IWSBSB 05

Chapter 05

It was Sunday evening, a perfectly ordinary end to a week that had, admittedly, contained the extraordinary little blip with Nakanishi-san. My weekend had been swallowed whole by the endless, thankless, and utterly exhausting cycle of washing and cleaning.

It was only in these two months that I had truly grasped the gargantuan, almost superhuman effort my mom put into all of this. There were so many things I didn’t know, and a sudden wave of regret hit me for not asking her more before she left.

I’d eaten dinner at Mitsuhiko’s place yesterday—Mitsuhiko, my childhood friend, you know—but today, what was I to do? The cleaning and laundry had left me absolutely knackered.

The thought of a pilgrimage to the convenience store was a monumental effort, and another miserable cup of instant noodles just seemed too terribly lonely.

I was actually staring forlornly at my phone, contemplating the exorbitant luxury of UberEATS, when the doorbell shrieked a sudden, shocking sound. I glanced at the monitor, and there she was: Nakanishi-san.

I ambled to the entrance, where Nakanishi-san stood, a cheerful fortress of groceries in a plastic bag dangling from her hand.

”I’ve actually come to make you dinner as a thank-you for Friday. Is it alright if I come in?” she asked, her voice bright and a little breathless.

Since I had been mid-thought about what pathetic scrap to consume, and since sending her away after she’d gone to all that bother would be monumentally awkward, I simply ushered her inside.

”Where should I put my bicycle?” she asked. After I’d shown her to the door, I took the bike myself and tucked it into the garage where my father’s car usually sat.

When I got back to the kitchen, Nakanishi-san was already in a whirl of preparation, her movements a beautiful, organized chaos. “Is everything okay at your place?” I asked.

She smiled.

”Oh, yes. Mom’s at her parent’s house and she’s coming back late, so it’s totally fine for me to be out tonight.”

”Is there anything I can help with?” I offered, feeling utterly useless.

She gave me a playfully serious look. “It’s terribly embarrassing to be watched while I cook, so just wait for me in the living room, alright?”

I felt a massive, internal tsukkomi¹—‘The Crane’s Return of a Favor’ is it?—but I obediently shuffled off to the couch and switched on the television.

The comforting, deeply forgotten aroma of actual, proper cooking wafted from the kitchen, and for the first time all weekend, I actually felt myself begin to relax.

It wasn’t long before I was called to the dining table.

And there, spread before me, was a feast! Omurice, a crisp salad, and a wonderfully chunky consommé soup, all lined up like victorious soldiers.

”This is my first time cooking completely alone, so I can’t exactly guarantee the taste,” she announced, sounding a little nervous, “but I help Mom out all the time, so I think it should at least be edible.”

The heart-shaped splatter of ketchup draped across the Omurice was utterly charming—a delightful piece of cheekiness—but everything truly looked delicious.

I took my first mouthful of the Omurice. It was, quite honestly, better than I’d expected. Nakanishi-san watched me with an intense, expectant gaze.

”This is incredible. You could absolutely serve this in a restaurant,” I managed to stammer out.

”Really? Oh, I’m so happy!” Manami-san beamed, her face a perfect, blinding vision of joy. “But, Inamori-kun, I didn’t think you were the type to flatter people like that!” she teased. “I’m not trying to flatter you! It really is that delicious, I swear.”

She finally took a bite of her own Omurice.

”Well, it’s not quite up to my mom’s standard, but it is decent, maybe!” We ate in a comfortable silence for a bit. Then, her bright eyes fixed on me again.

”There’s nothing in your fridge at all, is there? What are you actually eating for meals?” I explained: “Just convenience stores and UberEATS, mostly. And I eat with Mitsuhiko—my childhood friend, you see—once or twice a week.”

”Ah, Saitou-kun, right? From the same middle school?” she recalled. “Yeah, she’s probably the only real friend I have, actually.”

”She’s a very social person, that one. We were in the same class in our first year of middle school,” she mused. “So, you never cook for yourself?” she pressed.

”I tried, I really did, but I wasn’t good at it, and cooking for just one person always ends up being more expensive than it’s worth, so I gave up.”

She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “But you can’t get any proper nutrition that way! Oh, I know! Can I come over sometimes to practice?” she asked, a spark of mischievous ambition in her eyes.

”Am I just going to be your test dummy?” I muttered.

”Don’t be silly! This is a good deal! You get to eat my home-cooked food, and I get to practice my cooking. It’s a proper WIN-WIN situation, isn’t it?”

The logic was certainly appealing.

”I guess so… if you really want to,” I conceded.

”Really? I’m so happy! What should I make next time?” She was so utterly delighted that her smile was so cute my heart did that ‘kyun-kyun’ thing. It was deeply soothing, and I felt myself becoming more and more fond of her.

”Actually, I have one more request…” she began, suddenly demure. My heart did a flip-flop. “If it’s something I can do, sure.”

”That outfit I borrowed the other day? Can I keep it?” she asked.

”But I told you to just throw it away!” I protested.

”But I also told you that I was going to do whatever I wanted with it, didn’t I? So I’m going to keep it!” she insisted, her gaze unwavering.

”You can do whatever you like with it, Nakanishi-san,” I sighed, defeated.

This girl, she was just pushing the boundaries, step by step, and yet, far from being annoyed, that feeling of ‘like’ was rapidly transforming into something much, much bigger.

”Oh! There was one more thing!” she suddenly declared, smacking her hand against her forehead.

”You said ‘one more’!” I exclaimed.

”I just forgot!” she laughed. “Let’s call each other by our first names, okay? I’ll call you Hiro-kun, and I want you to call me Manami! You already did once, so it’s fine, right? I really felt the kyun-kyun feeling then, you know…”

The hurdle she was asking me to clear felt impossibly high. That one time I’d called her “Manami” had taken every last bit of courage I had. But looking at her expectant, beautiful smile, I knew no man alive could refuse her.

”O-only when we’re alone…” I stammered, feeling my face burn. “The guys in class would hate me, so absolutely never at school. Got it?”

She nodded, satisfied. “Hiro-kun!” she chirped, trying it out.

”Ma… Manami-san… Ahhh, I can’t do it!” Heat rushed all the way to my ears; I knew I was completely red.

”You were supposed to drop the honorific!” she scolded lightly, then softened. “But I guess for today, that’s fine. Still, I will make you call me just ‘Manami’ eventually—you just wait!”

My heart was pounding, the kyun-kyun feeling so strong I could barely breathe. My father once told me that when he met my mother, his chest did that same “kyun” thing. Now I understood—he really had loved her deeply. And for the first time, I was feeling it myself.

Before leaving, Manami-san insisted on doing the dishes, but I finally managed to convince her to go, pointing out how late it was.

”Hiro-kun, bye-bye. I’ll come again soon.”

She was so unbelievably adorable that I honestly worried whether my sanity could survive her next visit. But that fear was drowned out by the warm relief of seeing the Manami-san who had looked so dejected on Friday now bright and cheerful again.