Episode Fifteen

In the end, I only bought bath salts at the chemist’s. And some hand cream while I was at it.
This is just my usual shopping. I’d actually intended to buy it at Roshitan.
You idiot, Ibara.
I could have gone home then, but since I’d come all this way, I decided to pop into that furniture shop that’s worth more than its price tag.
Regardless of whether I’d buy anything, I lay down on the mattresses lined up there.

“Ooh…”

The ones that made me go “Ooh…” were, unsurprisingly, the expensive ones. I suppose you get what you pay for, I concluded.
They say bedding is a rabbit hole once you start getting particular about it. Might be true.

“Ibara, fancy a new duvet or something? It’s only going to get colder.”

“…Hmm, I’m fine.”

Her reply felt off. So did the way she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.
　Her complexion was unusually pale, her footsteps heavy.
I sensed something.
I’d heard before that daytime was always the hardest for her.

“Shall we rest a bit?”

“…Sorry. Just closing my eyes for a moment will help…”

“Alright.”

We left Nori and sat down on a bench beside the escalator.
　We’d considered going into a café, but it was too crowded.
We settled on a bench in a quiet corner, out of sight, and immediately Ibara leaned against me.

“I’m sorry.”

She murmured it, almost to herself.
Before I could say it wasn’t necessary, she continued in a voice like thin glass shattering.

“…I’m causing trouble, aren’t I…”

“Don’t worry about it. This much is nothing.”

“No, it’s not.”

She shook her head like a child refusing something.

“It’s not just today. Well, today too, but… ever since we met, I’ve been relying on you, Shigure-san.”

Ibara’s voice trembled faintly.

“…If I become too much trouble, you can just abandon me. I’ll return the spare key too.”

Hidden beneath her hat brim, her face remained unseen.
But I could imagine it.
It must be the same face as that night.
That fragile, delicate expression she occasionally revealed beneath her princess-like exterior.
It felt unbearable, like ice pressed against the very depths of my heart.
　Not knowing what to say, I simply drew Ibara’s head towards me.
Then, I guided her onto my thigh.

“S-Shigure-san?”

Uncharacteristically flustered, Ibara shifted on my lap.
The earlobe peeking through her hair was red, somehow endearing.

“I told you it wouldn’t bother me. Didn’t you say I wouldn’t have stopped by Sereno if I weren’t interested? You did, Ibara.”

“Well, yes, but…”

I smoothed the hair spilling from beneath her cap, trickling down her cheek. It felt like grooming a large cat, the sensation pleasant against my fingertips.

“You worry too much. You can lean on me more. Because I am, Ibara’s—”

　The words slipped out unconsciously, trailing off at the crucial moment.
What am I to Ibara, then?
A friend? A surrogate sister? Or just an acquaintance?
None of them quite fit. We’re too far apart in age to be friends, and Akiko-san is already her surrogate sister.
But even so, we’re not at a distance where I could just call her an acquaintance now.
What am I to Ibara?
　The one who lulls the beautiful princess into a deep slumber.
If I were to force a name upon myself…
It would surely be—

“Shigure-san, you’re my wizard,”

Ibara said.
Her voice was sweet, almost ticklish to hear.

“The kind witch who puts me to sleep.”

“…Then you must be Princess Aurora, Ibara.”

　A literal ‘Thorn Princess’.
Hang on, that’s not right. Was the original story for the film ‘Sleeping Beauty’? Which one is correct?

“Ah ha. I’m no princess, you know.”

Unusually flustered, Ibara pulled the brim of her cap down low.

“For now, I’m just… a thorn.”

　†

Thirty minutes later.
After a nap, Ibara was completely refreshed.

“Shigure-san, I’m starving! Let’s get some crêpes!”

“Right. We should try to improve our diet going forward too…”

Apparently, diet affects sleep quality. Bluefish and natto are supposed to be good. Should I cook some rice?
The crêpe shop is on the third floor. At least on the surface, the recovered Ibara and I walk side by side.
　That earlier state must have been Ibara’s ‘daytime’ self. Perhaps she’d been pushing herself to keep up with me. I’ll need to be more mindful about this going forward. Maybe I should read up on sleep-related books.
Passing by Kuzawa Bookstore, I pondered such things.

“Ah, look look, Shigure-san!”

As I turned my head, my sleeve was suddenly tugged.

“It’s an art gallery. Let’s have a look. You graduated from art college, right?　I’ve been wanting to hear about that sort of thing with commentary.”

“Well, I’m not really one for explaining other people’s work—”

I was about to say I couldn’t do it, when—
Just then, we passed two girls, about university age, coming out of the gallery.
One of them murmured something that cut through the shopping centre’s clamour.

“—No way. Was that just now… Princess Ibara from ‘Charles’?”

　Charles.
I’ve heard that name somewhere recently.

“You’ve got the wrong person. The vibe’s completely different. Stop it, it’s annoying.”

“Eh? But seriously, is there anyone else with a face like that? National treasure-level beauty!”

“Just stop it. Come on, the film’s starting.”

“Ehh, but…”

The other girl admonished her persistent companion and pulled her away.
　Once I was sure they were out of earshot, I quietly peeked at Ibara’s profile.
Our eyes met.
Ibara looked like a child caught doing something naughty, her mouth twisting into a forced smile.

“Wh-what were they talking about, I wonder?”

“…What were they talking about?”

“P-probably mistook her for someone else. You know, like a case of mistaken identity.”

“‘Charles’… what was that about… I feel like I heard it somewhere, from someone…”

“Ah, Shigure-san, we’re at the crêpe shop! I’m having matcha azuki shiratama cream with extra cream, but what would you like?”

“…I think it was Momono-chan…”

“Sorry, no peach crêpes! Come on, decide quickly, we’re holding up the people behind us.”

“Ah, um… I’ll have the iced café mocha.”

We took our crepes and sat down in the eat-in area.
Generous whipped cream and bittersweet iced café mocha. Rich chocolate sauce. Butter-scented wheat flour batter.
Every single thing tasted sinfully good. Having finished lunch with a doughnut and now a crepe… Was this really okay?

“So, about what we were talking about earlier…”

“Shigure-san, would you like a bite of my crêpe? It’s not too sweet and really tasty.”

“…Alright then.”

Since she’d offered, I took a bite from the edge.
Mmm.
Yes, delicious. The slight bitterness of matcha, distinct from coffee, and the sweetness of red beans harmonised in perfect balance.
　Still, matcha was a slightly unexpected choice.
I’d thought she’d pick something more straightforwardly sweet. Just my own preconception, though.

“Do you like matcha, Ibara?”

“Not particularly?”

Not particularly???
Then why the matcha azuki shiratama cream? Eat what you like.

“Well, you see, if there’s something green on the menu, I just end up choosing it.”

“Why?”

“Ah, never mind.”

Never mind???
What on earth?
Even I realised something was off. Ever since we passed that pair earlier.
Charles.
I pulled at the thin thread of memory.
Yep, it was Momono-chan after all.
With the crêpe now settled in my stomach, I pulled out my phone.