"The reason I ended up doing something like this was because my father showed me no interest."
It was not as though my father had been indifferent toward me from the beginning.
In my distant memories, there was still the memory of my father smiling brightly at me as he held me in his arms and lifted me high into the air.
Until my mother passed away, my father had been affectionate toward me.
Anyone perceptive might have already realized it, but yes... that was something I had only ever seen while my mother was still alive.
When I was around two years old, my mother died of cancer.
Unlike now, cancer was a difficult disease to treat back then.
My father desperately tried to cure my mother somehow, but despite all his efforts, her condition only grew worse and worse.
Even now, the last image I have of my mother is of her emaciated body and hair all gone from chemotherapy... Yet even so, she was a strong person who never lost her smile.
From the time my mother died, my father began doing nothing but work all day.
Because of that, I was raised by my grandfather and grandmother, and it was not until my elementary school entrance ceremony that I was able to see my father again.
"...Dad?"
I would be lying if I said I had not hoped for something from my father when we met again.
But he passed me by without even sparing me a glance, completely ignoring me.
I did see my grandfather and grandmother reprimand him for it... but honestly, I do not remember it very well because I was too shocked by the fact that my father had ignored me and walked past.
That was how my relationship with my father grew more distant by the day, becoming what it is now.
Even when we pass each other, he does not so much as look at me, as though I am invisible.
I made countless efforts to draw my father's attention.
But no matter what I did, my father would not give me even a scrap of his attention.
"... ..."
As I went on, the emotions welling up inside me became too much, and I could not bring myself to continue. My voice caught as I choked back tears.
—My emotions.
—My thoughts.
—Everything I had.
I had lived solely for my father.
'Because there was only one thing I wanted: to hear my father praise me.'
'Because I wanted him to smile warmly at me again, just as he had back then.'
When my voice began to tremble and I could no longer force out any words, I felt a hand gently cover the hand that was clutching the blanket tightly.
Startled, I quickly raised my head. The Homu Sword Saint was looking at me with warm eyes, without saying a word.
At that gaze, at that touch, the feelings I had held back surged forth, and tears began to spill from my eyes.
Once my crying began, it showed no sign of stopping. No matter how much I wiped my tears away, they kept flowing.
The Homu Sword Saint simply held me quietly, carefully, and gently patted my back.
His warm touch made my sobs and uncontrollable emotions surge even harder, and before I knew it, I burrowed into his embrace.
It was an unconscious act. I just wanted to feel more of the warmth I was feeling now.
Even at my actions, even at the way I was acting spoiled, he stroked my hair as though telling me it was all right to depend on him even more... Somehow, his actions and touch made me feel a longing for something I could no longer remember.
Just like when Dad had done this for me whenever I cried as a child.
After I had poured out my emotions for a long while and finally calmed down, my reason returned with chilling clarity, and I could not bring myself to lift my face.
No, I could not bring myself to leave the Homu Sword Saint's embrace.
No matter how overcome with emotion I had been, I had clung to an unfamiliar man's chest and cried until I got tears and snot all over him.
'As a lady, that is wrong in every possible way!'
All I could do was hide my face, which had gone bright red, without knowing what to do.
[It seems you have calmed down.]
"...Yes."
But because he was still someone who saw right through how I felt, he immediately noticed my state.
As he slowly drew me away from his arms, I felt an unexpected sense of regret, and I could not help being startled by it.
'Why am I feeling this way?'
[Your face is a mess.]
"...Just leave me alone."
[I cannot do that.]
After writing that in his sketchbook, he took a handkerchief from his clothes and gently dabbed at the corners of my eyes, wiping away my tears.
He must have done that because he knew they would swell badly if he rubbed them.
Once he had neatly wiped away the tear tracks on my face, he finally held the handkerchief to my nose.
I looked at him in confusion, and he performed the feat of writing in his sketchbook one-handed before showing it to me.
And this was what was written in it.
[Blow!]
"Blow!"
I had unconsciously done exactly as the sketchbook instructed, and then shame immediately made heat flood my face and ears.
'I am not even a child. What on earth am I doing...?!'
'No, more importantly, what did this person just make me do?!'
"Excuse me!"
[What is it?]
I met the eyes of the Homu Sword Saint as he looked at me questioningly through his sketchbook.
But then I immediately remembered my undignified behavior from just moments ago.
Thanks to that, my face reddened, and I could not hold his gaze for long before lowering my eyes once more.
Still, I could not let him continue to misunderstand.
Somehow gathering my courage, I slowly opened my trembling lips.
"I—"
[You?]
"I'm not a child, you know...."
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