True to my word, I finished my part-time job and arrives home late for dinner.
Naturally, I donât rub Miyagi in the common space.
I turn on the lights and air conditioner, and call out twice to the door, which I also slammed before leaving the house.
ăMiyagi, Iâm home. Iâm going to make dinner, so wait for me.ă
Miyagi will not appear anyway.
Without waiting for an answer, I go back to my room and leave my coat and bag. I open the refrigerator and am relieved to find that the fried rice I made for lunch is gone. I wouldnât collapse from skipping a meal for a day, but itâs better to eat than not to eat.
I checked the rice cooker and found that the rice was not cooked as expected.
After filling a pot with water and putting it on the fire, I prepare pasta and take vegetables out of the refrigerator to make a salad. Deciding to use a retort for the sauce, chop the cabbage, cut up the tomatoes, and add salt to the boiling water. I put the pasta in the pot and set the timer, then turned around when I felt a gaze.
I donât know when she came out of her room, but my eyes meet Miyagiâs.
ăItâs not done yet, and you can stay in your room. Iâll call you when itâs done.ă
When I call out to Miyagi, who is standing in front of the room, she averts her gaze.
ăIâll just wait here.ă
ăIf youâre going to wait, sit down.ă
I donât know what she is thinking, but Miyagi doesnât reply. But Iâd rather have Miyagi in the same space whether standing or sitting, so I turn my back to her and warm up the meat sauce.
After a while, I hear a rattling sound of a chair moving, and I think Miyagi is like a stray cat after all. If I get too close to her, she runs away, but she sometimes approaches me on a whim.
I am sure that there is no such thing as a proper distance between me and Miyagi.
Every distance is correct and incorrect.
So Miyagi, who was a lump of bedding hiding from me before I went to my part-time job, is now looking at me so much that it hurts to feel her eyes on my back. I think it is too fickle, but Miyagi is not Miyagi that is not fickle.
I put some cabbage and tomatoes on my plate, then turn around.
ăMiyagi, what are you doing?ă
ăItâs nothing.ă
With a curt voice, Miyagiâs gaze falls on the table.
I still think itâs a whim.
I wonder if I should say something else to her when she stops looking at me, and then the timer rings. I stop the electronic beeping that continues to hurry me, drain the pasta into a colander, place it on a plate, and pour the meat sauce over it.
ăSorry for making you wait.ă
Place the pasta and salad on the table and pass the fork.
ăThank you. Itadakimasu.ă
Miyagi says in a flat voice and wraps the pasta around his fork. Then she takes a bite or two without speaking.
Watching Miyagi, who was nothing but a lump of bedding during the day, sitting quietly in a chair eating pasta, the words âsuccessfully fedâ come to mind and she looks more and more like a stray cat.
The dry clinking sound of forks and plates is the only sound in the conversation-free common space.
The pasta, which had been made in large portions, was rapidly diminishing, and half of it was gone in no time at all.
Still, I think Miyagi is not a good pasta eater.
The amount of pasta wrapped around the fork is too much or too little. I never get tired of watching her munching large chunks of pasta or eating too little pasta with a look of not having enough.
If I tell Miyagi that she is cute, she will get angry, and if I tell her that she is frankly a bad eater, she will get angry. But I think it might be okay to call her cute because she get angry either way, but I swallow the words that are about to go down my throat because today, if I make her angry, she might go back to her room. There will be more chances to say pretty down the road, so itâs better not to say anything unnecessary now.
ăIs it delicious?ă
I throw out words that are bland and likely to get a response.
ăDelicious.ă
Miyagi responds without looking at me.
ăWhat were you going to do with the dinner if I didnât come home?ă
This time, when I asked a question that I wasnât sure would get an answer, Miyagiâs hand, which had been wrapping the pasta around the fork, stopped.
The sound the fork and plate had been making disappeared, and the common space suddenly became quiet. There was a brief pause, and then Miyagi looked at my face, which she had not wanted to look at.
ăâŚYou told me you were coming back.ă
Miyagi makes a gruff voice.
ăI donât want you to starve to death. The pasta, was it enough?ă
ăYes.ă
Miyagiâs hand moved from where it had been resting to take a bite of the pasta wrapped around her fork. But perhaps a bite was too much for her, she munched on the pasta.
ăCome visit me at the cafe again.ă
As Miyagi gulps down her pasta, I say something I hadnât intended to say.
ăItâs boring to go alone.ă
ăA friend of mine wants to meet you, Miyagi.ă
ăâŚA friend of yours?ă
I hear a slightly low voice.
ăA college friend of mine who introduced me to part-time work. Weâre working part-time together now.ă
Mio, who has been more interested and eager to meet my roommate than necessary since she saw Miyagiâs picture, has been asking me to bring Miyagi to the cafĂŠ since before today, if not today.
I thought it would be troublesome if I let them meet, and I tried to keep quiet about it to Miyagi, but it was impossible. Even when I was working part-time, I would miss Miyagi, and when I saw her face, I couldnât help but tell her to come visit me.
ăIs that so.ă
Miyagi says in a tone that may or may not interest her.
ăAnytime you feel like it, come on over. Oh, but Iâm off on New Yearâs Day. Oh, right, you want to go to Hatsumode together?ă
I watch the pasta disappear from my plate and ask what I wanted to ask as if it were nothing.
ăAs I said at Christmas, I wonât go.ă
I remember well how she told me she didnât want to go on her first visit to the temple.
But it wasnât exactly on Christmas, but was said on Christmas Eve at my house in Utsunomiya.
ăItâs fine, letâs go.ă
ăWhy do you go to Hatsumode? Itâs just cold.ă
ăWhat for? To visit a shrine, right? If you want to pray a fortune, you can do so.ă
ăWhat do you want to pray for, Sendai-san?ă
When asked, I recalled the wishes I had prayed for in past New Yearâs visits.
From childish wishes to be like my sister, to tests, examinations, and friendships.
I have asked God for many things, but the more important things didnât seem to come true. But if it had come true, I wouldnât be here as Miyagiâs roommate, so maybe itâs a good thing it didnât.
ăDo you have none, Miyagi?ă
ăI donât have any, and I donât have a custom of going to Hatsumode.ă
ăThen, why donât we both take our time?ă
ăSendai-san, why donât you go to Hatsumode?ă
ăThereâs no way I would go there alone.ă
I donât have any attachment to Hatsumode, and if itâs not an excuse to go out with Miyagi, then thereâs no point in sticking to Hatsumode. I donât care how I spend the first day of January, as long as Miyagi stays close to me.
ăDo whatever you like.ă
Miyagi said plainly and wrapped the remaining pasta around her fork.