Rena Ichijo’s Daily Life #13

“…”

The servants passing by me in the corridor of the main house, which is rare for me to walk, all panic and back away against the wall, bowing their heads.

Like me, who still can’t understand what expression they are making on their faces that I can’t see, or what that expression means…everyone is also unable to understand me.

Everyone seems to be trembling and stiffening up in an interesting way just by giving me a glance as if they are afraid of something…the fact is that they are afraid of me.

…And the person who talks to me without fear is always the same person.

“O-Oh, oh, Sister-in-law!”

“…”

A younger girl who takes a somewhat nervous and fidgety attitude, though standing boldly in front of me, and a boy of the same age who does not hide his strained face behind her.

Their persistent attempts to interact with me, even though I rejected them so much, are indescribable.

“Um, um…I found a game where you can defeat lots of zombies. Would you like to play it with me, Rena?”

“Kokoro? I don’t think it’s just about being gory.”

“Then what kind of game do you think is good, Rena?”

Honestly, I can’t decide what to do with these two, who have started whispering in front of me.

What should I do…the feeling of wanting to reject them, and the feeling that it was my mother’s wish to accept them.

Even though I dislike the faces of those two who resemble the man and woman so much.

“…”

As a result of my usual worries, the action I chose was also the same as usual.

It’s a terribly passive response to deliberately ignore them and just pass by them…it’s very suffocating.

“O-Oh, but we’ll play together again!”

“I really want to be friends with you, Rena! That’s why–”

So what do you mean by that…even I myself don’t understand what this emotion and impulse that I’m struggling with is.

If you can cling to them, then you can…if you can, but.

I don’t understand…I still don’t understand…the nature of the feelings I have for them, and the reason why they won’t give up even though I have rejected them so much.

And every time I realize this, I feel irritated with the situation where I can’t find a solution to something I can’t understand.

I’m always like that…I can’t consider others…I can’t even imitate my mother, let alone want to.

Even if I try to aim for “normal” as my mother desired, I still can’t reach it.

On the contrary, I…I don’t want to pretend to be someone else.

Suppressing myself and enduring what I want to do…how suffocating and frustrating is that?

“… But still, I love my mother very much.

I want to become like my mother, and I want to be a daughter that my mother can be proud of.

I want to become a person who can talk with my mother with a smile, without causing her any trouble or making her bow her head to unknown adults on my behalf… a person who feels no suffocation just by being natural.

“… Ah, how annoying.”

Recently, I have been thinking about these things all the time.

And it’s all because of that man and that woman… because they keep talking about my mother’s past in front of me!

“…”

Suddenly, I punched and shattered the mirror in the hallway, and a young servant I didn’t recognize looked frightened… even their expression was annoying.

“Leave this to me and go.”

“Y-Yes!”

I pushed away the young servant and approached me, Yamamoto-san, who has served this house since my mother was alive, wrapped my hand that shattered the mirror with both hands.

“…Miss, you must not hurt yourself even if you hurt something. Reiko-sama will be sad.”

“…”

He gently pressed a handkerchief against my bleeding hand and opened the first aid kit that he had somehow prepared, even though he had just passed by.

“Reiko-sama is more saddened and depressed when you are hurt than when you hurt someone else.”

While treating my hand, Yamamoto-san quietly spoke to me. “You know that well, don’t you?”

“…Yes, I do.” When I was a child, my mother was deeply saddened when I got into a fight with a high school student who was bigger than her.

Recalling that, and comparing it to the current situation… If my mother were here now, I can easily imagine her panicking and tearing up at the sight of my injured hand.

“I don’t know what you’re angry about, but can’t you talk to someone about it?”

“…”

“…Please know that many people, including myself, are worried about you.”

With those words, the treatment was over and he left without waiting for my answer.

…If someone could help me, if I could do something like that, I would want to be helped.