Adachi to Shimamura - Volume SS1 - Chapter 9

An Area of Expertise

THE ENERGY I REGAINED each night from dinner, a shower, sleep, and “Adachi time” was a vital resource I needed to survive the following day. 

In general, weekday office work was rarely fulfilling and mostly draining. I liked it about as much as cleaning, which was to say not very much. To me, it was a dull chore, but a necessary part of life—no different from the homework I was assigned when I was a kid. I was never the type of hard worker who could take joy in it. 

When lunchtime rolled around, I pulled out the bento that Adachi had packed me. I was impressed to find that its contents were mostly home-cooked rather than store-bought.

“Did you make yourself lunch today, Shimamura-san?” asked a female coworker, her eyes wandering over my desk as she and a group of colleagues passed.

“No. My other half made it for me this morning.”

“Hunh.” 

Despite having gone out of her way to ask, she didn’t seem especially interested in the answer. When the group walked off, I thought that would be the end of it, but then a different woman near the end of the procession doubled back.

“Wait, you have a partner? Do you live together?”

“Yeah.”

“A husband?” Her gaze drifted to my left hand in search of a ring.

“Oh, we’re not married.” 

“Are you in love?”

“You could say that.”

“Ah, so one of these!” 

Smiling, she raised her middle finger at me, and I was struck by the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Idly, I wondered how Nakayama was doing back in our hometown. 

Whenever I brought lunch to work, I ate alone at my desk; on days when I didn’t bring one, I typically joined the crowd. I had a decent working relationship with the people in my department, but my name always sounded stiff and formal on their lips. Well, on most people’s, I suppose. When I was a teenager, the only exceptions had been Adachi, Hino, and Nagafuji. Then again, I couldn’t recall Nagafuji ever addressing me by my actual name at all. 

If I’m this hungry by lunchtime, why do I get so sleepy afterward? I wondered as I stuffed bites of white rice into my mouth. Afternoons at work were almost always a battle to stay awake, and I found myself missing the days when I could nap through all my classes and get away with a scolding at worst. Back then, life seemed to carry on regardless, but if I tried the same thing now, it would dissolve my entire future. Perhaps that was simply what it meant to be an adult: to have no other option than to progress along your own path. 

Incidentally, Adachi’s cooking tasted the same as usual: basic and unadventurous with no distinct flavors. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it was starkly obvious that she had no interest in the culinary arts. As far as I knew, she only cared about one thing, and…well…I was concerned about her ability to build rapport with her colleagues at work. Yet, inexplicably, she seemed to think I was the one struggling. 

I checked my phone, then sent Adachi a quick message to thank her for lunch. I had a personal policy of minimizing communication with her during work hours, lest either of us get too distracted. Once the bento box was empty, I closed it and sat back in my chair to enjoy the rest of my tea. As I gazed at the faint rays of sunlight streaming in through the closed window blinds, I could feel my eyelids drooping already. If I let myself relax fully, the drowsiness would only get worse. Thus, I rose to my feet and started some stretches. 

I wanted nothing more than to clock out and go home—to the place I’d built with Adachi. 

Good, I thought as I stretched. I couldn’t explain why, but some part of me was satisfied. 

***

As with all things in life, the last part was the most miserable. The moment I realized how close I was to home, exhaustion set in all at once, and I found myself clinging to the elevator wall, viscerally reminded of how hard it was to actually accomplish anything. Swaying like the flame of a dying candle, I stumbled down the hall and rang the doorbell. 

Once Adachi saw that it was me, she opened the door right away. When I looked into her eyes, it was hard to say which of us was happier. 

“Welcome home.”

“Thanks…”

Whenever Adachi got home first, she always met me at the door, and vice versa. On days when I’d returned earlier, I sometimes fell asleep waiting for her, only to spring awake when the doorbell rang. Adachi, on the other hand, never seemed to have that issue. For the most part, I’d only ever seen her brimming with energy. She was simply built differently, inside and out. I wasn’t sure I could possibly outdo her in a single category.

“Heal me, Adachi…” 

She wore her blue-rimmed glasses, which told me she’d been in the middle of reading—a magazine, perhaps, or something work-related. Kicking off my shoes, I launched myself forward and slid into the front hall on my stomach. 

“I’m so tired… It feels like everything’s weighing on my neck and ribs.”

The hallway floor was nice and cold. If I wasn’t careful, I was likely to fall asleep right then and there, just like Yashiro used to do back at my parents’ house. What a free-spirited little creature she was.

“Heal you? Um…want a massage?”

“Wrong kind of healing.”

“What? How many kinds are there?”

“I want something more…boneless.” I didn’t know how to describe it. I just yearned to liquify into a puddle of nothing.

Adachi grabbed my briefcase off the floor where I’d dropped it, paused for a moment, then cocked her head in confusion. “What does ‘boneless’ even mean?”

“I don’t know,” I whined without looking up. 

Her feet entered my field of vision, her porcelain skin every bit as beautiful as it was in high school. Without warning, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her ankles. 

“Aeeegh!” she shrieked, recoiling reflexively. Failing to jump out of my grasp, she lost her balance and hastily pressed her hand to the wall to keep herself from toppling over.

Now I felt bad that my silliness had almost gotten her hurt. “Sorry,” I murmured, rubbing my cheek against her feet. They weren’t as cold as the floor, but they still felt nice. “Actually… Hmmm… Yeah, this might work…” 

Amusingly, the more I nuzzled her feet, the more she squealed. I knew I should get up and go change out of my work clothes, but I was having too much fun. Exhaling deeply, I practically felt my body melt with fatigue, but at the very least, the weight on my shoulders had lifted. At this point, touching Adachi was perhaps the only thing keeping me from turning to goo.

“Th-there, there, Shimamura. You worked hard today,” she offered as she stooped down to stroke my hair. She’d evidently opted for the consolation route. To me, her awkward stammering made that all the more endearing.

“And?”

“And…uh…you did great! And…I’m proud of you! You’re amazing!” She wasn’t used to giving compliments, so I felt spoiled indeed.

“Ha ha ha ha…” I basked in that warmth, not lifting my head. Sometimes words of affirmation really hit differently; I chewed on those ones for a while before swallowing them fully. “This is exactly the kind of boneless healing I needed.”

“Yeah? Then have some more.” 

She went back to tousling my hair—a bit too roughly, since she wasn’t well-versed in the practice. I knew it would look like a mess later, but right now, I didn’t care about that. Like a sleepy cat, I entrusted both my body and spirit to her affection. 

Before long, I climbed to my feet, as if I’d been resurrected with especially messy hair. I locked eyes with Adachi. Growing into adulthood, I’d never managed to reach her stature, and our height difference was noticeable at times like these, especially now that she’d stopped slouching so much. Like a tree, she stood tall; I craned my neck upward.

“I bet you worked hard today too,” I said.

“Yup.”

“Did you miss me? Wait, don’t answer—”

“Like crazy.”

“That…”

Before embarrassment could set in, Adachi hugged me with a smile. How long had it been since she first overcame her shyness about touching me? She’d come so far… The thought filled me with a swirl of pride mixed with sadness.

“Here we go…”

“Hup, two, three, four…”

Still locked in an embrace, we waddled sideways into the living room. Meanwhile, arrogant though it may have been, I finally thought of a field in which I outshone Adachi: my aptitude for putting a genuine smile on her face.