Episode 41: This Is Kind of That Type of Place, You Know?
The conversation kept going after that, one thing leading to another.
Our respective hobbies, work talk, gossip about Chief Miyashita from sales admin, stories about Hanamori’s past exes.
Once the conversation had really picked up, we moved to a second spot.
Past eleven at night now.
The place was lively with Friday-night crowds, and Hanamori and I were still sitting side by side at the counter.
“Asami-san, your face is really red, you okay?”
“So’s yours, Hanamori-san.”
Hanamori’s cheeks had gone cherry-blossom pink, her usual bratty glare a little glossy now.
Flushed cheeks. Damp lips. Wrapped in a sultry air, Hanamori looked about thirty percent more alluring than usual.
No good. Can’t look at her like that.
“Asami-san.”
“Eh?”
“Could you not stare at me like you’re eating me alive?”
“Not staring.”
“You were completely staring.”
Hanamori narrowed her eyes and laughed. The droop of her lower lids, cute. My heart gave another hard jolt at that smile.
I was pretty drunk myself. The world felt slightly floaty, and I couldn’t quite judge the distance between me and Hanamori anymore.
Close. Our shoulders touching. Our thighs touching too. Soft. Maybe from both our alcohol levels, everything felt warm.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes until the last train.
I was aware of it. If I just stayed quiet like this, we’d miss the last train. And then, what would happen.
I found myself imagining, a little, no, quite a lot, what might happen after missing the last train.
Just imagining it made my heart pound hard enough to feel like it might burst.
But no. This is no good, right?
Feeling like this is just the alcohol talking. Can’t act on drunken momentum. I’d definitely regret it tomorrow, waking up.
I don’t want to break my relationship with Hanamori.
And besides, there’s no way Hanamori would ever go along with an invitation like that.
“…Guess we should head home soon.”
My reason did its job properly.
The moment I said it, Hanamori made an “eh” face.
A slightly lonely-looking expression. No, just my imagination, my imagination.
For just an instant, her lips moved like she was about to say something — but in the end, said nothing.
Instead, she lifted the corner of her mouth and, glancing at me sideways, said this:
“Guess so. You’re getting up there in years, Asami-san. It’ll hit you the next day.”
“See, there you go, treating me like an old lady again.”
Hanamori laughed softly. I found myself laughing too.
We gathered our things, paid the bill, and left the izakaya.
Outside, still a little chilly.
“Ah.”
“Whoa, you okay?”
Hanamori suddenly stumbled.
I reached out on reflex, and Hanamori grabbed onto my arm.
Soft.
Her chest, pressed against my arm.
“You really are drunk after all.”
“It’s your fault, Asami-san.”
“My fault?”
“You kept getting me to drink more.”
“I didn’t make you drink.”
“You did. That’s alcohol harassment. Alco-hara.”
Hanamori shot me a joking glare and tried to pull away from my arm — then stumbled again, slightly.
“Ah, guess that’s not gonna work after all.”
Saying that, this time she took hold of my right arm with both hands, hesitant but firm.
Without me asking anything, she added, as if making excuses.
“My heels are too high. Hard to keep balance when I’m drunk.”
Saying that, she leaned in tight against me. A soft sensation against my upper arm. No good. Can’t let myself notice it.
We walked toward the station together.
Of all places, this turned out to be a love hotel district.
A street lined with buildings glowing in neon. Right in front of us, a couple with their arms around each other’s waists walked past, laughing.
A little further on, a woman being led by the hand by a man disappeared into a hotel entrance, looking bashfully down.
Under the dim glow of the streetlights, some couples stood locked in embrace, not moving. A heated atmosphere dissolving into the night air.
An unbearably awkward location for two women to be walking through.
Searching for a topic, my eyes darted around out of sheer awkwardness.
A hotel sign visible to the right — “HOTEL Don’t Think, Feel.”
Looking away, to the left — “Hotel Pillow Talk Palace.”
Further ahead — “HOTEL Night Recipe.”
Everywhere I looked, it was like this. Unnervingly on-the-nose hotel names kept jumping into view.
Hanamori noticed too. What kind of place this was.
Despite noticing, she didn’t let go of my arm. If anything, she pressed in a little tighter, clinging closer.
The silence was too awkward, and thinking I needed to say something, I hurriedly opened my mouth.
“Ah, is tomorrow burnable trash day?”
“No idea.”
“No, I mean, just wondering, somehow…”
“Why bring that up right now?”
Completely dug my own grave. Hanamori gave a small, wry laugh. Her exasperated, cold gaze stung.
Even so, Hanamori didn’t let go of my arm.
“…Asami-san.”
“Wh-what?”
“This is kind of ‘that type’ of place, you know. Are you aware of that, walking through here?”
“Th-this is just the shortest route to the station.”
“Hmm. And here I thought you were getting worked up and planning to drag me in somewhere.”
Hanamori said it, grinning teasingly.
There she goes again, making me sound terrible.
Another couple, arms around each other, disappeared into a hotel nearby. The man’s hand around the woman’s waist. The woman laughing happily.
The air felt oddly raw. A grown-up, nighttime atmosphere.
Trying to dispel the awkwardness, my mouth moved on its own again.
“Ah, um, did you see tomorrow’s weather forecast? Apparently it’s gonna be sunny.”
“……………..”
Hanamori looked up at me, completely exasperated.
“Asami-san, what’s with you right now?”
“No, I mean…”
“Talking about the weather, talking about trash day. Are you self-conscious about something?”
“N-not self-conscious.”
“Liar.”
Hanamori laughed, just a little. And then pressed even closer against my arm.
Silence.
Only the sound of her heels echoed.
Neither of us knew what to say. But Hanamori didn’t let go of my arm. And I didn’t want her to, either.
We were almost through the love hotel district. A little further and we’d reach the station.
Just as I felt a small wave of relief—
Hanamori’s feet stopped.
Suddenly, her arm let go.
“Eh? What’s wrong, Hanamori-san?”
“…Asami-san.”
Hanamori lifted her face.
Dark, glossy eyes. Lips slightly parted. Flushed cheeks.
“Eh?”
“The continuation of that day…”
“…That day?”
What is she talking about? Eh? Eh? What is this?
My head wasn’t keeping up.
The alcohol was making my thoughts lag behind.
“That day’s…”
Hanamori took a step closer.
The distance between us dropped to zero. Looking up at me, eyes glossy.
And then, she whispered right into my ear.
*
“Want to continue that kiss?”
“…Eh?”
I felt the noise of the neon-lit street around us recede all at once, into a distant blur.