Yearning (1)
Hayun herself couldn't say just when the feeling of liking someone had first taken root. It wasn't as though she had fallen for her all at once, at some single moment. A tiny, subtle emotion had grown ever so slowly as she came to know Jieun, until at last it was large enough to be spoken aloud, to be acted upon.
Perhaps wondering why — wondering how she had come to love her — was pointless to begin with. The person who had simply been at her side through every hard moment was Jieun. The one who sat quietly beside her whenever she felt like whining about something was Jieun.
It was a feeling she had never felt so strongly toward anyone else. If she were asked to choose the one she loved best among all the people she loved, the face that rose in her mind was Jieun's — and so Hayun had simply accepted it, and understood, all on her own.
It was a few minutes after Jieun and Jihye left the room that Hayun followed them out. The children at the orphanage went to bed early. Having lived under the teacher's eye all their lives, they could hardly help keeping to schedule — and even the middle and high schoolers mostly seemed to hold to their bedtimes.
Some people looked on those raised in orphanages with suspicion, but Hayun had never seen another one, so a true comparison was beyond her. Then again, there were households with every family member present that were hardly harmonious at all; every home was simply its own. And besides — the Jieun Hayun had come to know had been raised in this very orphanage.
The place itself looked to be in remarkably good shape. Nothing anywhere had grown shabby, nothing was broken or out of order. Most of that, she suspected, had been made possible by Noir Corporation's "donations."
And Jieun had worked for Noir Corporation to make those donations possible. Late into the night. Had she ever been scolded at the orphanage for it? Surely they couldn't have said nothing, watching her come home in the small hours covered in injuries. And most of those wounds would have been dealt by magical girls — by magical girls, including Hayun herself.
There must have been ways to take the money for herself. Ways to keep every last coin of it. Instead, Jieun had chosen to send it all to the orphanage as donations. Without telling a soul. Even while everyone else misunderstood her for it.
Walking down the quiet corridor and out of the building, Hayun spotted them sitting just ahead — Jieun and Jihye, side by side on the swings, silent.
A swing has no front or back, but the spot the two had chosen offered a clear view over the orphanage's low fence. At the tail of an alley where red-brick houses and gray walls jumbled together in a dizzying patchwork, the orphanage stood on ground somewhat higher than the rest of the neighborhood — high enough that the whole district lay in plain view.
The wall meant that what lay directly ahead and below was hard to make out, but the neighborhood beyond was perfectly visible. And there, strung along the ridgeline, stretched a district of enormous houses behind tall walls.
Hayun knew exactly what kind of neighborhood that was. Even climbing the high road, there were hardly any bus stops; not even many supermarkets or convenience stores. But the people who lived there were people who never found any of it inconvenient. If the shops were far, they simply drove out — and theirs was a neighborhood of people who could afford to hire someone else to do the driving.
It was Hayun's neighborhood.
Coming down along that ridge, a four-lane road cut through like a line drawn between two worlds, and beyond it lay Jieun's neighborhood. Until she became a high schooler — until she learned that Jieun had been a combatant — it had never once occurred to Hayun that Jieun might live in this neighborhood. Even with it right before her eyes. No — she had never even stopped to imagine that a place like this could carry this kind of atmosphere.
That was a strange thing, really. Among the places she had fought as a magical girl, there must surely have been places like this. Why had it never even crossed her mind that Jieun belonged to one of them?
The white glow of the streetlamps reached faintly over the fence, and the two figures sitting side by side looked almost mystical. Had the two of them always sat like this, gazing down at the neighborhood together, ever since they were small?
Hayun thought she was a little envious of that—
"This takes me back."
Whether she hadn't noticed Hayun watching from a distance or simply didn't mind, Jihye spoke up in a small voice. It was barely more than a whisper, but the distant hum of cars and the television sound drifting from some open window couldn't quite drown it out.
"We used to do this, remember? Looking at those houses way over there and going, wouldn't it be something to live in a place like that."
And at Jihye's next words, Hayun forgot to breathe for an instant.
"...We did, didn't we."
"And you said it wouldn't matter, Jieun — anywhere people live is all the same."
"I did."
Jihye talked on as if delighted, and Jieun nodded along, answering her.
"Well, I suppose it would be nice to live in a big house. Remember what you said, when I wondered if maybe we wouldn't have to wait around for the bathroom on a bad morning?"
"'Living with all the kids would be exactly the same. However many bathrooms a normal house has, it'll never be as many as our orphanage.'"
"Right. That's what I said."
Jihye laughed.
"'Either way, we'd still be lining up in front of the bathroom before school.'"
"'A bathtub would have been nice, though.'"
"You said that too."
At that, Jieun let out a small laugh of her own — this, from the girl who had seemed in low spirits ever since what happened earlier that day.
"And besides, even at its biggest, it couldn't be any bigger than the orphanage, could it? The place we live in is a big house too, you know."
Hearing Jieun say that, Hayun felt her heart clench.
Home. This was Jieun's home. That was why she could channel the donations here — not out of charity, but because this was the place she called home.
"Right. The room the two of us shared was bigger than you'd think, too. Plenty big enough for all the kids to pile in and sleep."
"Was it, though?"
"With you and me sleeping pressed together, there was room to spare."
Jieun laughed again at that.
"And yet you're the one who called that room cramped?"
"Did I?"
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"...Still, we can at least imagine it, can't we?"
Jihye murmured again, her voice dropping almost to a whisper.
"We have to leave this place when we grow up anyway."
"Yeah. That's how it always was... Not many years left now. Though I suppose if we go on to university, the story changes again."
"Well, either way, leave we must. We can't stay here even once we're grown."
At Jihye's words, Jieun only shrugged. She said nothing more.
"So that's my point. A house that big would be plenty for just the two of us."
"Plenty? The problem would be too much space. And look — houses like that are expensive, and the upkeep alone costs a fortune..."
"Oh, come on. It's pretend. Pretend!"
Jihye waved a hand briskly at Jieun's objections.
"And... well, even if it's not some huge house like that, we could still live together, couldn't we? Seems like that's how everyone who moves out gets started, anyway."
At that, Hayun sank into thought for a moment, then let out a soft snort of laughter.
"Huh. That's true, actually."
"As long as it's not too cramped, it'd be fine, wouldn't it? We've been living together this whole time anyway."
"...I suppose."
To Jihye, laying out her words with evident delight, that was all the answer Jieun gave.
What kind of face was Jieun making? Judging by how gentle her voice was, perhaps she was smiling. Perhaps she was laughing with delight, like the profile of Jihye that caught the light beside her.
One thing was certain: the two of them had talked like this for a very long time. As elementary schoolers, as middle schoolers — and right up until a few days ago. Jihye chattering on and on, and Jieun listening quietly, smiling, nodding along—
"..."
Hayun pressed her lips tightly shut. The hands clenched before her chest tightened.
Jieun did that for her, too. Whenever something weighed on Hayun, Jieun noticed first, took her by the wrist, and led her off somewhere quiet. And then — whether they sat side by side or stood face to face — she would simply stay at her side, waiting in silence, until Hayun spoke, or until she smiled.
...Right. That wasn't... anything special, really. That was simply who Jieun was. For a very long time. From the very moment she had known Hayun.
Hayun had not mistaken... that feeling. No. She had never once been mistaken about it. This feeling of liking someone was boundlessly, utterly sincere. She loved Jieun because Jieun was Jieun. Because Jieun was the only person she had ever felt this way about.
So what if Jieun showed that side of herself to others, too? That side of her was the very reason Hayun had come to hold this feeling in the first place.
And so—
And so, I'm sorry.
Hayun couldn't simply go on listening.
"What are you two talking about?"
Smiling brightly, Hayun stepped forward. Jieun and Jihye turned to look at her at the same instant. Both wore faintly startled expressions, but it didn't seem she had barged in on anything she shouldn't have. Jihye especially showed no trace of jealousy or displeasure.
"Nothing much. We were just wondering what to do once we graduate and move out on our own."
And those words carried a great deal beneath them. The largest part of it was the orphanage talk Hayun herself had just overheard — the talk of how, once you come of age, leaving the orphanage is simply the natural order of things. Those with families can live under that roof for years, can lean on their parents for support. Jieun and Jihye could not. They would have to strike out on their own and find rooms of their own. Or find work that came with dormitory housing.
"Really?"
Hayun said it without letting on that she already knew any of this.
"I was planning to get my own place right after graduation, too."
Hayun said it with a small surge of resolve. She stood between the two swings, looking back and forth between them.
"Living together could be fun."
She wasn't trying to pry Jihye away. She had felt, time and again, just how precious Jihye was to Jieun.
They had even kissed — and still, Jieun hadn't made much of a show of it. Perhaps she thought Hayun had kissed her not out of affection, but because of the Circuit. If so, Jieun would have had every right to be angry at having her lips stolen like that — yet seeing as she hadn't said a word, she must have decided it was something that needed doing.
...And Jua had done the same, after all. Hmm.
Inside the room, both Jieun and the others had seemed rather awkward — perhaps stepping outside and talking with Jihye had let her sort her thoughts somewhat. Hayun found that a little disappointing.
"Don't worry — no matter what, I'm not planning to live off anyone else."
"Ah."
At Jieun's words, Hayun's own briefly stalled. Of course. Jieun didn't much like living under someone else's roof. The orphanage proved as much. Looked at a certain way, she could have asked Hayun for help with even that — whether by unloading her troubles on Hayun directly, or by reaching the Federation through her. But Jieun didn't much care for that sort of thing. Whenever she could, she wanted to settle matters with her own two hands. It was a principle of hers, in its own way. It was part of why Hayun had never felt much wariness toward her, either. And that was exactly why Hayun couldn't bring herself to press the matter.
"I-I'll be independent too, you know. Once I get a job and start earning, I can pay my share of the rent fair and square. Or we could shoulder a lease together, even."
Hayun added it in a bit of a rush, and Jieun gave a wry smile.
"That's... something we'll see when the time comes. We've still got years left, you know."
Saying so, Jieun let her eyes drift shut for a moment. And to those words, neither Hayun nor Jihye said anything at all.
That's right. There were still years to come. For now, Jihye was simply far too important to Jieun; it seemed impossible for anyone else to wedge their way into that space. Of course, Hayun had no intention of pushing Jihye out of Jieun's heart entirely. The frame of family could not be broken — and must not be. She only meant to secure a place for herself, firmly, near Jieun — one so settled that, just as Jieun and Jihye living together was accepted as a matter of course, Hayun's presence there would feel every bit as natural.
Sisters and... a different relationship were, after all, different in more than name.
Living with Hayun... well, it makes me happy. Wouldn't it? I like Hayun. I can't help thinking that way. When she kissed me today, I was every bit as glad. If I hadn't been, the Circuit never would have turned over.
No, wait. If the other person had been someone I hated, maybe that would have fueled it the other way around instead.
...Anyway, that doesn't mean I'm free to make use of that feeling however I please. Acting on the assumption that because I like someone, they're bound to like me back — that's out of the question. It could shatter the relationship outright instead.
Even if we do end up living together, even if I've gained my own kind of "certainty" along the way — one needless, strange move, and I could turn a lifelong friend into nothing more than a stranger.
I have to act with care. Still, the fact that Hayun could do something like that at all — it must only have been possible because she bears no ill will toward me.
...
Come to think of it, Hayun is remarkable in her own right. She can bring herself to kiss someone of the same sex — well, actors film kiss scenes with their own sex when a role calls for it, so maybe it's right to think anyone could manage it if they set their mind to it.
Eyes closed, I took a few slow, easy breaths. The night air, still tolerably cool, cooled my overheated insides a little. Not that the air could exactly be called good.
"Let's head in."
It was about time to turn in. My body felt stiff and heavy. However much assistance the Circuit gave me, cutting loose that hard was exhausting work. And today had been draining on the mind, too. Soaring all the way up to a great height, only to be slammed back down into the very depths, was not exactly a pleasant experience.
Pangpang was still sunk in deep sleep. Enjoying myself this much... without her didn't sit right with me.
When I rose from my spot, Jihye rose to follow, and Hayun — who had been standing between Jihye and me — hurried to my side at once. Something occurred to me, and I nearly asked Hayun about it, then shut my mouth.
"Hm? What is it? Something you wanted to say?"
Perceptive as ever, Hayun caught it right away — but I shook my head.
"Nothing. It's not important."
Tilting her head, Hayun chose to take me at my word.
It isn't important... is it? Honestly, I couldn't say. I was a little afraid to ask Hayun whether she had tried contacting her parents. I knew things between them weren't good. The fact that they still hadn't come looking for her said enough — these were people who had regarded their own daughter as a tool, to a truly terrifying degree.
And yet in the original webtoon, Hayun used the bouquet her parents had given her as her wand. In this world, too, that surely hadn't changed much. To a girl who carried such feelings for her parents... no — to a girl with something she yearned for, prying into that so carelessly felt like trespass.
...No. It wasn't simply that. It was closer to guilt. After all, it was because of me that Hayun had ended up torn from her parents in the end. Not just Hayun — every one of the other girls, too. I couldn't tell whether the continued silence from their families meant they were cutting the girls off, or exerting pressure through some other channel, and that made the thought of picking up the phone to ask all the more frightening. If Hayun was hurt any more deeply because of me — if any of the girls here was hurt any more deeply because of me — could I bear it?
In the end, I was putting it off yet again. I had procrastinated and procrastinated until everything had come to this — and here I was, delaying something all over again.
Back in the room, the girls had already laid out their bedding. It had been only two days, and they were already frighteningly at home here. Perhaps having come from somewhere far worse was helping them settle in. At the very least, it wasn't an act. The girls looked genuinely happy, each in her own way.
"Hold on a moment."
Just before we lay down on the bedding, Jua thrust one hand into the air. She looked far tidier than she had in the ruins, where she'd been wearing soot-stained, tattered clothes she'd only barely managed to wash — and her trademark fastidiousness showed through all the more for it. I decided, quite arbitrarily, that this was a good thing.
Jua looked straight at me.
"I think it's unfair that we always sleep in the same spots."
"Unfair?"
Rose echoed the word with a laugh, and Jua's face flushed a little — but she refused to yield and pressed on.
"Near the door, or beside the desk — some spots might be uncomfortable, you know. So I think we should rotate our spots each night, taking turns."
"...Is that so?"
Jua's argument sounded fairly convincing. Certainly, whoever slept in the middle would be warmer than whoever slept by the window, and quieter than whoever slept by the door. And since the desk sat directly beneath the window, the girls on that side might feel the cold — and the nuisance of the desk chair's legs — all the more keenly.
"Um, but I..."
Jihye timidly raised a hand.
"I like being next to Jieun, though."
"..."
Every gaze in the room swung back to Jua, and her face went redder still.
"E-everyone else can rotate spots, can't they!"
Unable, it seemed, to bring herself to part me from Jihye, Jua ended up shrieking it out.
"Jua, shh."
It was already past everyone's bedtime, and at my reaction, Jua's face turned redder still.