Arisa’s Past, Part 1
This is a story from when Yuuki and I were in elementary school.
It’s the story of something I did that I can never undo, a hopeless story about a hopeless version of myself.
Yuuki and I first met not long after entering elementary school, but back then, we weren’t particularly close.
So, I guess you could say our real meeting happened around our fourth year.
My hair wasn’t the same color as everyone else’s.
I was half-Japanese, so unlike the other girls whose hair was black or dark brown, mine was almost white. To be exact, it wasn’t pure white, but it was close.
Ever since I was little, I was rarely accepted by the people around me.
Even in preschool, only a few kids would play with me. My only playmate was the teacher, and playing make-believe with her was my only joy.
After entering elementary school, people started avoiding me even more.
Just because my hair color and facial features were different, the kids around me began looking at me strangely.
“Why is Arisa-chan different from everyone else?”
Even an innocent question like that would hurt me deeply.
I just wanted to be born as an ordinary Japanese girl. If I had, I’m sure everyone would have accepted me.
“Your hair color is weird.”
“You kind of look like a monster.”
“Ah, I’ve seen that kind of hair in old stories before. Like a snow woman or that sand-throwing hag.”
“My grandma’s hair was that color too.”
The innocence of children tore me apart back then.
They didn’t understand the difference between things that were okay to say and things that weren’t. They just said whatever came to mind.
You could call it bullying.
They would pull my hair, and even though I didn’t smell bad, they’d say I smelled strange.
Every single day was painful.
I spent my early school years constantly being hurt, but one day, a boy told me my hair was beautiful.
“Everyone else says things like that, but I think it’s pretty.”
The boy who said that was Yuuki, who had just become my seatmate after the class rearrangement.
We hadn’t talked much before, but soon after we changed seats, Yuuki started speaking to me and said those words.
The only people who had ever called my hair beautiful were my family. No one my age had ever said it to me.
I’m sure my face was filled with pure surprise at that moment.
I didn’t know how to respond to Yuuki’s words and probably couldn’t say anything back.
But I remember feeling so happy. From that day on, I kept hoping Yuuki would praise me again or talk to me about something. Just thinking about it made me excited.
After that, Yuuki treated me differently from everyone else. He spoke to me without hesitation or judgment.
“Arisa-chan, what’s your favorite subject?”
“Hmm, I like math. I’m not good at Japanese.”
“I see. Then next time, let’s read a book together and work on that.”
“If I can read with you, Yuuki-kun.”
Those simple, casual conversations healed the lonely, wounded heart I had back then.
From there, Yuuki and I grew closer, our bond deepening naturally without any problems.