317 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 317 There are certain days when time seems to drag on, and today is one of those days. Sendai-san hasn't returned home yet, and I know exactly why. It's a day when she's working her part-time job as a private tutor. Though I've seen and spoken to her student, I still can't grasp what kind of person they are. Meanwhile, as she spends time with them, my clock stands still. Even after I came home with groceries from the supermarket, Sendai-san's return seemed like a distant event. Faced with this prolonged wait, I find myself boiling broccoli. In the shared space where I'm alone, I peer into the pot. Green chunks, cut into bite-sized pieces, thrash and writhe in the boiling water. Poking at the broccoli with cooking chopsticks, the green masses scurry away hastily. In my mind, echoes of "what Sendai-san and Maika talked about" swirl around. "It doesn’t look appetizing," I mutter, feeling like a judge from hell as I poke the broccoli again before heating up a ready-to-eat Chinese bowl. I take lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge and wash them. Tearing the clean lettuce into pieces onto a plate, I add the boiled broccoli and sliced tomatoes. I serve rice and the ready-made Chinese dish into a bowl—it's a hasty meal, but at least the colors are nice. I place the Chinese bowl and the salad with dressing on the table, prepare chopsticks with a calico cat chopstick rest, and gaze at the broccoli, staring back defiantly. "It definitely doesn’t taste good," I sigh, releasing my breath and my "Let's eat" at the same time. I toss the broccoli into my mouth and chew. "See, it’s not tasty at all," I grumble to the calico cat chopstick rest on the table. Part of me foolishly thought that if I could eat this despised broccoli with some enjoyment, maybe I could start liking myself more. Occasionally, Sendai-san sneaks things I don't like into dishes, echoing some dull, unwelcome parental advice from the TV to rid me of my pickiness. Yet her efforts are futile. One doesn’t suddenly start liking something they hate. Sendai-san is mean. She's quietly trying to change me. Without her, I wouldn't have even considered eating broccoli. It would have been perfectly fine to leave the things I hate as things I hate, without ever pondering whether I might like them eventually. I eat another piece of broccoli. No matter how many times I try, I can't find it palatable. I eat the adequately warmed Chinese bowl. It’s nothing special, but compared to the broccoli, it's far superior. I eat a tomato, then lettuce. After finishing the Chinese bowl, I glare at the remaining broccoli. Picking one up with my chopsticks, I swallow it whole. Still, some remain. Feeling a bit impolite, I poke at the blobs of green with my chopsticks when suddenly, the door to the shared space opens, and I hear a voice say, "I'm home." "Welcome back," I reply without lifting my eyes from the broccoli. "What are you eating, Miyagi?" The voice asks. "Broccoli. Made it into a salad." "You've come to like broccoli?" "I don't like it. It’s not good." "Thought so. But maybe it’s not tasty because it's in a salad? If you're adding something you hate, make it into a dish you can enjoy better." The voice from around the entrance grows closer, and when I lift my gaze, I find Sendai-san beside me. "What kind of dish is that?" I ask. "Like stir-frying it with some meat." "You often stir-fry broccoli with meat, Sendai-san, but I’m not too fond of that." "So, how do you think you could start liking it?" "I don't think I'll ever like it. Here, you eat it," I push the plate, now only broccoli remaining, toward her, offering her the chopsticks. But Sendai-san doesn’t take them. "I'll eat it if Miyagi feeds me," she laughs, saying something entirely unamusing. "…I'll eat it myself." Three pieces of broccoli remain. I swallow them one by one, declaring, "This isn't tasty." "Eventually, you might find it delicious," Sendai-san suggests, irresponsibly claiming, as she sits opposite me. She seems in no rush to return to her room. For some reason, she finds great amusement in watching me. And as for me, her gaze brings a certain comfort that makes it easy to ask something I've been meaning to. "Sendai-san," I call out. "What is it?" "You talked to Maika about going to the aquarium, right?" "Yes, I did." "Why?" "Utsunomiya contacted me yesterday. She wanted advice on what to wear for a live event. It just came up in the flow of the conversation." There's nothing odd about Sendai-san's explanation. Maika was excited about attending a favorite game's live show with Asakura-san, and she did express a desire to consult with Sendai-san about what to wear. In fact, it’s no surprise that they’re in touch. I've known that Maika seeks Sendai-san's advice on things she can't really consult me about. "How did it just come up?" Sendai-san and Maika, although not as close as Maika and I, are still good friends. I imagined that the aquarium story came up naturally in conversation, but realizing they talked enough to create such a flow makes my heart twist with a deep, pressing ache. "I mentioned what I'd been up to that day, so I just brought it up. But more importantly, why aren’t you going to that live event?" "Well, it’s a live show featuring songs from a game I don't play." "I see." The bright tone fades from Sendai-san’s voice, and the conversation dully ends. I'd like to say, "Please don't tell anyone about what happened between us." But such words feel like erasing my existence, so I can’t bring myself to utter them. I won't say, "Please tell someone about what happened between us," but there's a part of me that wants her to know that I exist in her mind. And I feel like that part of me is growing stronger with each passing day. Thinking about whom Sendai-san might speak of me to, though, weighs heavily on me. It could be Maika or Mio-san. The prospect of it being either of them is unappealing, and anyone else seems even less permissible than Maika or Mio-san. "Sendai-san, do you have any close friends?" I know I should clean up the dishes, but I remain seated, posing the question from across the table. "It feels like you just insulted me," she replies. "I just asked if you have any." I'm sure Sendai-san’s social circle is far wider than I imagine, so if not limited to close friends, she might count mere acquaintances too. "Well, I do have close friends," she relents, and unprompted, lists Mio-san and some other unfamiliar names, with Noto-san’s name conspicuously absent. That likely means a senior and a friend are distinct in her eyes. "Who’s your closest friend?" Sendai-san’s concept of "friend" differs from mine. She only surrounds herself with superficial friends, and they don't have to be close. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but Sendai isn't the best when it comes to friends. "Who's my closest friend? Does there really have to be just one?" she asks reluctantly, wearing a perplexed expression. "Make a decision." "Well, if I absolutely have to, then probably Mio." The name I expected slips from Sendai-san's lips. I don't like it. If I could, I would sever all her ties and keep her locked away in this house. However, I know that's neither realistic nor what should be done. Still, I dislike the fact that Mio-san is the closest person to Sendai-san at university. She’s not my type, not someone I particularly want to get friendly with. But because she seems to be the closest to Sendai-san’s "true friend," I have to do what needs to be done. "So, Miyagi. What’s this questioning all about?" "Sendai-san, can you invite Mio-san over here sometime?" "...Eh?" Sendai-san stares at me intently, clearly baffled by my request. "Not 'Eh,' I’m saying I’d like you to invite Mio-san over." "...Why?" "Because I want to meet her." "...And what will you do when you meet?" Her voice probes for more, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Nothing in particular." "If it's nothing in particular, is there even any need to call her?" Her reluctance is evident. A simple "I will" would suffice, yet Sendai-san holds back from saying it. It makes me want to say "never mind." My resolve is that fragile, one push and it crumbles away. "Mio-san is your closest friend, right?" "That's true, but what does that have to do with inviting Mio over?" "...You've been getting close with Maika, so I should also get to know Mio-san." "—Can you even do that?" I can't. I don’t really want to see Mio-san, but I'm forcing myself to say I do, pivoting my feelings 180 degrees, so there's no way we could ever get along. So I fall silent, and the shared space grows quiet again. "Miyagi, do you really want Mio to come over?" Sendai-san's voice cuts through the quiet. "I do." If Mio-san were more like Ibaraki-san, everything would be easier. Left alone, Sendai-san wouldn’t change. She would continue focusing solely on me. But with Mio-san, it's uncertain. I’ve never encountered anyone as close as a "friend" to Sendai-san. I should have observed the Mio-san who visited this house more closely. "Let me know when you've arranged a date that suits Mio-san’s schedule." I tell Sendai-san quietly as I rise to wash the dishes.