After we finished our ramen, we hopped on the train and headed back. The car was fairly empty. A glance at my watch confirmed it was already past eleven-thirty. We’d only stayed for the first party, yet the night had slipped away from us.
"I'll walk you home," I said.
"Thank you."
At this rate, there was a real chance I’d miss the last train if I saw her all the way to her door.
I knew that, but I chose to walk her anyway. I didn't feel right letting a girl navigate these streets alone so late at night. Given how easily she accepted the offer, she probably had some lingering anxiety about it herself. She was a pretty girl, after all.
The train rattled past my own station.
We reached her stop about ten minutes later. This was only the second time I’d walked the path to her house. The first time, Hayashi had been with us. That meant this was our first time walking it with just the two of us.
"Hey, Yamamoto-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"...I'm a little tipsy."
"I see."
"Give me a piggyback?"
She hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. Yet here she was, pleading like a spoiled child.
"Fine."
I hoisted her onto my back just like I had earlier. Kasahara surrendered her full weight to me, leaning into my shoulders.
"I’m sorry about today," she said suddenly.
"For what?"
"Irie-chan was the one who suggested inviting you to the mixer. I didn't even find out until this morning. To be honest, I didn't want to go to a mixer either. I was planning to bail by saying a shift opened up at work."
"Then why did you go?"
"...I guess I just wasn't interested."
"Fair enough."
"You're not going to push for more?"
"You don't like it when people do that, do you?"
"...Yeah."
I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Kasahara was part of the same social circle, but she clearly didn't have warm feelings toward Irie-san. That was why she had dragged herself to the mixer—to make sure Irie-san and I didn't hit it off.
That explained why her "drunken" display had been so perfectly timed. Even if the other girls hadn't helped her out, she probably would have found some way to force me out of there as soon as the first party ended.
"Why don't you like Irie-san?"
"Are you really going to ask that?" Her cheek brushed against the back of my neck. "She’s like her. She’s like Megu."
She sounded like the words were stuck in her throat.
"Really?"
"She is. She really is."
"...I see."
Kasahara was closer to both Hayashi and Irie-san than I was, so I took her word for it.
"She isn't a bad person. But she isn't Megu."
"You like Hayashi way too much."
I felt a little sorry for Irie-san if that was the only reason she was being kept at arm's length. Though, it probably wasn't "dislike" as much as... because they were so similar, she wanted to maintain a certain distance. Something like that.
But that made it even more puzzling. If that were the case, why did Kasahara care so much about me getting close to Irie-san?
Could it be...?
No. Knowing her, that definitely wasn't it.
"I was surprised, though. I never thought you'd actually show up to a mixer."
"Huh? Oh... well, I couldn't really say no."
"Did you owe them something?"
"You could say he's like a lifesaver to me."
I couldn't exactly tell her he was a hero who had protected my cleaning supplies—tools more precious to me than my own life.
We fell silent for a while as I trudged along with her on my back. Even though it was late, the night air was still thick and humid. Between the heat and the heavy meal sitting in my stomach, sweat was starting to bead on my forehead.
I was starting to feel the fatigue.
I really should have kept going to the gym after starting college. I felt a small pang of regret.
Back in high school... I’d go to class, study, head to the gym to work up a sweat, and then walk home with Kasahara. Looking back, those moments were precious—almost too good for a guy like me. We’d talk, we’d laugh... Even though I was always acting cynical, I had enjoyed that time from the bottom of my heart.
"Hey, Yamamoto-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to make the last train?"
"...Probably not."
"I see."
We lapsed back into silence.
Even though it was late, the night air was still thick and humid. Between the heat and the heavy meal sitting in my stomach, sweat was starting to bead on my forehead. I was exhausted.
And yet, I found myself enjoying this... just a little bit. Was it the nostalgia? Or was it because of some lingering attachment I couldn't quite shake?
...Or perhaps.
"So, the last train is really gone?"
"...Yeah."
It felt like she was intentionally dwelling on the fact that I was stranded. Was she inviting me? She never was one to say what she was actually thinking.
"Hey, Yamamoto-kun?"
Kasahara whispered my name, a faint smile playing on her lips.