I prepare a bowl and a rubber spatula and take the butter out of the refrigerator.
I hand Miyagi a flour sifter and tell her to sift the flour, to which I hear her grumble.
ăCanât you just use the flour as is?ă
ăThat sounds like a bad idea, though.ă
The cookie recipe I looked up on my phone says to soften the butter at room temperature and sift the flour.
ăWhy?ă
ăI donât know? Isnât it supposed to taste good?ă
I answer while cracking and mixing the eggs.
ăSendai-san is so random.ă
ăWeâll find out why later, but for now, just do it. The better it tastes, the better. If itâs too much trouble, Iâll do it. Just leave it there.ă
The recipe doesnât say why to sift the flour, but it shouldnât say anything that isnât necessary. Rather than omitting it, Iâd rather follow the steps as written.
ăâŠFine. Iâll do it.ă
With an unmotivated voice, the flour is shaken.
Two people in the common space.
I think as I watch the flour fall into the bowl.
The day after my birthday, while eating cookies given to me by KikyĆ-chan, my thought of baking cookies with Miyagi has already become a reality.
The long summer vacation was so good that I feel as if I borrowed even next yearâs luck in advance and made good things happen. The day we went to the aquarium, I wouldâve believed that I still had better things to do, but I had too much fun to worry about myself next year.
Itâs not that I believe that thereâs an equal amount of good and bad, or that thereâs as much bad as there is good, but I feel that when good things keep happening, bad things are likely to happen to balance out the good things, which must be because Miyagi has been too plain.
ăSendai-san, donât look at me and do it properly.ă
Miyagi stops sifting flour and stares at me.
She looks grumpy, and I think she might complain about two more things, but she makes cookies with me, so itâs a little different than before.
I donât know what kind of Miyagi tomorrow will be like, but it should be a Miyagi that chooses to be with me like today, even if it is in a slightly worse mood. I want her to think that even after the summer vacation is over, all good things will continue to happen.
ăIâm doing it properly, and sugar, please.ă
I tell Miyagi to sift the sugar as well and knead the butter in a bowl with a whisk. I donât know why, but she knead it in a circular motion and then add the sugar sheâs told to sprinkle. I am curious about the reason for kneading, although itâs not Miyagi, but I will look into it later and add beaten eggs a little at a time and mix well.
When the bowl becomes fluffy, add the flour that Miyagi has sifted, mix it in with a rubber spatula, wrap it in plastic wrap, and put it in the refrigerator.
ăHow long do we have to wait?ă
Miyagi asks while looking at the refrigerator.
ăIt says itâs about 30 minutes to an hour, so 30 minutes should be fine.ă
ăBut 30 minutes is too long.ă
I hear a slightly low voice and I grab her hand to keep her from going back into her room.
ăWhatâs this hand?ă
Miyagi looks down at our connected hands.
ăI thought you were going back to your room.ă
ăIâm not going back, so let my hand go.ă
She waved our hands in the air and I meekly let go of her hand, and Miyagi sat down in the chair. Apparently, she will stay in the common space while I put the fabric down to rest.
I decide to wash up and turn my back on Miyagi. I placed the containers and utensils used to make cookie dough in the sink, and when I drips dishwashing liquid on the sponge, she called me,ăSendai-sană
ăWhat is it?ă
I hear an understated voice as I answer while washing the rubber spatula.
ăWere you planning on making cookies today?ă
ăItâs not like that, but why do you ask?ă
ăYou have the ingredients.ă
ăIt just happened to be there. Ingredients for cookies arenât that rare.ă
ăThatâs true, butâŠă
Miyagiâs voice breaks, and only the sound of washing dishes echoes in the common space. At times like this, Miyagi doesnât say what she wants to say. I am one of those people who swallow a lot of words, but Miyagi seems to swallow more than twice as many words as I do.
ăIf you have something to say, say it.ă
I know I will never get an answer, but I will ask.
ăThereâs none.ă
The short words were as expected, and Miyagiâs voice was heard no more.
We began to talk about trivial matters, but I was hesitant to speak out the words that had sunk deep into my heart. Iâm not going to ask any more questions right now because there are things I canât tell you either.
I put the dishes away quickly and sit down with my chair next to Miyagi.
ăSendai-san, why are you coming all the way here?ă
ăBecause the closer I was, the better.ă
If we are going to be together, I want to be within touching distance. But itâs not like we have anything to talk about, so I just sit here.
I think cookies wait too long.
After this, I still have to bake the dough in the oven.
I have to wait about fifteen minutes, although itâs shorter than the time it takes to let the dough rest.
If I was going to make something, I think it would be better to make something that has something to do all the time so that I can talk about it.
For example, the French toast I made with Miyagi last summer vacation.
I remember the events of that summer.
That time I went to buy ingredients for French toast to escape the desire to touch Miyagi.
ăWhy arenât you talking?ă
Miyagi says in a disgruntled voice and steps lightly on my foot.
ăI was thinking back to last summer vacation. We made French toast together.ă
ăâŠWhy did you suddenly go out to buy the ingredients for French toast that time?ă
Miyagi also seems to remember what happened last summer and asks me things I donât want her to ask.
ăI donât know, Iâm not sure why I did. Iâve forgotten it.ă
I said in the lightest voice possible and shakes Miyagiâs hand.
A little over a year has passed since then, and our relationship has changed.
Now that we are roommates, we can touch each other if we want to.
ăMiyagi.ă
I havenât gotten as far as calling her Shiori, but Miyagi doesnât get angry or run away when I call her by her name and squeeze our joined hands. I pull her hand lightly and bring her face close to mine. Miyagi doesnât approach me, but she closes her eyes as if it were natural to do so. I close the distance, touch her lips and quickly let go.
Miyagi changed.
Miyagi has become a different Miyagi than it was back then, though slowly enough that only when I look back on the past can I see that it has changed.
That doesnât seem like a bad change.
If thatâs the case, Iâd like to see it continue to change the way I want it to.
And I hope it is sooner rather than later.
I understand that I have to wait, but I canât help but think so. I want Miyagi to turn into Miyagi even sooner than the cookies are ready.
ăSendai-san, whatâs the time? Hasnât it been about 30 minutes?ă
Miyagi looks at me as we hold hands.
I look at my phone and see that it is still a little early for thirty minutes.
ăJust a little more.ă
ăIf itâs just a little more, can that be done already?ă
When I said that, Miyagi got up and opened the refrigerator. Then she pulled out the cookie dough, even though I hadnât told her it was alright, and called me,ăSendai-sană
ăWhatâs next?ă
When asked by Miyagi, I reminded that we didnât have a rolling pin.
ăIâm trying to roll out the dough⊠Hold on a second.ă
With the cookie dough on the cooking table in front of us, I searched for a substitute for the rolling pin on my smartphone.
ăMiyagi, bring out the jam.ă
ăJam?ă
ăYes.ă
Miyagi pulls out a jar of jam from the refrigerator with a curious look on her face. I take it, wrap it in plastic wrap, and use it instead of a rolling pin to stretch out the dough.
ăArenât these things supposed to be spread out with a rolling pin?ă
ăWe canât stretch with what we donât have, so we donât have a choice. And by the way, we donât even have cookie molds.ă
The plan was to make a cake, but it turned out to be cookies, so what was missing was adequate.
ăâŠWhat you said earlier was true.ă
Miyagi blurted out.
ăWhat do you mean, earlier?ă
ăYou told me you werenât planning on making cookies.ă
ăWell, yeah.ă
I decide to cut the stretched dough into squares with a knife.
It wonât be a pretty shaped cookie, but it should taste the same.
I make a few vertical slits and am about to cut horizontally when a hand reaches out from the side.
ăHere, give it to me.ă
Miyagi points to the far end of the cookie dough.
ăOkay, but what are you doing?ă
ăIâm making my favorite shape.ă
I pass a vertical row of dough to Miyagi, then cut the remaining dough horizontally. In no time at all, a square was formed, and when I looked next to me, I saw that Miyagi had rolled out cookie dough like clay and was making something with it.
The dough was rolled like a snowman and stuck to the dough, and something like ears were attached to the top dough.
ăâŠA cat?ă
I would like to say that the cat is making the cat, but I would swallow that statement because it would be troublesome to say such a thing.
ăDogâs fine, though.ă
Even if she says itâs a dog, it doesnât look like a dog, but itâs closer to a cat. But thatâs not the point.
ăThat looks like itâs going to burn raw.ă
Miyagi is trying her best to make something with cookie dough, which is cute, but the rolled dough is too thick and does not seem to be cooked all the way through.
ăThen what should I do?ă
ăMake it thinner.ă
ăI donât want to.ă
ăYou donât want to, but if it doesnât cook, whatâs the point? Give me that cat.ă
When I put out my hand, Miyagi reluctantly hands me a cat made of cookie dough.
ăSendai-san, youâre cruel.ă
I hear a resentful voice, but I round up the cats together and divide them in half. Give one to Miyagi and crush the other into a round shape and attach ears and eyes. Miyagi sees this, makes a cat face in the same way, and puts all the cookie dough into the preheated oven to bake.
I decide to sit in a chair and wait fifteen minutes.
But Miyagi remains motionless, staring into the oven.
ăIs it fun?ă
ăJust normal.ă
A curt voice replies.
If itâs not funny, and just normal, why donât you just turn around and look at me?
ăMiyagi.ă
ăWhat?ă
She still doesnât look at me.
I get up and hug Miyagiâs back.
ăDonât get attached. Itâs hot.ă
The hand around her stomach is slapped flat.
ăDonât worry about it.ă
ăIâm not fine with it.ă
Miyagi peels off my hand and sits in the chair.
Well, whatever.
If too much bonus time goes on, I get anxious.
Maybe this is as good as it gets on the last day of summer vacation.