Episode Ninety-Eight: I Might Never Beat You, Even If It Takes My Whole Life
Tomorrow, the long year-end and New Year’s holiday finally comes to an end. Tonight, the night before work starts again.
On the dining table, I lifted the lid off the pot, bubbling away. Pure white steam rose toward the ceiling, and, at the same moment, the smell of chicken broth spread through the room.
The kiritanpo hot pot set with Hinai chicken, Ritsu-san’s souvenir gift, had come with almost every ingredient already prepared.
Thinking I might actually manage this one myself, I’d confidently told Yui-san, “you can just sit there”, but now that I was actually making it, I wasn’t entirely sure I was doing it right.
Locked in a staring match with the included instructions, struggling my way through it, Yui-san had watched me, worried, offering “want help?” more than once, but I’d stubbornly refused to give in, every time.
I’m not especially good at housework in general, but if I’m going to live with Yui-san going forward, I think I need to overcome these weak points, one at a time.
“Hey, Yui-san, is this actually turning out right…?”
Unable to shake my anxiety, I asked, and Yui-san peeked into the pot.
“Yeah, looks perfect. This is basically how it looked when I got treated to it at Ritsu’s family home, back then.”
Something in me eased, relieved. Sitting across the table, Yui-san smiled, happy.
“Looks delicious. Thanks for making it.”
“If you want to thank someone, thank Ritsu-san. The whole soup base came pre-made in the set.”
“You’re still the one who made it, though. I’m really happy.”
Told that, something in me swells up, wanting to try even harder.
Scratching my cheek, hiding my embarrassment, Yui-san laughed at me all over again.
*
Starting in January, the fourth quarter finally begins. This marks the final stretch of that “promised three years.”
Just thinking that was enough to make me feel the weight of it, seriously.
Every strategic move Yui-san’s made in managing this company has, this year — the third year — finally borne substantial fruit.
Based on the results accumulated through the third quarter, this fiscal year looks set to hit the promised targets without issue, right on track.
Once that happens, surely, no one will have anything left to say. No one doubts Yui-san’s management ability anymore. Because financial statements never lie.
To have her ability as an executive properly recognized. To prove, through solid results, that she doesn’t need Kitagami-san at all.
That had been the one and only path Yui-san chose, to be able to live freely.
I respect that effort, from the very bottom of my heart.
Yui-san turned out to be a far, far more remarkable person than I’d ever realized.
In private, though, she’s still a wolf, jumping at any opening to push me down…
I bit into the soft, chewy kiritanpo. Delicious. I found myself imagining Akita, a place I’ve never been. Picturing snow, piled thick, reaching all the way up to the rooftops.
I remembered — last autumn, we’d talked about taking a trip together, once this fiscal year was behind us.
There are so many places I want to go. Together with Yui-san.
I think we can make any of it happen. Because from here on, we’ll have all the time in the world, together.
＊＊＊
The next day. My first day back at the office this year.
Leaving much earlier than usual, I carried the souvenir paper bags in both hands, walking from my apartment toward the office.
I’d brought tea and cookies as souvenirs for the budget management team.
Yesterday, over the hot pot, Yui-san had told me some happy news — apparently, Manager Yamasato-san is expecting her second child. She’s set to go on maternity leave sometime before this coming summer.
Still meant to stay confidential for now, but apparently there’d been some friction, quietly — over who would step in as “sub-manager” while she’s away.
Surprisingly, both Mitsuya-san and Seno-san had turned it down, and apparently persuasion efforts had stalled entirely. However many times they’d been asked, neither would budge.
I could guess Seno-san’s reasoning — but Mitsuya-san’s refusal genuinely surprised me a little.
Having worked with her myself, even with their different approaches to work, I’d have thought either of them would make sense in the role.
Lost in that thought, before I knew it, I’d already reached the office.
First thing this morning, the president would deliver a “New Year’s greeting” to the whole company. For that, we needed to finish setting up the broadcast equipment in the large conference room.
Headquarters staff would gather in this room in person; everyone else would join online or receive a written notice.
Clocking in, I carried the streaming equipment straight to the conference room and started setting up.
Setting up the tripod, preparing the camera, I noticed Yui-san step into the room.
A light grey suit — my heart gave a small flutter. At her chest, the necklace I’d given her caught the light, glinting. With those long legs, pantsuits like this always suit Yui-san beautifully.
“Ah, Yui-san, perfect timing. Could you stand up there for a second? I want to check the camera angle.”
Checking the monitor as I said it, I was suddenly, from behind, wrapped in a tight embrace. The arms holding me gently circled my stomach.
“Um… Yui-san?”
“Mm?”
“Come on… what if someone comes in? You need to let go.”
“Nobody’s coming, not at this hour. Just a little, isn’t it fine? I realized we hadn’t had our morning hug yet.”
Nuzzling insistently against my neck, Yui-san breathed deep.
I’m not wearing perfume, and even my fabric softener is unscented, so there’s no way I actually smell as good as Yui-san does — and yet she always says my scent is “calming.”
Wanting to touch me even in a place where anyone could walk in at any moment — bold, unshakeable nerve, or something like that, I suppose.
“Come on, Yui-san. At this rate the setup’s never going to get done.”
“Just three more minutes. Please.”
Yui-san’s endlessly soft on me, but I’m well aware I’m just as soft on her.
Exactly because I’m aware of it, I think I need to rein myself in, sometimes. The president’s office is one thing, but a conference room — there’s no telling who might walk in, at any moment.
Turning within her arms, I looked back, and Yui-san’s eyes went wide.
Rising slightly on my toes, I pressed my lips against her soft ones, just for an instant.
Caught off guard, her arms loosened, and I slipped smoothly free.
“Three minutes is too long to wait. Make do with that for now. Come on, Yui-san, up on the stage. I need to check the camera.”
Pointing toward the stage with a satisfied look, Yui-san, still blinking, blank, let her expression crumble into a smile.
“…I might never beat you, even if it takes my whole life.”
That’s rich, coming from you. I’m the one who’s always the one getting swept along by you, every single time.
But this round, at least, felt like a win for me. Hands on my hips, I gave her a bright, satisfied smile.
＊＊＊
Once the New Year’s greeting wrapped up, I headed back to the president’s office.
Yui-san’s afternoon schedule had her visiting the parent company for greetings, then heading straight home from there.
I really don’t like it. Because Kitagami-san will surely be there. Of course, Yui-san will end up crossing paths with him.
Ever since I told her about being called out by him, Yui-san’s made absolutely sure never to let even a hint of his existence surface, apparently worried it would bother me.
That stack of pale blue paper bags that used to pile up in her closet — before I even noticed, they’d all disappeared completely.
Instead, I nearly burst out laughing when I saw Ritsu-san, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, suddenly sporting noticeably fancier accessories.
Noticing my reaction, Ritsu-san had said, breezy, proud of herself, “my grandma back home always said there’s no harm in accepting whatever’s offered.”
Objects aren’t at fault, and that brand’s accessories really are lovely.
They suited Ritsu-san beautifully, so I think it’s much better for them to end up with someone who’ll actually make good use of them, rather than sitting shut away in a closet forever.
Things around us keep shifting, gradually, like that — but ever since that day, Kitagami-san’s stayed eerily, unsettlingly still.
He hasn’t shown his face at the company, and no emails have come to me either. Somehow, that calm felt like the eye of a storm, and I found myself, vaguely, unsettled by it.
*
In the afternoon, after seeing Yui-san off, I carried the souvenir tea and cookies toward the budget management desks.
Everyone had been gathered that morning, but now only the new hire, transferred in this past autumn, sat at her desk.
Noticing me approach with the paper bags of souvenirs, she turned toward me.
Through black-framed glasses, almond-shaped eyes, ringed in long lashes, studied me carefully, sizing me up. Her bob cut, trimmed straight at the shoulders, was jet black, and her features carried something young, faintly childish, nothing flashy about her at all.
“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m the secretary—”
“I know. Aozawa-san, right. My predecessor.”
A cold, ice-sharp voice, low and composed, cut me off.
“Arimura. Nice to meet you. Transferred here from accounting, this past autumn. I’ve heard about you, Aozawa-san. Returnee from abroad, excellent worker, got scouted straight into the president’s secretary role just a few months after joining. Thanks to your seat opening up, I got assigned to the department I actually wanted, so, lucky me. But just because you’re smart and cute, don’t get too full of yourself, okay? I might be younger than you, but I technically joined the same year as you did. Basically colleagues.”
Rattled off in one breath, I found myself thinking, whoa, this girl’s genuinely hard to deal with… and instinctively took half a step back.
Am I disliked, by any chance? I nearly gave a strained laugh, but managed to catch myself, cleared my throat once, small.
“Um… where’s everyone else?”
“Manager Yamasato-san’s in a meeting with the HR director. Mitsuya-san and Seno-san are probably on the roof.”
Not really the atmosphere for offering “want a cookie?”
Saying “thanks for letting me know,” I fled the scene. What was that just now. Genuinely startled…
Heading up to the roof as told, I found the two familiar faces there, under the winter sky. Cigarette smoke curled, thick, dissolving into the dry air.
Beside Mitsuya-san, Seno-san stood, rubbing her arms against the cold.
“Mitsuya-san, Seno-san, good work.”
“Oh, Aozawa-chan. What’s up?”
Cigarette between her lips, Mitsuya-san turned to face me. From behind her, Seno-san peeked out too.
“I went home for New Year’s, so I wanted to bring souvenirs, stopped by the desk earlier, but… um.”
I couldn’t quite bring myself to say “Arimura-san was so sharp-edged I couldn’t hand it over,” and trailed off, vague, and Seno-san laughed.
“Thanks for the souvenirs. I’ll pass them around to everyone.”
Saying that, considerate, Seno-san took the paper bag from me.
“It’s cold, so I’ll head back first. You two, take your time~”
Bowing my head to Seno-san as she waved, breezy, I glanced at Mitsuya-san, who leaned her back against the roof’s safety railing and let out a long, white breath.
“…The new girl, Arimura-chan, pretty strong personality, huh?”
Cigarette still between her lips, Mitsuya-san grinned, and I shrugged.
“I think she genuinely dislikes me… did I do something?”
“She’s just on edge, trying not to get compared to you. Seems pretty conscious of it.”
“Huh… is that right?”
No real harm done, I suppose it’s fine.
More important than that, there’s something I actually want to ask. Shifting gears, I brought it up — “come to think of it.”
“I heard from the president about Manager Yamasato-san’s maternity leave. Honestly, I was surprised, Mitsuya-san, that you turned down the sub-manager role.”
“I mean, I figured Seno-san was better suited for it. But Seno-san’s surprisingly stubborn, you know. Won’t budge no matter what. Need to decide soon, or Manager Yamasato-san’s going to start worrying too.”
I blinked, caught off guard. Never expected the words “Seno-san’s better suited” to come out of Mitsuya-san’s mouth of all people.
I’d always thought these two were bitter rivals.
“I see… Knowing Manager Yamasato-san, I’m sure she’d understand, but…”
“Was the president worried too, by any chance?”
“…I think so. Budget management’s an important department, after all.”
“Ahh, what should I do…?”
Mitsuya-san watched the smoke drift, vacant, up into the cold sky, dissolving.
“There’s still time, isn’t there? I think it’s fine to think it over slowly.”
The wind on the roof cut, sharp and cold. Rubbing my hands together as I murmured that, Mitsuya-san laughed.
“You’ll catch a cold, Aozawa-chan, better head back too. I’ll finish one more cigarette first. Thanks for the souvenirs.”
“Okay. Mitsuya-san, please don’t catch a cold either.”
Mitsuya-san’s narrow eyes carried no hesitation at all — they looked, to me, genuinely composed.
Mitsuya-san and Seno-san, too, it seemed, had deepened their bond considerably while I was gone. Maybe there hadn’t been so much to worry about after all.
Coming to know someone, bit by bit, is exactly how a relationship keeps changing shape, gradually.
Just like it had been, for me and Yui-san.
Turning that thought over, savoring it, I left the rooftop.
—As a small aside: it would be a long, long time before I ever learned that the relationship between those two wasn’t quite what I’d imagined it to be.