It was late September.
The end of the lingering summer heat didn't feel far off, and as usual, I was diligently cleaning the apartment.
Cleaning is a noble pursuit. The more time you invest, the cleaner the room becomes. A clean space boosts productivity and, more importantly, promotes good health. I was truly in awe of what a magnificent task it was.
"Are you still cleaning?"
The question came with a sharp glare.
It was my roommate, Hayashi. We’d ended up sharing this one-person apartment due to a string of coincidences. It had been nearly two months since I first started sheltering her here, and this had become our daily life.
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
"I told you before, didn't I?"
"Told me what?"
"One hour of cleaning a day. That’s the limit."
"Right. You did say that."
I replied without letting my hands stop for even a second.
One hour a day. Hayashi had first laid down that law on the day she reunited with her high school classmates—the time I was pointedly excluded.
Good grief. What was she thinking with that rule? Those kinds of restrictions should be reserved for things like video games—activities that lack any real productivity. Unlike games, cleaning is the very definition of productivity. No matter how much of my day I spend on it, she benefits from the results, too. She had no right to complain.
"If I don't set boundaries, you'll literally spend every waking moment cleaning."
"C-cleaning is good for your health."
"Excessive cleaning is poison for the body."
Hmm. She had a point.
It couldn't be helped. To be honest, I had about two thousand different arguments ready to shut her down... but I decided to let her have this one for today.
"Lunch is ready."
"Thanks. Let's eat, then."
"Yeah."
It was 11:30 AM. On our days off, we almost always ate lunch at this time. We were both early risers, so even if we had a solid breakfast, we were usually hungry again by noon.
We enjoyed some light conversation while eating the vegetable stir-fry she’d prepared. A few dozen minutes later, we finished the meal.
"I’ll handle the dishes," I offered.
"It’s fine. Just leave them in the sink to soak."
"...Alright."
By some unspoken agreement, Hayashi had taken over the dishwashing duties. Personally, I felt a lingering sense of guilt about it. Washing dishes is a low-effort chore; it felt only right that we should share the burden.
However, whenever I brought it up, Hayashi would get grumpy and snap at me, insisting she wouldn't let me touch them. Eventually, I stopped asking, though I still spent my days trying to sneakily do them for her, only to be caught and stopped every time.
Lately, it had started to feel like a completely futile cycle. I sometimes thought it might be easier to just leave everything to her and be done with it. But if I gave in now, she’d just throw my earlier persistence back in my face. In short, it was a standoff where neither of us could back down.
Leaving the dishes to Hayashi, I stared blankly at the TV. It was one of those programs that just plays viral internet clips while comedians in small inset windows give over-the-top reactions. Or programs where semi-amateurs answer basic trivia. Reruns of old dramas. Reruns of travel shows.
No matter how much I flipped the channels, the low budget of modern television was painfully obvious. I was reaching the point where I thought I’d be better off watching a Tuesday Suspense rerun.
"Hey."
Just as I turned off the TV, Hayashi spoke up.
"What is it?"
"Do you have plans tonight?"
"Tonight?"
It was a sudden question. I hummed thoughtfully.
"I do, actually."
"Wait, I didn't hear anything about that."
"I have to eat the dinner you're going to make."
Hayashi fell silent. The only sounds in the room were the running water from the faucet and the rhythmic scrubbing of a sponge against a plate.
"...There's somewhere I want to go tonight," she said haltingly, completely ignoring my comment.
"Somewhere you want to go?"
Another silence followed. The sound of running water stopped, and Hayashi walked into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. She walked right past me and grabbed her phone. After tapping at the screen for a moment, she held it out so I could see.
Displayed on the screen was ticket information for a performance by one of the country's most famous theater troupes.
"I... I was originally going to go with Akari."
"Oh? Then you should go."
"...Something came up on her end. She can't make it."
"Wow, she's something else. What kind of emergency was it?"
"Huh?"
"Huh?"
Hayashi’s eyes went wide, as if she hadn't considered that I’d ask.
"Uh..."
"Is it something hard to talk about?"
"I guess you could say that."
"I see. My bad. Forget I asked."
Silence again. Lately, Hayashi had been falling into these quiet spells more often. I wondered if her brain was just short-circuiting, or if she was struggling to find the right words. Back in high school, she used to say whatever was on her mind, no matter how blunt. Maybe she was just becoming more of a dummy as time went on.
"Let's go together."
It was a direct invitation.
"I'm not really familiar with that kind of stuff, unfortunately," I said.
"That’s fine. Me neither."
"Then why did you want to go in the first place?"
"...Because Akari invited me."
That girl... I thought she was sweet to Hayashi, but she could be surprisingly cold when she wanted to be.
"Alright. You look so pathetic sitting there... I'll go."
"Thanks."
"Anyway, what about the ticket price? Let me pay you back."
"No."
"I can't just take them for free."
"I bought them with my first paycheck."
"That makes it even worse."
I pouted, but after living together for two months, I knew that once Hayashi dug her heels in, she wasn't going to budge. Reluctantly, I decided to accept her kindness. I'd just have to make up for it by treating her to a nice dinner.
"In that case, let's eat out tonight."
"Okay. I already made a reservation."
"Wait, what?"
"What?"
...Wait. So she had already planned the entire evening—dinner included—with Kasahara? And then Kasahara had just bailed at the last second?
...Was she serious?