Returning home after a graveyard shift always felt like a contradiction. While leaving in the dark was the absolute worst, walking through the world as it paled with the dawn felt strangely good.
"I'm home."
My place was a standard six-tatami studio—a twenty-year-old reinforced concrete unit designed for one. Under normal circumstances, only well-mannered people—the polar opposite of me—would bother announcing their return to an empty room. Lately, however, I’d found myself calling out before stepping inside.
That was, naturally, because there was someone there to hear it.
Megumi Hayashi.
She was a former high school classmate of mine. After moving to Tokyo, she had been subjected to domestic violence by the boyfriend she’d been living with, leading her to seek shelter in my room.
"Welcome back. Do you want breakfast?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
It had been nearly two weeks since I’d taken her in. Our life together, which had begun under such bizarre circumstances, had proceeded with surprising tranquility. We hadn’t run into any major trouble yet.
"Speaking of which, Obon is coming up soon," she said while serving the meal. "What are your plans?"
The breakfast she’d prepared consisted of white rice, scrambled eggs, sausages, and miso soup. It was standard fare for a typical household, but for a guy living alone, it was a feast.
I considered the fact that the holiday was fast approaching as I ate. "I'm not going back."
"Why not?" Hayashi asked, looking genuinely surprised.
I wondered what she was thinking. Did she want me to go back to my parents' house, or was she hoping I’d stay? If I thought about it, the answer was obvious. She likely wanted me to go. It made sense; despite the circumstances, she’d been living with a member of the opposite sex she wasn't even dating for two weeks. Given how she’d ended up here, I could only imagine the stress it caused her.
"I couldn't get a return ticket," I lied.
Obon was the peak of the "homecoming rush," a time when even working adults headed home. Public transit companies used the opportunity to hike their fares, and yet the trains were still so packed you couldn't even find a seat.
It had been six months since I moved to Tokyo for university. I hadn't gone back for Golden Week either. When I first moved into this apartment, I’d been homesick, but I soon grew accustomed to the solitary life. Before I knew it, the window of opportunity had closed.
"Sorry," I added.
"Why are you apologizing?" Hayashi gave a bitter, exasperated smile.
I had apologized because I assumed she didn't want to be stuck with me, but it seemed I’d missed the mark.
"Are you not going back to your parents' place? ...Wait, forget I asked."
She was currently in the middle of a massive fallout with her parents. Going home likely wasn't an option for her.
"You're right. Sorry for intruding on your solo life," she said.
"Don't worry about it. Since you're here, I don't have to cook. It's actually a huge relief."
She handled almost all the housework—cooking, laundry, even keeping a household account book. The only thing I refused to yield was the cleaning. I felt a bit bad about it, but that was the one thing I wasn't willing to give up. Absolutely not.
"I'm sorry," Hayashi said again.
"I told you, don't worry about it."
"That's not it."
Then what was it?
"You're being considerate of me, aren't you? About the trip home."
I stayed silent.
"You saw the state I was in after everything happened and decided to stay here with me to cheer me up instead of going back to your parents."
"You think I'm that thoughtful?"
"You were on the phone with your parents the other day, weren't you?"
It had been early morning a few days ago. My phone had buzzed with a call from my parents, essentially asking if I was coming home for Obon. I had told them immediately that I wouldn't be making the trip. Surprisingly, they had been quite insistent, gently suggesting I return. Maybe they just wanted their idiot son to help with the cleaning for once.
Even so, I had refused. To be honest, no matter how crowded it gets, it's never truly impossible to find a train home. Besides, university summer breaks are long; it would have been easy to shift the dates and visit later.
Even so, I chose not to.
"Pointing that out is a breach of etiquette," I muttered.
My face felt hot. Honestly, this woman never let her guard down. I’d have to be more careful even when taking phone calls from now on. I’d gone to great lengths to make sure she didn’t feel like a burden, and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just... you're so dishonest with your feelings."
"Did you not realize that after living together for two weeks?"
"Ahaha. I guess so." Hayashi laughed for a moment, then fixed her gaze on me. "Geez, you really are a twisted one. Were you always like this, even back in high school?"
"Long before then."
"You’re beyond help."
"Probably."
"I think if you showed your honest emotions more, you would have had a much more enjoyable time," she mused.
"Whether my life has been enjoyable or not is for me to decide. It isn't for you to define."
"That's true."
"You're just going to agree with me?"
"Well, it's thanks to that twisted nature of yours that I was saved."
I wondered about that. The only reason I had been able to help her was a series of coincidences: we were old classmates, she happened to walk into the convenience store where I worked, and I happened to notice her injuries. It was a result of timing, luck, and circumstance.
Conversely, if anyone else had been in that exact position, they undoubtedly would have saved her, too. Perhaps I shouldn't have been the one to do it. Maybe she deserved to be rescued by someone more fitting.
I wasn't being self-deprecating; it was just a logical conclusion. In fact, Hayashi had mentioned that Kasahara was shocked to hear I was the one who helped. That suggested I didn't exactly look like the hero type.
I decided to stop thinking about it. That line of thought usually just killed my motivation and dampened my mood. Changing my mindset was a technique I’d developed to build a better life after failing at so many things.
"Hey, Yamamoto?"
"What?"
"Are you free during Obon?"
I’d heard a similar invitation from her recently.
"I am."
Last time, she’d asked me to help her pick out a smartphone.
"Well then... do you want to go on a little date?"
This, however, was different.
"Does it have to be me?" I asked.
Hayashi hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned a serious gaze toward me. "Yes. It has to be you."
"Why?"
"Because you're my lifesaver."
It was a title I’d earned through nothing more than luck and timing, but it was a fact nonetheless.
"And besides... I'll be moving out of here soon."
Her apartment search was going well. She was already at the stage where she’d be signing a contract at the real estate office.
She was right. As a way to mark her departure, a final gesture for our time together, a date might not be such a bad idea.
"All right," I agreed.
Hayashi gave me a bright, happy smile. "Thanks!"