Chapter 4
Shuji Tsushima also couldn't adapt to the atmosphere at home. He always felt that the smiles of people at home were particularly ugly and fake, including his own.
He was loved by his father, but he felt that his father's "love" for him could not be called love in the general sense. For a while, he even felt that his father hated him.
This is really incomprehensible to me. Of course, I didn't know he thought this way. Even if I knew, I would only find him more annoying.
Even if it is a false love, it is what children at home, including many adults, pursue - they hold a delicious cake, but are afraid that the cake base inside will stink, and some people have never even tasted the cream on the cake.
He is still an eight-year-old child and can't see that I am sad. Of course, this is also because I usually look like a wooden man.
He was just in a slightly depressed mood, and it was normal for him not to notice it.
Fortunately, I was a good boy, and I was very grateful to him for being able to stay in the confinement room with me.
Otherwise, I might have frightened myself to death or cried myself to death the moment I entered the confinement room, crying myself to death the same way I cried under my father's gaze.
He brought me dinner, and because I didn't wake up, I slept incredibly well next to him, since I didn't hear the wind scream or wail.
He pushed me, trying to get me to get up and eat - in fact, I had already woken up because of his departure and the familiar sound of the wind.
I repeat, I hate Tsushima Shuji.
His movements were much gentler, but now anyone who disturbed my peaceful sleep was guilty, even though it was because of him that I was able to have such sleep.
I ate my portion of rice very quickly, as if to vent my anger. But perhaps I ate too fast and ended up not feeling full.
I looked up at Tsushima Shuji. He still couldn't eat anything and was poking at his plate in frustration. When he saw me, he smiled subconsciously and said, "Is yours not enough?"
Shuji Tsushima is a big idiot.
I defined him in this way. Not only did he chat with me, but he was also willing to let me get close to him and even share his food with me.
I don't know why, but it didn't stop me from drinking his bowl of porridge, which was at least one third more than mine.
I couldn't actually eat much, so I just took a few sips and stopped. Also, I was afraid that it might get burned.
My mother, our mother, everyone's mother in this family couldn't even protect themselves. When they cried, they were louder and more uncomfortable than anything I had ever seen.
——Are all women like this?
——If this is the case, I hope I don’t have to become a woman, or I can become a man when I grow up.
My mother was a quiet beauty. She never told me anything on her own initiative, and my father was willing to come to my mother when he was bothered by other mothers.
His mother would not comfort him, she was silent and did the same things as other mothers, but she never spoke a word.
She didn't even say a few words to me. She just said the same things as other mothers - in this family, she was like someone else's mother.
My relationship with my siblings is not very good because I am taciturn and they need a friend like Tsushima Shuji more.
Therefore, Shuji was the first person I could talk to in my short life.
Actually, I don’t care that much. The wind can also speak, even though it is talking. It’s nothing. I believe the wind outside is the same.
I heard that the world was at war. It was happening everywhere in the world. I just heard it a little more than other people, the people around me. That was all.
But in the final analysis, he is still the first person who is willing to share interesting stories with me. If it burns, I will be gone.
My expression was more serious than ever. Tsushima Shuji was not an important person, but his existence was very important to me.
I hope he survives and gives me some warmth or meets my linguistic needs.
Yes, I need him.
Maybe others will say that I am cold-blooded, but it doesn't matter to me.
I gave the porridge back to him and solemnly expressed my wish that he finish it while it's still hot.
He seemed not to have expected this reaction from me and finished his porridge stiffly.
When he finished drinking, I took the plate to the small window. I believe this is a division of labor and cooperation. He brings it here and I take it away. It's fair.
I must be a person who is very good at pushing things too far. He didn't show any aversion to my touching him, so I just sat down next to him.
It's amazing that once you lean against him, the sound of the wind becomes blurred or even disappears.
I was very satisfied, but he felt a little uncomfortable. Maybe he couldn't understand why I became so close to him so quickly.
But soon, he relaxed, maybe he figured something out.
The wind was still blowing, but its sound had turned into a simple whirring sound. I was very happy. It was great not to have to listen to its complaints.
I decided to bring up the importance of Tsushima Shuji again.
After dinner, Tsushima Shuji was full of energy again. He asked in a nasal voice in the confinement room, "Lun, do you want to go out?"
His fever has become much more serious. Look, he is even talking nonsense.
I helplessly imitated the gentle tone my mother occasionally used when I was sick: "...Father would not allow it."
After I said this, he stopped talking about this matter and just started talking about the interesting things he saw at his father's place.
See, I told you, didn't I? Tsushima Shuji knows how to behave. At least in my eyes, he is a human being, the only creature that can be considered a human being.
It was not until Tsushima Shuji's voice began to become hoarse again that I took over his conversation and imitated his way, talking about some unimportant but somewhat interesting things.
I told him about a white pebble I had seen in a garden. Or maybe it wasn't white, but I was telling him about it.
I also talked about a yellow scarf that my mother knitted for me. It was warm and the color of sunshine, but it was for adults...so I could wear it until I grew up.
I also commented on what he had just shared with me, saying that my father's telescope looked no better than the paper tube I once rolled up because my father never used it.
The same goes for most of the stuff in his study, of course.
…
After all this, I have nothing to say.
In fact, I know very well that after Tsushima Shuji comes out of this confinement room, he will become his father's favorite child again, and my situation will not change at all.
After leaving here, the relationship between us will remain the same as before, and I will continue to be the child that no one cares about.
The reason I had to listen to him talk so much was because I had no choice. I couldn't cover his mouth with my hands, could I?
And all the words I said were just some weird thoughts like "He gave me something, so I must give him something too."
I now refuse to admit that I felt relieved by what he said.
I hate Tsushima Shuji.
*
His illness had not yet recovered. After I stopped talking for a while, I heard his regular breathing again - he fell asleep again.
I was happy because it saved me from having to make up some funny things about myself to share with him.
I covered the lower half of my face in the same way as before, leaving only my eyes exposed as I stared blankly into the air.
I moved aside. Since he wouldn't be with me after we went out, I had to get used to sleeping to the sound of the wind again.
I don't want this to happen. After all, I know that it is difficult to break a habit.
The sound of the wind returned to that harsh feeling, and my head was buzzing - so annoying.
Hate Tsushima Shuji.
Today is a moonlit night, and the wind is much gentler under the moonlight. They seem to like this kind of scenery as well, and they are much quieter at this time.
It's not that their sounds have disappeared, but that they are willing to be quiet. So I sometimes thank the existence of moonlight. If the moonlight cannot make the wind quiet, I might hate it.
Perhaps because the moonlight made my eyes dizzy, I covered my entire face.
I was not a strong kid because I realized I was crying again.
——Why shed tears? No one will feel sorry for you.
——Why are you crying? You know it's meaningless.
——Why shed tears? You just might lose a friend, and a friend you only talked to for two days.
Tsushima Shuji is still sleeping. In the quiet confinement room, the only sounds are your slightly suppressed mouth breathing and his even breathing.
You can't understand why you have such emotions, you don't know why you can't stop crying, you hate yourself crying, just like you hate those crying mothers.
——Go to sleep, and you won’t cry when you fall asleep, just like when another brother or sister’s mother coaxed her child to sleep, didn’t her child stop crying then?
…It would be great if I couldn’t shed tears.
*
Tsushima Shuji was not asleep, he simply couldn't find what to say, so he pretended to be asleep.
Shuji Tsushima felt you move to the side, but he didn't move.
He heard you crying, he sighed, and he didn't know how to comfort you.
After all, Tsushima Shuji is only an eight-year-old boy now. No matter how smart he is, he has never had a similar experience.
He hesitantly placed his hands on your back and smoothed your hair down your back.
you:……
You freeze, this is really embarrassing.
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