I kind of love how "cold" Shimamura is. She’s like a seagull’s feather drifting above the ocean, carried this way or that depending on the strength and direction of the tides. And the fact that she’s like this is also what makes me feel a bit sad for Adachi—it’s like Shimamura just goes along with whatever Adachi suggests, whether she truly wants it or not.
If it were any other character suggesting the same things, Shimamura would probably accept them too.
Adachi, on the other hand, is like a glass full of water. She’s always longed to love someone, to be loved, to feel affection—and now, she’s ready to pour all of that water into the girl she loves, without even stopping to think whether it might hurt Shimamura.
Together, they reflect that stage of life so well: Adachi’s fear of losing her love shows up as possessiveness and a lack of self-love. Shimamura’s fear of allowing herself to truly feel, of being who she really is, appears as indifference—a kind of cold kindness.
It’s a beautiful read, and I truly hope Adachi gets the chance to meet other people—maybe even someone better than her future wife, Shimamura.