Episode 3: Good girl, good girl.
“We’d like to start over from scratch.”
A single cold sentence from our funding partner. And with just those words, I fell to the bottom of a pit of despair.
Negotiations with them had been going smoothly until last week. The contract terms were almost fully settled. All that remained was working through the finer details, and the company could grow even further. I’d been full of hope.
Then they unilaterally changed course.
In yesterday’s meeting, they suddenly declared they wanted to revise the terms. As if everything we’d agreed on had never happened.
This period’s cash flow was riding entirely on this funding. There was no time left to find another partner.
If the money ran dry, the company would be finished. The jobs of every employee——
All of it thrown into chaos by their whims, and every last drop of responsibility landed on me as president. There was no one else to carry it.
After I ended the call, I couldn’t move for a while.
I put my head in my hands. My chest felt packed with cotton; breathing was hard. Each breath getting shallower than the last.
My hands were shaking. My head wouldn’t turn.
What do I do. What am I supposed to do.
Knock knock knock.
“Excuse me.”
It was Matsuyama. She crossed the room with quiet footsteps and set a steaming coffee down gently on my desk.
Then she looked at me with a worried expression.
“President… you look terrible. Did something happen?”
“No. Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“…I see.”
After a brief silence, Matsuyama said haltingly:
“If there’s anything I can do, please just say so.”
Honestly, I didn’t even have the capacity to respond to that.
I picked up the coffee cup with shaking hands and brought it to my lips.
Only the bitterness slid down my throat.
＊＊＊
The walk home, my feet were heavy.
Like weights strapped around my ankles.
The voice from the meeting was still clinging to my head.
We’d like to start over from scratch — that flat, cold tone playing back on loop, an echo that wouldn’t fade.
Standing at the edge of despair, I moved my legs mechanically, nothing more.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of the building.
Yuno was at the entrance again.
Same as always. Like a pet waiting for its owner to come home.
“Welcome back.”
She smiled and gave a little wave.
When we got inside she pattered straight to the kitchen.
Her retreating figure had something puppy-like about it, and I found myself watching her go as I took off my shoes, without quite meaning to.
＊＊＊
Tonight it was omurice.
The smell of butter drifted softly through the room.
The chicken rice was well-seasoned, with a gentle sweetness to it.
Over the top, a generous layer of soft, billowing egg that melted on the tongue.
As I moved my spoon, I felt the thoughts about work receding, somehow.
The only sound in the quiet room was the small clinking of spoon against bowl.
“…Big sis, are you not doing well?”
Yuno tilted her head slightly and looked up at me.
Those large, clear brown eyes, looking straight at me.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“No you’re not.”
Yuno laughed, bright and easy.
Brows drawn down, eyes soft, an artless expression.
“You’ve had that end-of-the-world face since you got home.”
“I haven’t.”
“There’s a really deep line between your brows.”
The breezy, oblivious way she said it irritated me.
But at the same time — right now, this was exactly what I needed. If she treated it as something serious, I would probably fall apart.
Suddenly Yuno pushed back her chair and stood up.
And opened both arms wide.
“Come here.”
“…What?”
My spoon stopped. I tilted my head, not understanding, and Yuno dangled her arms loosely and said it again.
“Over here. Come here.”
Yuno smiled, warm and easy.
I set my spoon down quietly and pushed back my chair.
I stood up, uncertain what I was doing —
and before I knew it, I had been drawn into Yuno’s chest.
Slender arms wrapped around my back. Pulled me close.
My hands had nowhere to go, and without thinking I found them gripping the fabric of Yuno’s T-shirt.
Yuno’s body was thinner than I’d imagined, but her warmth was almost feverish. A comfortable temperature.
Every time I felt that warmth, I wanted to be pulled closer.
The voice from the meeting surfaced again.
“We’d like to start over from scratch——”
My hands, my fingertips, trembled.
What do I do, from tomorrow.
Just then, a hand was placed gently on the top of my head.
“There, there.”
A sweet, high voice, with a quiet steadiness underneath.
And then, slowly, a hand moving through my hair.
Combing it softly.
“Good girl, good girl.”
This time, a gentle pat on my back. Pom. Pom.
A steady rhythm, like soothing a baby.
It fell into sync with my heartbeat.
And I felt so calm I could have fallen asleep right there.
Yuno’s warmth seeped through, slowly, all the way in.
Pom. Pom.
Pom. Pom.
What is this.
Treating a woman years older than her like a child.
And yet the steady rhythm of that palm felt so good.
My back was just warm. Just warm.
——How long had it been.
Since someone had touched me like this.
Before I knew it, the back of my eyes had gone hot.
Blurring. And it wouldn’t stop.
The tears that had never come — through every cutting word in every meeting room, through every number that fell apart, through every time I’d kept my head lowered — came quietly, the moment I buried my face in Yuno’s shoulder.
Hitching like a small child. Pathetic.
Hic. Hic.
It wouldn’t stop.
Yuno’s shoulder was slowly growing damp with my tears.
In front of Yuno, years younger than me. Truly shameful.
Pathetic.
But it wouldn’t stop.
Yuno tried to look at my face.
Not wanting to be seen, I turned away quickly.
My face was hot with embarrassment. Too hot.
“…Let’s go to bed.”
Yuno’s voice was soft and sweet.
Led by Yuno, I was drawn into the bedroom.