“It really has been a while, Megu, Yamamoto-kun.”
Kasahara spoke once we had finally settled into the living room, the three of us sipping the barley tea I’d served.
It truly had been an eternity since we’d last met. Sitting across from her like this, hazy memories of our high school days began to drift back to me.
“Yeah. It has. Sorry for making you worry,” Hayashi said.
“I mean it! You suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. I was trying to reach you every single day, you know?”
“I know. I’m sorry. My phone got smashed.”
I had already filled Kasahara in on everything that had happened to Hayashi from graduation until now—the domestic violence, the arrest of her ex-lover, all of it.
Even though she already knew the man had destroyed Hayashi's phone, Kasahara’s expression soured the moment the topic came up again. She was clearly empathizing with the trauma her best friend had endured. It made sense. Even I—someone who had been little more than a stranger to her back in high school—had felt a staggering sense of rage when I first heard her story.
“Seriously, if I hadn’t run into Yamamoto that night, I’d have been in real trouble,” Hayashi said, laughing with a hint of a joke in her voice as if she’d finally moved past the worst of it.
“Yeah. I’m sure… I’m just glad you’re okay. Thank you, Yamamoto-kun.”
“No, well… I only did what anyone would have done.”
“Still, I was shocked. The domestic violence was bad enough, but I never imagined you were being sheltered here at Yamamoto-kun’s place.”
“I felt the same way,” I added. “She had nowhere else to go. She probably hates living in a room this cramped, but given the circumstances, there wasn't much of a choice.”
I looked down, my expression grim as I focused on the situation. Suddenly, I felt a sharp, scrutinizing gaze from the girl beside me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I tried to needle Hayashi for the meaning behind that look, but she wouldn't give me a straight answer. Well, if she said it was nothing, there was no point in dwelling on it.
“So,” Kasahara said, her tone shifting, “what I’m most worried about is… is Megu actually safe now? Is there any danger of the violence starting again?”
“The guy was arrested, so things should be fine for the time being.”
“For the time being…?”
“There’s no guarantee he won't try to seek some kind of retribution once the police eventually release him,” I explained calmly, giving a small shrug. At first, I’d thought an arrest meant Hayashi was in the clear, but as time passed, I realized there was no telling if the man would spend his time behind bars nursing a grudge.
I had mentioned this to Hayashi when the thought first occurred to me. At the time, she’d looked genuinely frightened.
The reason I was bringing it up to Kasahara now was partly because she’d asked, but mostly because I wanted her to help keep an eye on Hayashi too.
“Poor Megu.”
“Hey, I’m not some fragile little thing, you know?”
“But you just stayed quiet and took it even when he was hitting you, didn't you?”
Kasahara was hitting a sore spot.
Domestic violence often escalates because the victim inadvertently allows the perpetrator to grow bolder. Of course, that’s not to say the victim is responsible for the abuse—far from it. However, there are always those who will argue that a person should have done more to protect themselves. Kasahara’s words were a blunt reflection of that reality.
Hayashi’s shoulders slumped.
In her own way, despite being the victim, she felt a lingering sense of responsibility for her ex-lover’s arrest. Having those feelings dragged back into the light clearly unsettled her.
“That’s enough, Kasahara.”
“Yeah. Sorry, Megu. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”
“…Then don’t say such awful things.”
“But if I don’t say it, you might end up in the same mess all over again, right? You’re just so kind, Megu. Sometimes you have to harden your heart for the sake of self-defense.”
If you asked whether Kasahara or I could protect Hayashi every second of every day, the answer was no. Kasahara had already failed to protect her once, and as for me—considering Hayashi’s vast social circle—I was just some guy she could walk away from at any moment.
Kasahara was right; Hayashi needed to be able to protect herself because she couldn't rely on us forever.
The only thing that struck me as odd was that Kasahara called her "kind." I wasn't trying to deny that Hayashi had a good heart.
It was just that, knowing her in high school, I never would have described her that way. I suppose it was because they were so close that Kasahara could see the kindness hidden beneath the surface.
I wondered how many of the friends who had surrounded Hayashi back then had actually noticed it. I’d never know for sure, but I had a feeling the number was small.
“I’m getting hungry,” Kasahara said, breaking the heavy silence. “Want to go out for food?”
“No, I’ll make something.”
“Wait, Megu, you can cook?”
“Like a pro. Yamamoto’s cooking is way too coarse for me.”
“…I just make whatever’s fast,” I muttered.
“Heh. I want to try it! Let me eat!”
“…Ah, wait, the fridge is basically empty.”
“Then let’s go shopping!”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“You’ll probably need some muscle to carry it all. I’ll come too.”
As the two girls stood up, I rose from my seat as well.
Once again, Hayashi shot me that same suspicious look.
“What now?”
“…Nothing.”
She turned away with a huff. I hadn't the slightest idea what her problem was. Regardless, the three of us headed out of the apartment to go grocery shopping.