[Those are the wary eyes of someone wondering how I knew.]
"Isn’t that only natural? It would be strange not to be wary when a complete stranger knows far too much about you."
[Well, that is true... but first, I would like to correct one misunderstanding.]
"What is it?"
[It is not as though I know all that much about you, you know?]
"...Excuse me?"
What kind of nonsense was that?
‘Then what was all that about you seeing through my thoughts and answering them?’
When I sent him a look that conveyed exactly that, my eyes half-lidded, he somehow began shaking with silent laughter as he wrote in his sketchbook and showed it to me.
[You are simply far too easy to read. It is not my fault.]
"...No one has ever told me that before."
[Then everyone you have met so far must have had knots for eyes.]
I nearly burst out laughing as I watched him insult every person I had ever met in a single breath.
‘Come to think of it, he is not entirely wrong.’
Even now, there was no one except people who had been fooled by my appearance and behavior, unable to realize what I truly felt.
No—perhaps, to them, that was all I amounted to.
"So how did you figure out what I was thinking?"
[The answer is very simple. It was because of your actions.]
"My actions?"
[Yes. Earlier, when I said we could go to the police station together, what were you about to do?]
"...I was going to scream."
[When someone has done something seriously wrong and the police are mentioned, they tend to do one of three things.]
"What are they?"
[One, they try to overpower you with violence. Another, they desperately beg. And the last is what you were about to do—scream that I was molesting you.]
—Unfortunately, society only pays lip service to gender equality. In reality, people are even more inclined to listen to the claims of vulnerable women.
There was somehow a sense of genuine anguish in the words written on his sketchbook, as though he found it truly troublesome.
"...You sound like you have experienced that quite a lot."
[When you live long enough, all sorts of things happen. Like meeting you now.]
As he answered through the sketchbook, he playfully flicked my forehead with his index finger.
Startled by the sudden gesture, I stared blankly at him and brought a hand up to cover my forehead.
When the delayed, faint sting hit my forehead and I frowned, the way his body shook somehow made it seem as if he were laughing.
What was so amusing about flicking someone else on the forehead?
As I looked at him with displeasure, sensing his playful mood, he raised a hand as if apologizing and calmed his shaking body.
[We have gone off topic.]
"You are the one who wandered off on your own."
[I do apologize for that. But your expression was so amusing—no, cute.]
"...I never knew a compliment could make me this unhappy."
[How cruel. For a Homu, I am rather sparing with my praise.]
Where he had written Homu, I could see traces of where he had tried to write person instead, then erased it.
Was he planning to keep up the act now that he had put on the costume?
[Let us continue our conversation first.]
"This time, please do not go off on a tangent by yourself."
[Hehe. It seems you truly do not like me, young lady.]
"Isn’t that only natural?"
He had kidnapped me, seen through all my thoughts, treated me rather kindly in his own way, yet continued hiding himself behind a full-body costume. My impression of the Homu Sword Saint was already close to the worst possible.
‘There is no way I could feel favorably toward someone trying so desperately to hide who they are...’
At that thought, another one came to me unbidden.
‘Then what about me? Did I even have the right to think that, to judge him for it?’
And once that thought occurred to me, I realized why I kept trying to dislike him.
His appearance felt like a mirror reflection of who I was now.
On the surface, I acted like a delinquent and sneered at the world, but in truth I hid my real self. I felt both kinship and discomfort toward him, hiding his true self behind the Homu Sword Saint costume.
Even though all my true feelings had already been exposed, I resented him for deceiving me.
"...!"
As I fully realized how I felt, my face abruptly burned with shame at myself.
Noticing my state at once, he wrote in his sketchbook and showed it to me.
[Your face suddenly turned red. Are you all right?]
"It is nothing!"
[No, that does not look like the face of someone who is fine.]
"I. Said. It. Is. Nothing!"
[R-right.]
At my firm response, the Homu Sword Saint expressed his awkwardness by writing trembling letters in the sketchbook itself. I gave him a narrow look, then turned my head and covered my mouth with my hand.
My face was hot enough that I could feel it through my palm. I took deep breaths and forced myself to calm down.
"...So how did you know I was trying to get my parents’ attention?"
[Well, that was very simple. It was because of your eyes and expression.]
"My eyes and expression."
[Yes. The look in your eyes, as though you intended to use that situation to your advantage, and the expression you made then.]
—You were smiling.
"?!"
‘I was smiling?’
[As though cigarettes were not your real objective at all, but that was.]
"That..."
[So after bringing you here and thinking about it calmly, I reached this conclusion.]
—Your goal was to draw your parents’ attention.
The Homu Sword Saint lowered his sketchbook after writing that final line.
Watching him, I—
"...What are you, Sherlock Holmes?"
With a bitter smile, I acknowledged it through a metaphor.
‘Because he was right.’
He claimed otherwise, but his deduction had been so precise that I could not help thinking he really had seen through every one of my thoughts.
Feeling oddly deflated, I felt all the tension that had stiffened my shoulders drain away.
After all, I had realized that hiding myself in front of this person was completely impossible.
‘It feels like I am standing completely naked in front of him.’
I did not want to admit it, and it had kept making me feel ashamed... but now I felt somewhat relieved.
[Sherlock Holmes... Even a passing Watson would laugh at that. Anyone could figure it out with a little thought.]
"The problem is that not many people are that anyone."
[...It is troublesome when you praise me too extravagantly.]
"I only told the truth."
Seeing him appear somehow embarrassed, I found it cute inside and spoke teasingly.
Perhaps noticing my teasing, the Homu Sword Saint shrugged and wrote in his sketchbook for me to see.
[Your face looks much better now.]
"Should I take that to mean you are saying I am pretty right now?"
[What I mean is that you no longer have the face of someone who looks like she is about to die, as you did when I first saw you. But words mean different things depending on how the other person takes them.]
"Then I will take it that way."
[Well, well. So you are quite the bold young lady.]
"Even if I am charming, it would be a problem if you fell for me, would it not?"
[Goodness! I was rejected before I even confessed.]
Watching him shake his head as though regretful while showing me the sketchbook, I could not help but laugh.
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