Adachi to Shimamura - Volume 99.9 - Chapter 1.2

Knowing Adachi, if I asked her to describe what she saw, her response would be plain and blunt: “Um…the produce aisle?” And she’d be correct, of course. 

As we walked, she squinted at the shelves like she was searching for something.

“You don’t have to force it,” I told her.

“I know,” she replied, her eyes still scanning. “But when you’re having fun, and I’m not… I feel left out, I guess.”

In response, I reached up and started stroking her hair. These days, she let it grow a bit longer than her high-school style.

“Wh-what?” she asked.

“Oh, you’re just cute, that’s all.” 

She pouted unhappily. As usual, my little grumpy-pants disliked being treated like a child. Her reaction reminded me of how my little sister had scowled at me all those years ago. When I tried to keep petting Adachi, she snatched my hand, and just as I wondered what she planned to do with it—

“N-nom nom!”

“Aaagh!”

For some reason, my middle finger was now inside Adachi’s mouth. 

She froze, her face sweaty, as her front teeth sank ever so slightly into my skin. I stood there waiting, but she didn’t move a muscle. She evidently hadn’t thought about what to do next. Her face rapidly reddened and reddened, as if she were having trouble breathing. That color change was all the more pronounced when contrasted against the pale daikon radishes piled directly behind her. 

Then Adachi started to look queasy, so I moved to withdraw. Yet that was when she sprang into action, grabbing my wrist to hold me in place. Her behavior was so perplexing that I felt myself break into a sweat. What am I supposed to do here? 

At any rate, we finished grocery shopping and left the store to see the sun half-concealed behind a cloud. As it shifted through the sky, the sunbeams on our path narrowed into thinner and thinner streams before disappearing entirely as though someone had shut a door on us. For a while, Adachi and I just stood there and watched the scenery. Then Adachi took my free hand in hers.

“Huh?” 

Her technique had improved by leaps and bounds. Whereas in the past she would practically smash into me, she now glided down with the grace of an airplane landing—although, using that metaphor, her “takeoff” could still use work. 

“I was gonna wait, since we’ve got a lot to carry,” she mumbled at the ground in explanation. As usual, it took me a minute even to figure out what she was referring to.

“Yeah,” I replied, the grocery bags I held swaying faintly. 

Then I started swinging our joined hands like crazy. Although baffled, Adachi nonetheless attempted to follow suit. She’d never been very adept at playing along, had she? I could still faintly feel where her teeth had grazed my finger. Our eyes met, and we smiled; her hand grew warm.

“Feeling hot?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

Grinning, I watched her flush all the way to her ears. 

***

A few days later, I arrived home to find that, just as her message had informed me, Adachi was indeed still at work.

“Locked…”

The door handle had told me all I needed to know. I used my key to unlock the door, kicked it open lazily, and walked inside. After I shut the door behind me, I was overcome with the desire to collapse right there in the hallway without even bothering to take off my shoes.

“It’s not like anyone can see me… No, I really shouldn’t…” 

The moment I got horizontal, there’d be no guarantee that I would find the strength to get up again. Sighing, I pulled off my shoes and set them neatly in place. As I stooped to do so, however, I felt the last dregs of my energy plummet into oblivion. I couldn’t lie down or I’d die, but surely I could sit for a bit, right? With that compromise in mind, I plopped into a sitting position on the spot, stretched my legs out, and reclined on my palms.

“Uggghhh.” My brain had run out of gas, and now the engine was stalling. In other words… “I’m so tired,” I whined to myself, for lack of an adequate metaphor. 

The older I got, the harder it became just to survive in this world. These days, it was a miracle that I was managing at all. The mere thought of doing housework was enough to exhaust my will to live. When I was growing up, my mother had always seemed so lazy, but now I was awed by her ability to juggle it all. 

I should’ve felt relieved to be home, but instead, I was crumbling under the realization that tomorrow I would go straight back to the office all over again. I was so sick of it; I wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum right there in the hall, flailing my limbs like a child. But if I did that, I’d lose something of myself in the process, so I held back. Besides, if I had that kind of energy, it would be far better spent changing out of my work clothes and starting dinner. 

“Gotta do it…” 

I pushed myself off the floor and was surprised that I managed to get up relatively easily. Guess I’m not that old after all. 

It had been two or three years since Adachi and I moved into this condo, and our life had progressed at what I felt was a comfortable pace—no massive leaps forward, but no major setbacks either. And while it didn’t feel like a perfect situation, there was just enough spice to keep things interesting, and I was still enjoying it. 

Back on my feet, I was met with the calm, still air of a dark and empty home. In truth, I didn’t entirely mind the tranquility. Gazing at the far wall, I focused on my breaths, exhaling a bit of built-up fatigue. As it slipped away, I shivered at the change in temperature. 

I knew from the outset that neither would last forever, but the thought of living without them made me want to scream. 

I tossed my bag into the living room, then went and changed into more comfy clothes, including a shirt I’d worn over and over for however many years. At this point, its collar and sleeves were stretched beyond recognition, and one armpit had a hole the size of my pinky. That suited me just fine, however. 

Before leaving for work that morning, I’d closed the curtains; now I opened them once more, greeting the sunset as it dyed our neighborhood in its colors. I gazed out at it for a while, my hands resting on the windowsill. I hadn’t noticed the scenery at all on my way here, which suggested to me that I must’ve trudged along with my head hung. In any case, I was glad to have a second chance to appreciate the sunset’s beauty.

When I opened the window, I heard birds chirping outside. Unfortunately, I was no expert, so I couldn’t identify them by ear. But they weren’t crows, at least. Maybe my animal-loving little sister would know what they were. I could still remember the encyclopedias back at our parents’ house… I could only imagine what had happened to my bedroom since.

“Now, then…” I passed through the living room to the kitchen, pulled the barley tea from the fridge, and took a swig. “What am I making for dinner tonight?”

Adachi and I took turns cooking every day, aside from times when one of us was overloaded with other things. My “turn” had lasted a full week now, but hey, Adachi being busy with work was a good thing.

“Gotta get that money, honey…” 

Singing to myself, I reopened the fridge and looked over the groceries we’d bought last weekend, searching for dinner ideas. Adachi never much cared what we ate, which made meal planning a challenge. After all, if I was going to put in the effort of cooking something, then I wanted her to like it. But no matter what I made, she always ate in placid silence, and whenever I asked for feedback, she only ever said, “It’s good.” Asking her for meal ideas was a waste of time too, because while she’d at least attempt to consider the question, she would always reach the same conclusion: “Anything’s fine.” Really, it was more efficient to skip the conversation altogether. 

Looking back, I found I sympathized with Mrs. Adachi a tiny bit. Her daughter was a handful and a half! The only thing she seemed to actively like was… 

“Well…now I’m blushing.” That liking hadn’t changed for many years now. 

“How about udon?”

“Whoa!” 

When I saw the person who was suddenly standing next to me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. She responded by raising a small hand in greeting. This evening, she wore cow-print pajamas with soft horns on the hood. 

Come to think of it, in real life, have I ever seen a cow with horns?

It was Yashiro, a mischievous cryptid and the resident mooch at my parents’ house, who often appeared out of nowhere hoping for a free meal. 

“I didn’t know you were here!”

“Apologies for the intrusion.”

“Funny—I thought I locked the door.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” She jovially laughed off my comment. 

I could only assume she’d phased inside through the floor. Wouldn’t put it past her.