Haruto writhed in agony, making assorted disgusting grunts and groans. His sister banged on the wall a few times, but it didn’t matter to him.
Quickly, he tapped off, Saturday night is great! Anything you want to eat? The reply came just as fast: Whatever is fine.
Ahh, there it is… “Whatever”!
Haruto’s face tensed up. He had read online that women don’t use the word whatever like the dictionary defines it; it meant more like “Whatever [would be satisfying to me] is fine.” He’d need to think carefully over which restaurant he’d choose.
In a rush, he tried some Internet searches like “date place” and “first date dinner restaurant,” listing up all the spots that looked good to him. Should he pick a fancy French place or high-end sushi restaurant to show off his maturity and financial stability? Maybe not—if he did, Miyako would probably refuse to let him pay for her. So maybe a diner or fast food? Nah, that wasn’t really a grown-up date destination…but how about a more casual restaurant or maybe a somewhat fancier than usual izakaya?
“Hmmm… Ahhh, I can’t decide!” he shouted, head held in his hands. His sister banged the wall some more, but he ignored it.
After an hour or so of this, he still couldn’t make up his mind, so Haruto sent a message to Itsuki: Miyako said yes to dinner, but where do you think we should go? The response: If she likes you, anywhere is perfect; if she’s not interested, nothing is gonna work.
…Ugh, he thinks he’s so smart… That he’s above all this now…
Scowling, he sent him a sticker of a dejected-looking anime character and decided to think some more. But after a while longer, Itsuki sent another text.
…But if she said yes to you, she can’t be totally disinterested, right?
Zing!
Itsuki followed it up with a link to a restaurant review website. Haruto tapped it. It took him to a page for a restaurant called Bistro Something-or-other.
“What’s this…?”
It’s this nice hidden gem me and Kanikou found the other day. It’s all real good, the prices are decent, they got a lot of Belgian beer, the atmosphere’s nice, they have private rooms, and it’s in an office area so it’s not too crowded on weekends. Apparently, Miyako said she wanted to try it, too.
“Itsukiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Haruto was so impressed with this too-perfect reference that he sent him a sticker with an anime character worshipping him as a god.
Thankful for his friend, he immediately went on the restaurant’s website and made a reservation. But it wasn’t fully out of friendship or goodwill that Itsuki had clued Haruto in on this. He had his own agenda, and Haruto had no way of knowing what it was yet.
Then Saturday rolled around.
Haruto arrived at the station nearest to the place a good half hour early. Miyako arrived twenty minutes later. Both were dressed on the nicer side of casual, suitable for the place they were about to visit.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Oh no, I just got here myself.” Haruto smiled as he recited that trite line, hiding his nerves. “So, wanna get going?”
“Sure.”
After following his phone’s map through some empty alleyways for ten minutes, they arrived at the restaurant. It was in the first floor of an office building, the outer walls made of brick to evoke that old-world European feel. A handwritten sign was placed near the entrance.
“I have a reservation under Matsuo,” Haruto said to the greeter. They were quickly guided to a private room in the back.
“Let us know when you decide what you’d like to order,” she said as she left them.
“Your real last name is Matsuo, isn’t it?” Miyako said.
Haruto nodded. “Yeah… Did I tell you that before?”
“I found out when I was writing addresses on envelopes for editorial.”
“Ohhh, right.”
Sending packages to writers with comp copies of their books and merch was a classic part-timer duty at a publisher.
“It’s a little surprising to hear your real name out of nowhere, isn’t it? Why did you choose a name like Haruto Fuwa anyway?”
“Uh…” Haruto thought a bit, then shrugged. “It just sounds cool, you know?”
“Why do you seem so unsure about it?” Miyako laughed a little.
“Ahhh, I don’t really remember how I came up with it.”
It felt to him like he had some other reason for it, but it was a really long time ago—high school, even, he thought—so he didn’t remember.
“But pen names are really just, like, whatever anyway. Nayu got hers because she had crab for dinner.”
“That’s a little too ‘whatever’ in my opinion, but…”
“…Hey, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nayu’s real name. Do you know it?”
“Well, we live together and all…” Miyako nodded. “It’s definitely not what I expected.”
“It’s not?”
“Like…it’s pretty normal-sounding.”
“Huh. What is it?”
“You should ask her next time.”
“All right,” he said, picking up the menu as he handed another one to Miyako. He didn’t actually care what Nayuta’s real name was; his thoughts were more along the lines of, Okay, we got a good conversation going; is this working out okay? Or not?
“What should I have first…?” Miyako muttered as she looked at the drink menu. Haruto focused on his own. Just as Itsuki advised, they had a wide selection of Belgians, along with European and US beer, wine, whiskey, and more. Each entry on the list had a little line below it with a quick description like, “Sour ale / 6.5% / refreshing citric tartness,” which he appreciated.
“I’ll take a Delirium Tremens.”
Miyako picked a famous Belgian beer, one with a cute pink elephant on the label. It was sweet, with a nice, approachable mouthfeel that burst out into a spicy bitterness on the tongue. It was also 9 percent alcohol by volume, very much on the high side. “Delirium tremens” refers to the hallucinations seen by hard-core alcoholics, as represented by the pink elephant. To be honest, it probably wasn’t the greatest pick for one’s first drink of the evening, so Haruto thought it wise to comment. “That’s pretty strong, but is that what you want?”
“Oh yeah, I know. I had it at Itsuki’s once, and I liked it.”
“Ohhh.”