Episode Eighty-Two: Don’t Blame Me If She Gets Jealous
An early-November day, when the wind had turned properly cold, sweeping fallen leaves along with it as it cut through the streets. I was sitting in a private room at an izakaya during its lunch service, across the table from Mitsuya-san.
Why I’d ended up in this situation — Mitsuya-san had suddenly invited me to lunch that morning, out of nowhere. The first time since I’d become secretary.
I’d checked with Yui-san whether it was okay to go, and she’d said “of course, go ahead,” so I left the president’s office at exactly noon with nothing but my wallet.
That had been several dozen minutes ago now.
Mitsuya-san had been the one to invite me, and yet.
Having polished off her pork loin cutlet set with a solemn, brooding expression, she’d stayed silent, ever since, even after finishing.
I’d never seen her like this before, and honestly, it left me a little at a loss. Her narrow eyes, lowered, weighed with something, letting out a deep sigh, and then, picking up the free-refill shredded cabbage one strand at a time with her chopsticks, she just kept eating it, methodically.
Maybe I should be the one to bring it up. Or is she waiting to be asked?
Not to brag, but I’m not exactly skilled at drawing people out. But Mitsuya-san right now was just… too much, even for me.
This wasn’t going anywhere on its own. Reluctant, testing the waters, I opened my mouth.
“Um, Mitsuya-san. Did something happen today, and that’s why you invited me…?”
Asked that, Mitsuya-san’s face snapped up, startled, looking at me.
“Eh, how’d you know…?”
No, no, no, of course I’d know — I bit back the words before they could spill out. Because Mitsuya-san’s normally not the reserved type at all.
Clean, bright, quick to bounce back — never someone who broods over things, as far as I’ve ever seen.
What could possibly be troubling her this much?
“Um, if it’s okay, I’ll listen, if you want to talk.”
She lowered her brows, apologetic, and set down her chopsticks. Then, clearing her throat once, small.
“…Aozawa-chan, sorry. Mind if I smoke one?”
*
White smoke rose, wavering, toward the ceiling from the lit end of her cigarette. With a small click, she snapped the silver lighter shut, closed her eyes, and let out a deep, deep breath of white smoke, almost like a sigh itself.
Cigarette still between her lips, she crumpled the pack and shoved it into her jacket pocket, then looked back at me, straight, with those sharp, narrow eyes once more.
“…Is it good? Smoking?”
A question I didn’t even need to ask slipped out of me, unbidden.
Because just a moment ago she’d looked so anxious, and the instant she lit that cigarette, something in her expression had visibly relaxed.
“…It’s beyond a question of ‘good’ at this point. I genuinely can’t function without it anymore. I’d probably keep smoking even if a pack cost over a thousand yen.”
Said that seriously, I couldn’t help a small laugh. Over a thousand yen, huh.
I’ve never once wanted to smoke myself, but I do think smokers have it rough these days, poor things. Because Mitsuya-san brings her own umbrella even in a downpour, just to go smoke on the roof.
“So, what happened?”
Sipping the iced tea I’d ordered after the meal, I asked, and Mitsuya-san’s face turned faintly awkward.
“Mm, no, it’s not that anything happened, exactly. There’s just something I wanted to ask. Aozawa-chan’s partner — rich, right?”
“Eh?”
How does she know that, I dug back through memory. Right — I think I’d mentioned it at the beer garden, celebrating the new store’s success.
“Um, yeah. …That’s right.”
Just as she’d asked, Yui-san is rich. And not just a little rich, either. That’s simply true, nothing to deny, so I nodded, honest.
But why is she asking me this?
“I see. …What kind of person is Aozawa-chan’s partner?”
Her eyes, sharp enough to pierce straight through. That gaze seemed to be searching for something else entirely, buried within this question. For some reason, it felt like she was looking at someone other than me.
What kind of person, huh. Arms crossed, I pictured my beloved girlfriend’s face, thinking it over.
Long ago, Hayakawa-kun had asked me the same thing once. Back then, I think I’d answered — “really kind, but a little unfair too.”
The Yui-san in my heart, then and now, has shifted a little.
“…Really kind, and an absolutely wonderful person.”
When I try to describe Yui-san to someone, no other words come to mind anymore, these days.
My cheeks softened naturally. My girlfriend is the most wonderful person in this entire world. I genuinely believe there’s no one better than Yui-san, anywhere in the whole universe.
Not particularly teasing me for gushing like that, Mitsuya-san smiled, faint, like something in her had gone slack.
“Aozawa-chan really loves him, huh.”
Not “him,” but “her” — I corrected it in my heart, then nodded, honest, “yes.”
Mitsuya-san brought the cigarette pinched between her fingers to her lips and inhaled, deep. The tip glowed red with a faint hiss.
Smoke filled the private room. It almost felt like being wrapped in her own sigh.
Like this smoke, her heart, too, must be wavering, unsettled. Something about it looked fragile, precarious.
“So, hypothetically, if that partner of yours wasn’t rich… how would that be?”
Her eyes, asking me that, carried a color of real anxiety. Not like her usual confident self at all. It felt like this question wasn’t really meant for me at all, but for someone else entirely.
I don’t know who that someone else is, but somehow, I understood anyway.
Mitsuya-san, I’m certain, is in love with someone right now.
“It wouldn’t be anything. I don’t think whether or not there’s money has anything to do with wanting to be with someone.”
Not empty words — I meant it, genuinely. Saying it plainly, Mitsuya-san laughed and stubbed out her cigarette, burned down short, into the ashtray.
“Right, of course… well, that’s exactly what you’d say, Aozawa-chan…”
“Is your partner short on money, Mitsuya-san? Do they have huge debts or something?”
Mitsuya-san didn’t seem like the type to fall for someone like that… but you never know.
Her narrow eyes widened, just slightly, then, “No, that’s not it — they’re not even my partner in the first place,” she said, laughing.
Not her partner. So this is unrequited love, then. What kind of person is it — whoever Mitsuya-san’s fallen for?
“…Apparently wants to marry someone rich.”
Said that with a gaze fixed on somewhere far away, and something in my chest squeezed, painful.
“…Someone told you that, directly?”
Brows drawn, I asked without meaning to.
“Not directly, but… she’s said it before, in the past… it’s less about confidence and more that I honestly don’t know what I want myself, or what I want to become.”
Not knowing your own feelings, even about your own self — I’ve felt that before too. A long time ago, now.
For a while, I was too confused and uncertain to admit I’d fallen for Yui-san. All because, back then, Yui-san openly declared she’d never make a girlfriend.
I took a long detour myself, too. Sealing away my own feelings, coming up with excuses, all while my heart kept, honestly, screaming that I loved her — and I just kept pretending not to see it, over and over.
It took months before I could admit I loved her, so I understand, painfully well, exactly what Mitsuya-san must be feeling.
Even knowing, logically, that this isn’t someone you should fall for — the heart doesn’t listen to reason. That’s just how these things work, isn’t it.
Mitsuya-san, too, right now, might be feeling exactly what I felt back then.
If I could speak to my own past self now — what could I say that would let her choose a path she wouldn’t come to regret?
“…Mitsuya-san.”
I said her name, gentle. Those normally steady, resolute eyes looked back at me, uncertain.
“Before I started dating my current partner, I actually made a huge mistake.”
“A huge mistake?”
“…I couldn’t be honest with my own feelings. I didn’t actually want to leave, but I was afraid I might end up wrecking the other person’s whole life, so… I ran away. At the time, I genuinely believed that was the best possible choice.”
I couldn’t bring myself to be selfish. Didn’t even try to resist. I was — a coward, back then.
“But… what waited for me afterward was something like hell. Even now, I still think — I wish I’d searched for a way to stay together, instead of getting scared and running.”
I gripped my own palm tight. If Yui-san hadn’t kept holding on to me, hadn’t forgotten me — I’d probably still be alone, right now, sunk at the very bottom of some deep, deep sea.
“I don’t know what kind of person you’re in love with, Mitsuya-san… but I think you should face your own feelings more simply. If you love someone, that’s fine, isn’t it?”
Life only happens once, and you can never wind back lost time. Whether you’re always making the best possible choice — you never really know that, until after the fact.
That’s exactly why I believe, now, that being honest with your own feelings is the path you’ll least regret.
Saying that, plainly, Mitsuya-san smiled, soft.
“…Thanks, Aozawa-chan. I feel a little lighter, somehow.”
Ten people, ten different shapes of love. The worries might never fully end, but for every bit of hardship you push through, a happier day waits ahead.
I hope, wholeheartedly, that Mitsuya-san finds that too.
*
Afterward, “since I’m the one who invited you,” Mitsuya-san treated me to lunch. Feeling a little guilty about it, but taking her up on the offer anyway, we walked back toward the office together.
Leaves scattered on the wind, and I looked up at the street trees, nearly bare now. Winter’s getting close.
Feeling a little chilly, I hugged my own arms around myself, and Mitsuya-san, noticing, peered into my face and laughed.
“Aozawa-chan, you’re underdressed, aren’t you, you look cold.”
“You’re right. I didn’t expect it to get this cold today.”
“Wouldn’t do to have the president’s secretary catch a cold. Here, I’ll lend you my jacket for the day.”
Saying that, Mitsuya-san pulled the cigarettes and lighter out of her jacket pocket and draped it over my shoulders.
“It’s fine, really, you’ll catch cold, Mitsuya-san.”
“Me? Ah, don’t worry, I’ve got a cardigan back at the office.”
“…Are you sure it’s really okay?”
“It’s fine~, just bring it back to me before you head home.”
Since she insisted, I decided to take her up on it. Mitsuya-san’s jacket, still warm, carried a faint scent of cigarettes.
*
Saying she’d smoke one more before heading in, Mitsuya-san split off toward the roof, and on my way back to the president’s office, I ran straight into Seno-san in the hallway.
Looking me over, head to toe, she asked, “Were you with Kaori?”
At some point, Seno-san had started calling Mitsuya-san by her given name, and it warmed my heart, a little, thinking about how close they must have gotten while I wasn’t around.
Seno-san, who always brings her own lunch, had a cute lunch tote in one hand, apparently just back from the break room.
“Yes, she invited me to lunch… I went and had some food with her.”
“…Hmm, I see. That’s Kaori’s jacket, isn’t it.”
“Eh? Ah, yes. I said I was cold, so she lent it to me. Mitsuya-san’s really kind, isn’t she.”
“I suppose. Kind, to her cute little junior, Aozawa-san. Not so much toward me, though.”
Saying that, Seno-san let out a small sigh. Puzzled, I looked up at her — a little taller than me — and Seno-san narrowed her eyes into a sly grin.
“That jacket… I wonder if it’s really okay. Don’t blame me if someone gets jealous~?”
“Eh…?”
Jealous? What does that mean? Not giving me a chance to ask further, Seno-san waved a hand, breezy, and walked off, leaving me tilting my head.
Who, exactly, would get jealous over me borrowing Mitsuya-san’s jacket? It’s true it wouldn’t be strange at all if someone in the office had feelings for Mitsuya-san… but would they really recognize this as her jacket that easily?
Thinking that, I opened the president’s office door.