laconic | sᴀᴛᴏsᴇʀᴇ

31. 》》 Komorebi

[ 木漏れ日 ] 
❝ (n.) Sunshine filtering through the trees. ❞

I was once asked to recite a poem in front of the whole class by my teacher. Not reading it out from the book, but learning the lines by heart and animatedly narrate it to my classmates.

I was timidly fretting the day before, my palms spaghetti, knees weak arms spaghetti, vomet on my sweater -- okay I'll stop there. To make it simpler for you - I was damn nervous, and my stage fright certainly did no good by not granting any traces of mercy.

As I and Ash had seated ourselves side by side on the Viridian City park's swings a day before the recital, he violently oscillated back and forth with chirpy giggles that went in-synch with the midsummer breeze. I had my chin sunken in the palm of my hand while I soulessly scanned the rhyme imprinted on the page, letters big and bold and vibrant cartoonish images to go along with.

"Serry-berry, are you done with schoolwork yet?" A whiney Ash asked, hopping off his swing and petting the top of my head. My hair were much longer back then, cascading down till the neckline of the baby pink sundress I was wearing.

I exhaled a faint huff of air. "This thing is almost impossible." I complained, twisting my lips in a scowl as I crossed my arms. "I need to know. What is that I lack?"

"Stop that." Ash blurted out the second he heard the condemn in my voice. He made a face before before adding, "Okay, show me how're you gonna recite tomorrow. Let's try fixing it."

Without any further ado, I blinked a couple of times and shut the book close, inhaling to gather the spirit, anything courageous, and began speaking tonelessly,

"Girls and boys come out to play, the moon doth shine as bright as day. Leave your supper and leave your -"

"Hold it Serry-berry! Where's your pitch?" He intruded just then, airily laying a slap on the side of my head as I pouted, cheeks blooming with heat.

"Now what's a pitch?" I prompted skeptically, tilting my head.

He took the book from my grasp and noisily cleared his throat, as though creating an 'intellectual' type of atmosphere - though I was well aware that he wasn't even an 'i' of that word.

"Listen carefully and then tell me what's the difference between yours and my way of expressing the poem. Alright?"

He weighed the book in one of his hand and with the other one he acted like a contratenor in some opera - a flick of his hand and the entire song would move in reverse. I knitted my eyebrows, leaning back in my swing and gripping the brass chains, setting my gaze at him as the world smelted away in a cloudy, white haze.

"Girls and boys came out to play ," He read, stretching the 'out to play' in a higher note that immediately captured my attention. "The moon doth shine as bright as day!" His face lit up as he went on with the poem in that musical accent. "Leave your supper and leave your sleep, And come with your playfellows into the street!"