The morning air in Shimokitazawa, Setagaya Ward, carried the crispness unique to a weekend.
Shiina Taki, carrying a heavy bag of get-well fruits, stood somewhat irritably outside Yahata Umiri's apartment building.
The unexpected suspension of the Toden Arakawa Line forced her to walk from her home in Nishi-Waseda, Shinjuku Ward, making her take a huge detour—enduring the subtle, strange stares of passersby, she first squeezed onto the JR line to Shibuya, then transferred multiple times to reach this area, finally walking through the edge of Yoyogi Park to arrive near Daita Crossing.
The journey time nearly doubled, tightening her already slightly furrowed brow.
Those lingering gazes? She was long used to them.
As "Shiina Maki's younger sister," she had lived in the shadow of others' gossip for too long.
Today's goal was only one: to visit Yahata Umiri.
Two days ago, Umiri was inexplicably caught up in an incident and injured, falling unconscious, all because of Taki. This left Taki feeling choked up inside. For this, she even deliberately moved the band's first meeting forward by a day, just to free up this Saturday to personally visit this person, one of her few, barely definable "friends."
"Friends, huh..."
She had given up the wind instrument club to bury herself in drumming, wanting only to prove with her skill that she was not an accessory to anyone; Umiri, on the other hand, was a highly skilled, elusive "bass mercenary" with no fixed band.
If not for music, the bridge between them, these two girls, each absorbed in their own "endeavors," probably wouldn't even have had the chance to brush shoulders.
"Ding-dong."
The crisp sound of the doorbell echoed in the quiet hallway. Taki, holding the bag, could hear the indistinct shuffling of slippers on the floor from inside the door.
About ten seconds later, the door opened.
Yahata Umiri, behind the door, was wearing loose grey loungewear, her face still a bit pale, but her spirits had clearly recovered quite a bit. She leaned against the doorframe with one hand, and when she saw Taki standing outside, a flicker of genuine surprise passed through her slender eyes.
"An old enemy before me, it's Taki, surprisingly."
Umiri's voice carried a hint of just-woken haziness, but her tone was as calm as ever.
"Huh?"
"What are you saying, it makes no sense."
"Nothing," Umiri's gaze swept over Taki, and a nearly teasing curve appeared at the corner of her mouth.
"It's just a bit unusual to see you appear like this at my doorstep." She specifically emphasized the words "like this."
"Didn't I already send you a message? You even gave me the address!"
Taki unhappily jiggled the bag, the apples and oranges inside clunking together.
"Here, get-well gift." She unceremoniously pushed the bag forward.
However, Umiri's attention wasn't on the bag at all. Her gaze, like a searchlight, scrutinized Taki from head to toe, even tilting her head slightly, pinching her smooth chin, and revealing an expression of "Oh~ I see."
"I see," Umiri slowly began, with a tone of sudden realization.
"'Get-well'?" She deliberately elongated the syllables of "get-well," her gaze meaningfully flicking towards the top of Taki's head.
"I have to say, in this regard, you're stronger."
"If you're not going to take it, then get—out—of—the—way!"
Taki felt uncomfortable under her gaze, she suddenly pulled back the hand holding the bag, turned sideways, and squeezed forcefully through the gap between Umiri and the doorframe, her movements carrying a petulant stubbornness, like an irritated dog determined to invade someone else's territory.
"Hoh... very forceful, indeed ♡."
Umiri was pushed back half a step, leaning against the doorframe, watching Taki's back as she familiarly walked into her home's entryway, the playful smile at the corner of her mouth deepening.
"Don't say weird things!" Taki yelled back without turning her head, bending down to change her shoes.
Although it was her first time at Umiri's place, knowing that she lived alone, Taki didn't feel the need to be overly formal.
"I didn't take the Arakawa Line; I took a long detour to get here!" she complained while changing shoes, as if looking for a legitimate reason for her "forcefulness."
"'A detour is my 'shortcut,' is it?'" Umiri closed the door and followed behind her, responding in an almost operatic, somewhat deadpan tone.
"Impressive." She even symbolically clapped her hands softly.
"I don't need this kind of nonsensical banter..."
Taki put on her slippers, straightened up, but the latter half of her complaint caught in her throat.
She finally saw the full view of Umiri's home.
This house... rather than a home, it looked more like a temporary safe house from a spy movie.
The living room was not large, with harsh, rigid lines. The walls were dark grey, without any decorations. The floor was cold, dark laminate. The only sofa was black leather, sharply angled, stiff and uncomfortable.
A similarly dark metal square table served as a coffee table, with nothing on it except a closed laptop. Against the wall stood a huge black metal rack, neatly stacked with... not books or ornaments, but various models of effects pedal cases, cable organizer boxes, and several thick stacks of sheet music.
The entire space exuded a cold, functional scent, a mixture of metal, leather, and... some kind of protein powder.
Rough, efficient, utterly devoid of any sense of home.
"You eat this?" Taki frowned, carrying the fruit bag towards the small sink in the open-plan kitchen area, intending to wash some fruit. But the sink area, and indeed the entire countertop, was meticulously clean.
There was no oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, no pots, pans, or dishes, only several large black and white plastic buckets labeled "ZAMAS BEAUTY," and next to them, several boxes of simply packaged, seemingly rock-hard orange energy bars!
"Don't worry," Umiri's voice came from behind her, with a matter-of-fact calmness.
"Every meal's nutrition is precisely calculated, and the formula is absolutely reliable." She even picked up an energy bar, brandishing it before Taki's eyes like a weapon.
"I'll believe you when pigs fly..." Taki looked at the object that seemed capable of being a murder weapon, a vein throbbing in her forehead.
The truth was out! No wonder this person's body was having problems!
Even without Takagi Naoko's meddling, relying on this "precisely calculated nutritious meal," it was only a matter of time before she became another piece of bad news circulating in the girl band scene.
"No!"
Taki suddenly turned around, placed the fruit bag on the counter, rolled up her non-existent sleeves, and purple eyes blazed with fighting spirit.
"Today, I'm going to make sure you eat properly! Don't think you can get away with these junk foods!" She unceremoniously turned on the faucet, grabbed an apple from the bag, and began rinsing it. The gushing water sounded like the announcement of a "nutritional revolution."
"A beast-eared babysitter, then?" Umiri leaned against the cold metal rack with her arms crossed, watching Taki's busy back at the sink.
"Not bad."
"What beast ears... you're always saying things I don't understand..." Taki didn't turn her head, concentrating on scrubbing the apple.
Tiny water droplets splashed, and she was still pondering how to supplement this "bio-engineered mercenary" with the vitamins and nutrients a normal human needs.
"...Hm?"
The water streamed over the apple's smooth skin, filling the sink. The clear water surface rippled slightly, reflecting the figure of the girl busily bending over.
Shiina Taki's movements suddenly froze.
In the reflection on the water, something seemed to have appeared on the top of the black-haired girl's head?
A pair of fluffy, upright... dog ears?!
The water rippled, and the reflection of those ears also trembled slightly.
The girl stiffly, incredibly slowly, raised her head to look at the side of the smooth stainless steel faucet—there, too, her profile was vaguely reflected, along with the pair of black dog ears on top of her head, trembling slightly with her movements!
"Hey..." Taki very slowly turned around, her fingers trembling as she pointed to the top of her head, looking at Umiri, who still had her arms crossed and a hint of amusement in her gaze.
"Umiri..."
"Hm?" Umiri raised an eyebrow, responding leisurely.
"What is this?" Taki's voice held a tremor she herself hadn't noticed, her fingertip almost poking the tip of her clearly not-a-prop ear.
Umiri was silent for two seconds, then said in a matter-of-fact tone:
"Isn't this your so-called 'get-well visit'?"
"That can't be—!"
The girl's scream, a mix of indignation and horror, instantly pierced the hardcore safe house, echoing long in the empty room.
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