1.
On the outskirts of the old capital, a lone shop glows with a faint light. It's a small Chinese restaurant, its exterior and interior both showing the wear of time.
Inside, a faulty ventilator hums with a faint rattling noise, while the only TV in the shop plays continuously.
Well, this is my part-time job, after all.
"…Ha, another day of—"
—Boredom.
I muttered with a sigh, though I caught myself before fully saying the last word, "boredom."
If I hadn't, the manager glaring at the TV from the kitchen would've stormed over, veins bulging on his forehead, growling, "…Hey, did you say something?" I'm sure of it. No doubt. It happened yesterday. I deserve a pat on the back for stopping myself.
But then—
"…So, another day of what?"
The manager, veins already twitching on his forehead, turned toward me, standing like a towering figure.
"Uh, no, you see, it's, uh—that thing—"
"…What thing?"
This is bad. I need to come up with something quick, or I'll end up with another lump on my head. Come on, say something, me!
"W-Well, another day of thinking the manager's cooking smells amazing!"
"…Oh? So my cooking smells good, huh?"
That was a stretch… I thought, but the manager didn't come out of the kitchen. Still, he stood there, eyeing me with a suspicious look.
"Y-Yeah, the aroma's so good it makes me hungry right away. It's a problem, haha."
I tried to play it cool, but I couldn't hide my panic. Or rather, I wasn't hiding it at all. I'd been stuttering too much.
"…Heh, hahaha. Is that so? My food smells that good, huh? You little—"
Surprisingly, the manager didn't smack me. Instead, he grinned—a menacing smile that might make a kid cry.
"But you know, I haven't cooked once since you got here."
He said it with that same smile, though his eyes weren't laughing.
"I-I'll go get some customers!"
I bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind me, the sign reading "Open with Life on the Line" swinging in place.
"…Tch, it's not my fault we're not getting customers."
I grumbled as I closed the door. Can't help it—since I started my shift an hour and a half ago, not a single customer has walked in.
"At this rate, 'Sanryuken' might as well be 'Sanryuken (Third-Rate)…'"
I stretched and looked up at the shop's sign.
"Sanryuken"—my part-time gig.
It's a small Chinese restaurant on the edge of the old capital, staffed by just me, the manager, and his daughter, Ryuna. A tiny place.
The food? Delicious. No, scratch that—exceptional.
I'd say working here is mostly for the free meals, but the place is usually dead. Why? Probably the location. It's the old capital, after all, and on its outskirts. Sure, there are residential areas, but empty houses are starting to stand out.
Or maybe it's the manager's scary face—yeah, that's definitely a factor.
Either way, with no customers, there's nothing to do. I said I'd drum up business, but people barely pass by the shop anyway.
Still, all this downtime makes me sleepy. Maybe I'll grab a coffee. I turned toward the vending machine outside.
Across the street, next to a bus stop, stands an old vending machine. As I glanced over, I noticed someone sitting on the bench. Catching them in my peripheral vision, I crossed the road toward the machine.
The figure seemed to be a high school girl—probably from my school, judging by her uniform. Her black hair reached her shoulders.
She was drinking something, likely bought from the vending machine. Given the time, she probably wasn't waiting for a bus. Just taking a break, maybe?
The route from the new capital, where school is, to here is mostly uphill, even if gradual. Walking all that way would take some effort.
I bought a canned coffee, chugged it, and tossed the empty can into the trash.
"…Cold."
It's mid-October, deep into autumn, and the evenings are getting chilly.
The Sanryuken T-shirt uniform isn't enough to keep warm. I jogged back across the street and into the shop.
As I closed the door, I glanced at the bench. The girl seemed to give a slight bow.
* * *
The next day, she was there again at the same time.
And the day after that, and the one after.
After about a week, I figured out her pattern: she shows up between 6:00 and 6:30 PM, drinks what looks like zenzai, and skips weekends.
It seemed like a routine—stopping here to rest on her way home from school.
Then, toward the end of October—
As usual, I escaped the grumpy manager to buy coffee. She was standing by the vending machine.
I figured she'd get her zenzai again and waited a few meters to the right. But when she pulled out her wallet, she suddenly froze, hesitated, and put it back, heading to the bench empty-handed.
Curious, I bought my coffee and drank it as usual, tossing the can. She was still on the bench, but without her usual zenzai.
She was gazing toward the new capital, her expression hidden from me.
Still, she seemed to carry a strange air of melancholy.
"—Hey, here."
I handed her the zenzai I'd just bought.
"…Uh, w-what… is this?"
She turned at my voice, clearly flustered.
Fair enough. Anyone would be confused if a random guy said "hey" and offered zenzai. I'm an idiot.
"Uh, well, you always drink zenzai here, right? But today it looked like you couldn't buy any, so… if you want it?"
I think I spoke too fast. Yeah, definitely too fast. Maybe I shouldn't have done this…
"…W-What!? Th-Thank you so much!"
She waved her hands frantically, matching my speed.
"Uh, so, do you want it?"
"Y-Yes, I'll take it. Thank you."
Seeing someone more flustered than me somehow calmed me down. I offered the zenzai more steadily, and she accepted with a bit more composure.
"—Oh, um, I'm Sakurako Baba. May I… ask your name?"
After sipping the zenzai and exhaling, she turned to me.
"I'm Hareto Tatsumori. I work at that shop over there."
I nodded toward the lonely Sanryuken across the street, hands stuffed in my pockets against the cold.
"…Hareto, huh… Wait, are you… that Hareto Tatsumori?"
Sakurako's eyes widened in surprise.
That "that Hareto Tatsumori" again.
Well, we go to the same school, so it's not weird she'd know.
"Yeah, that's me."
I just said, "Well then," and crossed the street.
I probably scared her. Shouldn't have talked to her.
"…H-Hey!"
To my surprise, Sakurako called after me.
What now? Thanks for the zenzai? She already said that. Maybe a scolding, based on experience—
"Hareto, see you tomorrow!"
See you tomorrow… That was unexpected.