Episode Twenty-Nine

This was the second time Runa had brought up the subject of flat-sharing.
The first time was before we graduated from art college.
It was the sweltering summer of our third year.

“Ame. After we graduate, shall we live together?”

In that sweltering room where we skimped on air-con bills, munching on soda-flavoured Gari Gari-kun ice lollies bought in a special sale, Runa said it in the most matter-of-fact tone.
I remember her looking rather dishevelled, the thin straps of her tank top slipping off her shoulders.
Despite always catching a chill easily, she preferred wearing revealing clothes.

“Not this half-arsed arrangement, you know? Like, proper flat-sharing… I hear living on a starter salary’s tough with prices so high these days, especially in Tokyo, right? So if we split the rent, we could get a much nicer place… What do you reckon?”

But I think she was actually nervous.
Her voice was a bit high-pitched, and her hands were clenched tight.

“What do you think?”

Though I vaguely sensed her tension, my mind was elsewhere entirely at the time.

“First things first, jobs. For both of us. Then graduation projects.”

“Oh, please… don’t say that…”

Runa groaned.
　Of course, even art students have to start job hunting in their third year.
By the fourth year, instead of a thesis like at regular universities, you need to complete your graduation project, so job hunting has to be brought forward.
Sure, some students manage to hold solo exhibitions and win loads of awards while still enrolled, launching themselves as artists… but that’s only a select few.

“Waaah, making a portfolio is such a bother!”

“Oh, there, there.”

Having finished her ice cream, Runa rested her head on my lap, still holding the stick between her teeth. I stroked her hair.
The slightly coarse feel of her hair, damp and coarse from the summer humidity, slipped through my fingers.

“Once we’ve both got jobs sorted in Tokyo, shall we live together?”

Runa sat up abruptly.
The momentum made her heavy, swaying twin peaks jiggle.
Leaning in close enough to kiss me, Runa said.

“…Is that alright?”

“Only if you learn to do your share of the housework properly, Runa.”

“Ugh.”

“A flatmate who can’t cook, wash, or clean? That’s just not on.”

“I’ll try my best!”

“But first, job hunting.”

“I’ll try my best at that too!”

“Ah… I really need to get serious about this too…”

Muttering to myself, I licked the last scrap of ice cream off the stick.
　The cold, sweet ice melted in my mouth along with my weariness.

“Right then. Runa, be my model for a bit. I want to draw a human for my portfolio.”

“Fine, but can I turn the aircon on?”

“Can’t be helped. Permission granted.”

“Yay. Shall I take my clothes off?”

“It’s for my portfolio, I said. Actually, I’d rather you put something on. You’re a bit too scantily clad.”

And so I picked up the folding easel and canvas from the corner of the room.
Now, it’s all just a dazzling summer memory.
In the end, that promise to share a room was never fulfilled.
From around the end of summer, we started drifting apart, and finally broke up in a manner resembling a quarrel.
All that remained was a single canvas.
And then—

“…Ame?”

I startled.
Before me was Runa. Runa, who’d learnt to wear makeup and grown more beautiful than back then.

“Sorry for the sudden visit. No need to rush with an answer. Ah, but the estate agent said they’d like us to decide by next week… I’ll try negotiating for a bit more time though.”

“Runa, I’m sorry. Moving house right now…”

“It doesn’t have to be right now.”

Runa squeezed my hand tightly with both of hers.

“I’m not saying you have to move out immediately. Six months from now, a year from now,it’s fine. Even if you decide it’s still impossible, that’s okay. But I want another chance.”

“Runa…?”

“I’ve changed.”

Her direct gaze pierced me.

“I’m making an effort to think properly about meals and daily life. If we lived together, I wouldn’t be a bother to you. And of course, I’d take care of my own finances and responsibilities.”

Look, Runa said, displaying photos of dishes on her phone. Mapo tofu, simmered aubergine, mackerel in miso, meat and potato stew. All of them looked delicious, and she claimed they were her own cooking.

“If there’s a chance, come here next Saturday at ten. We can view it together.”

A flat layout plan lay on the table.
Two bedrooms, living room, east-facing, near the station, a relatively new reinforced concrete structure. The layout seemed practical too.
The address listed wasn’t far from here.
The face of one girl flashed through his mind.
If I lived with Runa in this flat, I couldn’t stay with Ibara anymore.
　I’d be breaking a promise. The promise to ‘sleep with her’.
But—
Runa’s earnest gaze pierced me.
A wound I’d once buried deep in my chest began to ache.
A scar called guilt.
…It’s not like I’m betraying Ibara.
I’m just going to look at the flat. Just look.

“…Alright.”

“Really⁉︎”

“Just so you know, I’m only coming along for the viewing. Moving house isn’t an option right now.”

After making that clear, I took the floor plan.
Runa, her eyes sparkling, nodded like a little girl, saying “Yeah!” and picked up a fork.
Light streaming through the clouds illuminated her profile, dazzlingly bright.

　†

I bought one cake to take away and headed home.
When Runa asked whose it was, I hesitated a moment, but declared, “I’m having another one myself.” She looked slightly puzzled.
Returning to the room, the light was off.

“Ibara, I’m home.”

I called out loudly.
There was no reply. Yet I knew instantly where she was.
On the bed, a lump of duvet had curled into a ball.
As I approached, I saw Ibara buried completely beneath the fabric, head and all.

“…What are you doing?”

“…Nothing.”

A muffled voice came from the fabric lump.
It couldn’t be nothing.
　It was a little unexpected.
I’d thought Ibara was angry.
Or perhaps dismayed and disappointed by me, drunk and behaving in a manner unbecoming of someone older.
But somehow, that felt slightly off.
Rather than angry, more like sulking?
I placed the cake box on the dining table and sat down beside the bed.

“I bought some cake. Fancy some?”

The bundle of fabric twitched in response.

“…No.”

“The patisserie near the station is basically all delicious. I couldn’t decide, so I ended up getting my favourite one.”

“…Your favourite?”

“Strawberry shortcake.”

“You’re like a primary school kid.”

“It’s fine. Come full circle, and a good patisserie’s shortcake is the absolute best in the cake world.”

　Besides, strawberries are a winter fruit. Still a bit early to call them in season.

“This one’s lovely. A fluffy sponge with extra egg, and light, subtly sweet fresh cream. The strawberries are small but tangy, and paired with the cream, it’s absolutely exquisite.”

“………….”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.”

“……I’ll eat it.”

Like a pupa emerging as a butterfly, Ibara crawled out from beneath the futon. Slowly, deliberately, she emerged from the bedding and sat down before the dining table.
As if to restrain her hand reaching for the cake box, I offered an apology.

“Sorry about yesterday.”

Ibara’s hand froze.

“…Why are you apologising, Shigure-san?”

She said it with a face blending confusion and displeasure.

“I said nothing happened. There’s no need to apologise.”

“The Shinozaki Ibara I know isn’t the sort to make that face when nothing happened.”

Ibara fell silent.
I added another sentence.

“The Ibara I know is mischievous, likes to tease people, is a bit of a sweetheart, but deep down is serious, hardworking, a really, really good kid.”

“H-huh⁉︎”

“So I think it was me, drunk, who messed up. So, I’m sorry.”

“…Shigure-san, aren’t you mistaking me for someone else?”

“No, I’m not. Ibara is Ibara, right?”

“Do you really think that?”

“Of course.”

“—Then who is ‘Runa’?”

“Eh?”

This time it was my turn to be lost for words. Why did Ibara know that name?