The pollen season in the nearby streets would only last for a few days, soon to be carried away by the wind; flowers and grass bore glistening dewdrops, twinkling like precious diamonds.
The asphalt road, washed clean by the rain, shone with a mirror-like sheen; even walking barefoot on it wouldn't leave a speck of dust.
Kusanagi and I had spent a week together in peace.
After that night, there seemed to be an imperceptible, very subtle change between her and me.
I often felt Kusanagi glancing at me, but when I looked back, I would find her busy with her own things—sometimes looking at sheet music, sometimes drinking milk tea, sometimes chatting on her phone.
She had recently painted her nails black, which made the back of her hands look fair and translucent; when she brushed her hair aside, the contrast between black and white was striking, and the rebellious, unrestrained girl looked like a flowing stream of light.
In short, her gaze was not on me.
I planned to quit smoking temporarily, for the sake of Kusanagi's health, and even more so to keep her from smoking; even drinking alcohol had become a clandestine affair.
I didn't keep it in the fridge either, but hid it in my bedside table, taking it out for a drink in the dead of night, but it still lacked something.
Who wouldn't enjoy a little drink while admiring Tokyo Tower?
As it turned out, I had underestimated Kusanagi; in the kitchen trash can, I saw empty beer cans that clearly didn't belong to me, and the corner of my eye couldn't help but twitch.
Good grief, she was stealing blatantly, and leaving evidence as if she were afraid I wouldn't see it.
It looked like she had also taken the opportunity to sneak into my room; although this was her house, the right to use the room was in my hands, so I had to properly punish the little thief who was stealing my alcohol.
"Miss Kusanagi, I'm going out in a bit and will be back very late."
I stood neatly at the entrance, holding a dark blue parasol in my hand.
The girl curled up on the sofa lifted her eyelids, holding sheet music and a pen, and glanced at me casually: "Mm."
"There's freshly made omurice, fish, and some yakitori in the fridge. Oh, that's right, I also froze some ice cubes,"
I opened the parasol and brought up the topic very naturally, "The skewers are a bit salty, so they might be better with ice water."
Yes, I had specially bought some meat skewers and specifically instructed the vendor to make the flavor strong—as strong as possible—adding plenty of green onions and chili, the kind that goes perfectly with alcohol.
The kind where you have to drink something after every bite.
As for the beer, it was naturally left in the old spot, and the door was even left ajar, just waiting for the little thief to walk into my trap.
When she was drinking happily, I would suddenly appear and catch her in the act!
Flawless.
I was in a good mood, humming a little tune, my high heels clicking on the asphalt, already imagining the scene of catching the little thief in my mind.
She would panic and try to clean up the beer bottles, but it would be too late; I would make a grand entrance and start lecturing her about taking care of her body, not sacrificing her health for a moment of coolness, and besides, minors aren't allowed to drink beer—that's what your Japanese law stipulates. Otherwise, I would report her to Mr. Kuroki, so she had better behave.
However, the word "obedient" didn't seem to apply to her; she was more likely to just wear that sulky expression on her pretty face.
The girl's wet, long, slender eyelashes flashed through my mind.
Well, she could be cute sometimes.
I stretched my shoulders, wandered around for a while, chatted with Li Shijia on voice call for a bit, and appeared at the apartment door at 6:00 PM sharp.
This was about the time Kusanagi usually ate; if things went as expected, she should be drinking beer and eating skewers. Since she was alone in the evening, she could do whatever she wanted.
I gently turned the key in the door, opened it with the least amount of force, and then closed it on tiptoe.
The skewers in the fridge were indeed gone.
I narrowed my eyes. Little one, your thoughts are really easy to guess.
I walked up the stairs lightly, trying not to make a sound to avoid alerting the enemy, and climbed to the fifth floor barefoot in the dark.
Both doors were tightly shut, but the transparent window of the balcony was open. A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks, lifting the fine hair at my temples.
Where was Kusanagi stealing a drink?
I gripped the doorknob, my heart inexplicably racing, and heard the lock clicking as it turned.
The sound of a single note plucked on a guitar string.
A clear, low hum, a faint and elusive melody, blew past my ears with the cool breeze.
Was that Kusanagi playing the guitar?
Having lived together for so long, this was the first time I had heard her play.
I quietly straightened up and looked toward the balcony.
Kusanagi sat with her legs bare, wearing only a thin white tank top. Beneath her slender white arms were wide sleeves, and from the side of her chest, a glimpse of a hidden, soft, white mound was visible. She held the black guitar quite casually, the notes plucked by her fingertips falling and rising.
The guitar sang softly in her hands, sliding from low notes to high notes, blooming into a path of charming scenery, like pearls scattered on the ground, delicate and lustrous.
She played for a while, then wrote things down with the paper and pen beside her, tapping on the back of the guitar with her hand, her exquisite, translucent toes keeping time, and her jet-black hair swaying from side to side with her head.
"...Ah, what a truly wonderful world..."
I am tone-deaf, with near-zero musical talent, but even so, I could feel how breathtaking this moment was.
Kusanagi's voice was usually cold and husky when she spoke, but singing was a completely different experience; her voice had an astonishing explosive power—a very cool and wild sound, filled with arrogance and disdain.
She sang while keeping time, and her singing had such infectious power that I found myself swaying along unconsciously.
A beautiful girl with a fiery temper, I suppose that's a popular type, isn't it?
Especially when she sings so well.
Such a thought suddenly popped into my head.
There is no such thing as "puppy love" in Japan; where the heart goes, age does not matter.
My eyes fell beside Kusanagi's legs.
Beside her lay a skewer that had only been bitten once, and a few cans of beer that were almost empty, scattered on the ground... Just as I thought.
Seeing me appear suddenly, Kusanagi remained calm; she stopped playing the guitar, showing no sign of dodging after being caught. Instead, her eyes curved into a sly crescent shape: "Miss Nozawa, would you like to eat together?"
I glanced at the skewers; she had only taken one bite because they were too spicy and must have been drinking beer like crazy to cope, and now she wanted me to eat them—she was full of mischief.
I asked, knowing the answer: "Is it not good? Why did you only take one bite?"
Kusanagi's dark, moist pupils rolled innocently, and she said: "It's very delicious, I'll give it to you."
With that, she eagerly picked up a skewer, carefully selecting the biggest and spiciest one, and handed it over with a smile.
Heh, you know nothing about people from Hunan.
I took it without changing my expression, catching a glimpse of the black nail polish on her fingers out of the corner of my eye; it was a bit chipped, but its beauty remained.
She stared at me without blinking.
Unfortunately, the scene she was expecting wouldn't happen; I bit into the skewer with a blank expression, took a sip of beer, also with a blank expression, and my face didn't change in the slightest.
"Does Miss Nozawa think it's delicious?" she asked playfully, tilting her head.
"It's delicious, but inside this..."
My blank expression only lasted for two seconds.
Why was there wasabi in the skewer?!
"...Open another bottle for me, hurry."
In just a few seconds, I was instantly stimulated to the point of tearing up; a pungent taste spread in my mouth, filling my entire throat, and the incredibly spicy smell gradually attacked my nasal cavity, making me sneeze violently.
"I need water..." I shouted hoarsely, my throat felt like it was smoking!
"Hahahaha!" Kusanagi finally couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into wild laughter, revealing two rows of small, delicate white fangs.
She mischievously picked up the last bottle of beer, "I didn't expect you to be so bad with spice~"
"..." I couldn't speak anymore.
"Alright, alright, here you go." Kusanagi was laughing so hard tears were coming out, "Hey, next time you buy skewers, put less chili in them..."
I hurriedly took the beer, and the moment I opened it, the bubbles surged, and the beer liquid shot out from the can. I couldn't dodge in time and let out a scream, "Ah!", getting soaked all over my head and face, with everything in front of me turning orange-yellow.
Now my throat wasn't spicy anymore; it was chilled to the bone.
Kusanagi wasn't spared either; her bare shoulders and hair were soaked, and she pointed awkwardly: "...I shouldn't have shaken it."
We were both stunned by the sudden spray of beer, staring at each other blankly.
Staring at each other, I looked at her, she looked at me, and the scene was very comical.
I laughed in spite of myself; I really had to hand it to her. Everyone knows you shouldn't shake beer or carbonated drinks, even a 5-year-old knows that, right?
The girl smoothed back her wet black hair, tucking it behind her fair ears, and then gave an awkward smile, knowing she was in the wrong.
I was defeated by that smile.
She was physically frail, and getting soaked on a chilly night could easily lead to a cold, so she needed to change her clothes quickly.
Just as I was about to step forward to help her change out of her soaked clothes, the girl made a stiff expression and dodged to the side.
"I'll do it myself."
"Oh, okay." I withdrew my hand.
It was already past ten o'clock at night after showering; I dried my wet hair, holding the beer that still had half left after spraying, and sipped it slowly on the balcony.
There was still half a can left, after all; it shouldn't be wasted.
Kusanagi had also finished showering, with soft strands of hair clinging to her neck; through her thin cotton-linen pajamas, her snow-white, slender back and shoulder blades were faintly visible.
She seemed to have watched me for a while from behind, then came up, pretending to be calm: "I drank your beer, aren't you mad at me?"
"I guess the reason you only drink and don't smoke is because you're afraid of seeing black lungs," I said slowly.
"..." She quickly retorted, "I'm not afraid."
"A little bit is fine, but don't do it again next time. Everyone has their own troubles," I said, resting my chin on my left hand as the neon lights of Tokyo Tower flickered in the distance, "High school girls are no exception."
"You have troubles too?" She leaned against the balcony with one hand; after her shower, a fine mist of water still lingered on her fair skin, "You are a doctor. In my impression, doctors are always serious, they take great care of their health, have high annual salaries, and don't seem to have any troubles. I've seen plenty of doctors."
As for why she had seen so many doctors, thinking of Kusanagi's frail and sickly body, I suppressed the answer I knew under my tongue and skirted around it.
"Doctors have troubles too, and they also smoke and drink."
"It's just that Miss Nozawa loves drinking too much; she's a bit unreliable."
Who saved her life in a critical moment? You little ingrate, talking nonsense about me being unreliable.
"Besides drinking, you also like smoking and eating skewers," Kusanagi blinked, "Actually, Miss Nozawa is a man, right?"
My face darkened.
"Oh, just kidding, I like skewers too." Her eyes drifted to my chest, and then to the bra hanging on the balcony, "And I'm also sure you're a woman."
The beer can in my hand was crushed, leaving a deep dent.
"In Chinese, skewers are called barbecue, and a whole group of people eats them together," I smiled gently, deciding not to hold a grudge against this brat, "Is it the same in Japan?"
Kusanagi's soft, thick short hair swayed from side to side by her ears. "I don't know, I've never had barbecue."
Never had barbecue? That's such a pity; barbecue is ten thousand times better than skewers. I happened to have a barbecue picnic planned with Li Shijia this weekend—should I invite Kusanagi along?
This was an opportunity to get to know each other better. Kusanagi and I would be living together for quite a long time in the future, and a picnic or camping trip would indeed be a great chance to bond.
It was just Li Shijia and me, and she would be bored as an underage student. Right, what about Kusanagi's friends I had met briefly at the bookstore last time?
I raised an eyebrow at her, "We can have a barbecue this weekend; why don't you invite your friends along, how about it?"