Shuichi Hayashi trailed behind Yukiko Fujimine, stepping out of the school building and heading toward the steps behind the gymnasium. Just ahead lay the school's soccer field, bathed in the midday sun.
"This spot's usually deserted at noon," Yukiko said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and spreading it on the steps before sitting down.
She picked up her bread, about to unwrap it, when she noticed Shuichi still standing in front of her, staring. Thinking she might have accidentally flashed him while sitting, Yukiko hurriedly pressed down her skirt, her face flushing with embarrassed indignation. "Pervert!"
"Even if you altered your skirt, it's not short enough to show your underwear," Shuichi said, his expression unfazed.
"How do you know I altered my skirt?" Yukiko asked, surprised. "Even the teachers haven't noticed…"
"I was bored following you, so I counted the pleats on the back of your skirt," Shuichi explained. "You and Eri have similar builds, so your uniforms should be the same size. But your skirt has two fewer pleats than hers. You've taken it in."
The Teitan school uniform of this era was much like its counterpart twenty years later: a navy-blue blazer on top, with knee-length pleated skirts for girls and trousers for boys. While far more stylish than the uniforms Shuichi knew from his past life, these were still mass-produced by the school. They fit well enough but often failed to flatter, accentuating what you'd rather hide and hiding what you'd rather show.
Boys didn't care much, but fashion-conscious girls couldn't resist tweaking their uniforms to better suit their figures. Some went too far, turning knee-length skirts into miniskirts that bared their thighs, distracting the boys from their studies. To curb this, the school began strictly inspecting uniforms. Male teachers couldn't exactly check girls' skirts, so Teitan eventually banned all modifications outright.
"What choice did I have? The original skirt was so baggy, it looked awful," Yukiko grumbled. Then, replaying Shuichi's words, she froze. "Wait, you were staring at my… my behind?"
"You were walking in front, I was behind you. What was I supposed to look at, the blue sky above?" Shuichi said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, I didn't bring a handkerchief, so I'll just stand."
"Yesterday…"
Shuichi briefly recounted the case at the gymnasium from the day before.
"That's it?" Yukiko scoffed, unimpressed. "I thought it'd be tougher. I could've solved a case like that."
"Is that so?" Shuichi nodded, noncommittal.
"Mori said you helped the police with two other cases before," Yukiko pressed. "Keep going."
"That was on the first day of school. Kogoro and I forgot to set our alarms…" Shuichi continued, "After giving our statements, Officer Megure drove us to school."
"So that's why you two were late. Mr. Murakami didn't explain anything," Yukiko said, intrigued. "What about the other case?"
"That happened later that night. Officer Samezaki and his team had just finished dinner at the izakaya and were about to leave when…"
"An izakaya?" Yukiko interrupted.
"I work there."
"Doing odd jobs?"
"No, I'm the head chef."
"…Head chef?" Yukiko's eyes widened. "You're that good at cooking?"
"Decent, I guess."
Shuichi was being modest, but Yukiko didn't know that. She mulled it over. "Izakaya customers mostly care about drinking. They're not picky about food. Even if the chef's skills are average, they're too drunk to notice… Hmm, my cooking's probably better, right?"
When people realize they're outdone in something they pride themselves on, they often instinctively seek another area to reclaim their confidence. Ever since that morning, when Yukiko began to suspect her acting skills might not match Shuichi's, she'd been itching to find something—anything—she could best him at. Otherwise, how could she soothe her bruised ego?
"The last case—still want to hear it?" Shuichi asked, a touch exasperated. When did this become a cooking contest?
"Yes!" Yukiko nodded eagerly.
"Officer Samezaki and his team had just stepped out of the izakaya when they heard glass shattering…"
Shuichi finished explaining the case and its resolution, then turned to leave.
"Hey," Yukiko called out suddenly.
"What now…" Shuichi noticed her gaze fixed on the bento box in his hand. "This is my lunch."
"You made it?" Yukiko confirmed.
"Yeah," Shuichi nodded. "Leftovers from the izakaya last night."
Yukiko eyed the bento, tempted to ask if she could try it to settle who was the better cook. But would that be too forward? They were classmates, sure, but they'd only known each other for a couple of days.
What should she do?
"If there's nothing else, I'm going," Shuichi said, starting to walk away.
"Wait!" Yukiko hugged her knees, her voice softening to a hoarse whisper. Her delicate face was etched with grievance, tears shimmering in her eyes. "My parents are both actors. They're always working, hardly ever home. It's just me, all alone in that cold, empty house. Even meals—I have to make them myself. And this morning, I got caught up watching the news and didn't have time to pack a bento, so all I've got is this bread…"
What's this now? A pity contest? Shuichi frowned. "My parents died in a car accident when I was four. I've been shuffled between relatives ever since. I work at the izakaya to save up for college."
Yukiko froze. She'd only meant to play the sympathy card, hoping to trade her bread for a taste of his bento to gauge his cooking skills. But why was Shuichi suddenly sharing his tragic backstory?
And it was so tragic. She could barely hold back her tears.
Not crying yet? Think you can outdo me in misery? Shuichi observed her, then continued. "When I was eight, I adopted a dog named Wangcai. He was my shadow, always by my side. I thought he'd be with me forever, but…"
"He died too?" Yukiko's tears finally spilled over. "I'm so sorry! I just wanted to try your bento. I didn't mean to make you relive all this…"
(End of Chapter)