We left the apartment after finishing breakfast.
"Do you mind if we stop by the place I shared with him first?"
As soon as we stepped outside, Hayashi made that suggestion.
Him. She meant her ex’s place—the man she had been calling "that person" until just recently. Apparently, Hayashi had lived alone after graduating high school, but she had moved in with him after they started dating.
I was a bit taken aback that she’d brought it up. I had left the house under the impression that today was a date. Was I actually being dragged out to help her move?
Well, I suppose that would be fine, too.
"It’s probably not what you're thinking," she said.
"Did you learn mind reading while I wasn't looking?"
"Huh? Boring. Creepy."
...I felt a bit dejected.
"The reason I want to stop by his place is to change."
"Change?"
The clothes Hayashi was currently wearing were just things I’d picked up nearby when she first came to stay with me.
"We’re going on a date, after all. I want to look nice."
I see. That made sense. I could understand that.
She had previously expressed a deep loathing for anything her ex had bought her, but I suppose she had to make do for now.
Still, "look nice"... It was a slightly charming word choice coming from a girl who used to be known as The Queen.
Following Hayashi’s directions, we hopped on the train at the nearest station and rode it for three stops. After getting off and leaving the station, we walked for a while until Hayashi came to a halt.
"Are you okay?"
Her face was pale as she led the way. It was only natural. The room where she’d lived with that man was a place where she had suffered deep trauma. Thinking about it now, it was a fairly risky decision for her to come here just for a date with someone like me.
"...Let’s forget it, Hayashi. If you push yourself and get sick, the date won't be fun for either of us."
"I'm going."
"Look..."
"I told you, didn't I?"
Hayashi looked at me, her face pale and her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"...I want to enjoy our date today."
She started walking again, her resolve set.
Her ex’s home was in a fairly nice apartment building—I suppose that was to be expected of a working adult.
Hayashi used her spare key to unlock the main entrance and then the door to the unit itself.
The apartment felt a bit dusty, likely because no one had been there for a while.
"Come in."
"Uh... no thanks."
I was already pinching my nose.
"I hate dusty rooms."
"Are you a germaphobe or something?"
"Not exactly. It’s just that dusty rooms make my eyes itchy."
"...Come on. Are you really going to make me stay in here alone, of all places?"
Hayashi grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. The interior was, as expected, a bit grimy.
Suddenly, I realized something was off. Hayashi had been living here. She was surprisingly fond of cleanliness—no less than I was. She was the type to be quite diligent about chores. Despite her having lived here, could a room really get this filthy this fast?
It had been about a week between the time Hayashi fled to my place and her ex's arrest. That meant the man hadn't bothered to clean at all during that week.
...Disgusting.
My feet felt heavy, but I couldn't leave her alone, so I followed her inside. Being her former home, Hayashi’s footsteps were certain.
She entered what I assumed was their bedroom. A double-sized bed sat prominently in the center of the room, which made me feel a bit awkward.
Hayashi opened the bedroom closet. Apparently, that was where her clothes were kept.
For a while, she rummaged through her things, trying to decide what to wear.
It seemed like she was doing okay now. I felt a sense of relief, but with nothing to do, I found myself glancing at the trash can beside the bed.
"...Whoa."
"What?"
I let out a sharp, startled sound, and Hayashi immediately looked up.
"No, it's nothing."
Inside the trash can were several crumpled-up tissues. And resting on top of them was the evidence. Used items.
...Well, they were a couple living together; it was only natural they’d do that sort of thing. I’d understood that much since the moment she told me at the convenience store that she’d been living with her boyfriend.
But seeing the actual discarded remains of someone else's business was a bit too vivid. It was revolting. That was my honest feeling.
"...You're so easy to read."
I tried to play it off, but Hayashi was looking at me with cold eyes. She stood up abruptly.
"Wait, don't."
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."
Ignoring my attempt to stop her, Hayashi walked over and peered into the trash can I’d been trying to block.
She fell silent as she saw the condoms. Her body, which was pressed against mine as she looked over my shoulder, didn't move an inch.
"...Don't let it get to you. It's normal for couples to do that, right?"
I spoke as if trying to convince both her and myself.
"Well, you weren't here, so he probably just... It's his fault for not taking out the trash. Yeah."
Hayashi didn't respond for a long time.
"...Hayashi?"
The arm that had been brushing against me suddenly wrapped around my back.
"...What's wrong?"
"...The morning I ran to your place, I threw out all the trash."
Realizing the implication, I fell silent.
She had put the trash out for collection. Of course, she would have emptied the bedroom bin, too... A person as diligent as her wouldn't have missed it.
Which meant... these had been used after Hayashi had fled.
"Thanks, Yamamoto."
Hayashi’s hug grew even tighter.
"I hope a guy like that stays locked in a cage for the rest of his life."
"Yeah. ...Achoo!"
Failing to read the mood entirely, I let out a loud sneeze.