Ogikubo, in the dim evening light. Ringo returned to her senses before the door of Tabuki’s home, still shivering from the powerful reverie she’d been caught in. If things went as she imagined, then the plan might end up proceeding even further along than expected.
Shoving all her expectations and fantasies down into the heavy, curry-filled pot, Ringo cleared her mind, and knocked twice on the old-fashioned apartment door.
“Welcome home, Tabuki-kun.”
A beautiful woman opened the door, her wavy, mid-length, brightly colored hair arranged in a casual style, her smile like a freshly-bloomed flower. Loose hairs hung around her cheeks.
Ringo stood stock still, staring at the woman suspiciously, unable to move a single muscle.
“Oh?” said the woman with a smile, and then, “Come in,” inviting Ringo in as though this were her own home.
The woman wore a soft-looking knit dress with a thin, gentle silhouette, and matching black leggings. She led Ringo to the living room, her seemingly well-worn slippers pattering across the floor, and took some barley tea from the small refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen, pouring it into a cup.
This sucks, Ringo muttered to herself, but the words reached no further than the walls of her own heart.
“Here you go. Not too cold out yet, is it?”
The woman placed the cup in front of Ringo, then sat across from her, placing both elbows on the table and resting her chin. Her fingers were long, pale, and slender. Her nails were trimmed in an oval shape and painted neatly in a pale pink, each nail decorated with a thin strip and a single rhinestone. On the pinky finger of her left hand sparkled a delicate gold ring.
Ringo sat up straight, not reaching for the tea.
“Are you one of Tabuki-kun’s students from school? My apologies. He isn’t home yet.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed gently. Her eyelashes were long and delicately arranged, and her eyelids, painted with a pale beige eyeshadow, shone. Her lips were glossy and coral-colored.
She spoke nothing further. She did not ask who Ringo was, nor show any unpleasant expression. Ringo internally bit her lip and stamped her feet in frustration.
“Who are you?” Ringo asked, fully aware that she was asking something absurd. Presently, no matter how you looked at it, Ringo was the interloper here. “Who might you be?”
“Me? I’m Yuri. Pleased to meet you.” There was a composure to her gently smiling face.
Ringo squeezed the cloth-wrapped pot of curry tighter. She averted her eyes, unable to look at this woman named Yuri, and saw in the kitchen a pot of the same type that she had brought atop the stove.
Yuri followed her gaze. “Ah, I was making tonight’s dinner. It’s just a curry, but if you like, why don’t you stay and eat with us?”
“Curry.” Ringo was at a loss for words.
“Yes. ‘Today is Curry Day,’ he told me. What a weirdo, he’s such a little kid sometimes,” Yuri said with a smile, affection clear in her tone.
Ringo thought fiercely that there was no way that this woman could understand. There was no way this cheap floozy—with her blatant, sweet smell, glittering every which way—could understand Curry Day. The strings of fate that joined Ringo and Tabuki could not be so easily severed.
However, that did not change the fact that there was quite the unanticipated problem here. Someone else had already cooked curry. This was quite a wrench in her plans. Her eyes fell to the curry cradled in her arms.
The curry that Tabuki ate tonight would be the one that Ringo made. She would not permit it to be the one made by this witch of a woman before her.
There was a knock on the door.
“Oh! Now that must be Tabuki-kun.”
Yuri stood with a smile as sweet as honey.
“Welcome home. There’s an acquaintance of yours here right now,” she told him quietly, putting on airs.
“Huh? Who could that be?”
Ringo could never have imagined the voice of her beloved sounding so distant. It had come from just a few feet away, but it was as if a wall had been erected between them.
“A very cute girl. You’re quite the smooth operator, Tabuki-kun.”
“No way, I would never.”
His bashful voice reached her ears. From the other side of the wall, she could hear their muffled conversation.
“Oh, here’s the yogurt you wanted. Hope this brand’s alright.”
There was the rustling of a bag.
“Thank you.”
This was her only chance. It was unforgiveable, but this sole moment, while Tabuki and Yuri were enrapt in yogurt and conversation in the narrow entryway of Tabuki’s apartment, was her only opportunity.
Practically crawling, she slipped as quick as she could into the darkened kitchen, and easily arrived at the stove. She would have to stand in order to lift the pot, and Tabuki aside, the woman was already so near that there was no way that she wouldn’t be spotted. But there was no other way. Ringo stood, seized the pot, and crouched right back down, returning to the living room. She swiftly unwrapped the furoshiki from her curry and placed the pot atop the counter. Then, she picked up the pot with Yuri’s curry, and, still in her socks, walked to the window, opened it, and jumped out.
She sprinted through the Ogikubo evening streets.
At least, thought Ringo, things were proceeding according to fate. Her curry would be the one to pass Tabuki’s lips tonight. The pots were very similar, so surely, they wouldn’t notice. That woman was nothing in light of the bonds of fate they shared.
She ran through the still bright shopping district, toward the train station.
“Yes, this is all perfect, all according to plan. Nothing’s gone wrong,” she muttered, assuring herself.
Suddenly, she was halted by a cat crossing her path. The cat carried a fish in its mouth, just like in a manga, and wore an aloof look upon its face. It threw a glance at Ringo, and then walked calmly on.
“You little thief!” she screamed, unthinking, conflating the cat with the image of Yuri in her mind, sending the cat running, scurrying around the corner.
She had done well. Her project was still underway. She would not be crushed by a setback as simple as this.
She steeled the muscles in her cheeks so as not to let any emotions show on her face, and once more took off running.
Eating meals when you’re home alone had to be done according to schedule. The meals did not have to be especially fancy, or particularly delicious. As long as she ate properly at lunch time, if she filled her empty stomach and satisfied her minimal nutrition needs, that was sufficient as far as Himari was concerned.