Episode Fifteen: Do You Really Need to Sleep With Girls Less Cute Than Me?
It took a few days after getting home before the jet lag finally wore off enough to let me wake with the sunrise.
A room I’ve lived in all my life, and yet, that morning, something about it felt strangely off.
The instant I woke, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and found one message waiting.
My “good night” always lands as Yui-san’s “good morning.”
Even out of sync like this, the daily back-and-forth of messages had kept going without fail.
Good morning, I typed back, though Japan runs ahead of London, so it must already be evening over there.
To distract myself, I hugged the orca plushie by my pillow tight. I really was glad I’d brought her along.
*
A while after waking, still lounging around without breakfast, a knock sounded at my door, and my father’s face poked around it.
His hair, usually slicked back, wasn’t today. Must be his day off.
Ever since summer break started, I’d completely lost track of what day of the week it even was.
“Let’s have lunch together.”
He looked pleased, smiling, and I gave a small smile back and pushed myself up out of bed.
Right — I’d been so wrapped up in jet lag I’d nearly forgotten there were things I wanted to ask my father.
*
“It’s been a while since you’ve seen Yui-chan, but she’s already twenty-one now, isn’t she. She was so tiny the last time I saw her.”
Over tea after lunch, my father’s eyes narrowed, fond and nostalgic.
“Dad, you’ve actually met Yui-san before?”
I asked, startled.
“Last time was at Fuyuto’s wife’s funeral, so, gosh, that’s already over ten years ago now.”
Fuyuto — that’s Yui-san’s father’s name. She’d told me she grew up in a single-father household. I’d half-suspected it, but hearing it confirmed as a bereavement gave my chest a small, sharp ache.
“…Over ten years ago — when, exactly?”
“Yukiya-kun was in sixth grade, and Yui-chan was in first grade, so…”
“Fourteen years ago…?”
“Has it really been that long.”
Yukiya-kun — that must be the older brother, “Yuki-nii,” who’d handed Yui-san the car. Scattered pieces were falling into place, one by one.
“She’s grown up beautiful, hasn’t she, Yui-chan.”
“…You haven’t even seen her, how would you know?”
“Fuyuto’s wife was a truly beautiful woman.”
Of course — she’s the source of that face of Yui-san’s, so she must have been beautiful indeed.
“…What’s Yui-san’s father like?”
“I’ve got a photo, from when he was young. Want to see?”
He pulled a notebook down from the shelf and handed me a photo tucked inside.
The picture, faintly dated in feel, showed my father at maybe twenty-something.
Beside him, a man and woman stood shoulder to shoulder. This had to be Yui-san’s parents.
“This was during our college years.”
“…She looks just like Yui-san.”
My eyes went straight to the woman. This was Yui-san’s mother. Even the gentle set of her eyes when she smiled looked like a perfect copy.
“…The two of them had an arranged match set up by their parents, but Fuyuto was hopelessly smitten from the start. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about it, and he worked every angle to win her over… I got roped into helping more than once.”
Yui-san’s father had a sharp, handsome face too.
If my own father is a golden retriever, Yui-san’s father has that lean, dignified look of a Doberman.
Picturing this man attempting rice porridge for a young, sick Yui-san — and getting it disastrously wrong — pulled a small laugh out of me.
“He lost her in his thirties, left raising two kids alone as a single father — everyone told him it was reckless, kept pushing him to remarry… but in the end, he never even dated anyone. A devoted, hopeless kind of man. I think it was hard on both Yukiya-kun and Yui-chan because of it, but…”
Yui-san’s father really sounds like a deeply devoted person. It’s a shame that particular trait skipped right over Yui-san.
“Oh, right — have you met Yukiya-kun yet?”
“No, not yet. Actually, Yui-san mentioned her brother doesn’t get along with their father. Started his own company, went independent.”
“I see, so they still haven’t patched things up. Well, I suppose Yukiya-kun’s stubbornness is Fuyuto’s blood showing through too…”
“Hey, Dad. So does that mean Yui-san’s the one taking over the company?”
If her brother’s estranged from their father and struck out on his own, then by process of elimination, Yui-san’s the only heir left.
Is that why she’s meeting company people every month, calling it a “dinner”? Even before she’s officially joined.
Yui-san, so kind and easygoing with everyone, had been unusually reluctant about those dinners — it had stuck with me.
Does she hate the idea of joining her father’s company? Is there something else she actually wants to do?
I have no idea. Can’t even guess. Yui-san always deflects, right at the important parts, never actually tells me.
“Well, Fuyuto and I don’t really talk about that kind of thing. Oh, that reminds me — this whole living-together arrangement, that was thanks to Fuyuto too, you know. I mentioned my daughter was headed to the same university as Yui-chan, and he’s the one who suggested you two live together.”
I’d always assumed my father had been the one to propose it, but it had been Yui-san’s father’s idea all along.
But then, a thought struck me.
If he knew his own daughter was gay, he surely wouldn’t have suggested she live with another woman.
Yui-san’s never once hidden her sexuality at university, so I’d wondered, a little, how that stood with her family — and now I had my answer. She really hasn’t told her father.
*
“I’m glad to hear you and Yui-chan are getting along so well.”
My father smiled, pleased, and it struck me again just how genuinely close he and Yui-san’s father must be.
Strange to imagine, that Doberman-like man and my own soft, easygoing father, becoming best friends.
“Yeah. I’m glad it’s Yui-san I ended up living with.”
I meant it, from the heart. If it had been anyone else, I might have spent this whole time crying to go back to England.
＊＊＊
After talking about Yui-san with my father, I found myself desperately wanting to hear her voice.
Text messages alone weren’t enough. Just a week ago, she’d been right there beside me — I could see her face, talk to her, touch her.
Back in my room, I sat down on the bed and gripped my phone.
Hope she picks up, I thought, and the call connected easily after only a few rings.
I could hear wind. Faintly, in the distance, some music playing.
“Kanata?”
That gentle voice, saying my name — the one I’d wanted to hear for so long. Something in my chest went warm, ticklish.
“Yui-san, are you outside somewhere?”
“Yeah, I was out drinking. Figured it’d be too loud, so I just stepped out.”
“Hmm…”
That bar, maybe. The memory of going to pick her up there came flooding back.
“What have you been up to, Kanata?”
“I’ve been home. It’s only two here still.”
“Right, the time difference is wild. It’s ten at night here.”
Saturday night — I’d just assumed Yui-san would be home watching a movie.
That had been our usual, lately. Curling up between her legs, wrapped tight in her arms, watching movies together — I’d looked forward to it every time.
“…No movie tonight, then?”
“Mm, yeah. Can’t focus without you here.”
Shouldn’t it be the other way around, normally? I tilted my head.
“…I can’t settle down if I’m not holding you.”
That, I understood completely. Ah — so that’s why coming home had felt so off all morning.
Still on the call, I hugged the orca plushie close.
Right up until this morning I’d thought bringing her along had been the right call. But really, this one should’ve stayed with Yui-san.
Not that I could say use her as a stand-in for me, honestly, with no real confidence Yui-san would actually skip a night out just to hug a plushie and wait dutifully for me.
Someone whose whole hobby seems to be sleeping with women — keeping her tied down would take actual handcuffs, nothing less.
Something murky and unsettled churned, round and round, deep in my chest.
“Oh, there you are! Yui-san, what are you doing? Come back inside already.”
A woman’s voice, sounding drunk, suddenly cut in over the call, and I fell silent without meaning to. Judging by how close it sounded, she must be pressed right up against Yui-san, and my brow furrowed, deep.
“…I’m on the phone with someone important to me, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Someone important.
I was startled Yui-san said it so plainly — but even more startling was how easily the girl backed off, saying only, after a brief pause, “Okay, I’ll be waiting, make sure you actually come back.”
So this is what Yui-san’s beloved “not a hassle” type looks like. If it were me, I never would have backed off that easily. …Somehow, it felt like losing.
“…Sorry for interrupting. I’ll let you go.”
“Eh, why? Don’t hang up. Let me hear more of your voice.”
“…Are you staying over at that girl’s place tonight? You idiot, Yui-san. Pervert. Skirt-chaser.”
“Eh? Where’s that coming from?”
“…Because that girl just now is obviously exactly your type.”
I couldn’t stop myself, sulking, even wanting to. My feelings just wouldn’t settle.
I wanted to blame her. Why can’t this person just love one person, faithfully?
“You haven’t even seen her, why would you think that?”
“She didn’t sound like the hassle type. Unlike me.”
“Ah, yeah, fair. She wasn’t a hassle, and she was cute, so maybe I will stay the night.”
Yui-san laughed over the phone.
“…I’m hanging up now.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m kidding. …I just wanted you jealous.”
If that was the goal, it worked perfectly. I was furious, picturing, uninvited, some faceless girl wrapped in Yui-san’s arms.
“I miss you when you’re not here. I’ve lived alone my whole life, and now this — it’s ridiculous, right? I don’t even want to go home tonight…”
“Lonely, so you’re spending the night with that girl?”
“Hmm, what should I do… What do you want me to do, Kanata?”
“Why are you asking me that… you’re mean.”
There’s only one possible answer, obviously, no need to even ask. She knows that already. That’s exactly the bad part about Yui-san.
A soft laugh came through the phone. Fufufu. She really must be pretty drunk. Realizing just how much she must have had, and that Yui-san gets lonely too, apparently, struck me as unexpectedly endearing.
“…Hey, Yui-san.”
“What’s up?”
“Was she cuter than me? That girl.”
“Nn-nn, not at all. You’re the cutest, Kanata.”
“Really?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
Softened by the alcohol, her voice reached me like a whisper, gentler than usual.
This is exactly who this person is. Kind, above all, to whichever girl happens to be right in front of her. A liar.
Ask her this way, and regardless of the real answer, she was always going to say you’re the cutest — I knew that, and asked anyway.
“…Then, no. Do you really need to sleep with girls less cute than me? Go straight home tonight.”
I forced the words out, half in desperation, and I could tell, even over the phone, that Yui-san was laughing, ahaha.
I know exactly what “sleep with” means here — it doesn’t end at just holding someone. If she went home with her, that’s what would happen.
The “like” Yui-san feels for women is that kind of “like.”
Just picturing those gentle lips, those elegant fingers, sliding over someone else’s bare skin was enough to make me want to claw at my own chest, it felt that unbearable.
“…Okay, fine, I’ll head straight home tonight. I got to hear your voice, I’m satisfied.”
Her voice came through unusually cheerful, and I let out a breath of relief.
“I’m not satisfied with just a phone call. …I want to see you soon, Yui-san.”
The honest truth slipped out before I could stop it. I braced for her to laugh — it’s only been a week — but what came back, instead, was a voice gentle beyond anything.
“…I want to see you too.”
Those lips, kind and sweet to absolutely anyone, whispering love so easily — I resented them, just a little.
“…You’re a bad girl, Kanata. Don’t say things that get my hopes up like that.”
“Who are you to talk…”
I was being completely sincere about my feelings, and here she was, turning it back on me.
Somehow, from parents that composed and sincere, an absolute once-in-a-generation flirt like this had emerged.
“…Yui-san, you must just be a genetic anomaly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
I laughed at her confusion, and whispered good night, pouring every bit of feeling I had into it.
Please, I thought, tomorrow, and the day after that too, may you fall asleep thinking only of me.