The Silent Senior and the Snow Lantern

As the afternoon’s three classes concluded, the clock had already struck four thirty-five, signaling the arrival of twilight.

Genji made his way towards the third-floor meeting room within the Faculty of Literature building.

The meeting room proved remarkably spacious, adorned with thoughtful decorations by the senior students. Numerous books were neatly categorized on tables, while the window-side walls were plastered with posters of literary classics. Some had even left calligraphic works, inscribing famous quotes and aphorisms.

A grand rectangular wooden table occupied the very center of the room, designated for reading and discussion.

By the time he arrived, the room was already bustling with a considerable number of people.

Almost immediately, Genji’s gaze fell upon a figure nestled in the corner.

It was a petite girl, wearing black-rimmed glasses. She was clad in a somewhat oversized dark grey sweater, bundled further by a thick scarf. Her skirt reached her knees, revealing slender calves encased in black tights. Her long hair was disheveled, bangs obscuring half her face, allowing only a faint glimpse of her pale skin and tightly pressed lips.

She sat quietly by the innermost window, her head bowed as she read the book in her hands, emanating an aura of melancholic detachment.

Outside the window, the setting sun cast its slanting rays across the glass, painting her with dappled light and shadow.

“So the new student has arrived, just as I expected! I was so worried you’d stand me up.”

Fujita Misaki approached, greeting Genji with an effusive welcome.

“Welcome, junior, to the literature club’s trial event!”

While the university’s literature club boasted considerable prestige, few male students ever joined the welcoming events. Those who did often harbored ulterior motives and quickly became tiresome. A gentle, harmless-looking youth like Genji was a rarity in the literature club. After the trial event and social mixer, the number of new students who remained rarely exceeded ten, and even fewer consistently participated in activities.

This was precisely why Fujita had been so eager to invite him.

Genji nodded politely, his gaze sweeping across the room. It appeared he had arrived just in time for the opening of the event.

Fujita gestured for the newcomers to sit together, then proceeded to introduce the literature club’s history, its current status, and the members present. Her introductions continued until she gestured towards the petite girl.

The latter maintained a frigid expression, her eyes appearing lifeless, leaving all the new students somewhat bewildered.

Fujita introduced her with an excited expression, “This is your senior, Himura Rin, a second-year Literature student. She’s incredibly talented, having already published two short stories in the Aomoku magazine.”

The girl before them, however, exhibited none of the gravitas expected of a senior student. Instead, she resembled a high schooler, her pallid complexion possessing a sickly beauty.

The junior students, impressed by something they didn’t quite understand, murmured in awe. A select few who recognized the name gazed at the frail, melancholic girl with astonishment.

Genji found himself casting a second glance.

‘Was she the one people had been gossiping about?’

“Rin-senpai isn’t in the best of health and often takes leave, so her presence today is truly a rare occasion.”

Fujita joked, “Her personality is a bit… unique. She’s not much of a talker, so you all should be careful.”

Himura Rin remained silent throughout, unfazed even by Fujita’s somewhat impolite jest. Her gaze swept over everyone before she offered a slight nod.

“Please take care of me.”

Everyone was startled by her dry, husky tone, sitting up straighter in their seats.

Fujita flashed a brilliant smile, then unreservedly reached out and slung an arm around the junior senior’s shoulders.

“Oh, Rin-chan, you’re such a tease,” she said with a beaming smile, affectionately pinching Himura Rin’s cheek. “No matter how I look at you, you’re just too cute.”

Their natural interaction instantly drew the eyes of those around them, with both new and old literature club members casting interested glances.

Genji, seated at the far end of the long table, was suddenly struck by a thought.

‘Are they a couple?’

He quickly shook his head, dismissing the wild notion.

Fujita seemed entirely oblivious to the surrounding gazes. After releasing Himura Rin, she clapped her hands and turned her attention to the new cohort of junior students, her demeanor instantly shifting into that of a club executive.

“Alright, let’s get down to business!” she announced loudly, her long ponytail swaying lightly with the movement.

“Today, our literature club has prepared a rich collection of books, all contributed by our members. Feel free to pick any book you like and immerse yourselves in the daily atmosphere of the club.”

Fujita’s voice, bright and infectious, stood in stark contrast to Himura Rin’s quiet, melancholic aura. The room’s atmosphere was instantly invigorated by her, quickly transitioning from a brief hush back to the lively buzz that preceded the opening.

Genji muttered to himself inwardly.

‘This is what they call a “sunshine person” (TL Note: A slang term for someone who is outgoing, popular, and energetic, often the center of attention). Their infectious charisma is truly astounding.’

With the brief opening remarks concluded, the literature club’s activity officially commenced. Familiar faces gathered in small groups, chatting idly, creating a relaxed and lively atmosphere. Some opened books and discussed them in hushed tones, while others simply leaned by the window, sipping the coffee they had brought.

Evidently, only a minority managed to fully immerse themselves in their books.

Genji lacked Fujita’s formidable social prowess, nor did he possess the inclination to blend in with the boisterous crowd. Instead, he selected a book from a stack, giving himself something to do. After all, his purpose for being there was to seek references and perhaps find some inspiration.

He casually pulled out an open magazine, its cover emblazoned with the bold characters for “Literary Review,” as if it had been carelessly discarded there.

Turning to an inner page, his gaze was drawn to a particular passage—

“Fujiwara Shizuki, author of Snow Lantern, with her delicate brushstrokes depicting the solitude of snow, has been hailed as the ‘Master of Contemporary Mono no Aware‘ (TL Note: A Japanese literary concept expressing a gentle sadness or wistful appreciation for the transient beauty of life).”

Beneath the magazine, nestled in the stack, lay the very book that bore such acclaim: Snow Lantern.

Its cover was simple: a vast, desolate snowscape, with the title elegantly scripted in the corner, resembling the faint trace of a snowflake melting into the page.

Fujiwara Shizuki, the author of Snow Lantern, was a celebrated writer in this world. Her previous works had been immensely popular, but she had vanished from the public eye in recent years, with no new works appearing for quite some time.

Unable to resist, he picked up the book, opened it to the first page, and his eyes scanned the opening lines—

“Snowflakes silently blanketed the courtyard, the lantern’s glow swayed in the cold wind, as if even time itself had frozen in that instant.”

Genji looked up, glancing out the window. The wind rustled through the leaves, and twilight descended in the west.

Yasunari Kawabata’s The Old Capital, also imbued with the spirit of mono no aware, contained a description that had left a profound impression on him—

“Chieko saw the ancient cedar, its trunk’s moss appearing exceptionally vibrant green in the rain, raindrops rolling from its branches and leaves like strings of pearls.”

Chieko, as depicted by Kawabata, stood beneath that cedar tree, her eyes holding a hidden longing for the past and a bewilderment for the future. In that moment, one could almost smell the damp, woody scent after the rain.

The Snow Lantern before him told a completely different story, conveying entirely distinct emotions, yet it too evoked that same underlying sense of wistful melancholy hidden within its words. Perhaps this Fujiwara Shizuki and Yasunari Kawabata would have found much to discuss. If so, would Kawabata not have needed to end his life with gas?

His fingertip traced the page, the sorrow of the story permeating the lines of text.

“The lantern’s light was a faint hope, flickering in the snowy night, as if it could be extinguished by the wind at any moment. She stood in the courtyard, gazing at that lantern, recalling how her daughter once lit it. Snowflakes landed on her shoulders, melting into cold droplets, while the lantern’s light gradually dimmed, like a life that could not be held onto.”

The protagonist of the book had lost her beloved daughter, gazing alone at the courtyard lantern in the snowy night, its dim, yellow light casting a blurred silhouette on the snow, as if trying to peel away from memory—

“Hey, new guy.”

A low, dry female voice interrupted Genji’s reading.

He looked up to find Himura Rin standing before him, her pale face devoid of expression, her eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses staring directly at him.

“Huh?”