Haruka
"H-Haru?"
Though shocked, the man is still able to function properly, unlike myself. He extends his hand forward to me. However, an inner sense of resentment stops me from accepting his aid. I reach out, only to hesitantly retract my hand back to my side.
"Haru?" Ji-Hong says again. "Is that really you?"
I bite my lip, frantically shaking my head, denying his question while also remaining in denial of the developing situation at hand. Crippled by the conflicting emotions of hopelessness within me, I can only lay on the ground, wishing that my tears will somehow protect me from Ji-Hong's imminent judgement.
Ji-Hong hesitates for a moment, but soon decides to go closer to me. The hulking man bends over, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asks again, this time more softly, almost to a whisper.
Through my sobbing, I manage to force myself to give him a nod. Ji-Hong breathes a sigh of relief. We lay on the ground for a little while longer. Once I'm ready, Ji-Hong helps me back onto my feet without a word of complaint.
"Do you need me to walk home with you?" Ji-Hong asks, taking my hand and guiding me out of the alleyway. "I've called the police. You don't have to worry too much about them anymore."
His persistent acts of concern is heart-warming. Maybe it's a result of my unexpected vulnerability, but suddenly, I'm not afraid of him finding out about my true identity anymore. Suddenly, I feel like he's the most reliable person in the world. Suddenly, he doesn't seem as scary as I thought he was.
"You..." I swallow. "You know me, don't you?"
I peer over to scan the Korean's face. Only his eyes reveal the soft emotions that he's hiding beneath that permanent stoic expression of his. After a brief moment of contemplation, he wordlessly nods at my question.
"I see."
We put ourselves some distance from the scene of the crime, neither of us able to find the right words to thaw the barrier of awkwardness between us. Furthermore, I'm still quite shaken from what happened back in the alley. After some time though, I'm finally able to speak to him again.
"Ji-Hong," I say, my voice sounding a little more timid than I'd have liked. "Thank you for saving me back there. I... I mean, it's a little strange but... if it hadn't been for you, I'd have..."
Ji-Hong nods, understanding my point.
"Do you... uh..." My saviour rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Do you dress like this often?"
"Sometimes," I answer, sharing his unease for the topic. "Look, I know it's a little too much to ask but I just―"
This time, shame is the emotion inhibiting my speech. My partner however, patiently waits for me to continue. I'm really grateful for that.
"It's just... very important to me if you would keep this as a secret between us. The incident today, and me... dressing up as a girl." I give myself a reassuring self-hug, worried about what's going to come next. "I know you're probably thinking that I'm some kind of pervert for dressing up like this, or you just think I'm gross. If you think badly of me, it's all right; I understand. I don't blame you but please, don't tell this to anyone. I'm pleading with you."
Ji-Hong muses to himself for a moment.
"Okay," he says. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
Hearing that, I can feel myself relaxing a little. Something tells me that Ji-Hong is a person that I can trust to keep his word. I'm not a hundred percent sure about that, but the odds feel good enough for me.
"And I just want to say that I don't think any less of you."
His remark surprises me.
"R-really?"
"Yes." He nods. "Actually, you look..." His cheeks flush, and the usually-stoic man faces away. "You look quite good in that."
"I see."
Did he he really say that? To me?
I can't even begin to describe the feeling that's surging through my systems right now. Ji-Hong isn't the only one that's blushing after that remark. For someone with such a cold demeanour, his words are surprisingly bold. After that remark, my body feels as if it's running on molten lava rather than blood.
Somebody, for once in my life, actually saw both sides of me. Not only does he not think badly of me, he even complimented me for my looks.
"I'm glad you said that, Ji-Hong," I say, flashing him a beam. "Thank you, again. You don't know how much it means to me."
Ji-Hong flattens his lips, which can be perceived as his form of a smile.
"Speaking of which," I add. "I remember you said you had some business in this district."
"Ah, yes," Ji-Hong answers. "It's to deliver these..." The Korean then pulls out several envelopes from his sling bag, showing them to me. "I was planning to deliver these to the post office. I heard there's one here. The one near my home is closed for today."
"Where do you live?"
"Birtha District."
That makes sense. Birtha and Zon are practically neighbouring districts. But if he's living in Birtha District, then that means that he can't be very well-off from a financial standpoint, since it's an area that's mainly under construction as well. The houses there may have yet to even have functioning utility services.
"It's a little rude of me to ask but may I know what are those letters about?"
"One for my sister," Ji-Hong answers. "The other three are for job applications."
Job applications? I know curriculum isn't as tough for colleges in Unmyo, but I believe it's still a bit of a strain to juggle it with an actual part-time job. Of course, I'm in no position to judge since I've never really been in a situation where money is a limiting factor for my daily or miscellaneous needs. Seems like he's living on his own as well. It must be tough for him.
I accompany Ji-Hong to the post office, a simple two-storey building with three cabinet-style letterboxes placed outside. Once we're done, the both of us decide to make our way to the closest bus station by the outskirts of the district.
"How did you find me?" I ask him.
"I got lucky," he answers in a matter-of-fact tone. "I heard screams. It's a quiet place. Sort of quiet. Human voices are not something I'd have expected to hear from a place like this." He then rubs his cheek in discomfort. "Sorry. I'm not very good at expressing my thoughts. English is still not my best language."
"It's all right," I assure him. "You're pretty good at it already."
"Is that so?" He lets out an awkward laugh, resembling more like a sharp exhale of amusement. "Thank you. I try hard in practising it. What about you? You are Japanese, but your English is really good; as good as the westerners in this country."
"Awwh..." I giggle, suddenly bashful from his compliments. "My mother spent a lot of time in the UK, and she always taught me English whenever she had the time."
"Mother, huh?" Ji-Hong says, his expression darkening. "I see."
"Is something wrong?" I ask, slightly disturbed by his change of moods, however subtle it may be.
"No." There he goes again, with his momentary muses between statements. I really do wonder what's running through his mind, and what exactly is he not telling me. "Nothing's wrong. So, do you have other opportunities to practise English?"
I then tug at my skirt to get my point across. "My hobby! As a cosplayer who's known on an international scale, it's important for me to be fluent in English as well. Communicating with westerners is unavoidable. I mean, I have to manage my social networking accounts, attend hobby conventions, interact with fans, and so many other things! It can be a little tiresome at times, but it's all really fun, really!"
"I see."
His terse response causes a sense of self-consciousness to unfold within me, like an imaginary rein holding my annoyingly jovial side back.
"I'm sorry," I say, lowering my voice in embarrassment. "I got carried away. This is the first time I'm talking to anybody at all about my hobby and..."
"I understand." Ji-Hong flattens his lips again for that smile of his. "You seem very passionate about your hobby. That's good. I actually envy you."
"You do?"
"Yeah," he says. "It's respectable, and you're very good at what you do. As for myself, I don't really have a hobby. I... don't know how it's like to enjoy leisure activities. I did not have the time for such things."
Ji-Hong sounds sorrowful as he says that. Adding to the fact that he's having such a hard time with adapting to our school, I can't help but pity him. And he's such a nice person too.
Should I...? No, it's so shameless. But maybe if I play it cool...
"C-can I have your number?" I blurt out.
"Huh?"
It's only now when the embarrassing nature of my request assaults my consciousness at full force.
"I-I mean, it's better if we remain contactable! I mean, I want to help you. You seem like you need help getting around our school, and I think you're a nice person so..." It's odd that I'm in such a fluster but no matter how hard I try, I just can't remain calm before him. There's that molten lava rushing through my blood vessels again.
Fortunately, Ji-Hong doesn't seem to mind my uncanny hysterics in the slightest. Or maybe he's just hiding it. If he is, then he's very good at it. Traits of a soldier, maybe?
"All right."
I clumsily fumble over my phone, unlocking the screen before handing it to him. Ji-Hong arches a brow.
"This phone..."
"Don't mind it!" I frantically wave my hands at the smartphone that's excessively decorated with cutesy accessories. "It's just for me to maintain my image as a... y'know..."
"Ah. That's not what I meant though," Ji-Hong says, tapping away on the touch-screen keyboard. "I just noticed that this phone is of a different model from the one you used in school today."
"Oh. Yeah, I have two phones. One for school and one for this." I sheepishly cram my hands into my coat's pockets. "You're pretty observant, huh?"
"You learn some useful things when you're in the military," Ji-Hong answers, passing the phone back to me. "There. And, thank you for being kind to me."
"So I guess we're friends now!" I smile.
"Friends?" Ji-Hong droops his head a little as he thinks about it for a moment. "Yeah. It would seem so."
For a big guy with a military background, Ji-Hong has a surprisingly meek personality. There's still a lot I don't know about the mysterious Korean and yet, I can feel a subtle, unexplained connection with him; something I've not felt with anyone before. Maybe I'm overthinking about it. Maybe it's just admiration for his bravery for saving me without hesitation. It probably is.