Ayaka was incredulous.
“I said I’d treat you to anything. Why’d you pick such a cheap place?” We were sat at a normal restaurant smack full of white-collar workers and students. I loved places like this, but she seemed rather unsatisfied. “I was kinda planning to go to somewhere…nicer?”
“Loosen up a little. Their oden looks great, doesn’t it?” I said as I pushed the order button. There was a light ding-dong sound, but the commotion made it almost inaudible.
“Ugh. You barely eat well at all, so I was hoping to win you over by treating you to something fancy.”
“I don’t like your reasoning!”
“Am I wrong?” Ayaka rebutted as she resigned herself, took the menu from me, and started flipping through it.
Her frown turned upside-down in no time.
A waiter pushed through the throngs of customers searching for bathrooms and came to our table. When he did, she rattled off our order with incredible speed. I wanted to replay this scene for the Ayaka from thirty seconds ago.
Before long, the waiter came back with a pot of oden, and she let out a big shriek.
“Oh, man! There’s soooo much stuff in it!” she squealed.
“See what I mean? This is what I’ve been wanting! Two thousand yen for all this? That’s a steal!”
The pot, more than big enough for both of us to share, was placed onto the table with a thud. Ayaka had it served onto our plates in no time.
“Here’s your portion.”
“Thanks.” I started with my favorite, the daikon radish. The oden broth burst from it, filling my mouth.
Ayaka’s face relaxed into a big smile as she stuffed it with steaming mochi kinchaku—deep-fried tofu pouches with rice cakes inside.
How long ago had the two of us started eating together so casually?
We had eaten lunch together sometimes since at least high school, but it took some courage—the courage to be alone with her, the courage to be teased, and the courage to be envied. Just eating a meal took so much mental preparation that we did it far less often back then.
Why didn’t it seem like such a big deal anymore? Was it because we’d moved past high school? That might be part of it, but more important was that our surroundings had changed. In university, everyone became more tolerant of others—or maybe just less interested in them.
We were approaching adulthood. I couldn’t help but feel that as a part of this meal.
We were in our second year of university now. Job-seeking was always back-of-mind. We didn’t even have one more year of our peaceful college life left. That scared me a lot.
There’s a lot of freedom in being labeled a student. The thought that this period of freedom was ending soon made me really anxious.
“What’s with the funny look?” Ayaka’s voice snapped my eyes open. I realized that a chikuwa fishcake had been thrown onto my plate. She put down her chopsticks and tilted her head at me. “Do you not like the oden?” she asked, despite the fact that I’d been the one who suggested this place. That was enough to realize how unusual I must’ve looked.
“Nah, that’s not it. It’s just… We’re really growing up, aren’t we?”
“Pssh, what?” Ayaka laughed. “I mean, we’re already over twenty years old.”
“Yeah.”
When you’re twenty years old, you’re an adult. Obviously. But even knowing that, I didn’t consider myself one.
“There’s a difference between being an adult and adulting, though.”
Her face turned a little more serious. “Hmm, maybe. There are lots of people out there who grow up without growing up.”
“A long time ago, I thought that you matured automatically the instant you turned twenty. But I don’t feel any different.”
On my twentieth birthday, I was full of a lot more hope and expectation for the future than usual. I’d stopped believing the whole “instant maturity” thing by then, but I still approached that day with a very different mindset.
The few days after were very fulfilling. Drinks at izakayas tasted better than ever, and I’d started chatting friends up about economics and politics a lot more than before.
But that was pretty much it.
After that came university, and so continued my daily life.
Neither a child nor an adult—university students over the age of twenty were in a sort of limbo state, stuck in between.
“I wanna go back to middle and high school,” I mused. “Never thinking about anything, just doing club stuff and living out my youth.”
“Yeah… I’d do that if I could too.” There was a look of melancholy etched into her face.
Heedless of our own desires, time continues its unfeeling march. How long would it take until I could proudly call myself an adult?
“Hey, something wrong?” Ayaka looked up into my eyes, worried by the turn the conversation had taken.
There wasn’t anything in particular going on, so I felt a little guilty.
“Sorry, no. It’s nothing. I mean it, okay?”
“Really? You’re just acting kinda sentimental out of nowhere.”
Maybe it was the year-end vibes that made me feel this way. But another possible reason came to mind: Shinohara.
We were only a year apart, but it felt like we had a massive age gap. I don’t mean that she was childish for her age or that I was mature for mine, or anything, though…
Our energy as human beings just seemed so starkly different. When I looked at Shinohara, I wondered if I’d become jaded with age somehow. These vague, directionless feelings must have built up subconsciously and thrust me into a sudden depression.
But I couldn’t say that. Saying it wouldn’t fix anything—it would just make Ayaka worry. She was treating me to a meal, and it would suck for both of us if I didn’t enjoy it. My decision made, I clicked my chopsticks.
“Okay, time to dig in!”
“There’s nothing left,” she sighed in irritation as she handed her plate to me. It bore the final daikon radish. “Take half.”
“You mean it? Thanks!” I cut the radish in half and put my portion in my mouth. It had cooled a little, but it was still delicious.
Ayaka watched me chew for a while, leaning her head on one hand, and finally said, “Even when we’re adults, let’s be cool, okay?”
As in, let’s stay friends? Is that how I should interpret that? I nodded back immediately, and she smiled. I really like her smile.
Not that I’d ever say it out loud.