It was a day in mid-November, nearly three months since I’d first started letting Megumi Hayashi stay in my apartment.
Between cleaning shifts, I pulled the laundry from the machine and headed for the balcony.
When she first moved in, Megumi had offered to handle most of the chores herself—everything except the cleaning—but lately, I’d taken over almost everything besides the cooking.
She was currently buried in her studies for the bookkeeping exam she’d set her sights on. Since I was just a university student with far more free time than her, I’d stepped up to lighten her load.
Not that I should be acting so high and mighty about it; after all, these were originally my responsibilities to begin with.
"Yamamoto. Yamamoto."
But as my share of the housework increased, a different kind of worry began to weigh on me.
It wasn’t the chores themselves—I didn’t mind them. I’ve always had a soft spot for mundane, repetitive tasks.
"Mm?"
No, my concern lay elsewhere. The cause was right there in the bookkeeping textbook Megumi was currently holding out to me. One look at the sea of red circles on her latest mini-test made it obvious.
It all stemmed from her bookkeeping studies, which hadn’t been progressing well until quite recently.
I couldn’t fathom what had sparked such a sudden surge in motivation, but her progress lately had been nothing short of extraordinary.
"At this rate, you might actually hit your goal on the next exam," I said.
"Yeah."
"Seriously, it’s impressive."
"Hey, Yamamoto..."
Her voice was uncharacteristically cold. I narrowed my eyes, looking down at the girl who was undergoing such a rapid transformation. She was rhythmically tapping the top of her own head with a finger.
With a resigned sigh, I reached out and gently stroked her hair.
Megumi smiled happily.
The progress she was making was truly remarkable. But that meant I had to fulfill the promise I’d made to her—that I would stroke her head as a reward.
But, well... seeing her look so genuinely delighted over something as simple as a head pat made me feel incredibly self-conscious.
Honestly. Why was she smiling like that, as if being patted by me was the greatest thing in the world? It made the act feel like a genuine reward.
Wait, she’d asked for it because it was a reward to her.
No, the whole thing was just bizarre. A guy and a girl living together, the guy checking her bookkeeping work, and then giving her head pats as a reward for her progress? And her being happy about it?
If she was this happy about it, it almost made it look like she... like she actually liked me.
No. (That was my logical side speaking).
Absolutely not. (That was my certain side).
I remembered how much she’d despised me in high school. Every time our eyes met, she’d click her tongue. If I even walked near her, she’d click her tongue. When I was assigned to lead the homeroom discussions, she’d click her tongue...
Actually, that was an absurd amount of tongue-clicking. Just how much did she hate me?
Regardless, the point stood. Her? Liking me? Ha! Not a chance in hell.
"Hey, Yamamoto?"
"What is it?"
"I think… I’d like it if you did it a little firmer."
I silently increased the pressure of my hand. I nearly pushed down too hard just to mask my embarrassment, but I caught myself in time.
"...How’s that?"
Silence.
Don’t just ignore me, this is awkward.
"Yamamoto."
"Yeah?"
"Y-You can keep going for a while, you know?"
She finally spoke, but the words were... unexpected.
"Won't this get in the way of your studying?" I asked.
"It won't..."
"But surely—"
"I said it won't!"
"...Right. Understood."
Left with no other choice, I continued to stroke her head in silence. Megumi leaned into it, looking utterly satisfied.