Episode Eighty-Nine

Lunchtime.
“Please have lunch with me sometime. I feel lonely,” said my junior, Momono-chan, inviting me out for lunch.
She took me to a café with an open terrace under an overhanging eave.
Spring had fully arrived, and the afternoon sun felt warm. Lulled by the balmy air, I couldn’t help but let out a yawn.
　Catching my yawn, Momono-chan chuckled softly.

“Senpai, are you sleep-deprived?”

“Hmm, a bit, I suppose.”

“It has been a rather busy period lately, hasn’t it?”

“True.”

Though that wasn’t the only reason.
I picked up the menu placed on the round table seat and glanced through it.
That said, the lunch menu offered only a single daily-changing dish.
　The contents: a quiche with roast beef and spinach, a salad, a carrot rapée with raisins, and a round bread roll.
As expected of a café favoured by the stylish Miss Momono, the menu was rather chic.
We ordered two portions of the single plate dish and sipped the room-temperature water brought to us. It had a faint hint of lemon tartness.
Suddenly, Momono-chan asked in a casual tone.

“Senpai, do you have a partner at the moment?”

Cough cough.

“Whoa, are you alright⁉︎”

“I’m fine, but… sorry, did I miss something?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

That was a relief. But.

“Momono-chan, what’s this all of a sudden?”

As I braced myself, thinking ‘Surely not…’, Momono-chan waved her hands frantically.

“No, it’s about a project I’m working on. Have you heard of the sweets called ‘Koihoro.’?”

“The rice crackers, right?”

“Yes, yes. The heart-shaped ones.”

‘Koihoro.’ is a product from a long-established confectionery manufacturer we work with. They’re sweet rice crackers dusted with white powdered sugar on the surface.
Their not-too-cloying sweetness and the crisp, crunchy texture of the cracker create a delicious, addictive flavour that appeals to a wide age range.
Their distinctive feature is their shape – they’re beautifully heart-shaped.
During Valentine season, they’re sometimes promoted as gifts for men who aren’t keen on sweets.

“They’re doing a packaging revamp soon, and we’ve decided to include little stories on the individual wrappers.”

“Like the old wives’ tales printed on the back of Potapota-yaki?”

“Perfect analogy, thank you. Exactly that.”

“But old wives’ tales would be plagiarism, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. So, since it’s tied to the product name, we thought it’d be nice to gather some nice romantic anecdotes from Zex and print them out.”

I see. If it fits within the character limit for SNS Zex posts, it should also fit neatly on the back of the individual wrappers.

“It sounds like a pretty good idea, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you see… once we got started, it turned out to be quite a challenge. We did gather quite a few entries, but… could you do a quick search for me?”

　I searched using the hashtag Momono-chan taught me.
Scanning through the countless posts, I quickly understood what she meant.

“Well, it is SNS, after all.”

It’s inevitable that things like pranks or nonsense end up getting collected.

“Exactly. There are some lovely episodes, but not enough. So in the end, I ended up having to fabricate plausible stories myself.”

“Fabricate?”

“It’s fine. Eighty percent of the romance stories posted under corporate hashtags on SNS are made up anyway.”

No comment.
“So then,” Momono-chan clasped her hands together and tilted her head.

“For reference, I was wondering if I could hear some of your intense, melodramatic romance stories, Senpai?”

So that’s how it connects.
　Hmm, it’s a request from a cute junior. I do feel like helping her out.

“Even if you say so… well…”

“Even just a first love story from your student days would be fine! Not just one, even three or four!”

“You only have one first love, surely.”

First love.
Looking back, I do have faint memories that make me think, “Was that it?”
　But now, even the person’s name and face are a hazy past.
It’s nowhere near enough for a concrete anecdote.

“Please! I promise, absolutely promise, no one will know it came from you! Think of it as helping a pitiful junior!”

Momono-chan starts begging desperately.

“Er…”

“Please!”

She kept glancing up at me with those big eyes.
In the end, I gave in.

“…………. Well then, if I think of something…”

“Yesss!”

Momono-chan rejoiced dramatically.
This girl, pure charm incarnate, must have been popular since forever.
The single-plate meal that arrived looked splendid and tasted rather good.

　†

“A love story?”

“Yeah. I’m wondering what to do…”

“You’ve got loads, haven’t you?”

Ibara pointed right at her own face, as if to say, “Look, look, right here!”

“They’re all stories I can’t tell, aren’t they?”

“Like a fateful encounter on the train?”

“That sounds way too made-up, so no.”

Getting together with someone you happened to sit next to? That’s a bit too much like a shōjo manga.
　What the project needs is realism. Something more like an ordinary, everyday episode would be ideal.
Something commonplace, like you could find it anywhere if you threw a stone, but something relatable.

“Like how we hug every night?”

“That’s exactly why I can’t say it!”

How am I supposed to explain that to Momono-chan?

“I’ll just make something up, it’ll be fine.”

“Ehh, that’s boring.”

“This is work too.”

“Hmm.”

Well, whatever, thought Ibara as she lifted herself off the bead cushion.

“Shall we turn in?”

“Yeah.”

Ibara sat down beside me.
When I shifted my body in response to her upward glance, as if seeking permission, she immediately burrowed into my chest.
The pre-sleep hug had become a fixed part of our nightly routine.
We’d kept it up ever since we first met.
　I wouldn’t be unsettled by it now.
The citrus-lemon scent wafting from her freshly washed hair, the softness of her curves felt through the pyjama fabric – much thinner than in winter – left me entirely unmoved.
Or so it should have been.
How long had it been now, as her fine hair tickled the nape of my neck?

“Ibara, time’s up.”

“Hmm, just a little longer.”

Ignoring my urging words, she rubs against me like a kitten in winter.
Cute.

“Listen, it’s hot.”

“No.”

“It’s not ‘no’.”

While being rubbed against, I tell myself this is just a hug.
Like a big cat playfully wrestling with you. Cute, and I feel affection, but that’s all.
That’s all it is.
Yet the pale whiteness of her slightly sweaty neck threatens to burn my eyes.
　This is troublesome.
After what happened last time, I realised there was a definite desire within me.
It was like a dam holding back a huge amount of water.
Once it broke, there would surely be no stopping it.
So I had to keep the lid on.
Allowing what was being sought and seeking it myself were entirely different matters.

“Shigure-san…”

Ibara’s lashes were long, always glistening as if perpetually damp.
Her eyelids closed, as if begging for something.
Her breath brushed my nose.
There was no revulsion towards what was about to happen; rather, it should have felt good.
But precisely because of that.

“…I won’t.”

I turned away with a pout.

“Oh, come on, you cheapskate.”

She said this, though without any real insistence, and moved away.
Despite having been refused, she seemed surprisingly nonchalant about it.
It was contradictory.

We lay down together on the bed.
　The floral scent drifting from the aromatherapy diffuser by the pillow eased the tension in both body and mind.
It seemed to be working properly, for Ibara was snoring softly before midnight had even struck.
Sleepy snores echoed.
The rhythm of breathing, which should have been soothing, somehow kept me awake.
Ever since Shizuku left the room and Ibara returned, nights of sleep deprivation had continued.