The restaurant was about a ten-minute walk from the train station—a gastropub on the first floor of a building on a side street in the arcade district. As we walked in, however, both of us started to frown.
“Is this the right place?”
“Well, it should be…”
Inside the building, the walls and corridors were plastered in anime and video game posters. What in the world was this place?
“What do you mean, it should be? Didn’t you make the reservation, Hidaka-san?”
“Uhhh… Actually, it was my father. He wants us to ‘establish rapport’ since we’ll be working as a team from now on.”
“I see… Wait, so the vice-director is into this sort of thing…?”
“I don’t think so… Oh, that’s right. He said the director suggested this restaurant.”
“She did…? Ah, that makes sense.”
Evidently, she understood without needing to be told directly. Admittedly, it was common knowledge in our sphere that Professor Satou, director of the ISRI, was what you’d call an otaku. Specifically, she was a fan of vintage manga, anime, light novels, and video games, and she had gone on record stating that her media consumption had influenced her thought process regarding imaginary science and parallel worlds. She even outright named some of them as “reference materials.”
“If she recommended it, then I suppose we’re obligated to try it…”
“Yeahhh… Welp, in we go.”
We passed under the sign that read OTAKITCHEN and pulled the sliding door open. The delicious smell of a gastropub wafted out to greet us, but my attention was immediately drawn to the décor. To no one’s surprise, every inch of the place was drowning in more posters and figurines.
“Welcome!”
“Hi, I have a reservation under Hidaka.”
“Ah yes, Hidaka-san! Right this way to your private room!”
We walked across the main floor to a sliding door on the other side, pulled it open, and walked in to find…
“What on Earth is going on in here…?”
Like the rest of the building, the room was filled with posters and figurines, but in here the theme was a bit different. Two words: hot guys. It was the polar opposite of everything I’d seen on display thus far. Maybe this particular room was meant to cater to the female demographic?
Regardless, I sat down at the table and wiped my hands with the hot towel the server gave me. Sitting on the tatami made me feel at ease, and contrary to my biggest fears, the menu was surprisingly normal. So I picked stuff at random, and when our boozy drinks arrived, I raised my glass for a toast.
“Well, uhhh… Here’s to being on the same team. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
My throat was dry from nervousness, so I downed half my beer in a single sitting. Takigawa-san took a small sip of her light cocktail and set it on the table.
“Do you drink a lot?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say a lot. I like it, but my tolerance is fairly low.”
“Gotcha.”
The conversation petered out. I’d done well to initiate some small talk, but I didn’t know how to keep it going. I just wished she would give me something to build upon.
For a while, the two of us drank in silence. Granted, mine was just beer, so I emptied my glass rather quickly while Takigawa-san was only one-third of the way through hers. Now I didn’t have anything to keep my hands occupied.
Then, around the time her glass was half-empty, she suddenly plunked it down on the table. “Hey.”
“Wh-what?!” I blurted back, startled. Pretty pathetic for a nearly thirty-year-old grown man.
She lowered her head, narrowed her eyes, and glared at me. Upon closer inspection, I realized her ears were bright red. Surely she couldn’t be drunk already…could she?
“Remember when we spoke in the research room on my first day?”
“Yeah?” My dad was the one who brought her in, as I recalled.
“You said ‘nice to meet you.’”
Indeed I had. It was the standard greeting—why change a classic? But that was when I remembered the suspicion I had that day…
“That was not your first time meeting me.”
Called it.
“Or at the very least, it wasn’t my first time meeting you,” she clarified.
“Right. I suspected as much.”
“You suspected it? So you realized?”
“I just, uh…felt like I must have seen you somewhere before,” I stammered.
“Do you know where it was?”
“…Sorry, I can’t remember,” I admitted honestly. No amount of thinking had brought me any closer to the answer.
She took another sip of her drink. Was that why she seemed to be in a bad mood? Well, why couldn’t I remember her? Where the hell had the two of us met before?
“We were classmates. In high school.”
“Wait, what?”
“We were in the same grade, in the same class, at the same high school,” she said.
“…Oh god. I’m so sorry.”
So that’s where we’d met. No wonder I recognized her! Yes, it all made sense now—Psych! In truth, it still didn’t click for me whatsoever.
The high school I attended was the prefecture’s most competitive school, where students were sorted into classes based on their entrance exam scores. As the highest scoring student, I naturally ended up in Class A, the top class. But everyone in that class was only interested in studying, myself included, so there was basically zero socializing. I honestly couldn’t recall a single name or face from that time. How had I managed to recognize Takigawa-san?
“We never spoke back then, so I can’t blame you if you don’t remember me. But I imagine quite a few people remember you. After all, you were the first-year representative.”
Right. After earning the top score on the entrance exam, I was asked to give a speech as the valedictorian representing my entire grade, so I could understand how the academically competitive students in Class A might still remember me. But that still didn’t explain how I remembered her.
“I was hoping to get the highest score myself, so I was quite bitter. After that, I kept trying to outscore you on every test, but you got first place on every single one.”
That was back when Shiori’s body was still alive—back when saving her was still within my reach. I wanted to get perfect grades so I could get into the best possible college and find a way to rescue her. I studied my ass off to make it happen.
“You can imagine my shock when you dropped out in our second year,” she continued. “I’m sure there were extenuating circumstances, but at the time, I assumed you simply burned out. But oh, how wrong I was! After you dropped out, your causality radius theory was proven, and your name was added to the annals of imaginary science. When I first heard the news while in college, I was so deeply jealous. I swore to myself I would land a job with the Imaginary Science Research Institute and make a discovery that would eclipse yours.”
It had to be the alcohol. She was normally so calm and collected, but now her eyes pierced into me with passionate fury. Dad was right—I could certainly put this ambition to good use.
“I’m honored. May the two of us take imaginary science to even greater heights,” I said, offering a toast.
I donned my best fake smile, but on the inside, I still felt uneasy. Damn it, where the hell did I remember her from? It’d be one thing if I just recognized her name, but something was telling me there was another, vastly different memory. We may have been in the same class, but we never said a word to each other. After I dropped out, I didn’t see her again until that fateful day in the research room. So where could it have been?
She must have sensed the insincerity in my smile, because her expression soured again. She took a big gulp of her drink—the largest thus far. Whoa, is she okay there?
“And another thing.”
“Yes?”
“In order to have a fair competition with you, I have a request.”
“What is it?”
What was she about to ask of me? Hopefully, it was nothing that would take effort. She took another swig, then leaned across the table and said, “Can we cut the bullshit?”
“…Excuse me?” I didn’t know how to interpret that.
“Look, we’re the same age. We can’t talk like diplomats all the time or it’ll feel like we’re still at work. Besides, I can’t compete with you if I have to treat you like my boss.”
“Okay…?”
“So, how about it? Can we just be direct with each other? If you’d rather not, say the word and I’ll drop it. I do understand the concept of office politics, after all. You can just write this off as a drunken outburst.”
Did she get tipsy on purpose to find the courage to ask me that? Cute. But now that I thought about it, perhaps it was actually a good idea. I didn’t like walking on eggshells around colleagues, and besides, I might want to talk to her about my time travel research someday. If so, it couldn’t hurt to establish a casual working relationship early on.
“Okay, sure. Let’s both just drop the formalities. It’s easier that way,” I agreed.
“Cool, thanks,” she replied curtly, then downed the last dregs in her glass.
While she seemed calm at first glance, her hands were shaking faintly. She must have been scared stiff. After all, normally it’d be downright unthinkable to ask your boss to “cut the bullshit.” Luckily for her, however, I was no normal boss.
“Anyway, I look forward to competing with you, Hidaka-san.”
“Hey, if we’re dropping formalities, then you should just call me Koyomi.”
“Are you sure? All right then…Koyomi.”
And the instant she said my name, I remembered exactly when and where I had seen her.