Episode 7
I feel as though I’d been asleep for a very long time. I hadn’t looked at a clock, but the clarity in my head told me so.
She’d brought me all the way home — I felt a pang of guilt at the thought, and then something else snagged at me.
She couldn’t possibly know where I live. I had no memory of ever telling her my address or even my nearest station.
I looked around the room. White as its base, with touches of soft yellow in the décor placed here and there.
At the head of the bed, a cluster of stuffed animals. An exceptionally round penguin caught my eye.
Round and plump and adorable. I picked it up and hugged it to my chest — and heard a familiar shutter sound.
“Good morning, senpai. Took a shot of you first thing.”
Seriha, phone in hand, spinning in place with undisguised delight. She’d captured the single most mortifying possible moment. Truly, the very worst possible moment—
“W-wait — please delete it—”
I implore her, the penguin still pressed to my chest.
“No.”
Instant. Absolutely merciless.
“A senpai who plays the capable adult but can’t resist the lure of a cute stuffed animal… the artistic merit alone is off the charts.”
A sigh. Nothing I say will make a difference.
More importantly — she perches on the edge of the bed and continues in a voice edged with concern.
“You don’t have a fever, do you? Your colour was genuinely bad in the middle of the night. How are you feeling?”
“…Sorry about everything. I might still be half-asleep, but I’m all right. No fever either, I think.”
The tiredness lingers, but having slept properly I feel significantly better than before. The bed had been wonderfully soft — a very good night’s sleep, all things considered.
“Oh — sorry for using your bed! The sofa or the floor would have been completely fine—”
“There’s no way I’d let senpai sleep somewhere like that…”
The exaggerated slump of protest is endearing.
There’s no futon laid out that I can see, and no sofa. Surely she hadn’t just stayed up all night, or slept on the floor—
“You’d been working through the night too, Ichikawa-san — did you actually sleep? If you stayed up the whole time because there was nowhere to lie down, please go sleep right now—”
“Of course I slept. I just happened to wake up before you.”
Right. Good.
But where had she slept, then.
“Never mind that though! Senpai, aren’t you hungry? It’s already lunchtime.”
I looked at the clock on the wall — almost one in the afternoon. I’d really slept.
I would have liked a shower before eating, but with no change of clothes it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. I had an appetite, and decided eating came first.
“Yeah, let’s get something. Let me treat you.”
No need for that, she says — and skips her way to the room’s entrance, returning with a spatula and a ladle.
“I’ll make you pancakes. I’m good at them.”
◇
A rich smell of browning butter drifted in from the kitchen, and I pressed a hand to my stomach without thinking.
For the past few days I’d eaten nothing but protein bars and convenience store pastries — things that could be consumed one-handed without stopping. My body seemed to rejoice at the smell of something made with care.
“Here we are! Chef Ichikawa’s signature three-tier pancakes!”
Three golden, fluffy discs stacked on top of each other, absolutely drowning in maple syrup. Small pieces of banana and blueberry scattered across the top — the amount of effort involved was genuinely surprising.
“You’re a good cook. I could never make something this beautiful.”
“I just follow the recipe. But I’ll gratefully accept the compliment.”
She makes an exaggerated bow — at your service — and something in my face loosens again. Perhaps because for so long my only contact with her had been through that businesslike, impersonal prose.
The taste, needless to say, matched the appearance. The texture was perfectly judged — fluffy through and through, melting on the tongue. I savoured every bite.
“Um, senpai…”
Once things had settled, she broached something in a subdued, unfamiliar voice and expression. So she can look like that too.
“About what happened — I really am sorry.”
“Why are you apologising? This whole thing was my fault for carrying it alone.”
“Look, I’m just like this — a little bit of strain and I get worn out straight away… I don’t exactly look sturdy, do I? I get told that a lot.”
Sorry for worrying you, I add with a self-deprecating smile, telling her she has nothing to answer for.
But the smile still doesn’t come back to her face.
“Because the reason you didn’t rely on me — or rather, couldn’t rely on me — was because I’d backed you into a corner. I know that.”
“It’s not that I wanted to back you into a corner. But… if I didn’t do something like that, senpai — I felt like you might just disappear somewhere.”
That wasn’t what I’d expected. Or — was it, actually?
That night. That café. The Seriha I’d seen in those moments had been burning with an intensity that had felt, at times, like something close to madness. But — it was becoming impossible to think that had no reason behind it.
And right now, that reason might finally be within reach.