Episode Twenty-Seven

When I awoke, Ibara was standing by my pillow, gazing down at me with those deep, dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there for ages.
Blimey. Eh? What? Is that the sort of ghost she is?

“G-good morning…?”

“Shigure-san.”

“Ah, yes.”

“What is my name?”

“Eh? Well, Ibara… right? Shinomori Ibara…”

“Yes.”

Nodding once, Ibara glided towards the kitchen.
What was that just now?
Her eyes seemed fixed. Perhaps she hadn’t slept last night… As I pondered this, memories of the previous evening gradually resurfaced.
Or rather, I realised they only came back up to a certain point.
The blood drained from my face.
Eh? No way. How many did I have? This is bad. I can’t remember. But I definitely had more than two. And I’ve got no memory after that.
This is very bad.
Haru and my friends have told me plenty about the embarrassing things I do when drunk.
They say I get clingy. They say I regress to a child. They say I turn into a cat.
Whichever one comes up, it’s a dice roll guaranteeing hell.
　I glance at Ibaras’ back as she pours fruit granola onto a plate in the kitchen.
An overwhelming aura of displeasure radiates from her. It practically screams, “Talk to me and I’ll crush you like cornflakes.”
This… this is it.
I’ve done it. To Ibara.
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What on earth have you done, Amami Shigure? With a high school girl. I can’t remember a thing.
A twenty-four-year-old woman clinging to a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl? It’s the end of the world.
No, just clinging would be bad enough.
What if I forced a hug, or touched her inappropriately… If that’s the case, it’s absolutely dreadful. To think, as a working adult, I’d end up being the one committing sexual harassment.
Has she come to hate me, or is she utterly disillusioned?
　A chill wind blew through the gap in my heart. I was surprised at myself. Just because Ibara was turning her back on me, my chest felt this bitterly cold.

I shuffled out of the futon, bleary-eyed, and only then noticed my own state.

“Ugh.”

My top half was in a camisole, and my bottom half still had my skirt on. It was awful.
Naturally, I hadn’t removed my make-up either. I felt like crying.

　At least I washed my face in the sink and changed into my loungewear. Thank goodness today was a day off.
Ibara was silently munching on muesli.
Right then, what should I do…
Should I ask about yesterday’s blunder after all?
Whatever I did, I can’t do anything unless I know who to apologise to. Facing the shame is painful, but everything starts from there.

“…Ibara. May I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

Oh dear
The sudden switch to formal speech nearly broke my heart in two.

“…Did I do something wrong after all…?”

“What exactly?”

“Well, like, clinging to you when I was drunk. Or, you know, touching you? I seem to get terribly clingy when I drink. I don’t remember a thing.”

A sharp, high-pitched clang sounded. It was the tip of the spoon Ibara held striking the deep bowl of granola.
Ibara said, his expression oddly sombre.

“………………. Nothing in particular.”

“Eh, really? But I’ve got quite a gap in my memory.”

“You just came home with a woman called Haru, normally. Then we went straight to bed and slept. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

Ibara nodded.
So that’s it. Maybe I was too tired for my usual drunk behaviour to kick in.

“…Just asking, but you’re not just saying this to spare my feelings, are you?”

“No.”

“For nothing having happened, you’re in a bad mood?”

“That’s… simply because I’m sleep-deprived.”

“Ah, so that’s it. Sorry, I might have been noisy when drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not bothered.”

She declared bluntly, then continued shovelling down his breakfast.
Hmm.
　How to put it… there’s no way to read her. Did I really do something wrong?
And Ibara is hiding it… or something.
If that’s the case, it means I did something so bad that she thinks “Shigure-san would be shocked if she found out”.
Scary.
This might be beyond just needing a hug. What if I forced a kiss on her or something… I’d be a criminal.
I really want to believe I exercised some restraint.
　But judging by what my friends have said, drunk me is perfectly capable of that sort of thing.
Alcohol is terrifying.
No, I shouldn’t blame the alcohol. It’s my lack of self-control that’s at fault. I need to reflect on this.

We’d originally planned to go out together today.
But Ibara isn’t in the mood for that right now. Even if she can’t sleep, it’s better for her to lie down.

“Fancy a nap together?”

“Sure. But you’ve got errands to run, don’t you, Shigure-san?”

“Well…”

It’s a bit of a walk, but the chemist near the station is doing double points today. Sorry for being so cheap.

“Right then, I’ll be off. If you do take a nap, feel free to use the bed or whatever.”

“I will.”

Somehow awkward right to the end, we finished breakfast.
What on earth did I get up to yesterday?

　†

After breakfast, Ibara flopped onto my bed and started fiddling with her phone.
Unable to find anything to say, I got ready and left the house.
The dull grey sky looked as if it might cry any moment, so I took my trusty umbrella with me.

But I was stuck. Even knowing I was at fault, I couldn’t apologise without knowing what exactly I’d done wrong.
The only sustenance for facing hardship lies in the past.
While gathering daily necessities at the chemist’s, I found myself drifting back to the days I’d lived with that girl, Runa.
Our arguments usually stemmed from Runa’s lack of domestic skills, meaning I was the one receiving apologies.
　The reasons for our arguments were things like her finding it too much trouble to finish the last centimetre of milk in a carton before throwing it away, her refusing absolutely to dispose of the hair that built up in the drain, or her trying to eat cup noodles by herself in the middle of the night.
I can’t believe we used to argue over such trivial things.
But perhaps, at the root of it all…
　…the feelings for her that lay dormant in the dark corners of my heart.

“…Haa.”

I sighed, tucking that bittersweet past back inside my chest.
Whenever we fought, Runa would invariably buy cake when she wanted to make up. To win me back.

—That’s right, cake.

Leaving the chemist’s, I headed towards the cake shop near the station.
　It was an old patisserie I’d frequented for years. Runa loved their sweet-and-sour lemon tart.
Sweet treats as a bribe for reconciliation. I thought it was a rather clever idea, even by my own standards.

I stepped through the automatic doors and gazed at the display case.
Cakes as colourful as jewels were lined up inside.

“Hmm… I’m torn…”

　What sort of cake would Ibara like?
If I were to choose based on image, a colourful fruit tart. But chocolate-based ones were also tempting. A Bûche de Noël would be perfect for ‘Princess Ibara’.

“Have you decided?”

“Ah, well—”

She hesitated, about to point at the Bûche de Noël shaped like a log, generously filled with mocha cream.
　What does Ibara think of ‘Charles’? Of the past self she was called Princess Ibara.
I don’t know. To begin with, I don’t even know that girl’s cake preferences.
Come to think of it, I know nothing about Ibara.
A working adult and a high school girl. Not family, not friends, certainly not lovers, yet we sleep in the same room, the same bed.
I realise I’ve been averting my eyes from the distortion inherent in this relationship.
　──Is this really alright?
I gave the shop assistant, who was eyeing me suspiciously, a forced smile.

“Excuse me, could I have a little more time to think?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Next customer, if you’ve decided, please come this way—”

The shop assistant addressed the customer behind me.

“One lemon tart, please.”

“Eh?”

I turned at the familiar voice.
My eyes met those of the woman standing directly behind me, and I was speechless.
She too had frozen like stone, her voice gone.

“…Runa.”

Yomina Runa.
The person I once lived with was standing there.