The smell of something delicious filled my nostrils.
“Hmm…?”
When I pried open my eyes, the world outside my windows was already bright. And it didn’t feel like morning sun, either. This was full afternoon sunlight, shining through my south-facing window.
“What time is it…?”
Blinking the bleariness away, I glanced at my watch, which was still on my wrist from last night.
“Agh, how is it already two PM…?!”
I got out of bed, frowning.
I couldn’t recall what time I’d made it home, but based on my current attire, I hadn’t even had time to change before passing out.
Thank goodness it was my day off. If I’d had work, I would’ve been in big trouble. This was a little more than “oversleeping.”
…Oh yeah. What was that delicious smell that had wafted in here a moment ago? I turned toward it, and there, before my eyes—
—was a high school girl.
It was so sudden, my mind stopped functioning.
She was right there, smack-dab in the middle of my vision, hands on her hips and legs spread, staring me straight in the eyes. She lifted one hand.
“Good morning.”
“What the—?!” I raised my voice as I jumped out of bed.
The high schooler simply responded with a puzzled look, blinking at me a few times.
“What do you mean, what…? It’s pretty obvious. I’m a high school girl.”
“Why the heck is a high school girl in my apartment?!”
The high schooler gave a wry smirk.
“Well, I was told I could stay over.”
“And who told you that?”
“You did, Mister.”
“I’m not a mister.”
This time, she burst into laughter.
“Sure you are. You’re really funny, too.”
“It is so not funny. And what’s that smell? What are you cooking?”
I shoved past the high schooler, who was standing between the living room and the kitchen, and I saw steam coming from a pot on the stove top. After removing the lid, I saw that it was filled with gently simmering miso soup.
“…Miso soup.”
“I made it.”
“You shouldn’t just cook stuff at other people’s places.”
The high schooler sighed in response.
“What? What’re you sighing about?”
“You told me to make it, Mister.”
“I’m not a mister.”
She shrugged helplessly and added emphasis to her voice.
“If not Mister, then what? What should I call you instead?”
“You don’t need to call me anything. You need to leave.”
What was she even doing here, standing around in someone else’s home like she owned the place? Not to mention cooking miso soup without even asking.
“You really don’t remember? Last night, I was under that telephone pole with nowhere to go, and you came and talked to me, Mister.”
“I told you, I’m not… Wait, the telephone pole? Last night?”
Her words brought back a vague memory from the previous evening. I’d spewed my guts out on the way home. I remembered that. Then I’d passed the telephone pole near my apartment and saw someone underneath it…
“Oh, the black panties.”
“Why’s that the thing that jogged your memory? You’re so gross.”
“You’re the high school girl who was sitting on the ground.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
More and more recollections began to pop into my head.
I’d been binge drinking with Hashimoto, without giving a thought to the consequences. And on the way home, I’d found this girl.
And after that… What had happened after that?
I didn’t really remember anything else. A cold sweat began to run down my back.
“…I didn’t assault you or anything, did I?”
In response, the high schooler turned and stared directly into my eyes.
She said nothing. I could feel my sweat glands going into overdrive.
It’d be no exaggeration to say that last night was the most drunk I’d ever been. More importantly, I’d been desperate. I had no idea what I was capable of in that state.
“…Hey! Say something!” I felt my body getting clammy as I spoke.
Then a sputter of laughter escaped the girl’s lips, and she gave me a broad smile. “Ah-ha-ha! No, you didn’t do anything!”
“Why’d you take so long to answer?! You really freaked me out for a second!”
“I just wanted to mess with you! Hee-hee.” The girl’s shoulders swayed as she laughed. “Well, actually,” she continued, “I didn’t expect you to let me stay here for nothing, so I’d planned on letting you do just that. But you kept insisting you’re ‘not into kids.’”
“Oh really?”
Good job, past me.
If I’d have gone with the flow and had my way with her, I would have never forgiven myself—current me would’ve had to give past me one hell of a beating. I might have been trashed, but at least it seemed like I’d maintained a certain level of decency.
“That’s why I asked if there was anything I could do for you, and…” The high schooler paused mid-sentence and let out a snicker. “You asked me to cook miso soup for you every day!”
“That sounds like an old-fashioned marriage proposal!”
No matter how drunk I was, I’d absolutely never say a line like that.
She cackled, clearly entertained by the whole situation. She was definitely making fun of me.
“Hey, Mister.”
“I’m not a mister.”
“What’s your name?”
“…It’s Yoshida.”
She considered this.
“Mr. Yoshida… Yeah, it fits you to a T.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your face just screams Mr. Yoshida.”
This was the first time anyone had told me that I had a Mr. Yoshida face. Was it a high school girl thing? Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could keep up.
“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Huh? Come on—just ask!”
Our conversation was progressing entirely on her terms.
But it was tiring to have to keep referring to her as the high schooler in my mind. It couldn’t hurt to know her name.
“Fine. What is it?”
Clearly pleased that I had finally asked, she nodded and proudly told me what she was called.
“I’m Sayu!”
“Sayu.”
“The sa character in my name comes from Vaiśravana, the Buddhist god of warfare, and the yu comes from kindness.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone use Vaiśravana to explain a character.”
Sayu chuckled and scooped a ladle of miso soup from the pot. She then poured it into a bowl she had no doubt commandeered from somewhere in my kitchen.
“Hey. How long do you plan on staying here?”
“Uhhh…” She made a noncommittal sound and held the bowl out to me. “Just try the miso soup for now,” she said. “We’ll talk after.”
“Who put you in charge?”
As soon as I spoke, my stomach began to rumble.
Come to think of it, I’d puked up everything I ate the night before. I’d slept until the afternoon, too. Who wouldn’t be hungry after that?
As Sayu heard my stomach growl, the corners of her lips curled up into a grin.
“Are you going to drink it or not?”
“…I will.”
I reluctantly took the bowl from Sayu.
In the end, I simply couldn’t bring myself to kick her out into the cold while drinking her homemade miso soup.