"Kept you waiting."
Having finished my shift at the convenience store, I called out to Hayashi, who had been waiting inside while flipping through a magazine. She put it back on the rack, and we headed to my apartment.
"So, this is Yamamoto’s room."
"It’s tidy, isn't it?"
"It’s just empty."
You could put it that way. I’ve never been a person with much in the way of material desires. I’d rather have a sparse room than deal with the hassle of cleaning around clutter. Besides, as a freshman in college, my finances were far from overflowing. This room was the logical conclusion of those two facts.
"Anyway, take a seat. I'll get some barley tea."
"……Thanks."
Leaving Hayashi to settle onto a floor cushion, I went to the fridge, poured two glasses of tea, and brought one back to her.
An awkward silence settled over the room as she sipped her drink.
It only occurred to me now that this was the first time I had ever brought a girl back to my place. In fact, since middle school, my female friends had all but vanished, and the time I spent socializing with the opposite sex had plummeted to near zero.
My chest felt tight with nerves. Get it together. Get a grip on yourself.
I hadn't brought her here to make a move. I brought her here to protect her from her boyfriend.
"Thanks."
Having drained the glass, Hayashi seemed a bit more composed as she offered her thanks.
"It was just a glass of tea."
"No… your timing was just really good."
Timing? What did she mean by that?
I tried to look at her situation objectively. Sweatpants in the middle of a sweltering summer. Bruises on her wrists. Bruises given to her by the man she lived with.
This was exactly what they called domestic violence.
"I just needed a little time for us both to cool our heads."
I wondered which "both" she was talking about. No, I didn’t even have to think about it.
"I think he was just in a foul mood today."
"He." Her boyfriend.
If she was really talking about him, then…
"By 'him,' you mean your boyfriend?"
"Yeah. He doesn't usually hit me. It’s just, on days when work goes poorly, he gets frustrated. I have to do a better job of supporting him."
"Those are words I never thought I’d hear from the version of you I knew in high school."
"Shut up. People change."
Whether that change was for the better or the worse was something I couldn't judge.
I replayed her words in my head, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. Judging by her tone, the reason she had accepted my invitation was simply to create a cooling-off period. The injuries were real, but to her, they were just the result of a temporary lapse in his judgment.
If that was actually the case, then my intervention was a massive overstep. I shouldn't have stopped her. I shouldn't have told her to stay the night.
Assuming that was the truth, of course.
"So, are you staying the night?"
"Is it okay? I feel bad for imposing."
"We’re classmates. We help each other out."
"You’re saying things the high school version of you never would have said, too."
I fell silent. I hadn't changed at all since those days. But if I seemed different to her, then maybe…
"Can I use the shower?"
"Go ahead."
"Do you have a change of clothes?"
"Only men's stuff."
"That’s fine."
"……Take the bed when you're done. I'll sleep on the floor."
"……Sorry."
It was already Wednesday morning, but the university was on summer break. My usual routine after a night shift was to sleep until noon. Judging by how quickly she agreed, Hayashi was just as exhausted as I was.
The walls between the bathroom and the living room were thin. The sound of the shower drowned out the television, echoing clearly through the small apartment.
"That felt better. Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
I immediately regretted giving her one of my short-sleeved T-shirts. With her arms exposed, I could see that the bruises weren't limited to her wrists. They were scattered across her skin.
"……Yeah, it’s pretty bad, isn't it?" Hayashi said nonchalantly, noticing my gaze.
"Did your boyfriend do all of that?"
"Pretty much."
"Some of those look like they're almost healed. This isn't the first time, is it?"
"So?"
Her face contorted. It wasn't the look of terror I'd seen earlier, but one of sharp, clear irritation.
Don't push it. That was the unspoken command in her eyes.
If I were in her shoes, I would hate him. I wouldn't be able to forgive someone who hit me and hurt me like this. That’s what I told myself.
But listening to her, it was clear she didn't feel that way. Was it blind love, or was it total dependency? I couldn't see into her heart. To be honest, I didn't even know the difference between the two.
Fine. If she didn't want me digging into her relationship, I wouldn't. If she wanted to go back to him, I wouldn't stop her.
She clearly believed she was doing the right thing. In that case, the chances of her listening to a counter-argument were slim to none.
"I don't think you should be with someone who treats you like that."
Even so, that didn't stop me from saying it anyway.
"What do you know about it?" Her voice grew colder.
"I don't know how you feel. I'm just giving you my opinion."
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"And I'm not telling you that you have to listen to it."
"……Then why even say it?"
"For my own sake."
I shrugged, and she looked at me with genuine exasperation.
"If something happens to you later, people are going to come to me because I was involved. They'll ask why I didn't try to stop you. Whether or not I can say 'I tried my best to talk her out of it' changes how the world looks at me, doesn't it?"
"……You don't even have enough friends to care what the world thinks."
"It's because I don't have friends that people feel comfortable saying whatever they want about me. When people feel like they have the moral high ground, they'll do anything to a person just to vent their own stress."
The "internet lynchings" you saw in the news were exactly like that. Complete outsiders see someone causing a stir and they can't help but pile on. Sure, the person at the center usually screwed up, but it should be between the victim and the perpetrator. Third parties have no business sticking their noses in. And yet, they act like idiots, swarming like sharks to tear someone apart… Truly a foolish bunch of people.
"Anyway, that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is that humans are inherently self-centered creatures."
"……And?"
"He hits you because he's stressed about work. That’s his reason. Do you really think he's doing that for your benefit?"
"……That’s..."
"You're just a tool for him to vent his frustration."
Hayashi fell silent, looking down at her lap.
"If you still want to go back to him after that, I won't stop you. Wanting to support someone even when they hit you… that’s an incredibly selfless way to live. If you end up destroying yourself in the process, I suppose you should be praised for your dedication. But the strange thing is, no one in this world is going to praise you for it. When a Hero spends half his life to slay a Demon King, he gets a parade. When you destroy your life for this guy, you won't even get a 'thank you' from him, let alone a reward."
Basically, what I was trying to say was that from an objective standpoint, the price Hayashi was paying was a bad deal. It just wasn't worth the cost.
My explanation was incredibly cynical, but that was just my personality leaking out. It probably wasn't the best way to talk to someone who was already on edge, but unfortunately, this was the only way I knew how to communicate.
I had done what I could. If she wouldn't listen to me now, there was nothing else I could do. That was the end of it.
"……I’d hate that."
Surprisingly, Hayashi wasn't so blinded by anger that she couldn't see the logic. I’d expected her to blow up and storm out, so her quiet response caught me off guard.
With a heavy sigh, she flopped onto my bed.
"……I’m tired."
"Then sleep. Take your time and think it over. We have plenty of it."
"You’re so detached. I bet you’re not popular at all."
"Does being detached make me unpopular?"
So that was the reason. I felt like I had gained another piece of useless wisdom. Even if I understood the cause, the root issue wasn't going away, so I’d likely be unpopular for the rest of my life. Truly tragic.
"I'm turning off the lights."
Even with the lights off, the morning sun made the room bright enough. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything.
Hayashi didn't answer. She might have fallen asleep already. I hit the switch and lay down on the floor.
I scrolled through my phone for a while until I got bored, then closed my eyes.
But whether it was the hard floor or the sheer absurdity of having a girl in my room, sleep refused to come.
"Hey."
A voice drifted down from the bed. I thought she was out cold.
"Wanna do it?"
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to stay silent. What did she think she was doing? I wasn't going to entertain the question. Bringing her here had been a whim. If I ended up having a one-night stand with her, I wouldn't have the right to look down on her boyfriend anymore.
She didn't say anything else. I assumed she’d given up.
But then, I felt a sudden warmth against my back.
"Gyah!"
I let out a pathetic yelp as her hands touched my skin.
"Ahaha. I knew you were awake."
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Just hugging you."
"Who said you could do that?"
"I need permission to hug you?"
You might not need mine, but shouldn't you care about your boyfriend's? Even if he was a piece of work, he was still her partner.
I bit my lip, deciding it was better not to bring him up again right now.
"……Are you a virgin, by any chance?"
"No."
"Liar."
I didn't argue.
"……Trying so hard to act tough. This is the first time I've actually thought you were cute."
"……Shut up."
I tried to prize her arms off me, but as I moved, I realized her body was trembling.
She had been defensive and angry earlier when I insulted her boyfriend, but deep down, the seeds of doubt were clearly there.
"In the beginning, he wasn't like that. He was kind, thoughtful… he’d listen to all my selfish whining. It only changed after we moved in together."
He’d finally shown his true colors once they were behind closed doors.
I kept my mouth shut. Anything I said now would only hurt her.
"It was miserable. Whenever anything went wrong, even if it wasn't about work, he’d take it out on me. His boiling point was so low. I’d spend all my time wondering, 'Are you really getting mad about that?'"
Her grip on me tightened.
"At first, he told me he wanted me to be a housewife. But then, suddenly, he was asking me why I was always at home. He called me a freeloader. Told me to get off my ass and work…… It was just constant."
"……You’ve had a rough time."
"Eh?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them. My face felt like it was on fire. I couldn't believe I’d actually said something so genuinely empathetic.
But she had dropped out of school, been disowned by her family, and had her dignity ground into the dirt by an abusive man, all within a few months of graduating high school. Thinking about that, the words had just forced their way out of my throat.
"What did you just say?"
"……I’m not saying it again."
"Come on. Say it one more time."
"Go to sleep."
"Ah… hehe. Fine, I guess."
I wanted to snap back at her smug tone, but I knew it would just start another pointless argument, so I closed my eyes and stayed silent.
"Thank you. It’s been so long since anyone told me I was doing my best…… I’m really happy."
She whispered the words right into my ear.
……You really did do your best.
I’d talk to her about what she wanted to do next once we both woke up. For now, I let sleep take me, letting the exhaustion of the night shift finally win out.