Even as a child, I could tell she had a lot on her plate. So once I entered junior high, I learned to cook so I could help her out.
I had no complaints about Mom’s cooking. It was always delicious. But there were some dishes she couldn’t make because she was so busy. Considering the nature of her work, food that took a long time to prepare was difficult for her.
My birth father had been vain, and he’d taken us to some very nice restaurants while my parents were still married. But because of his obsession with appearances, he’d been a real stickler for manners.
Maybe it would have been different if my family had hammered proper etiquette into me from the time I was born. But you couldn’t expect an elementary schooler to have perfect table manners when she only had to use them once every six months or so. Instead, I got so nervous that I couldn’t even taste the food. The slightest sound would earn me a loud scolding. That was a fear you had to experience to understand.
For me, eating out was like an exam, and I had to get a perfect score.
When my parents’ divorce was finalized, I remember Mom looked exhausted and yet somehow refreshed. That day, she took me out to eat. Not to a fancy restaurant, but to a casual spot in our neighborhood. I asked for orange juice, which she’d never let me have, saying it would give me cavities. Then I burned my lips on a plate of piping hot beef stew. I got sauce all over my mouth, and Mom laughed as she wiped it off with a napkin.
The restaurant was a small place run by an elderly couple. Regular customers treated it like their own home.
The beef stew I had there had been slow-cooked for hours. I could sense the love and care the old couple put into that tender meat, hoping their customers would enjoy it. It was a warmth that could melt even the hardest of hearts.
The beef fell apart on my tongue. It tasted like comfort.
“And here’s your present.”
Asamura’s voice jolted me back to the present. He pulled a gift-wrapped package out of his bag and handed it to me.
I’d only asked for a nice soap, but he’d chosen a set of three, all with relaxing herbal fragrances. It was obvious what he’d been thinking when he picked them out.
When I rose in the morning, I put on my armor for the day and got myself ready to face the world head-on. It was only when I took my evening bath that I let myself unwind. He’d chosen these soaps to help me relax after a hard day’s fight. I felt like he was telling me that it was okay to take a break.
Was it really okay? Back when it was just my mom and me, we’d always had to keep fighting…
Without allowing the thoughts swirling in my mind to show on my face, I said, “Hey, uh… You’ve made me very happy. So, um, I want to give you something back.”
My words faltering, I showed him the tickets Yomiuri had given me. Tickets to a movie Asamura wanted to see.
He looked stunned.
I was glad I’d managed to surprise him.
Thank you, Yomiuri.
There’s something special about watching a movie in the theater. It’s something other kinds of entertainment just can’t provide.
There are people all around you, and yet it feels like you’re alone. At the same time, you can feel the presence of others, even when you’re immersed in the film.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt quite like this before—like I was sharing my experiences with someone else at such a comfortable distance.
The movie was interesting. Actually, it was kind of scary.
The main character is a young girl who is betrayed over and over again by her classmates. She gets involved in an incident and is falsely accused, and her friends continue to reject her even when she tries to reach out to them. Then she travels back in time and keeps experiencing the same hopelessness and despair over and over again. Her heart is too full of pain to bear, when a boy—the other protagonist—appears.
The boy came from the future to help her avoid her tragic fate, but the girl has been betrayed too many times and can’t fully trust him. Her heart is frozen, and everyone seems like an enemy to her.
I’d been studying classic stories at Asamura’s suggestion, so I quickly realized the story was based on Andersen’s fairy tale “The Snow Queen.”
The girl’s heart, scarred by tragedy, is like Kai’s eye and heart, pierced by shards from the troll’s magic mirror. And the boy who comes from the future to save her is Gerda. It struck me as a modern twist to swap the characters’ genders.
I found my eyes glued to the screen.
The boy, who is the girl’s savior, appears only two weeks before the start of summer break. A year ago, I would have found the idea that he could melt the girl’s frozen heart in such a short time ridiculous. Things were different now.
In the climax scene, the boy is shown hugging the girl.
“I’m going to get you out of here. So…”
…You don’t have to endure this pain anymore.
Hearing his words, the girl finally hugs him back.
Normally, I wouldn’t let myself get so vulnerable in public. I think it happened because Asamura was sitting next to me. I was alone, but I wasn’t really alone. It was the magic of the movie theater. I felt his presence, and it gave me comfort.
Oh, no.
I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t, and something hot slid down my cheek.
The ending theme song played, and the credits finished rolling. Still, it took some time before I could move again.
Right before the lights came back on, I managed to speak up.
“Mind if I go to the ladies’ room?”
Without waiting for his answer, I stood and dashed to the bathroom.
I checked my face in the mirror. The makeup around the corners of my eyes was a little smudged. I could have done better if I’d known this was going to happen.
I sighed. I couldn’t believe I’d cried. Come to think of it, it had been years since I’d last shed a tear.
I decided to fix my makeup and opened my bag. But then I stopped.
Yes, my makeup was slightly off, but it wasn’t that obvious unless you looked carefully.
We weren’t going anywhere else, just heading home. It was dark out, and we probably wouldn’t even get a good look at each other’s faces.
As I stared at my reflection, the blurred makeup at the corners of my eyes reminded me of the climax in “The Snow Queen.” Tears burn away the shards from the troll’s mirror, dislodging the splinter from the boy’s eye and making him warm and cheerful again.
I guess I don’t need to fix my makeup.
We were only going home, and Asamura would be there beside me.
Maybe I didn’t have to wear my armor right now.