Episode 1: I Hate Hanamori Chisa
I hate my junior coworker, Hanamori Chisa.
Because she’s calculating.
The pitch of her laugh, the upturned eyes, the way she draws out the ends of her words, every single thing about her reads like a calculated performance for men.
Take today, for instance. During lunch break, she was chatting away in the break room with Tamura-san, the best-looking guy in sales.
“Thanks to Hanamori-san landing us the appointment, we closed the deal.”
“Ehh, really? I’m so happy~ Then next time you have to take me out to eat as thanks, okay~? Ufufu.”
Laughing, she hands him a paper cup, brushing his fingers as she does. Her nails are done in a soft pink. The way her fingers linger against his hand is strangely, deliberately slow.
I’ll admit, she’s good-looking. Petite but well-proportioned, big round eyes like a puppy’s, slightly downturned and glistening, a baby face. Feminine clothes that flatter her frame, makeup applied with obvious expertise.
Cute. Fine, I’ll grant her that. I have no choice but to grant her that. But the problem is how she wields that “weapon.”
In front of the male staff, she’s like an actress on a stage.
She’ll be briskly hauling cardboard boxes one moment, and the second a man she’s interested in comes near, she suddenly starts staggering. “Oh, this is so heavy~”
“Wow, you’re amazing~!” “As expected of you~!” — stock phrases delivered with her eyes lighting up right on cue.
Every part of it is a weapon aimed at delighting men.
And yet.
The moment she’s alone with me, a woman, Asami Nagi, she becomes an entirely different person.
“I’ll leave the documents here.”
She sets the papers down, expressionless. Her voice drops a full octave, the babyish “~” at the end of her sentences vanishes completely. Her eyes go dead, like a fish’s. Of course, she never makes eye contact. The corners of her mouth turn down; not a trace of a smile. The gap between the two is so extreme all I can do is laugh.
That afternoon. On the boss’s orders, the new hire Hanamori was assigned to accompany me on my sales rounds.
I drove.
She sat in the passenger seat fiddling with her phone, occasionally staring blankly out the window. Being the adult here, I made an effort to talk to her.
“Hanamori-san, about today’s meeting—”
“…”
No response. Her eyes stayed glued to her phone.
“Um, are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
Hanamori sounded a little irritated. Her tone was flat. Zero motivation. The listlessness of a rebellious middle schooler dragged along to a relative’s gathering on a day off.
Irritated by her attitude, I made another attempt at being the adult.
“The client today cares a lot about manners and formal speech, so you might want to watch yourself a bit.”
“…Uh-huh. Got it~.”
She slumped back against the seat, giving a listless reply while still staring at her phone.
She kept gazing out the window, radiating an air of “this is such a pain.” No, not radiating. Announcing. Loudly.
Waiting at a red light, I let out a small sigh. Seeing her act this differently around men versus me, all I could do was laugh. The person who’d been beaming at her senior in the break room minutes ago, and the person now sighing in my passenger seat, didn’t seem like the same human being.
Then, gazing at her precious manicure, she muttered under her breath.
“I wanted to do rounds with Tamura-san today~”
(…Excuse me? I don’t want to do rounds with someone like you either, you know.)
Irritation flared up in me, and my grip tightened on the wheel.
This is exactly why I hate you, Hanamori Chisa.
That “calculated cuteness, full deployment” mode of yours, and the impossibly icy way you treat me.
The gap between the two is strangely annoying, strangely absurd, and, in the end, just plain infuriating.
One Saturday.
That day I was out drinking with a friend from college at an izakaya.
From a table in the back, a familiar laugh rang out.
“Eh, seriously? I had no idea~”
“No way~! You’re amazing, Ryouta-kun~”
“Stoop it~, ufufu.”
I didn’t even need to look. That high-pitched, honeyed voice unmistakably belonged to Hanamori Chisa.
I glanced over. She was surrounded by four men, laughing. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she held her glass with both hands, the exact angle at which she looked up at the man beside her, all of it perfectly calculated.
It was the first time I’d witnessed Hanamori’s calculated cuteness deployed at full power, live.
Terrible. Why did I have to run into this here? It was going to ruin the taste of my beer.
Best not to be noticed, at least.
I downed the rest of my mug and muttered a quiet, “Ugh.”
My friend asked, “Someone you know?” I shook my head. “Nah, not at all.” I didn’t want to get involved. Tonight, if nothing else, I wanted to drink without thinking about Hanamori Chisa.
About an hour later, another voice drifted over from the back table.
“Chisa-chan, you okay? Your face is bright red.”
“I’m fiiine~. I can still drink~.”
Her words were starting to slur. That woman can’t hold her liquor and pushes herself anyway. Idiot.
Sure enough, thirty minutes later she was being helped out of the izakaya by the men, propped up between them. “I’ll walk you home,” one of them said, to which she replied in a sweet, clingy voice, “Thank youuu~.”
My friend and I exchanged a wry look at the sight.
I paid my share and left with my friend.
“There’s always some calculating woman like that around, huh.”
“Ah, the drunk girl from earlier? …Yeah well, but that type’s actually popular, so.”
I grumbled, and my friend laughed in response.
I know. I know, but still. God, I really do hate her.
On the walk home after parting with my friend.
The night air had turned cold, and the alcohol was starting to wear off. Passing by a convenience store, I noticed someone collapsed on a bench.
Looking closer, it was Hanamori Chisa.
Wait. Didn’t she just leave with those men?
I got closer. Her phone lay on the ground. Half the contents of her bag had spilled out: lip balm, a handkerchief, a coin purse. A disaster completely at odds with the usual, flawless Hanamori Chisa.
Fighting the urge to just walk past, I spoke up.
“…Hanamori-san?”
At my voice, she slowly lifted her head.
“Mm~… eh, ish that you, Asami-san?”
Her eyes were glazed, completely unfocused. Her speech was slurred. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess. The flawless look from before was nowhere to be found. Was this the real Hanamori Chisa?
“What are you doing out here?”
“Ahh, so like~. We were drinking and on the way home I needed to pee~. Stopped at the convenience store and~, everyone was gone when I came out~.”
She gave a loose, giggly laugh. So they’d left her behind. Those men, unbelievable. Well, but Hanamori’s partly to blame too, getting carried away when she can’t even hold her drink.
“Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”
“‘S fiiine~.”
She tried to stand, wobbling, and collapsed back onto the bench.
“Don’ need it~. Not interested in women, sho leave me alone~.”
She said it with a smirk.
…Excuse me?
Not interested in women? What kind of thing was that to say?
As if I’d spoken to her with some kind of ulterior motive. Well, okay, fine, I do like cute girls. But not Hanamori. Absolutely not.
And besides, that wasn’t even the point right now.
Irritation flared, and I snapped back.
“Fine then. Go ahead and lie there by yourself.”
I turned on my heel.
Ten steps. Fifteen. Twenty.
Behind me came a clattering thud. I turned around; she’d tumbled off the bench.
“Owww…”
Swaying unsteadily, she tried to grab her phone, dropped it, tried again, and collapsed once more. A complete drunken slapstick routine at this point. There was no way she could get home on her own.
…No good. I couldn’t just leave her.
Tomorrow, hearing her tell the male staff in that honeyed voice, “Asami-senpai abandoned me~,” in that tone, that alone would irritate me to no end.
No, more than that, as a human being, I couldn’t just leave her there. What if some creep bothered her? What if she got into an accident? The aftertaste would be unbearable.
This is the adult thing to do. Yes, this is purely me being the adult here.
“…Such a pain, honestly.”
Sighing, I walked back.
“Come on, up you get.”
I grabbed Hanamori’s arm and pulled her upright. Lighter than expected. Slender, too. And soft.
“Eh~? Asami-san… why’d you come baaack~?”
“Quiet. I’m getting a taxi, so behave.”
I gathered up her scattered belongings and stuffed them back into her bag. Hanamori leaned against my shoulder, giggling loosely.
“Ehh, Asami-san’s surprisingly nice, huh~.”
“Shut up.”
I flagged a taxi and pushed Hanamori inside.
“Where to?” the driver asked, but Hanamori was already asleep. I pulled out her phone from her bag to check her address, but it was locked.
“…Guess there’s no choice. My place, then.”
I gave the driver my address, and the taxi pulled away.
Along the way, Hanamori’s full weight rested against my shoulder. A sweet perfume drifted from her. Her hair brushed silkily against my cheek. Too close. This was the first time I’d ever been this close to Hanamori Chisa.
Looking at her properly now, she really was cute. Her personality might be a disaster, but her looks alone were something else. My heart was pounding a little too loudly.
No, wrong. This absolutely was not my heart skipping a beat. I was just drunk. Right, I was just drunk.
The driver kept glancing back at us in the rearview mirror, but I didn’t want him to ask anything. I couldn’t have explained it if he had.
We arrived at my apartment, and I got out of the taxi. Supporting Hanamori, I walked her to the front door.
“Come on, inside.”
I got her shoes off at the entrance. Hanamori followed along obediently. Where had her usual iciness gone? Guess she turns docile when drunk.
I brought her into the living room and sat her on the sofa. She slumped over into a sleeping position and immediately passed out again.
I went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.
“Hanamori-san, I’m leaving some water here.”
I set the glass down on the table by the sofa. Hanamori slept on peacefully, breathing evenly.
Well then, time to change into something comfortable, I thought, standing up, when—
Someone grabbed my wrist.
“Eh, wait, what—”
I was pulled in. My vision swam.
The next moment, something soft touched my lips.
Warm. Our breath mingled.
My thoughts stopped.
I tried to pull away, but her arm wouldn’t let go.
If anything, it tightened, pulling me closer.
Closer, closer, closer.
Her lips parted slightly. A hot breath escaped.
Before I could resist, her tongue slipped in.
Smooth. And unnervingly skilled.
Our tongues entangled. My head went blank.
My heart was pounding painfully hard.
I couldn’t breathe.
When our faces finally parted, Hanamori gave a hazy, half-lidded smile, and drifted right back to sleep.
I could only stand there before her sleeping face, letting out a dumbfounded sound.
“………”
“………Huh?”
“………..What was that just now?”