Episode 38: This Is a Story I Don’t Want to Call “Too Convenient.”
I woke up a little before my alarm.
Light flickered faintly through the gap in the curtains.
I sat up and glanced beside me — no one there.
The bed, alone, looked strangely wide.
Today’s a weekday, and work is, of course, waiting.
Whether I like it or not, I end up an early riser these days.
Crawling out from under the covers and heading for the living room, the sound of dishes clinking drifted out from beyond the door.
“Morning, Yotsuka.”
There, more grown-up than she used to be, stood Makina.
◇◆◇◆◇
“Morning, Makina.”
“…Hey, Yotsuka? Your bedhead is incredible right now.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Seriously. …Come on, we don’t have time, go get ready quickly.”
“Yes ma’am…”
Ugh, seriously, every single morning like this throws off my whole rhythm…
Standing at the bathroom mirror, I wet my hands and slap my hair down as best I can, until it’s at least presentable, then take my seat at the living room table.
Breakfast: toast, a fried egg, leftover miso soup from yesterday, and boiled spinach with soy sauce.
A pretty mismatched little spread, but this is just how things are for us these days.
“Itadakimasu.”
“Itadakimasu.”
I scoop a spoonful of strawberry jam from the little jar on the table and spread it on my toast.
I spread some on Makina’s too.
“Here, Makina.”
“Thanks.”
Somewhere along the way, even my own preferences ended up dyed completely in Makina’s colors.
On the TV, the morning news show reports on today’s weather and the state of the commuter rush.
“Ugh… seeing this stuff first thing in the morning really kills any motivation to go to work, doesn’t it?”
“…Agreed. I want to play hooky too.”
“You’ve got it easy, Makina, you can go full remote if it really comes down to it, right?”
“…Maybe I’ll just use a paid day off.”
“Wait, seriously?! Then I’m calling out too! Let’s go straight back to bed and fall back asleep!”
“…Fufu, no, I can’t. Now that you’re actually taking it seriously, I guess I really do have to go after all.”
“You were just playing with me?!”
“Even with remote work, there are things you just can’t understand unless you actually see people face to face, I think…”
“How admirable of you, Makina. If it were me, I’d absolutely just hole up at home.”
“You need to move your body a little, you know?”
“That’s exactly what I’m about to do, geez…”
Outside the window, the same people as always, walking the same direction, at the same time.
An entirely ordinary weekday morning.
“Oh, right, apparently the Diet session’s been running all night since yesterday.”
“Huh… but I mean, none of that actually means anything for us either way, does it, probably.”
Nothing special about it.
Just an ordinary life. Just an ordinary morning.
“Oh, and my dad said, ‘Why don’t you two come home next time you’ve got a day off?’”
“Guess it’s about time I go listen to Mom complain in person again…”
Against a backdrop that hadn’t changed at all since back then, only the shape of our own life had kept quietly, gradually shifting.
“Hey, Yotsuka.”
Makina said it, offhand, after taking a sip of her miso soup.
“I’d like to get married…”
“Pfft—!”
I very nearly sprayed toast everywhere.
“What’s with that, first thing in the morning?”
“No particular reason?”
“That is not a ‘no particular reason’ face.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
Makina laughed, just a little.
Both hands wrapped around her miso soup bowl, only her eyes turned toward me.
But I understood exactly what was sitting behind that smile.
How many years do you think I’ve been right next to you, at this point?
“Well… I want to, too, obviously.”
Because, of course I want to.
With Makina.
I’ve thought that, like it’s just an obvious fact, for so long now.
“But it’s just not possible, is it?”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it?”
“The partnership system, huh.”
“Still has no legal force at all.”
“Adoption, maybe?”
“Isn’t that more of a last resort?”
“Yeah… true.”
Becoming legal parent and child at this point, just to paper over the gap — that really would be a last resort.
We live together.
We’ve built our futures together.
We split living expenses together.
We spend our days off together.
…We even share a bed, still, together.
The only proof of the relationship we chose — “girlfriends” — was the small pinky ring on each of our left hands.
But the system itself still hadn’t fully caught up.
That state of things had been going on for years now.
At first, it had genuinely stung.
Unfair, I’d thought, over and over.
But now, the sting’s mostly given way to something more like familiarity.
Whether getting used to it is a good thing or a bad thing — honestly, I still don’t really know.
“It’ll probably change eventually.”
I say it, half as comfort.
The same line I always end up saying.
“Eventually, when?”
Makina answers with her own usual line right back.
“Ten years from now, maybe?”
“We’re almost at ten years of dating already, you know.”
“Twenty years, then, maybe.”
“That’s even longer!”
Makina laughs, sounding exasperated.
I end up laughing too, caught by it.
How many times have we had this exact conversation by now?
Too many to count anymore.
That kind of conversation.
Because thinking about it seriously always hurts a little.
So, like always, we turn it into a joke and let it pass.
That kind of conversation.
One more bite of the fried egg.
One more sip of the miso soup.
An ordinary breakfast, same as always.
On the TV, some commentator was talking about something.
Might have been politics.
Might have been the economy.
I wasn’t really listening.
Genuinely, not listening at all.
Just background noise, at its usual volume, on an entirely usual morning.
So.
When the sudden electronic chime rang out, both our heads snapped up at once.
“Breaking news.”
A red banner appeared across the top of the screen.
My chopsticks stopped.
Makina had gone still too.
The miso soup bowl trembled faintly on the table, then went still.
The announcer on screen read the script, just slightly too fast.
“A bill recognizing same-sex marriage has, just moments ago—”
That voice rang out, clear and direct, through the quiet living room.
I slowly pulled my eyes away from the TV screen.
Makina was already looking at me too.
Behind her wide, open eyes, I could see them welling up with tears, fast.
On the table, without either of us really deciding to, our hands reached out and gripped each other, tight enough to hurt.
On our left pinky fingers, the silver rings we each wore.
The faint scrape of metal against metal rang out, small, as they caught against each other.