Volume 5 Episode 02

 I fell asleep without setting an alarm.

Even so, I woke up a little past six, an unusually early hour for a Sunday morning.

“......Sleepy.”

I pulled the black cat plush that had rolled beside my pillow into the futon, placed it on my chest, and gently stroked its head as I closed my eyes.

At night, I feel properly sleepy. Yet my sleep is shallow, and in the morning I wake up far too early. Ever since coming here, it has been like this the entire time, and my head never feels clear.

It is all Sendai-san’s fault.

I wish I could say that, but I think the cause lies with me. I am not used to always having someone else in the house.

When I wake up in the morning, Sendai-san is there. When I come home from university, Sendai-san is there. Even on days off, she is there. I was used to it being normal for no one to be home, so this place, where there is always someone’s presence, feels like someone else’s house, and I cannot relax. Still, when things I brought from my previous room are nearby, I feel like I might sleep better, so even after coming here, I keep the black cat by my pillow.

I let out a deep sigh and opened my eyes.

I have plans today.

Because of a promise I made yesterday without really intending to, I ended up having to go buy an electric kettle with Sendai-san. Both before sleeping and now, I am not in the mood. For someone like me, who has not yet grown accustomed to this room, going out with Sendai-san feels like an overwhelmingly difficult task.

I sighed once more and lowered my gaze. On the floor was an alligator with tissues sprouting from its back.

It is a small thing, but when something that should be there is in its proper place, it makes me feel that this is my own space.

I hope this room quickly becomes my own.

I returned the black cat to its place beside the pillow, slowly got up, and opened the closet.

Every morning, I hesitate.

I do not know whether it is acceptable to leave the room still wearing the sweatshirt I use as pajamas, or whether I should change first. Before coming here, I would eat breakfast or brush my teeth while still wearing it. But now, because Sendai-san is here, I feel reluctant to wander around in sweatclothes.

Sendai-san is probably still asleep.

What should I do?

After thinking it over, I took out a cut-and-sew top and a pair of denim pants and changed into them. I made the bed, and just as I was about to leave the room, I picked up the black cat that had been next to the pillow.

She will not enter the room without permission.

I decided that yesterday, though Sendai-san sometimes breaks the rules.

Just in case, I placed the black cat on the bookshelf. A stuffed animal can be placed anywhere, but if Sendai-san found out that I keep the black cat by my pillow, she might comment on it, and I would not like that.

The black cat, now moved from its usual spot.

The alligator on the floor.

The neatly made bed.

After confirming everything, I left the room.

Sendai-san was not in the shared dining-kitchen area.

I brushed my teeth and washed my face, and when I returned, Sendai-san still was not there. I opened the refrigerator, hesitated briefly, and took out the orange juice. I poured it into a glass and looked at the table.

There was a single bag containing the leftover bread. I placed the glass beside the bag.

Not knowing Sendai-san’s preferences, I had ended up choosing this and that, and the amount had become too much for a dinner meant for two people. I do not dislike bread, but we definitely bought too much.

“Good morning.”

Along with the voice, Sendai-san, who looked as though she had just woken up, entered my field of view.

“Good morning.”

“I’m going to wash my face.”

She said this sleepily and disappeared into the bathroom. I sat down in a chair and took a sip of orange juice. Time passed very slowly.

One minute felt long, like during a boring lecture. Even if I went back to bed, I probably would not fall asleep again, but there was nothing to do here either. I debated returning to my room and drank more orange juice. While staring at the glass, still more than half full, I heard Sendai-san’s voice.

“Is this okay for breakfast?”

Turning toward the voice, I saw Sendai-san lifting the bag of bread while looking not at me, but at the glass.

“That’s fine.”

“By the way, you wake up pretty early, Miyagi.”

“You woke up early too, Sendai-san.”

“I just woke up.”

Wearing an oversized sweatshirt and denim pants, she said this, stretched widely, and sat down in a chair. Her gaze remained fixed on my glass, so I reluctantly asked,

“Do you want some?”

“I just want one sip.”

“Then go ahead.”

Without waiting for her reply, I stood up and handed her the glass. She said “Thanks” without looking at me, put her mouth to the half-finished orange juice, and, just as she had said, took a single sip before setting the glass back on the table.

In the mornings, there are times like this when Sendai-san and I do not make eye contact.

It might be my imagination, or simply that she is groggy from just waking up, but it does not feel very good. At times like this, I can hear something creaking deep inside my body.

“Sendai-san, you can finish it.”

“I don’t want any more.”

“Then what about the rest?”

“Miyagi should drink it.”

It is not quite the usual pattern, but somehow the conversation continues. Maybe it is thanks to setting rules yesterday.

It will probably still take time for Sendai-san to fit perfectly into my life, but this is much better than before. Still, I do not think the conversation will continue much longer, so before an awkward silence can form, I suggested a way to pass the time without needing further talk.

“I’m going to eat breakfast. What about you, Sendai-san?”

As soon as I said that, Sendai-san stood up.

“I’ll eat. I’ll get orange juice. Do you want more, Miyagi?”

“No. And I don’t need a plate.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll just increase the number of dishes to wash.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

I heard a dissatisfied tone, and after a short while, Sendai-san returned carrying a single glass of orange juice.

“Sendai-san, you choose first.”

I slid the bag of bread toward her as she sat down.

“I chose first yesterday, so you choose today, Miyagi.”

“No. You choose first, Sendai-san.”

“This kind of thing is supposed to be taking turns, right?”

“I’m fine with whatever bread is left.”

“Hmm. Then choose my bread for me, Miyagi.”

She pushed the bag back toward me.

“I just said you to choose first.”

“Whoever chooses, the bread chosen first will be what I eat, and the rest will be what Miyagi eats. That works, right?”

Sendai-san said something that sounded reasonable but was not quite, and smiled.

I wanted to complain, but since it was not entirely wrong, I obediently took out an an-butter sandwich and a walnut bread and placed them in front of her. Then I set the remaining cream bun and roll bread in front of myself.

“Thanks for the meal!.”

With that, Sendai-san bit into the walnut bread. I echoed “Thanks for the meal!.” and took a bite of the cream bun.

After my mother disappeared, I spent more time alone. Now, Sendai-san is with me longer than anyone else.

—Even though I have not paid the five thousand yen. I took another bite of the cream bun and looked at Sendai-san. 

The relationship has changed from what it once was. I understand that much. Sendai-san established the relationship of roommates, and I accepted it. And yet, even now that we have stepped into a new kind of relationship, I cannot help but wonder why Sendai-san obeyed my orders in exchange for five thousand yen she did not even use.

For me, that five thousand yen was something I needed in order to keep Sendai-san close, something I could not afford to lose. For Sendai-san, it was supposed to be compensation, a reward for reluctantly following my commands.

It was not something meant to be saved without ever being spent. A sigh nearly escapes me, so I take a sip of orange juice instead. I glance at Sendai-san once more. At the end of my gaze, she is quietly eating her bread.

She does not try to start a conversation. I am not troubled by that, because I do not particularly want to talk either. But when she sits silently across from me like this, thoughts I would rather ignore begin to surface.

If I had not given her the five thousand yen, what would Sendai-san have done?

Would the Sendai-san who carefully saved it without spending it have spent the same time with me even without that money?

Would she have allowed me to give her orders?

Now, I do not know.

When I try to untangle all of those “why”s, my thoughts become noisy, and I cannot calm myself. Yet solving those questions feels like it might alter our current relationship.

“Miyagi. If that doesn’t taste good, do you want to trade it for this?”

Sendai-san, who had been silent until now, says this as she picks up the an-butter sandwich. At the same time, I take a bite of the cream bread I have not even eaten halfway through yet.

“No need to trade. I was just spacing out because I’m sleepy.”

“I see. Is eating out okay for lunch today?”

As she says this, Sendai-san finishes the rest of the walnut bread in one large bite.

“That’s fine. After I finish this, I’ll stay in the room until it’s time.”

“Got it.”

We continue eating our bread while exchanging sparse, inconsequential words. We never really had shared topics to begin with, but until now, the pauses in conversation never bothered me. Since coming here, though, the silence feels heavy. I find myself searching for things to say just to keep the conversation alive, forcing down the remaining orange juice and bread.

“Sendai-san. What time are we leaving?”

“If we go at twelve, we might get hungry, so how about around eleven?”

“Okay. Eleven, then.”

After telling Sendai-san that, I return to the room.

I lie on the bed or read manga to pass the time.

It feels uncomfortable, but I do not want to leave the room. If I were to run into Sendai-san in the common area, it would feel even more awkward.

While staying holed up in the room, doing nothing but waiting, the promised hour draws near. I open the closet and look at a spring-colored skirt. It is one I bought after the graduation ceremony and have never worn even once.

I place it on the bed and think.

If I wear this skirt and leave the room, she will assume I put it on because she told me to. Even if it was simply that the skirt caught my eye and I happened to choose it, it would look like I wore it for Sendai-san.

The time I had to decide slips away, and eleven o’clock is already close. I return the skirt to the closet and take out a knit top instead. I put it on over my cut-and-sew shirt and leave the room.

“Ready?”

Sendai-san, who seems to have been waiting, calls out to me. I reply, “Ready.” The oversized sweatshirt she wore earlier has been replaced with a blouse, and her denim pants are now a skirt.

“Then, let’s go.”

Sendai-san says nothing about the fact that I am not wearing a skirt. She mentioned something like “Wear a skirt tomorrow” on a whim. I know it was just a casual remark from yesterday, not something she seriously meant.

Sendai-san grabs her bag and heads for the entrance. I follow her, and together we put on our shoes and step outside. We walk down the stairs from the third floor and onto the sidewalk I usually walk alone.

I do not walk beside Sendai-san.

I trail slightly behind her as she moves forward without hesitation. The sound of passing cars. The excited voices of children at play.

The April wind, neither warm nor cold.

Everything that is usually familiar feels strangely different, making me want to turn back. Still, I move my feet forward mechanically.

I know where we are going. But aside from the area around the house and the university, I am unfamiliar with this place. Keeping a small distance behind Sendai-san, we turn several corners and board a train. I did not want to change my position, but the train is fairly crowded, so I end up standing next to her. Outside the window, unfamiliar scenery flows by today as well.

I do not belong here.

Ever since moving here, I have always felt like an outsider, and even being with Sendai-san today does not change that. I do not know how much time must pass before the scenery outside becomes mine, before that house feels like home. It is not Sendai-san’s fault, but I still cannot blend into this new environment. Feeling depressed will not solve anything, yet I sink into it anyway. I feel as though I might get off the train before reaching our destination, so I turn my gaze toward Sendai-san.

“What?”

She seems to notice my stare and speaks without turning toward me.

“Nothing.”

“Already tired?”

“I’m not tired.”

I answer curtly, and the conversation ends. Sendai-san turns her gaze back to the window.

After a while, the scenery outside stops moving, and the doors open.

The already noisy train car grows even louder. 

People get on and off, the doors close, and then Sendai-san quietly calls out, “Hey, Miyagi.”

As the train begins moving again and gradually picks up speed, I look out the window, just like she does.

“Why were you drinking orange juice this morning?”

“Just because.”

“Hm. Then why were you avoiding me all over the house?”

Like the scenery flowing by at a steady pace, the conversation shifts smoothly and arrives somewhere unexpected.

“That ‘then’ has nothing to do with the orange juice.”

I protest the way she changed the topic so naturally.

“Just answer.”

Her voice is soft and light, as usual.

When I turn my eyes from the window to Sendai-san, I see her profile. Contrary to her tone, her expression is unexpectedly serious, and I cannot give a careless answer.

“…Because I didn’t know what to do.”

“Just as I thought.”

“Because you were always there, Sendai-san.”

I knew I should not say it directly, but the atmosphere did not allow me to dodge the question, so I had no choice but to be honest.

“Well, we live together. I’d be troubled if you said you didn’t want me around.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Get used to me. It hurts when you avoid me.”

Sendai-san shifts her gaze from the window to me.

“Sorry.”

It was not that I wanted to avoid her, but I did feel guilty, so I apologize. However, there are times when Sendai-san avoids me as well. Like this morning, when she would not meet my eyes. Because of that, I do not think the fault lies with me alone. Still, since she does not avoid me as openly as I avoid her, it is difficult to complain.

“You were meeting Utsunomiya when you weren’t home, right?”

Sendai-san asks in a probing tone.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Where do you usually go?”

Because I have plans with Maika.

That is what I always tell Sendai-san as the reason for not being home. But being asked where we went is troublesome.

“Even if you ask where, it’s not a place worth mentioning.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“……Around there.”

“I’m asking where ‘around there’ is.”

“I don’t really know. I leave it up to Maika.”

“Even if you leave it up to her, you still go somewhere, don’t you?”

“We don’t go anywhere special.”

I am not lying. Maika and I do not go to particularly unusual places. But it is not entirely true either. Nearly half the time, I was not actually meeting Maika at all. I was killing time alone, wandering through bookstores or sitting in cafés. If I explained in detail where I went, it would probably reveal that I had not been with Maika.

“Well, whatever.”

Her voice does not sound convinced, but Sendai-san does not pursue the matter any further. I feel relieved that she lets it drop. Still, once she falls silent, I cannot tell what she had been interested in.

Was it Maika? The places I went? Or me?

I wonder what Sendai-san truly wanted to ask. But the train sways, and the scenery outside begins to slow.

“We’re getting off.”

Sendai-san’s voice reaches me, cutting off my thoughts. We get off the train, eat a light lunch, and then walk toward our destination. We are only buying a single electric kettle, yet it takes an absurd amount of time.

It is not something we would be unable to live without if we delayed the purchase. Ordering it online would have been fine. We could even have bought it near the house. It is not something that requires taking a train, eating lunch together, and then walking even farther to buy.

“Miyagi, it’s here.”

Sendai-san, who has been walking in silence, speaks up. We arrive at a place that seems to sell not just appliances, but nearly anything one might need. She steps onto the escalator, and I follow one step below her.

We are the same, yet not the same.

The long hair in my field of vision has sometimes been braided and sometimes not since we started living together. Today, it is braided on both sides and tied at the back, the way she used to wear it in high school. I cannot see it from here, but she is wearing makeup now, unlike this morning when she first woke up.

Aside from not wearing a uniform, she looks much the same as she did back then. And yet, to me, Sendai-san feels like a different person. No, more precisely, I am no longer looking at her the same way I did before.

It is probably because of the five thousand yen that was never spent. I cannot find a place to put my emotions.

This new life, and the Sendai-san who is different from before, fit together poorly inside me, awkward and difficult to handle. When we were still in high school, I somehow managed to settle everything neatly through the act of paying five thousand yen. But now that the money is gone, the emotions that no longer round off cleanly have nowhere to land.

I think that if only we could return to the days when we wore uniforms, I would not have to think about anything.

I would not need to worry about what to wear when leaving my room in the morning. I would not feel anxious about conversations that seem about to die out. Sendai-san would not tell me to wear a skirt, and I would not have to notice that she says nothing when I do not.

I step off the escalator.

Then I get on another one, heading upward.

The back in my line of sight holds a perfectly straight posture.

Her long hair is beautiful. I want to touch it. I almost reach out, then stop myself and let out a quiet breath.

I must be tired.

I have not been sleeping well, and my head is not working properly.

“Miyagi, this way.”

Instead of taking the next escalator, Sendai-san walks straight ahead. When I follow her, rows of electric kettles immediately come into view. She mutters something like “Which one would be good?” as she picks up several models and examines them. I simply watch.

Round ones, and ones with long, slender spouts.

The electric kettles she considers seriously vary in color and shape. Their functions must differ as well, but to me, anything that boils water would suffice. Still, she compares them carefully. I have no intention of rushing her, but I feel she could choose a bit more casually.

“Miyagi, which one do you like?”

Her eyes leave the kettles and turn to me.

“Any of them is fine. Or rather, didn’t you research this beforehand?”

“I did look up a few that seemed good.”

“Then one of those is fine.”

“I narrowed it down to two, so choose.”

As she says this, Sendai-san points to two kettles in turn, indicating one and then the other.

“I really don’t care either way, so go with the one you like, Sendai-san.”

“Even if you don’t care, you must have some preference.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then maybe this one.”

As she says that, Sendai-san points to a larger electric kettle. She then looks at me and adds, “You choose the color. We’re using it together, so cooperate a little.”

“I don’t have a favorite color either.”

Color has nothing to do with boiling water. She should choose whichever she likes, whether it is white, black, or red. More than me, who has no interest in electric kettles, Sendai-san, who actually wants it, should choose her preferred color.

“……Miyagi. Are you like this when you shop with Utsunomiya too?”

Sendai-san asks, a sigh mixed into her voice.

“Like what?”

“Cold. Uncooperative.”

The accusing tone pricks at my guilt.

When I am with Maika, I can think things through properly, no matter what we are doing. Even with something like an electric kettle, I can ask about functions, consider the design, or choose the color. Or rather, I can act normally with anyone except Sendai-san. When the other person is her, things I can do without trouble with others suddenly become impossible.

In exchange, there are things I do with her that I do not do with anyone else.

“Do you really not want to decide?”

I hear Sendai-san’s voice, stare at the neatly lined kettles, take a breath, and then give a safe answer.

“White is fine. It feels like an electric kettle.”

“More like it feels like an appliance in general.”

“Then red.”

“Got it. White, then.”

After our opinions fail to align and I change my answer, Sendai-san flashes an unnaturally bright smile. She picks up the white electric kettle and heads for the register. I follow her reluctantly, and together we complete the payment.

“Is that all for shopping?”

When I ask, she replies with a short “Yeah.” I assume we are heading back the way we came, but instead, Sendai-san says there is somewhere else she wants to stop and steps onto the upward escalator.

“We’re not going home?”

I ask Sendai-san, whose footsteps suggest she already has a destination in mind, even though she has not told me where we are going.

“Just a small detour.”

“Is there something you want?”

“No. But we have time, so it’s fine, right?”

As she says that, Sendai-san smiles.

Her smile is gentle, but her eyes clearly say that she has no intention of listening to my opinion. Rather than wasting energy arguing, I choose to follow her in silence.

We have already eaten lunch and finished our shopping, and now we are browsing stores even though there is nothing she wants in particular.

What we are doing today feels more pleasant than continuing to avoid Sendai-san. It even feels like a textbook example of how to spend a Sunday. Still, I do not know whether this is the proper distance for roommates.

“Miyagi, over here.”

After getting off the escalator, Sendai-san lightly pulls me along. A mountain of stuffed animals comes into view.

“You like things like this, right?”

Sendai-san says this in a clear, unhesitating voice. I do not really understand how she sees me.

This floor is not only filled with stuffed animals but also with various small items and toys. And yet, she naturally leads me straight to the pile of plush toys and assumes I like them.

It makes me want to ask what kind of person I am in Sendai-san’s mind. I do not collect stuffed animals, nor do I line them up in my room.

But I do not dislike looking at them.

Since there is no need to hurry home, I step closer and pick up a few to look at them. As I move farther in, I find even more fluffy items. Among them, I notice one whose shape vaguely resembles the crocodile in my room, and I stop.

Curious, I take a closer look and realize it is a tissue cover. Now that I think about it, the tissue box in the kitchen does not have a cover.

I pick up the brownish tissue cover.

“What’s that?”

Sendai-san, standing beside me, looks at what I am holding.

“A platypus.”

“I’ve seen it somewhere before. It’s a mammal, right?”

“Probably.”

My memory is vague, but I recall that the platypus is a strange creature that lays eggs despite being a mammal.

[T/N- The platypus is basically nature's ultimate animal—scientists thought the first specimen was a hoax because it looked like someone Frankenstein'd a duck bill onto a beaver-tailed otter with venomous ankle spurs. It's a mammal that lays eggs,It glows under UV light , have no stomach food goes straight from esophagus to intestines. It just skipped that whole organ. Weird flex. Electroreception superpower, males are venomous and females sweats "SWEATS" milk and ofcourse it's form AUSTRALIA]

“Miyagi, you like things like this, right?”

“It’s not that I like it.”

“Well, you don’t hate it, do you? And it’s pretty cute.”

As she says that, Sendai-san takes the platypus from my hands and gently strokes its head.

“I’ll buy it, so let me borrow it.”

I tug lightly on the bill of the platypus that Sendai-san is holding.

“It’s fine. I’ll buy it.”

“Why?”

“This is for the kitchen, right? Then it’s something we both use, so I’ll pay for it with the shared money.”

She says this as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and playfully wiggles the platypus’s little hand.

“I didn’t say it was for the kitchen.”

“Is it not?”

“…It’s not wrong, but.”

“I’ll buy it.”

Sendai-san starts walking without waiting for my answer. In the end, I follow after her, and the platypus is purchased with the “shared money.”

I dislike this side of Sendai-san. She always anticipates what I am about to do and acts first. Even if I complain, she never listens.

“Then, shall we go home?”

It seems today’s plans are over. Sendai-san clearly traces the route back. We head home, taking just as much time as it took to come here.

The silence does not bother me much.

Without detours or unnecessary conversation, we walk, board the train, walk again, and finally arrive home.

The electric kettle we bought is unpacked immediately, and Sendai-san makes some tea. Sitting across from each other at the table, she hands me the bag containing the tissue cover.

“Here.”

“Sendai-san, you open it.”

When I say that and push the bag back toward her, she silently takes the platypus out without saying a word. Then she points to the tissue box near me.

“Give me that.”

Following her instruction, I say “Here” and hand it over. But instead of the tissue box, Sendai-san grabs my hand.

My heart pounds loudly. Her grip tightens.

It hurts. Sendai-san says nothing. In moments like this, the old her would have kissed me.

But today, she does nothing.

Of course. Things are different now.

She is wearing a skirt, but it is not the checkered one she wore with her uniform. She is no longer a high school student. She is my roommate, and there is no rule that allows kissing.

But there is also no rule that forbids it.

“Sorry.”

Sendai-san says this quietly and releases my hand. She takes the tissue box and puts the cover on it.

There are no clear rules about kissing. And even if there were a rule against it, Sendai-san would break it without hesitation if she wanted to. Yet today, she acts as though doing nothing is the rule.

I hate this side of Sendai-san.

“Here. All done.”

On the not-so-large table, she places the tissue box with the platypus cover.

✧✧✧✧✧

On the table are toast, a plate of scrambled eggs, and orange juice. A breakfast-like spread is laid out, and Sendai-san is sitting across from me.

I am still not used to Sendai-san, who used to be beside me whether we were studying or eating, now sitting across from me.

But just one more week.

Maybe it will take about a month, but I think that as we keep eating together, I will get used to seeing Sendai-san in front of me.

I spread butter and jam on my toast and glance at the glass filled with colored liquid.

“Sendai-san, why orange juice?”

“Would you prefer soda?”

“I thought it would be tea.”

Anything is fine to eat or drink. I have no strong preferences.

Sendai-san made breakfast, so I have no complaints. Still, I feel a faint dissatisfaction that orange juice is on the table instead of tea, especially since we went out of our way to buy an electric kettle yesterday.

“If Miyagi prefers tea in the morning, I’ll make tea starting tomorrow.”

I look at Sendai-san. Our eyes meet, and she does not look away. That relieves me. I do not want to start the day feeling uncomfortable.

“Tea or anything is fine. But what about the electric kettle?”

“You mean using it?”

“If we’re not going to use it, we didn’t need to go out of our way to buy it.”

“We need it even if we don’t use it right away. And shopping was fun, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the point.”

I take a bite of toast and drink the orange juice. Sendai-san also eats her toast, spread with butter and jam.

“That is the point. More importantly, Miyagi. You’re going to university after breakfast, right?”

Without answering when we will use the electric kettle, Sendai-san smoothly changes the subject.

“I am.”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Not really.”

“I see.”

The conversation ends there, and I still do not know what Sendai-san intends to do next. Asking her directly feels like too much interference in her life, so while I hesitate, the plates and glasses on the table are gradually emptied.

“Sendai-san. I’ll wash them.”

I say this as I gather both our plates and glasses.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“You had breakfast prepared for me this morning.”

“Then I’ll leave it to Miyagi.”

With that, Sendai-san returns to her room. I quickly finish washing the dishes and go back to my room for a moment. I am not pressed for time, but it takes quite a while to get to the university, so I get ready with some leeway.

I fix my appearance and look at myself in the mirror. I really wish I had a uniform.

Having to decide what to wear every morning is such a bother. I envy my past self, when everything was solved by a single uniform. I let out a small sigh, pick up my bag, and open the door. In the shared space, Sendai-san is sitting in a chair, her makeup already finished.

“I’m heading out.”

I call to her as I move toward the entrance. Sendai-san stands up and grabs my arm.

“Miyagi, wait.”

“What?”

“Lend me your face.”

“My face?”

“I’ll do your makeup.”

Sendai-san smiles pleasantly.

If she is in this good a mood, then whatever she has in mind is probably something troublesome.

“No need. I’ll be late.”

“You just said you weren’t in a hurry.”

“I’m not in a hurry, but I don’t have that much time either.”

“Then how about just some lip balm? Your lips are chapped. You have time for that, right?”

Sendai-san’s thumb touches my lips. Her fingertip presses lightly against them, stroking gently as if checking their texture.

I do not dislike Sendai-san’s fingers. After so long, the feeling of her fingertip on my lips is oddly pleasant.

“Miyagi, is that okay?”

She pulls her hand away and asks.

“They’re not that chapped.”

When I checked the mirror earlier, my lips did not look chapped at all.

“They are chapped. It’ll be quick, so sit down.”

As she tugs my arm, I reflexively reach out.

Just like she did to me, I press my thumb against her lips. When I apply pressure and rub them, her lipstick smears and transfers onto my finger.

“Hey, Miyagi.”

Sendai-san says this in a voice slightly lower than usual, gripping my arm firmly.

“If you fix that, you’ll run out of time, Sendai-san.”

“Are you an idiot?”

She says it as if exasperated, then adds, “Do you have time tomorrow?”

“No.”

I shake off her hand and turn my back to her.

“Make some time. I’ll make you look cute.”

“No need.”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“I said no.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to let me do your makeup. Honestly, Miyagi, you’re so stingy.”

“Sendai-san, you’re noisy. I’m leaving now.”

The tissues with the platypus cover sit atop the colored box. Without taking one, I leave the dining kitchen and head to the bathroom sink. Before turning on the water, I set my bag on the floor.

I look at my thumb. It is stained the same color as Sendai-san’s lips. When I look into the mirror, I see myself with lips that are not chapped.

Just as I thought. It was a lie.

I move my faintly stained thumb, then touch my lips with my index finger. The fingertip glides smoothly, reaching the edge of my mouth.

My thumb twitches. Her soft lips come to mind, and I hurriedly wash my hands. I scrub them thoroughly. After carefully washing away every trace from my fingertips, I leave the apartment.

I board the train and head toward the university, a journey that takes quite some time. I wish it were closer, but there is nothing to be done. I pass through the gates and step onto campus.

The university still feels completely out of place to me. Like my new room, it has not yet become somewhere I belong. Other than Maika, there are a few people I exchange words with when we happen to meet, but it has not reached the point of being enjoyable. There are also many troublesome things.

At the top of the list is course registration.

Choosing lectures on my own and building a schedule.

Putting together a timetable while accounting for the credits required for graduation is incredibly bothersome. If Sendai-san attended the same university, she would probably organize my schedule for me as well. But she goes to a different one.

I enter the lecture hall and look around. Of course, Sendai-san is not there.

I sit down and slump forward onto the desk with a dull thud. Immediately after, I hear the sound of something being set down beside me. When someone calls my name, “Shiori,” I lift my head to see Maika.

“Did you not sleep much?”

She asks as she takes the seat next to me. At first, seeing Maika without her uniform felt strange, but I am used to it now. The light makeup she never wore in high school has also become part of how I see her.

“No, I slept fine. More importantly, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

I already apologized to Maika over the phone on Saturday.

Still, I apologize again today.

I told Sendai-san that I had no plans, even though I had promised to meet Maika on Sunday. I feel guilty for breaking a prior commitment that should have taken precedence, just to accommodate one made later.

“It’s fine. What did you buy yesterday?”

We ended up shopping for items to use jointly with the person I live with. That is what I told Maika, and I went shopping with Sendai-san.

“An electric kettle. We didn’t have anything to boil water with.”

“Only now?”

“We were busy and never got around to buying one.”

“The person you’re living with is a relative, right?”

“Yeah.”

I have not told Maika that Sendai-san is my roommate. It is not that I have never had the chance. I just do not know how to explain Sendai-san. In the end, I said I was living with a relative.

Someday, I think I will have to tell her the truth. But if I say it is Sendai-san, Maika will definitely ask how we ended up sharing a room. And I do not have an answer for that.

“Are they neurotic*?”

[T/N- excessively anxious]

“Why?”

“Because saying friends can’t come over sounds kind of neurotic.”

If Maika came over and discovered that I was not living with a relative but with Sendai-san, things would become complicated.

So right after starting university, I made up a rule on the spot and told Maika that I would not invite friends over. I feel bad about piling up lies, but as things are now, Maika cannot find out that my roommate is Sendai-san.

“Well, I think they’re a normal person. Probably.”

“A normal person, huh. Well, whatever.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but she does not pursue it. She is always so kind.

I have been spoiled by Maika since high school, and even now, as a university student, I am still being spoiled.

“By the way, since you couldn’t hang out yesterday, I pierced my ears.”

“Pierced?”

At her words, I look at Maika’s ears and see a small silver piercing.

“You did it yourself?”

I ask despite myself, surprised by her sudden action.

“Yeah.”

Maika has not become flashy, nor has she changed the people she spends time with. Still, she has clearly become more fashionable. It is not just the makeup. She feels different from how she was in high school.

Her environment has changed, and Maika is changing too. Sendai-san has not changed, but perhaps the Sendai-san I do not see has. When I think about that, it feels like I am the only one left behind.

“It suits you. Surprisingly.”

I say this while looking at the piercing, and Maika deliberately furrows her brow.

“The ‘surprisingly’ part was unnecessary.”

She says it jokingly, and as we talk about where she bought it, the lecture hall door opens. A professor with an intimidating presence enters, and the lecture begins.

Sendai-san, who seems like the type who would get piercings once she entered university, has not. Maika has.

It feels strange. Will Sendai-san ever get piercings?

I do not know.

Even in high school, she was difficult to understand. Now, as a university student, she feels even more incomprehensible. I know nothing about Sendai-san’s life at her university.

Before, when she mentioned a friend, I could picture their face. When she talked about classes, I could imagine the teacher. Most things about her school life were imaginable.

Now, I cannot imagine anything. What is Sendai-san doing right now?

If I sent a single message, I could find out. But I cannot picture that scene. That bothers me. And it bothers me that I am bothered by something so trivial.

It is boring.

Sendai-san, who follows the rules that should be followed, and me as well.

I look at my thumb.

And with that fingertip, I stroke my lips.