Episode Twenty-One
“Morning, Onee-chan.”
“Morning. Want some breakfast?”
“Of course.”
“Sit down and wait.”
I gave the short reply and lined the salmon fillets up on the grill. With the long weekend giving us nothing but time, it’s been fun trying out different things to cook since morning.
Golden Week is nearly over, but I don’t think it was a bad holiday. Ao, who’d come down with a fever right before it started, had recovered enough by Sunday to walk around the house without trouble. The thought of what might have happened if it had gotten worse still makes me shudder, but modern medicine is apparently quite good at its job.
Studying to make up for lost time, watching a film I’d been curious about — neither of us went outside the whole holiday, so I think we spent close to half of every day together. Not a glamorous holiday by any measure, but it was a good one all the same. Though there were moments of suffering too, seeing Ao in loungewear I hadn’t seen before, or with her hair down in some unfamiliar way.
The nape of her neck on display, those short dolphin shorts. And sleeveless tops. I want those specifically banned. Maybe I’ll bring it up with Shiho-san.
If there’s one thing that changed over the holiday, it’s that Ao stopped pulling her odd little pranks on me. She’s recovered, but probably not fully back to normal yet — it might just go back to how it was eventually. The other thing is that she’s started inviting me into her own room. That’s about it, I think.
There’s a perfectly good large television in the living room, and yet whenever we watch a film we always end up doing it together on the small tablet in her room. Honestly, I can’t remember a single thing about any film I’ve watched at a shoulder’s distance from her. At this rate I don’t think I have enough hearts to spare, but it’s probably better than going on forever talking past each other. The look of pure happiness on Shiho-san’s face when she brought snacks into Ao’s room for us — I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
“Smells good. Japanese food’s unusual.”
“We’ve got the time for it. Honestly I’d want Japanese food every day, but it’s a hassle.”
“So Onee-chan’s a Japanese-food person, huh…”
I handed Ao the long plate with the fish on it and scooped rice into the bowls. This unremarkable little moment feels unbearably happy.
We ate while grumbling about school starting again tomorrow, and Ao tilted her head and asked something.
“By the way — that cushion and blanket that got left in my room. Where did those come from?”
“I was thinking, didn’t realise I even owned those.”
Ah…
So I’d forgotten, and they’d just stayed in her room this whole time. Not things I use often, so it hadn’t crossed my mind.
“Forgot about those, sorry, sorry. They’re mine.”
“I used them when you had your fever. Slept there at the time.”
I said it with a small wry laugh and took a sip of the miso soup. Mornings really do need this.
“…O— oh. I see.”
“You slept… there?”
“Yeah. Worried your fever might spike in the middle of the night.”
By morning her temperature had come down a fair amount, so the worry turned out to be unnecessary in the end.
“R— really. Huh, huh.”
A piece of pickle rolled off Ao’s chopsticks. She seemed a little unsettled — maybe it was just because it was the last day of the holiday.
“Can I have those?”
“Sure, I guess, but do you actually need them? They’re pretty old, you know.”
“I need them!”
She said it brightly, then carried on eating her salmon with a thoroughly happy expression.
◇
The train on the morning after Golden Week carried a heavy, sluggish atmosphere. The suited office workers practically gave off the scent of death. I don’t know how hard work is, but it must be a far more punishing place than school.
I’d felt a bit gloomy myself last night, but not nearly as bad as you’d expect. I know exactly why: I’d spent the entire holiday with Ao.
No kissing, no photographing sleeping faces. Nothing about my relationship with Ao should have moved forward at all — and yet the person beside her hadn’t been Ashiura-san, or Miki-san. It had been me.
A person like Tsukishima Yuna can apparently shrug off post-holiday gloom with even this small a slice of happiness. I’m not sure whether to call that efficient or just abnormal.
I finished the greeting at the all-school assembly and made my way to class a little behind everyone else. Exams are coming up, let’s all stay focused. Even a hollow greeting like that earned decent reviews from the teachers. I think the discipline teacher muttered something about my hair colour, but there’s no need to worry about that. Most teachers only see my grades and my title as student council president, not my actual conduct.
That was so cool!! I almost fell for you!!
Hire me as a stay-at-home wife if you ever need one.
I smiled despite myself reading Fuuka’s message and fired back something equally careless. The all-school assembly should be prime sleeping time for her, and yet she sends a comment every single time without fail. Diligent, in a strange way, and kind of endearing. I do wish she’d settle on whether she’s a problem student or a model one who never misses a word from the council president.
Even the teachers must be feeling the gloom, and yet they start class exactly as usual in that heavy air. Maybe that’s the difference between adults and kids.
We somehow made it through the leaden post-holiday lessons, and the saving chime rang in lunch break.
I gently rubbed the shoulder of Fuuka, who’d dragged herself zombie-like into the seat in front of mine.
“…I’m dying. My body might actually be done.”
“Yuna… save me.”
“Take whatever you like.”
I gave a small wry smile at her voice, more drained than I’d expected, and opened my lunchbox.
“Marry… me.”
“Yes, yes.”
I lifted a neatly oval hamburger steak up to Fuuka’s mouth. A bit big, but she could probably manage it in one bite.
“…Happiness.”
“Cheap happiness, that is.”
I watched her cheeks puff out comically and ate a bite of the sweet potato salad myself.
I glanced over at Ao’s seat and found her opening my lunchbox in front of Ashiura-san and the others. Ao, eating my cooking in front of classmates who have no idea I made it. That fact alone made my face go warm with something like happiness.
“Study with me after school?”
Fuuka shot me a narrow-eyed look around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Was already planning on it. Felt bad about it the whole holiday.”
“Oh? You really kept thinking about it the whole time?”
“I said I’d make it up to you properly, didn’t I. I’ll keep teaching you until you tell me to stop.”
“Maybe not quite that much…”
I’d apologised to Fuuka properly, by message and by call both. She hadn’t been angry, of course — if anything she’d been worried about both my sick stepsister and me. Still, cancelling on a sleepover she’d been looking forward to for so long really was bad of me.
It probably wasn’t a topic she wanted to dwell on, but her mood seemed fine, so I let it go.
Golden Week was over, and the next long break wasn’t for another two months, come summer. We’d stayed shut up indoors for so long that the heat outside had crept up enough to make even a light vest unnecessary.
Before I knew it, living with Ao had entered its second month. Whether to call it “already a month” or “still only a month,” I’m not sure. The twisted feeling trying to bloom, aimed at Ao, seems to be growing a little more every single day. Once it actually blooms, that’ll probably be the end. We won’t be able to stay a family anymore.
How much longer can I hold out. A life lived in the gap between happiness and suffering surely can’t go on forever.
I brought my attention back to Fuuka, who was now passionately detailing just how exhausting looking after her little siblings had been, and put on the strained, awkward smile I’m never very good at.