Saito controlled his urge to quip, If you’re not stubborn, then I don’t know who else would qualify. Arguing about something like that would be pointless right now. What mattered was understanding each other and closing the emotional distance.
“Okay then… I’d like you to try to be okay with at least a slight bit of physical contact in bed,” Saito said.
“Are you asking me to put up with sexual harassment? You pervert.” Akane’s cheeks turned bright red as she hugged herself, backing away from Saito in fear.
“Sakuramori-san, we’re a married couple. We share a tiny bed. Sometimes our bodies might accidentally touch,” said Saito.
Akane pouted.
“Then why don’t you just shrink? Like, to around fifty centimeters.”
“Super helpful… Listen, if I get my fingers broken every time I roll over in bed, I’m going to run out of them pretty fast. I only have ten fingers, you know. Please understand where I’m coming from,” Saito asked.
Saito pleaded with all the sincerity he could muster. It was the first time in his life he had to beg someone not to break his fingers. Life’s rich pageant, he thought to himself.
“Fine. It’s okay if you touch me.”
Akane shrank her shoulders, bracing herself against embarrassment.
“But only over my clothes. I won’t allow you to try to slip your hands under them,” added Akane.
“Who would even do something like that?”
“You would… You might do that already! You probably touch me all over while I’m asleep!”
“I do not! That’s a ridiculous false accusation!”
Everything else aside, trying something like that with someone who could snap his fingers as easily as if she were folding origami would be pure recklessness.
“Okay, your turn. What do you want from me?” Saito asked.
“When you want to play your horror games, please play with headphones on,” requested Akane.
Saito was impressed.
“Oh wow, you want me to go for the method that makes it even scarier? That’s pretty advanced. I never expected you to be a headphone-play kind of person. Do you like horror games?”
“No, I hate them! I can’t even look at the cover,” said Akane.
“Are you scared?”
“It’s not that. They just make me feel gross. I can’t concentrate on studying when I hear zombies screaming in the background,” Akane explained.
“Is that so?” Saito kept listening.
Akane cleared her throat.
“On that subject, please don’t suddenly start up horror games while I’m doing the dishes. I’ll end up seeing zombies whether I want to or not,” added Akane.
“Just wash the dishes blindfolded, then.”
“If I do that, I’ll end up dropping plates or cutting my hand, and the kitchen will turn into a real horror scene,” said Akane.
“Ah. Good point… I guess I’ll make sure to play horror games in secrecy.”
He wasn’t thrilled about it, but Saito accepted Akane’s plea. Even if he couldn’t empathize with her, he could at least respect her feelings. He didn’t believe in ghosts, so horror games were just another form of action entertainment to him. However, if his roommate found them unpleasant, he knew establishing some boundaries would be reasonable.
Saito and Akane continued discussing their daily lives in detail, taking turns dividing up household chores and deciding what things would be off-limits. Listing out the things that caused each other stress seemed to help them understand one another a little better. Saito’s needs, as an efficiency-driven and easygoing person, contrasted sharply with the needs of the sensitive, stern, and meticulous Akane. They never took the time to build any real understanding of each other, so it was no surprise that their life together had been nothing but stressful clashes until now. The conversation stretched on for hours, their teacups sitting empty on their saucers.
This might be the longest conversation I’ve ever had with her. Saito glanced at the wall clock as he thought.
They had been classmates since the beginning of high school, but they had done nothing but argue whenever they were with one another. They had never been on the same page, so they could never have a heart-to-heart like this one. But today, they had teamed up to address a shared goal—making their marriage work. With a common purpose in mind, their discussions couldn’t escalate into fights.
“I read something in a book once…if you make sure to show gratitude, relationships tend to go more smoothly,” Saito divulged.
“You mean, like saying ‘thank you’ to each other?” Akane inquired.
“Yeah, even for the little things.”
Saito recited: “If you take what someone does for granted, then you’ll feel annoyed when they don’t do it. And even when they continue out of sheer obligation, you won’t feel anything positive. That means your negative emotions will keep piling up. On the other hand, if you don’t expect anything from the start and feel grateful for the unexpected things they do, positive emotions start building up instead.”
“That’s what the book said, anyway,” said Saito to Akane.
Akane fidgeted, pressing her fingertips together, and hesitantly opened her mouth to speak.
“Then, if you eat a dish I cook for you, tell me it’s delicious.”
Akane’s cheeks were faintly flushing. Saito blinked in surprise.
“Even if it just tastes…ordinary?” asked Saito.
“Even if it just tastes ordinary,” affirmed Akane.
“Don’t you want me to be honest with you when I give you feedback?”
Saito was honestly curious. Akane shot him a glare.
“Do you have any idea how much effort goes into cooking? No matter how hard I try, if the only response I get is ‘It’s ordinary,’ it totally kills my motivation,” Akane explained, showing uncharacteristic vulnerability.
Saito recalled the times his comments on Akane’s cooking had driven her away.
“For me, calling something ‘ordinary’ is actually a pretty high compliment…”
“Huh? How does that make sense?”
Akane looked at him skeptically.
“Well, it’s kind of a long story…about a weeklong story, actually.”
“We don’t really have that long.”
They weren’t at the point where they could completely open up about their family circumstances yet. They had only just started figuring out how to navigate their relationship.
Akane crossed her arms.
“Either way, even if ‘ordinary’ is a compliment to you, ‘delicious’ is the compliment I’d like to hear. Please, learn how to use Japanese properly,” Akane stated.
“I score higher than you in Japanese, though,” said Saito.
“Test scores are irrelevant! You don’t speak Japanese correctly in your daily life!” Akane had a point.
“Got it,” Saito relented.
It wasn’t just Akane; Shisei had told him he needed to understand a woman’s feelings better too. Saito made a mental note of how to properly compliment her cooking.
After a long and exhausting discussion, Akane collapsed onto the bed. Her throat was dry, and her nerves were shot. Unfortunately, negotiating compromises drained just as much energy as arguing did. This must have been how ambassadors felt when tasked with brokering peace during a war. She had no energy left to cook, so they settled on a simple dinner of bread. She wasn’t happy about having such an unbalanced meal, but just for today, she had to let it slide.
Her smartphone rang; Himari was calling. Still lying on the bed, she reached for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey! You sound kinda down. Are you okay? Did you manage to make peace with the person you were fighting with?”
Hearing Himari’s cheerful voice, Akane felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She could at least enjoy some time chatting with her friend until Saito finished his bath. Akane sat on the bed, her knees curled up under her.
“It’s not like we became friends, exactly,” answered Akane.
“So, it didn’t work out?” Himari asked.
“No, we did actually manage to talk. We spent about five hours discussing things, but now I’m completely drained,” Akane shared.
“That’s great! Good job, you did your best!”
Himari praised her in a tone one might use to soothe a child. Normally, being patronized in such a manner would be annoying, but coming from Himari, it was welcomed.
“Yeah, I certainly did. I lost count of how many times I wanted to flip the table over.”
“Like some old-school Showa-era dad?!”
“I held back, though! And I even promised not to break their fingers anymore!” Akane reported proudly, puffing out her chest.