Episode 7: Even the time spent longing could turn into hellish memories, couldn’t it?

A mountain of fried chicken piled high on the plate.

The reward I requested in return for treating her to ramen after overtime the other day now sits before me.

“Gyūdon, ramen, fried chicken… Kaori, your favourite foods are rather manly, aren’t they?”

Sitting opposite me at the dining table, Seno-san sighed, propping her elbow on the table as she spoke with an air of exasperation.

Ignoring her, I clasped my hands together and said, “Itadakimasu,” before promptly reaching for the fried chicken with my chopsticks.

Somehow, I no longer felt any particular discomfort spending time with Seno-san.

　Perhaps one reason was the increased time spent with her at the office due to my ongoing overtime.

Days continued where we bickered while cooperating to get through our daily tasks.

Even as summer drew to a close, there was still no sign of a replacement for Aosawa-chan.

　When I’d requested fried chicken, I’d thought she might balk at the hassle of dealing with the oil if we made it at home, but Seno-san surprisingly agreed without fuss, saying, “It’s easy, no problem.”

I’d never realised that for someone skilled in cooking, fried chicken could be categorised as ‘easy’.

I bit into a large piece of fried chicken, stuffing it into my mouth.

“Oh?”

“Eh? What?”

　She looked at me across the table, puzzled, as I stopped my chopsticks abruptly.

“It’s delicious. …It’s a flavour I’ve tasted somewhere before.”

“Listen, I should tell you… it’s not frozen.”

At my remark, Seno-san narrowed her eyes and said it firmly, as if driving a point home.

“No, that’s not it. It’s like the karaage you get in restaurants.”

“…Karaage tastes the same wherever you eat it, doesn’t it? I don’t think the seasoning varies much.”

Saying that, Seno-san also stuffed a piece of karaage into her mouth.

“I used to eat the karaage set meal at a place near my university a lot. This might be similar to theirs. I’ll take you there next time.”

“…Which university did you go to, Kaori? Around here?”

“Kanagawa.”

“That’s far. If you’re going to take me anywhere, why not somewhere closer and a bit more stylish?”

It was cheap and tasty though.
When I went wearing my tracksuit, the old lady who ran the place would always throw in an extra piece of karaage for free.
I was always starving, training hard every day, so that little extra was really appreciated.
Though, when the grumpy staff were on duty, they never gave me that kind of generous service.

　When I shared that memory, Seno-san responded with a disinterested “Hmm” and finished her miso soup.

“Kaori, you were supposed to be living your youth at uni. When did you get caught up with a bad guy?”

Suddenly asked that, I stopped mid-motion and stared at her sitting opposite.
A bad guy? I’d never once told her about anything like that.

“What do you mean, ‘bad guy’?”

Then Seno-san slid her gaze to the cigarette packet and oil lighter I’d left on the table – things only permitted on the balcony in this house – and grinned.

“The man, right? That cigarette. That lighter.”

Her remark made me flinch.

It was true. That was how I’d started smoking.
　I’d started smoking because the man I was infatuated with suggested it. At first, it was just for fun, but before I knew it, I couldn’t stop.
But I hadn’t expected her to see through me like that.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well… exceptions aside… that lighter, surely that’s a hobby you catch from a man?”

Catch… I gave a wry smile. My eyes drifted to the oil lighter sitting on the table.

It’s like a disease you’re bound to catch at least once. Probably something like, ‘Oh, it was that guy I was seeing back then who used it,’ or some such punchline.

This woman really has a sharp mind. True enough, at first it was because he influenced me. But now it’s just sort of become second nature.

“Come on, even if Kaori is a romantic, she wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s still hung up on her university boyfriend, would she?”

If it had been a love worth clinging to, that would have been something.
　If it had been that kind of great love, I think there might still have been some redemption.

“I’m not hung up on him. We weren’t even dating to begin with.”

“Oh? What was he like, this guy you liked?”

Seno-san narrowed her eyes, looking intrigued.

“…A senior in my club. We were together from high school through university. But he was dating the manager, so it was completely one-sided. I never even confessed.”

　The girl he was with was the complete opposite of me. Yes, if I had to compare her, she was like you, sitting right here in front of me now.

“Hmm, how noble. If it were me, I’d at least give it a shot and confess, even if it was a long shot.”

“That’s because you’re…”

I stopped myself, swallowing the words.

“I’m what?”

“Nothing.”

She asked me to repeat myself, but I had no intention of spitting out the words I’d swallowed.
Dangerous. I nearly said something outrageous.

Like, “That’s something only someone as cute as you could get away with.”

“Anyway, it was a mistake letting that senior talk me into it. Before I knew it, I couldn’t let go of this.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe it’s for the best you didn’t date him. It’s always best to leave things as a good memory.”

“Why? It was an unrequited love.”

“For a school romance to last into adulthood? That’d take either exceptional compatibility or single-minded devotion, wouldn’t it? Only a handful ever get married. If you dated someone you’d longed for and then had a terrible breakup, even the time you spent loving them could become a hellish memory. Better to keep it as a one-sided crush – it’s cleaner that way. At least it’s better than regretting wasted time.”

Seno-san spat out the words. That tone struck a chord. Could it be… personal experience?

“Did you have someone like that too? Someone you couldn’t forget? Could it be… the owner of that sweatshirt? Am I right?”

The morning after borrowing that man’s grey sweatshirt, I did exactly as Seno suggested: I took it off and tossed it straight into the bin.

I remember her staring at me intently then.

　That sweatshirt, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away, could you?

When I pointed it out, Seno-san looked straight at me with her dark brown eyes.

Her expression didn’t change, but those eyes seemed unusually unsettled, as if I’d hit the nail on the head.

“…It was definitely my ex’s, but I don’t feel anything about it now. I just forgot to get rid of it, honestly.”

　Even this woman who seemed so free-spirited had someone she couldn’t forget, perhaps.

Thinking that, it felt like a little prick deep in my chest, stinging slightly.

＊＊＊

Our relationship remained, disappointingly, exactly the same.

At work, we acted as usual, bickering constantly as ever, but behind the scenes, we kept visiting each other’s homes and sleeping together repeatedly.

　As those days repeated, the awkwardness had somehow vanished without us noticing.

Objectively, I suppose our relationship could rightly be called a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. But having never had such an arrangement before in my life, I had no idea what the correct way to behave was.

Ever since that day, I’ve felt as if I’m floating in mid-air, living a life with no solid ground beneath my feet.

I knew every hidden part of Seno-san’s body. The smoothness of her skin beneath her clothes, the weight of her ample breasts, the feel of her soft hair, the sweet scent wafting from her neck.

I knew things only a lover should know.
She taught me everything, the order of things, where she liked to be touched, how she liked it.

　She was exceptionally skilled at conveying these things to me in bed.

But the softness of her lips alone, I still don’t know.

It is I who am refusing.
The moment her arms encircle my neck and she draws my face close, I reflexively turn away.

Merely imagining touching those lips makes sweat break out all over my body, tension surges through me, and I am suddenly overcome with fear.
　It feels as though the ground suddenly vanishes beneath my feet, and I’m plunged into a dark, bottomless pit.

Yet, Seno-san never seemed bothered by my attitude, always smiling cheerfully for some reason.

I realise it’s strange. That touching her unilaterally is fine, but touching each other scares me.

It was the first time I’d ever found exposing my inner self so terrifying.

　Naturally, I have absolutely no resistance whatsoever to being held by a man.
Of course, that’s assuming we’re lovers, but still.

Yet, just imagining that woman mounting me sends a tension through me, like my stomach is being squeezed tight.

Why? It was far, far more terrifying than imagining an unknown man pressing down on me.

　Even though I should always be the one embracing her, there’s this constant feeling of mental defeat, as if I’m merely being allowed to embrace her.

Pathetic.

If it troubles me this much, I should just pull out quickly. Yet I always end up unable to refuse her invitations.

Seno-san never expresses her feelings in words.

“This is just me being played… isn’t it? Surely…”

I muttered it almost unconsciously in front of the vending machine in the break room.
Staring blankly at the machine as it began brewing coffee with its mechanical hum,

“Ah, Mitsuya-san, good work today.”

A slightly high-pitched, soft, girlish voice made me turn around.
　Aosawa-chan, holding a tray with two empty teacups, smiled shyly at me.

Ah, as adorable as ever. My little ray of sunshine.

“Good work. Tea time with the president?”

“Yes. The president is the sort who’d work non-stop if left to her own devices, so lately we’ve been making sure to take breaks like this.”

“Impressive, the president’s secretary. You’ve settled in nicely.”

“I’m finally getting the hang of it.”

The other day, Aosawa-chan apparently went on a business trip to Okinawa with the president and brought me a sweet potato tart as a souvenir.
She still seems to be handling her work diligently, and as the person responsible for her induction training, I’m genuinely proud of her.

We used to go for drinks together after work quite often back then. At our regular Korean restaurant, we’d chat about all sorts of things over seafood pancakes.

　Even back then, Aosawa-chan was sincere, diligent, and radiant, but somehow, her smile seems to shine even brighter now.
It’s as if she’s giving off this sort of ‘aura of happiness’.

“Speaking of which, Mitsuya-san, did you see the memo? About the celebration party?”

“Ah, the one celebrating the new branch’s success, right? I saw it. It’s the Friday after next, isn’t it?”

　The notice had informed us that a celebration would be held at the company hotel’s beer garden to mark the huge success of the resort hotel that opened in midsummer.

“Um, would it be alright if I joined your table from the Budget Management Department? The president said it’d be fine for me to do as I pleased, as being with her would mean I wouldn’t get time to eat.”

“Of course, let’s eat together.”

“Thank you. I look forward to it! Right then, I’ll be heading back.”

“Right, good work today.”

I waved to Aosawa-chan and retrieved the coffee, now completely cold, from the vending machine.

Aosawa-chan… she’s cute, isn’t she? I pondered vaguely.

For instance, if Aosawa-chan were lying naked on a bed, would I feel the same sort of emotion I felt for Seno-san?
Would I want to touch her?
Would I reach out without hesitation? Like that night.

　—Probably not.

I couldn’t possibly look at such a pure girl with such a guilty gaze.

So then, maybe I don’t actually like women?

No, I don’t understand at all.
What exactly is the difference? Between her and Seno-san.

　It was undoubtedly Seno-san’s fault that I’d been forced to question my own sexual orientation, which I’d always believed to be unshakeable.

I sigh.

I want to somehow get closer to an answer, but I’ve been treading water in the same spot for ages, and I still haven’t found the courage to move forward.