Adachi to Shimamura - Volume SS1 - Chapter 20

Wintry Wind

AT ANY GIVEN TIME, I preferred to be in Shima­mura’s orbit. In close proximity, she filled my vision, blocking out the rest of the world. 

Between classes, I decided to bring her out of the classroom, all the way down to the opposite end of the hallway. Fortunately, despite her yawning, she was willing to oblige.

“What’s the matter, Adachi?” 

“Well…during class, I just…don’t get enough of you, that’s all.”

She gave me an exasperated smile. “Oh, you poor thing.” 

My explanation wasn’t eloquent, so it came across weirdly. Still, it was fundamentally accurate: I was starved for her. The entire time I spent staring at the chalkboard, taking notes on autopilot, I thought about Shimamura, And although, yes, I was supposed to pay attention in class, I’d struck upon a critical revelation: my mental image of her was beginning to blur. I could envision the broad strokes, sure, but what about the way her hair fell against her ears, the slight movements of her eyes, or the exact shape of her fingernails? My mental replica was already starkly inadequate; it lacked her scent and overall vibe. If I sat through another class, I might lose even more of her. I couldn’t afford to take that risk. 

When I asked to hold hands, she agreed and offered me one. I pressed each of her finger joints, committing them to memory.

“Are you trying to massage my pressure points?” she joked. 

Obviously, the answer was no—I was just getting a feel for her—but I went ahead and played along. “Is…is this where you’re sore, madam?”

“Uh, now you’re taking my pulse.”

Oh. I was grasping her wrist, and sure enough, I felt a faint throb under my fingertips—the inner rhythm of her beating heart. I was almost certainly the only one who’d ever feel it.

“Having fun?” she asked after a moment.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.”

I couldn’t tell on my own, so if Shimamura said I was smiling, then I must’ve been. “Not…fun, exactly.” Though, admittedly, I was gloating a bit. “This is just…really calming.”

“Yeah. You’re calm, all right,” she snickered, glancing toward the empty classroom. 

I know, I know. I understood the implication: That, in her presence, I was anything but calm. When I wasn’t touching her, my mind wandered; when I was, my soul ascended to cloud nine. Sorry I’m like this.

We stood there for a good five minutes or so in what could only be called a “handshake” position. It was both thrilling, and deeply perplexing, just how many feelings another person’s hand could inspire in me. I found I didn’t mind the rush; on the contrary, it was rather soothing. 

“Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm!”

Since our break time was coming to an end, I reluctantly pulled away. If only we were in Shimamura’s bedroom instead.

“Hey, um… Sorry,” I told her on the way back to the classroom.

“Huh? For what?” Shimamura gestured with her newly freed hand.

“Well, you looked really sleepy earlier, so…”

“Eh, I’m always sleepy.” 

It wasn’t easy to check in on Shimamura, since her desk was diagonally behind mine, but sometimes I snuck a glance over my shoulder and spotted her rubbing her tired eyes. She usually caught me looking, and her exasperated smiles gave my heart a little squeeze.

Seemingly sensing something in my currently expression, she scrutinized my face. A tender, almost motherly smile spread across her lips, and she rushed ahead.

“Listen, Adachi, it’s cool if you need a little reassurance now and then,” she told me without looking back, as if concealing her face. “Like…I really don’t mind. It’s nice to be needed…especially by a pretty girl like you. Ha ha!” 

“Oh.”

When Shimamura felt embarrassed, she usually liked to tack a joke on. That made me a little bashful too, since a joke indicated that she meant every word prior. She was never very direct about her heart’s inner workings, but every now and then, she sent a tidal wave crashing over me. 

Yet while I appreciated her feelings, and that she was willing to share them, I balked at the implication that I was massively clingy. Really, I was just…you know, a little clingy. “I…I’m not a needy little baby or whatever.” 

“Gah hah hah hah! Good one!”

She seemed to find that hilarious, so I quietly conceded, tucking my trampled dignity back into its box. At least now I was confident that I could imagine her accurately for the rest of the school day—which was the only way I could be with her when we were forced apart.