Erito - Rina Kawamura - Best Friend-s Girlfrien... -

Kaito nodded slowly, as if hearing a diagnosis he’d already guessed. He dropped the spare key into the river. It hit the water with a soft plink and disappeared.

Erito Saito had never been afraid of heights. He’d climbed the old transmission tower behind the school in his second year, just to prove a point. But standing in Rina Kawamura’s apartment doorway, watching her towel-dry her hair, he felt a vertigo far more paralyzing. Erito - Rina Kawamura - Best friend-s girlfrien...

He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He simply called Erito and said, “The spare key to my place. I need it back.” Kaito nodded slowly, as if hearing a diagnosis

The apartment smelled like her—jasmine shampoo and the faint, metallic tang of her printmaking inks. Rina was an artist. That’s how Kaito had introduced them three years ago. “Erito, this is Rina. She sees the world in colors I don’t even have names for.” Erito Saito had never been afraid of heights

Erito had no good answer. He still doesn’t, years later. He could say chemistry . He could say the heart wants what it wants . But the truth was uglier: he had wanted something that wasn’t his, and he had taken it. Not because Rina was special. Not because Kaito was flawed. But because, for one selfish, burning moment, Erito had wanted to feel chosen.

Rina moved to Kyoto. She sends Erito a postcard once—a print of a crow on a telephone wire, no return address. On the back, in her handwriting: Some colors don’t mix. They just make mud.

“And yet, he doesn’t see me. Not really. He sees a girlfriend. A role. You… you look at me like I’m a painting you’re trying to understand.”