“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied.
Dad worked overtime a lot when his job got busy, but Akiko had it tough, too, with her irregular nighttime shifts. And because bars catered to people during their free time, there was no guarantee she’d get the weekends off.
To be honest, I wanted her to get plenty of rest. But it seemed Akiko was the type who, as soon as she got a break at work, would start doing chores around the house.
“I think I’ll take over for Saki during winter break and cook you kids all your favorite dishes,” she said.
“Rather than have her mom stuck in the kitchen, I think Ayase would prefer that you catch up on your rest. Besides, I can help with meals.”
“…Mom…”
“Huh?”
I’d only meant mom as in Ayase’s mom. But when I saw the happy look on Akiko’s face, I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. There was no need to anyway, so I swallowed the rest of my words.
“I agree with Yuuta,” Dad said. “You should relax and do what you want during your time off. The children are getting older; you don’t need to coddle them. Besides, you’re always taking every chance you get to cook, even when you’re working.”
“Huh? Y-you think so?”
“Yeah. The casserole you made last week was heavenly.”
“Then I’ll make it again.”
“Thanks,” Dad said, smiling. Akiko blushed.
Okay, lovebirds, I thought, chuckling to myself.
“Oh yeah.” Akiko’s words from a moment ago had stuck in my mind, nagging at me. “What does Ayase like to eat?”
Akiko turned to look at me. “You mean her favorite food?”
“Yes. You said something a moment ago about cooking all our favorite dishes.”
“Well,” Akiko began, putting a finger to her chin and looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe it’s because I was too busy working to cook fancy foods when she was young, but I think she likes things that require more time and effort, like cabbage rolls and beef stew.”
Aha. So she likes things like stews.
“But I think beef stew is one of the few dishes she prefers to eat at a restaurant.”
“Oh, really?”
That came as a surprise. Ayase had never struck me as the type who liked to eat out.
“When she was young, there was a Western-style restaurant in our neighborhood that served delicious food. She really loved their beef stew.”
“I see.”
“I tried to make it for her at home, but I couldn’t replicate the flavor. Maybe it was just impossible with the beef from the supermarket,” she said, sounding a little mystified. “Oh, come to think of it, you two are eating out tomorrow after work, right?”
“Yes. We’re going with some coworkers.”
I’d already told Akiko and Dad about our plans. If we stayed out late without telling them in advance, they were sure to worry. I’d lied a little, telling them we were having a get-together with some people from work. I felt guilty about it, but I told myself it was inevitable since we were trying to keep an even bigger secret from them. Maybe this was how lies wound up snowballing, and there was a lesson to be learned here, like in a children’s story.
“Are you wondering what Saki likes because it’s her birthday tomorrow?”
“Well, we’re not celebrating her birthday, but since we’re going out to eat, I thought I’d ask. Please don’t tell her, okay?”
“You’re a good brother.”
“Ha-ha-ha. It’s nothing special.”
That’s right—this was normal. It was natural for a brother to think about his sister’s birthday. It probably wasn’t that uncommon to go out to eat together, either.
In other words, my relationship with Ayase hadn’t yet gone far enough that we couldn’t excuse it as normal sibling behavior.
I quietly ate my now-cold salmon, then headed off to prep school like any other Saturday.
Once morning classes ended, we were released for a fifty-minute lunch break.
If I wanted to buy Ayase a present, I needed to do it now. If I hurried, I’d make back in time for afternoon classes without any problems.
I quickly packed my things and left the classroom. As I headed down the hallway toward the exit, I saw someone I knew heading toward me.
“Hmm? Are you going home already?” It was Fujinami, the tall girl who attended prep school with me.
“No, I’m just stepping out to run an errand.”
“Oh, I see. Well, then.”
We exchanged a short greeting and passed each other. As I left the building, the gray winter sky spread out before me. Wind blew across the road, making high-pitched whooshing sounds and swinging the power lines. I pulled up my collar and picked up my pace.
There were several shops specializing in bath-related goods near Shibuya Station. I didn’t have time to visit all of them, but I’d done some preliminary research on the internet and narrowed down my choices.
However, when I reached the first shop on my list, I froze.
This was going to be a lot harder than I’d thought. Maybe because it was the weekend, there were several female customers but no men. I’d assumed men and women used these kinds of products with the same frequency, but it seemed I’d been wrong.
The store, decorated in brown and white, was a little cramped. Still, it had a vast array of goods on display.
Ayase had said she wanted “a nice soap” to use when she took a bath.
I worked up my courage and stepped inside. It made me a little uncomfortable to be the only guy, but I reminded myself I was there to buy a gift for Ayase.
Now, where is the soap?
I couldn’t find a single package I recognized, and I started to panic.
When a clerk approached and asked, “What type of item are you looking for?” I almost had a heart attack.
I turned around and saw a woman in an apron. She was smiling, her head tilted slightly to one side.
“Oh, um…”
“Do you need some help?”
She was giving me the chance to say no, not pressuring me at all. As someone who worked in customer service myself, I could tell she was a pro. She knew some customers weren’t comfortable communicating with store clerks. In fact, I was one of them.
“Um, I’m looking for the soap section…”
“Right here,” she said, gesturing to a nearby display.
“Thank you.”
As soon as I nodded, she quickly strode away. She must have sensed my reluctance and refrained from offering any recommendations. Thank goodness.
When I heard the word soap, I thought of the stuff that came in simple, cheap square boxes. But the products lined up on the shelf in front of me now were something completely different.
In my mind, soap came in milky-white blocks, but these were colorful—ranging from transparent to marbled. They looked more like jewelry or ice cream. Each one was packaged in clear plastic, probably so customers could see inside. There were open samples available as well.
I picked one up and took a whiff. The one labeled “chamomile” smelled like a familiar herbal tea, and naturally, the lavender one had a lavender scent. Some of the others smelled like foods or various plants.