Volume 5 Episode 03

 I reach out toward Miyagi. I touch her black hair and comb my fingers through it. Then I stroke her cheek and trace my finger lightly along her lips.

Miyagi does not resist, but she does not respond either.

She usually complains about one thing or another, but today she is quiet. When I bring my face closer, she closes her eyes as if troubled, so I take it as a kind of obedience.

I press my lips to hers and slip my tongue inside.

She does not push my shoulders away or bite my tongue. I would be shocked if she suddenly became aggressive, but a Miyagi who does not resist at all feels unsettling in its own way. Still, if I said that to her, she would definitely get angry, so for now I keep it to myself.

After kissing her several times, I press my lips to her neck. As I slide them without leaving a mark, Miyagi lets out a small breath. I loosen her tie and remove it. One by one, I undo the buttons of her blouse, slowly opening it.

White underwear, and skin that looks soft.

Before I realize it, I have undone every button.

If I reach out and touch her underwear, I can expose what is hidden beneath. My heart pounds loudly.

I reach toward her chest, but my hand brushes her hair instead. When I drop a kiss just above her collarbone, Miyagi grips my shoulder tightly.

Her body heat reaches me through my lips and through her hand, but I cannot tell whether it feels warm or cold. I run my hand along her side and press firmly. Since Miyagi does not say she hates it or tell me to stop, I remove her blouse completely and push her down.

I know.

This is a dream.

Summer vacation, or winter vacation.

Things that happened during those times.

A dream where fragments of different pasts are mixed together.

The clothes we are wearing are the uniforms we wore so often that we grew sick of them, uniforms we no longer wear in reality. I have had dreams like this many times before coming here, and several times since arriving as well.

It would be better to wake up soon. And yet, I think I want to stay in the dream a little longer.

I gently bite Miyagi’s shoulder.

It is soft, and I can feel her body heat.

But even though everything feels vivid, it is also blurred. What I see is Miyagi, and what I feel is only Miyagi, yet I cannot truly grasp how soft she is or how warm she is. Every sensation bleeds into the next, melting away.

“Miyagi.”

Even when I call her name, she does not reply.

Wanting to hear her voice, I remove the underwear covering her chest. Even then, Miyagi remains silent.

Whether I touch her with my hand or my lips, she does not say a word. From her unnaturally quiet body, only a clear yet indistinct sensation reaches me.

I have never touched her properly enough to remember what it feels like, and yet I can tell that the swell beneath my hand is soft. The dream, built from memory, conveniently fills in the parts I do not know.

I take off her skirt.

As expected, Miyagi does not resist.

I run my hand beneath her ribs, across her soft stomach, and trace the line of her hip bones.

My hand reaches her underwear, and I hesitate.

I know it is only a dream, but I wonder whether it is really all right to go any further.

Calling me “Sendai-san” in a pleading voice, I move my hand forward.

The voice I finally hear is not one I recognize. There is no way Miyagi would react like this, and she is not this obedient. Even if she complained, I know she would never call me in such a pleading tone.

I know that very well, and yet I slowly slip my hand inside her underwear.

And.

And――――.

And――――――――.

My hand touches the smartphone ringing with its electronic alarm.

“…Yeah, of course.”

I let out a sigh and turn off the alarm.

I place the smartphone down and press my hand against the wall. On the other side of this wall, next to my bed, is Miyagi.

That is probably the problem. The distance between Miyagi and me right now is too close.

I have enough sense to know what I should and should not do, but dreams do not follow reason.

Now that we are living together, I understand clearly that I must never do to Miyagi the things I saw in that dream. Still, if I claimed I had no desire at all to do such things, that would be a lie. I think these dreams happen because Miyagi is within reach.

“…This is the worst, isn’t it?”

It is not a good dream.

Miyagi probably has no idea that someone on the other side of the wall is having dreams like this.

Because of that, I feel as though I have dreamed something terribly wrong, and I want to curse myself for it.

I sit up, then lie back down on the bed. I do not want to leave this room. But I have to go to university.

It is already past the middle of April. Course registration is finished, schedules are set, and a proper university life has finally begun. I cannot start skipping classes now.

After rolling around in what could be called a second sleep, I finally make up my mind. I crawl out of bed and open the chest.

If I am going into the shared space, pajamas feel too careless. Maybe someday I will stop caring even if I walk around in pajamas, but until then, I want to dress more properly. I remember staying over at Miyagi’s place.

Back then, I borrowed her sweatpants. Considering this roommate arrangement, that had not been so bad. If I switched from pajamas to sweats like Miyagi does, maybe I would not need to think so much about changing clothes.

I decide to buy sweatpants to use as pajamas soon and pull out a blouse and skirt from the chest. After changing, I leave my room.

Miyagi is making breakfast.

When we eat dinner together, we are supposed to cook together, but there is no rule for breakfast. Usually, whoever wakes up earlier makes it, and the other person does the dishes. At some point, that became our unspoken agreement.

Miyagi is not especially good at cooking, but food made by someone other than myself tastes better just for that reason.

“Good morning.”

I call out to her back.

“Good morning.”

When I say good morning, she says it back, and a morning where someone is making breakfast is not so bad.

――If only I had not had that dream.

Even though it was not a dream I wanted, days like this are awkward. I cannot look Miyagi properly in the face, and I do not know what expression I should wear around her. Before coming here, when we were third-year high school students in different classes, I could go all the way until after school without seeing her if I wanted to avoid her. That was easier than now.

But things are different now.

If I open a door, Miyagi is there. It is almost impossible to go from morning until after school without seeing her.

“What are you making?”

Because I cannot sort out my feelings and silence feels uncomfortable, I speak to Miyagi as she looks down at the frying pan. There is no reply.

“Miyagi?”

Even when I call her name, she still does not answer, and I start to worry about the state of breakfast.

I am probably making a terrible face right now, so I would rather not get too close to her. Still, concerned, I step nearer. In the frying pan is something halfway between a fried egg and scrambled eggs.

“Did the yolk break?”

When I ask, I finally hear her mutter a response.

“It broke on its own.”

Miyagi turns her face toward me.

“Once it’s in your stomach, fried eggs and scrambled eggs are the same, so it’s fine, right?”

“That’s true, but…”

Along with her voice, I feel her gaze on me, but I cannot meet her eyes.

“I’m going to wash my face.”

I turn my back to Miyagi and head toward the bathroom. From behind me, I hear a short, quiet “Yeah.”

I breathe in, breathe out, and then breathe in again. Doing things I normally do without thinking, but doing them deliberately, calms my feelings a little. I wash my face, then breathe in and out once more.

The dreams I have been having recently contain more and more things that never happened in reality. If this continues, there may come a day when those dreams are made up entirely of things that never occurred. I think it would be better not to think about that.

I try to push the dream I saw as far into the corner of my mind as possible. I cannot forget it, but I try to care about it as little as I can.

I slap both cheeks once with my hands. “Pan.” Then I return to the dining kitchen.

“breakfast's ready.”

At Miyagi’s voice, I look toward the table and see plates set out along with orange juice. The eggs have drifted closer to scrambled eggs, the yolk and white mixed together. Not only bread but sausages have been grilled as well, both browned just right.

When I sit down, I hear “Thanks for the Meal” from across the table. I answer with my own “Thanks for the Meal” and take a bite of what appears to be scrambled eggs.

The rule of eating meals together is being kept in a way I had not anticipated. I had only meant that it would be nice if we could eat dinner together, yet Miyagi eats breakfast with me too.

“Have you been buying books lately?”

I still cannot meet Miyagi’s eyes, so I search casually for a topic and say it out loud.

“I’ve been buying some.”

“Then lend me some manga or novels. There must be something interesting, right?”

“Anything is fine?”

“If it’s interesting.”

I bite into toast spread with butter and jam, watching Miyagi’s hands. Her fork pierces a sausage and moves toward her mouth.

“I don’t mind lending them, but I don’t know whether Sendai-san would find them interesting.”

I hear the dissatisfaction in Miyagi’s voice and lift my gaze. For a moment, our eyes meet, and my heart beats just a little faster.

The thought crosses my mind that if I had the excuse of choosing books, she might let me into her room.

“Then let me choose them myself.”

Today is a day when I do not want to get too close to Miyagi. But it is not as if I have no desire to be close at all. I am curious about what her room looks like inside, and I am also curious about what new books she has.

“……I’ll choose them and give them to you.”

As she says that, Miyagi bites into her toast.

I go up the stairs to the third floor.

I walk down the hallway to the front entrance and take out my key.

When university ends, I return to this house, where I parted from a dissatisfied-looking Miyagi this morning. I have grown used to this daily routine, but the moment I open the door still makes my heart race a little. It is a feeling I never had in the house where I lived with my family.

I unlock the door and step inside. The entrance and hallway are wrapped in darkness. I turn on the light and glance at the floor. The space where Miyagi leaves her shoes is still empty, so I know she has not come home yet. Even so, I say “I’m home” out loud, though no reply comes.

I feel a faint sense of disappointment.

When I say “I’m home,” I want to hear a voice answering “Welcome back.”

The memory of the dream from this morning faded while I was at university. Miyagi does not always come home first, but now that I feel I could speak to her while looking her in the eyes, I think it would have been nice if she were here.

“Well, there’s nothing to talk about anyway.”

I mutter to no one in particular and take off my shoes.

There was no message from Miyagi saying she would be late. That means we will eat together, so as I enter the house, I think about what to make for dinner. As expected, however, no one is there.

“I’m home.”

This time, I murmur it toward the dining kitchen, already knowing there will be no response. Just as I am about to head straight to my room, something stacked on the table catches my eye.

“Books?”

When I approach, I see that they are indeed books. Several volumes continuing the romance manga I had been reading in Miyagi’s room before we began living together, and several volumes of a shonen manga whose name I recognize.

So this is what she meant by lending them, but choosing and giving them herself.

I let out a small breath while looking at what Miyagi, who left after me this morning, left behind. I place my bag on the chair she always uses. Even though I know she is not there, I knock on Miyagi’s door. “Ton ton.” The door makes a hollow sound, but no voice answers from inside.

“Miyagi.”

I call toward the door.

Of course, there is no reply.

I press the palm of my hand flat against the door.

The distance between me and Miyagi is closer than before, yet farther than ever it was. She is close enough that I can touch her, and yet there are places I can no longer enter, places I once could.

On the other side of my hand is another world.

A world I am not allowed to enter, and one I do not know when I will be permitted to step into again.

I want to go to the other side of this door.

I want to see whether the black cat plush I gave her is still sitting unchanged on the bookshelf, and whether tissues still come out of the crocodile’s back. I want to know what remains in that room, and what has disappeared.

Right now, what separates me from the other side is a single board, neither thin nor particularly thick. If I move my hand just a little, I could open the door and step inside.

It would be easy.

If I broke the rule, I could know everything I want to know right now. Even if I entered and left without touching anything, Miyagi would not notice.

If I break the rule and am not caught, does it really count as breaking it?

If Miyagi does not notice, then my wrongdoing is the same as if it never happened. And yet, if I did break the rule, part of me wants Miyagi to find out. Because we have a promise that whoever breaks the rule must do one thing the other asks.

If I broke it, Miyagi would give me commands like she did before we started living together. They would not quite be orders, and not exactly the same as before, but something similar would happen.

“……That’s no good. Entering someone’s room without permission is too much.”

Even if I were going to break the rule, going into her room on my own is crossing a line. If I were caught, Miyagi would probably leave this house before we ever got to any penalty.

I press my forehead against the door.

“Ko tsun.” A small sound echoes, and the door feels faintly cold against my skin.

I bring my lips close to the door and exhale all the air in my lungs.

“What am I doing?”

Because of that dream, I am acting a little strange today. I was disappointed when no one answered “Welcome back,” but perhaps it is better that Miyagi is not here. If she were, I feel like nothing good would have come of it.

“Miyagi’s an idiot.”

“I thought you might want me to say ‘welcome back.’”

“You could have just said even if you were reading in your room.”

“It’s better here. That way, I can say it right away.”

Miyagi does not say whether that is good or bad. Looking annoyed, she takes cider from the refrigerator and pours it into a glass. After taking a sip of the clear liquid, she sets the glass down on the table.

She looks at me, and our eyes meet.

This time, I do not avert my gaze like I did in the morning. I look straight at Miyagi.

“Sendai-san. Is that interesting?”

She does not say what she is referring to, but the only thing I am holding that could be described as interesting is the manga.

“So-so.”

“Tell me when you’re done reading it. I’ll put it away.”

As she says that and starts heading back to her room, I impulsively pick up the romance manga I had only opened briefly earlier.

“Wait, Miyagi. Do you have this from volume one?”

“I do, but…”

“Then lend it to me. I forgot what happened before.”

I am not especially interested in the story buried in my memory. It would not matter if I left it forgotten, and even if I wanted to reread it, starting from the previous volume would have been enough. It is not a manga I would normally reread from volume one on purpose. Still, it gives me a reason to say what I want to say.

“I’ll go get it, so Sendai-san, wait here.”

“I’ll carry the books myself, so let’s go together.”

“Huh?”

“Let me into your room.”

I stand up and move beside Miyagi.

“……No.”

After a brief pause, she answers.

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’d do something weird, Sendai-san.”

Her words immediately bring back the dream I had today. I can imagine what she means by “something weird.”

And the dream I had went far beyond whatever Miyagi is imagining, so my chest tightens slightly. But my desire to enter her room has nothing to do with that. I simply want to know what her space is like now, the room I used to come and go from freely before coming here.

I do not feel guilty.

Yes. I think I probably do not.

Unclear emotions rise up, but since there is no need to convey them honestly, I deny Miyagi’s words.

“I won’t. What do you think I am, Miyagi?”

“……A roommate.”

To my incorrect answer, she returns the correct one. As Miyagi says, we are roommates.

And if we are going to live together peacefully for four years, then remaining just roommates is probably the right choice. Still, after spending all this time with Miyagi, I have started to wonder whether choosing the roommate relationship was truly the right decision. Bound by that label, I now exist in an environment where I cannot even touch her.

“What?”

Miyagi looks at me suspiciously when I remain silent.

On the day of our graduation ceremony, I created this new relationship called roommates to bring Miyagi here. At that time, it was the best choice. There should not have been a better answer.

“I was just thinking that being roommates with you feels kind of strange, Miyagi.”

I say it with an ambiguous smile, more to convince myself than her. Miyagi frowns.

“You’re the one who said we could be roommates, Sendai-san. Take responsibility and act properly like one.”

“Yes, yes.”

I reply in the flattest voice I can manage.

“I’ll bring the books right away, so wait a bit, Sendai-san.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I don’t need the books anymore. Let’s make dinner.”

I move away from Miyagi’s room and stop in front of the refrigerator instead.

“Isn’t it a little early?”

“I’m hungry.”

I give a vague excuse to the voice behind me and, while looking into the refrigerator, ask Miyagi what she wants to eat.

✧✧✧✧✧

Time passes without me ever stepping into the forbidden room, and April, the month that began with the entrance ceremony, is already nearing its end.

Even though a long holiday is approaching, my schedule is almost completely empty.

There has been no contact from my family.

I expected that, so it does not bother me. Even if they told me to come home, it would only feel unpleasant. The fact that my parents do not want me to return is not something that makes me sad anymore. Since I never intended to go back in the first place, it is actually convenient.

Going home is not an option for Golden Week, but beyond that, nothing is decided. I have time off and nothing to do, which means I will have plenty of free time.

I want to spend some of that time with Miyagi.

Even now, several days after the dream, I have not been able to ask her properly about her plans for the long holiday. Still, I know she is not going home either.

The problem is that our conversation has not gone beyond that point.

Once the holiday begins, I could suggest something like spending time together just to pass the time, but I doubt Miyagi would respond with an easy “okay.”

I let out a quiet breath.

My gaze shifts to the teacher standing at the podium.

The slides change one after another.

As the teacher’s voice echoes through the lecture hall, my thoughts drift to the fried egg I ate this morning.

This one Miyagi made did not have its yolk break on its own, and it turned out nicely. Maybe because of that, she seemed to be in a better mood than usual, until I ruined it with an unnecessary comment.

I should not have said anything about her hairstyle.

There is a saying that goes, “Let sleeping dogs lie,” and I know very well how accurate it is. But people do not live their lives doing only the right things. Lately, like this morning, I have found myself wanting to tease Miyagi, whom I cannot touch, adding unnecessary remarks and ruining her mood in the process.

Because of that, I left the house without ever bringing up the Golden Week topic I had meant to discuss.

I cannot find a part-time job either, and nothing seems to be going well.

“Haa.”

I sigh and look back at the slides.

At university, I take my responsibilities seriously.

My social interactions are moderate.

I do not need outstanding grades, but I want to graduate in four years and find a decent job. Now is not the time to be thinking about Miyagi. Since the teacher does not write much on the board, if I stop listening, I will quickly lose track of the lecture.

For now, I push thoughts of Golden Week out of my mind.

And I focus on the teacher’s voice.

Unlike high school, a ninety-minute lecture feels long. I move my pen across my notebook.

Thirty minutes pass, then forty, and finally the lecture ends just before the full ninety minutes.

“Hazuki.”

As I close my notebook, someone calls my name. When I look up, Mio, one of the friends I made after entering university, is looking back at me from the seat in front.

“I’ve got something good to tell you.”

I do not want the kind of intense human relationships I had in high school, so I have no intention of actively expanding my circle of friends. Even so, I have made a few, and casual conversation helps pass empty time.

“Something good?”

“Yes. So don’t look so bored. Listen with a big smile.”

“Whether I smile depends on what it is.”

When I say that, Mio smiles widely in my place.

“Hazuki, you were looking for a part-time job, right? I thought I’d introduce you to a good one.”

Her cheerful voice rings out. It is true that I told Mio I was looking for a part-time job.

My parents provide enough money for me to live, so I could get by without working. But I still want money.

Even after graduating from university, I have no intention of going home.

I throw the complaint at the door and turn away from it. I take volume four of the romance manga from the table and sit down in the chair.

Even as I flip through it, I cannot clearly remember what happened in the previous volume. I want to fill in those vague memories. But volume three is on the other side of a single door, and I cannot get it now.

It is right there, yet impossibly far, and that frustrates me.

I put the romance manga back on the table and decide to read the shonen manga from volume one instead. I open the book and read page one, then page two, steadily moving forward. It is more interesting than chasing a story I cannot remember, yet memories of when I could freely choose what to read flicker through my mind, and I cannot fully concentrate.

Even so, I finish volume two and pick up volume three. About halfway through, I hear a voice say “I’m home,” and I lift my head.

“Welcome back.”

“You could read in your room.”

Miyagi says this while looking at the cover of the manga in my hands. I want to find a decent job then, but there is always the chance that things will not work out. If that happens, I might have to look for a new place to live. When I think about all the different “might be” scenarios overlapping, it feels safer to have money. That is why I plan to work part-time and save while I am still a university student whose parents cover living expenses.

“What kind of part-time job is it?”

When I ask Mio, she answers with a broad smile.

“Tutoring.”

We leave the lecture room together, and I ask, “Mio, are you doing tutoring yourself?”

“Do I look like someone suited for tutoring?”

“No.”

Among the people I have met, Mio has a well-defined, refined face. If she wore glasses and stayed quiet, she might fit the image of a “beautiful tutor” perfectly. And despite her cool, composed appearance, she is friendly and intelligent. However, she does not wear glasses, and there is a side of her that does not think things through very deeply. In a good sense, she is decisive. In a bad sense, she is careless and casual. If Mio were a tutor, it would probably be fun, but I doubt grades would improve.

“Such an immediate answer. Well, whatever. If you’re interested, I’ll introduce you.”

Mio says it lightly.

“The student?”

“No. There’s no way I could introduce that. I’m introducing my senior. She’s looking for someone to do tutoring.”

Mio’s words bring back memories of studying with Miyagi.

I know it was not just because of me, but her grades did improve when we studied together. That alone does not mean I am suited for tutoring, but I remember that teaching was not unpleasant.

“Is it okay if I just hear about it?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Her bright voice echoes through the hallway, though I am not entirely sure whether it truly is fine.

“Then introduce me to your senior.”

I do not know if I will actually take the job. But I am interested. I do not know what kind of person Mio’s senior is, but I at least want to hear the details.

“Okay. I’ll contact her.”

With a cheerful tone, Mio takes out her smartphone. After exchanging several messages with her senior, she looks up.

“She’s busy right now. She says she wants to talk directly when she has time. Is it okay if I give her your contact information?”

“That’s fine.”

When I answer, Mio quickly moves things along, and the senior’s contact information is added to my phone. I am told she will call in about three hours. After that, Mio starts telling me about her senior. She is a woman, a third-year student, and various other bits of personal information make their way into my head. However, even after my afternoon lectures end, there is no contact. Not on the train home, and not even when I arrive at the entrance, does any message or call come.

I take out my key and unlock the door. The light is on, and when I look down, I see Miyagi’s shoes.

It seems she got home earlier today.

I take off my shoes and step inside. The Miyagi I expected to be shut away in her room is standing in front of the refrigerator.

“I’m home.”

I call out to her back.

“Welcome back.”

There is a shopping bag filled with ingredients beside her, so she must have gone shopping.

“Sendai-san. What are we making for dinner today?”

“Is there anything you want to eat, Miyagi?”

“Doria.”

[T/N- A layer of cooked rice, often butter rice or pilaf, Topped with sautéed ingredients like shrimp, chicken, seafood, meat, or vegetables Covered in creamy béchamel sauce (white sauce) Sprinkled with cheese and baked until golden and bubbly]

After putting the ingredients into the refrigerator, Miyagi turns to look at me.

“I’ve never made doria. Is there something else?”

“You’re the one who asked if there was something I wanted to eat, Sendai-san.”

“I just asked. I didn’t say I’d make it. Anyway, did you buy ingredients for doria?”

“I don’t know what the ingredients are, so I didn’t buy any.”

“Then it’s impossible.”

I search for a recipe and check the refrigerator just in case, but as expected, there is nothing inside that seems suitable for doria.

“If you want it that badly, should we go out and eat doria now?”

I offer a realistic suggestion.

“Today is fine. I already went shopping, so let’s make something.”

As expected, she answers curtly.

I thought it might be nice to go out together once in a while, but Miyagi does not seem interested.

“Tomorrow?”

There is no reason to expect a good answer, but I ask anyway.

“……Fine.”

Her reply is not what I expected, and I look at her.

Where should we go?

At what time?

I hesitate over which question to ask first, and just as I am about to ask where we should go, my smartphone rings.

“Miyagi. Sorry, wait a second.”

I take the ringing phone out of my bag.

When I look at the screen, I see the name of the senior Mio mentioned earlier. It seems the promise was not forgotten after all. When I answer the phone, I hear a slightly low, calm voice. The matter is explained succinctly, and before even five minutes have passed, the call ends. I apologize to Miyagi.

“Sorry. I have plans tomorrow. Is doria okay the day after tomorrow?”

“What plans?”

Her voice is colder than it was before the call.

“I ended up meeting someone who’s going to introduce me to a part-time job.”

“――Sendai-san, you’re going to work part-time?”

Miyagi’s interest shifts from doria to my plans, and now to the part-time job itself. She stares at me intently, her gaze as cold as her voice.

“I’m planning to. Because I want to save money.”

It’s not that I was deliberately hiding it, but I hadn’t told Miyagi that I was considering a part-time job. The reason is simple. There had never been a good opportunity. Miyagi has a tendency to either sour her mood or remove herself from my presence before I can talk about anything important.

“You still have the money I gave you back in high school, right?”

Miyagi’s voice grows even colder.

“That’s why I said it’s not mine.”

“Even if it’s not yours, Sendai-san, you can still use it.”

As she says that, Miyagi kicks my leg.

It’s around my shin, not hard, just lightly. Still, I exaggerate, saying it hurts, and look at her.

Lately, Miyagi has been quiet. She hasn’t kicked or bitten me, so this almost feels like a return to how things used to be. But I know that what just happened isn’t something I should be pleased about.

I move away from Miyagi and sit down in the chair I always use.

“Sendai-san, are you breaking your promise?”

Miyagi speaks in a dissatisfied tone, still standing in front of the refrigerator.

“Sorry.”

I clap my hands together and apologize.

Doria won’t disappear anywhere, but if I miss tomorrow, the busy senior might not be available again anytime soon. Working part-time was one of the things I wanted to do after entering university, so I want to postpone doria until the day after tomorrow. But Miyagi doesn’t say “okay.” She remains silent and doesn’t come any closer.

“Does doria absolutely have to be tomorrow?”

Maybe I should prioritize doria over the meeting.

I hesitate and look at Miyagi.

“……The day after tomorrow is fine. But it’s a penalty.”

“Huh?”

“We decided on the rules before. If you break a promise, it’s a penalty, right?”

In response to my half-resigned question, Miyagi brings up a rule I don’t remember ever agreeing to.

“That’s not it. The penalty only applies when breaking rules we both decided on. Normal promises are separate.

What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense, Miyagi.”

Including even casual promises under the rules we established for living together feels excessive. But Miyagi has no intention of backing down. She approaches the table and speaks in an openly displeased voice.

“We never said the penalty only applies to rules we both decided on, did we? Then I don’t think it’s strange to make Sendai-san, who won’t keep what we just agreed on, do a penalty.”

Technically speaking, it’s true that we never explicitly said the penalty applied only to shared rules. Even so, Miyagi’s reasoning doesn’t have to be accepted. It’s unreasonable.

The person saying it must know it’s not a logically sound argument. And yet Miyagi is insisting on it, fully expecting me to accept this unfair penalty.

I let out a small breath.

“Fine. This time, I’ll go along with it. But what are you planning to make me do for the penalty game?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Is it really something that needs that much time to think about?”

“It’s fine even if it takes time. There’s no deadline for the penalty, right?”

I get a very bad feeling about this. If I give her unlimited time, Miyagi will definitely come up with something awful.

“Decide by tomorrow.”

“No way.”

Miyagi refuses firmly.

“It’s not ‘no way.’ You just don’t want to decide. Fine. Do whatever you want, Miyagi. Tell me when you’ve decided.”

I’m used to following her words.

I even thought it would be fine to do a penalty. I’m used to complying with unreasonable demands.

So this isn’t really a bad thing. Thinking that, I stand up.

“So, Miyagi. What about dinner today?”

I ask her.