Episode Ten

Thirty years old, two storeys. Looking up at the one-room apartment with eight and a half tatami mats she’d lived in since her penniless art student days, Ibara, clutching her overnight bag, let out a breath. “Huh.”

“This has quite a certain charm, doesn’t it?”

“I did say it’s well-worn. If you don’t like it, I’ll take you back to the shop.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Besides, anywhere I can sleep is fine.”

“…Well then, please.”

Up the concrete stairs, to the back of the second floor.

“But honestly, I think it’s careless. A beauty like you living in an apartment without even an auto-lock.”

Whether she was a beauty or not aside, he’d hit a sore spot.

“It’s simply a matter of take-home pay. The neighbourhood’s not unsafe, after all.”

“What about a share house?”

“…I was invited by a university friend once. But things happened…”

Honestly, I still harbour a bit of envy.
Renting a proper two-bedroom flat or a house, living noisily with easy-going mates. Admittedly, it’s mostly image-driven, but it sounds fun.
Here at least, I opened the door with the dimple key I’d replaced myself.
When I switched on the lights, Ibara let out an impressed “Heeee”.

“It’s much nicer than I expected.”

“Well, it has been renovated.”

The floor wasn’t tatami either, but wooden flooring. There were some dodgy spots around the wet areas, but it looked reasonably presentable.
I put down my bags… Right then.

“It’s late, so just a shower. Go ahead and have one. Towels are on the second shelf in the bathroom cabinet, help yourself.”

“Right then.”

She said this while looking around curiously.

“Is something wrong?”

“It feels a bit odd taking a shower in a room I don’t know.”

Even though there wasn’t anything particularly interesting to see, Ibara kept glancing around.
Suddenly, her gaze fixed on one spot.
Seeing what was there, she inwardly cursed herself.
　A painting.
A portrait still stuck to its canvas board.
A woman in a Mona Lisa-like pose, painted in oils.
Something she’d done back in her art college days. She’d taken it out when she’d tidied the storage cupboard recently and left it there.

“That painting of the woman… did you paint that, Shigure-san?”

She exhaled with a sound of admiration.

“Wow. That’s really good.”

“No way. It’s just rubbish.”

The air seemed to freeze.
Seeing Ibara’s face, I gasped and covered my mouth.
Damn it, I’d blown it. What an idiot I am.

“Ah, um… well, that… it is a painting I did, but it’s not particularly good or anything. I just kept it because the model was a friend and I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”

“…Hmm?”

Ibara stood up and approached the canvas board. She stared at my painting intently, from the front and the side.
I didn’t want her looking at it too much. A mere, and utterly untalented dropout art student’s painting, had no such value.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Eh?”

“This model. University age, maybe? She was your friend, right?”

“Ah, ah. Yeah. She was an art student too… We were… close, I suppose… Back then.”

“Huh…”

For some reason, Ibara suddenly spun around and struck the same pose as the portrait.

“Which one?”

“Eh?”

“The model in this painting or me. Which one is cuter?”

What the hell.

“Which one? Well, obviously, but, hang on. Hmm… wait a minute…”

While I hesitated over how to answer this sudden question, Ibara made a dissatisfied face, grumbling “Mm.”

“Shigure-san, you’re hesitating.”

“But that girl really was beautiful.”

“I’ll admit that… but I’m cuter. See? What about this?”

She pressed her loosely clenched fist to her chin, striking a pose that was the very embodiment of artifice.
It was actually rather cute, so I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
My sinking mood lightened. It felt as though my heart, trapped in the past, had been gently scooped up.
Perhaps she was deliberately being silly, I wondered.
But admitting it outright felt a bit irritating, so I put on an indifferent air.

“Right, right, Ibara is adorable.”

“Ah! You’re treating me like a child. You just treated me like a child, didn’t you? I’m seventeen now, you know.”

“Which means you’re still a minor, right?”

“Again?! Well, I am younger than the person in this picture—”

Ibara blinked, looking back at the picture.

“…Huh. I feel like I’ve seen this person somewhere before…”

　I flinched. Sharp in the strangest places.

“Never mind that. Go on, get your shower sorted. You’ll be up too late otherwise.”

“Ah, you’re dodging the question… Oh, right.”

Ibara placed a hand over her mouth and grinned.

“Shigure-san, fancy joining me?”

“Hah, no way!”

“Ahaha, just kidding! Just kidding!”

Squealing and joking around, Ibara dashed off towards the washroom.
What on earth. Were high school girls really creatures with such high energy levels? The air around her seemed to sparkle.
It was only… only about seven years ago, yet I couldn’t recall it at all.
I headed towards the corner of the room and picked up the canvas board. I opened the wardrobe.
For a moment, I thought I caught the eye of the woman in the painting.
My friend.
It wasn’t a lie.
But I hadn’t seen her in quite some time.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say I couldn’t face her.
An unbridgeable chasm now lay between her and me.
As if to lock away those faintly dazzling, bittersweet memories of the past, I shoved the canvas deep into the wardrobe.

　The sound of the shower reached me from the bathroom.
It struck me again how absurd this had become.
In my third year as a working adult, to end up bringing a schoolgirl back to my flat.
But honestly, sleeping on the sofa two nights running was taking its toll on my body.
Staying at Ibara’s place was even worse.
Since I couldn’t abandon her there, this was unavoidable. Force majeure.

“…It feels like ages, doesn’t it?”

It had been about three years since I’d welcomed anyone else into my bed. I hoped she’d sleep properly. I had work tomorrow. My sleep had been light enough as it was lately.
Maybe refusing her had been the right thing to do after all. But then, I’d seen that look on her face.
When I finished putting away the canvas, it suddenly occurred to me.

“Ah. Right, the pillow.”

A pillow would be better, surely.
I retrieved a pillow I’d stowed away at the back of the wardrobe.
It was the one that friend used to use when staying here. A bit dusty, but the mothballs are set, so it should be fine.
I placed the pillow on the bed.
That’ll do.
　…….
………….
Well, that’s something.
Two pillows side by side looks a bit… that.
Like lovers, no!
Right, yes. Sisters.
It looked just like two sisters getting along. That’s what I thought.