moments without sounding completely pathetic? I wrestled with the idea of just fabricating a story. I could lie about learning to ride a bike. Something I never actually did.
But looking at Suzu-san... her warm, attentive demeanor made it hard to lie. She had just bared a piece of her soul to me. It felt wrong to give her a fake story in return.
"Five years ago... I was running around a park... and a girl fell over me," the words stumbled out awkwardly. I was recounting the fragmented memory of the day I first met Ichika, though I carefully kept her name out of it.
Suzu-san's curious gaze prompted me to continue, drawing out a story I hadn't told anyone.
"I was hurt, so I started crying. But she didn't laugh at me. She cared for me. She wiped the tears off my face. But... after that day, I didn't see her again."
"How did she look?" Suzu-san asked softly. "Maybe she's still in the city, you know?"
"Nah, she's not around," I lied smoothly, staring at my scuffed shoes. "I would've seen her."
"Well, we tried at least," Suzu-san said, dutifully writing down my answer on the form. She paused, her pen hovering over the paper as she looked back up at me. "So... were you, like, in love with her?"
"W-what!? N-no!" My face instantly ignited, burning with a furious blush. Thank god she didn't know I was talking about Ichika.
"I see, I see..." Suzu-san teased lightly, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
A heavy, awkward tension settled over the bench. I desperately tried to think of a way to change the subject, but my brain was short-circuiting. The remaining two questions on the form passed in a blur of nervous deflection until the final blank was filled.
"Well, we're done," she said.
"How was it?" I asked, standing up quickly to hide my red face, and she stood right after me.
"Not so bad."
"Yeah. The questions were a bit too much for me," I admitted, hoping she felt the same way.
"Yeah, that too."
That too? Did she have another reason for thinking it was awkward? My chest tightened with a familiar wave of overthinking. I probably ruined it by talking about the park.
"S-See you in class," I mumbled, a touch of disappointment coloring my words. The bell's resonant chime provided a convenient escape, its familiar sound cutting through the awkwardness as Suzu-san bid me goodbye.
I walked away with a heavy sense of regret. My mind immediately started concocting scenarios of how my openness was going to backfire.
But as I glanced back toward the courtyard, I remembered the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the piano. Suzu-san, in her own right, had bared a part of herself too. The symmetry of our exchange offered a fragile reassurance, maybe she wouldn't use my vulnerabilities as a weapon against me after all.