I woke up and went straight into my morning cleaning routine.
Today, I tackled the balcony. Between yesterday's downpour and the shift toward autumn, leaves from the trees across the way had started to pile up on the floor.
I swept the crimson-tinged leaves with a broom, gathered them into a dustpan, and deposited them into a trash bag. There was something strangely refreshing about the chore; it was a task I could only truly appreciate during this specific time of year.
"Mornin'..."
Hayashi finally surfaced a short while after I’d finished.
She was never a morning person. Even now, she stood there with a drowsy, half-lidded expression, looking like she might drift back to sleep at any second.
"I’ll make breakfast," she mumbled.
"Don't go hurting yourself while you're in that state, alright?"
"I'm fine."
Hayashi let out a massive yawn.
"I'm used to being in pain."
"I told you not to get hurt."
I didn't understand why she spoke as if injury were a foregone conclusion.
I headed back into the living room and tucked the futon I’d left out into the corner of the room. A few moments later, the sizzling sound of eggs frying drifted in from the kitchen.
We had settled on today’s menu the night before.
Rice, miso soup, and rolled omelets.
Normally, we would have added wieners to the mix, but since she was dieting, we swapped them out for dried whitebait instead.
"...Your approach to dieting is a bit out of step with the times, isn't it?" she asked.
"Hmm?"
"You know, low-carb diets are all the rage right now. I see plenty of girls talking about how hard it is to cut back on rice."
"In my opinion, lipids are a much bigger concern than carbohydrates. Lipids convert directly into body fat."
"Huh."
"Besides, you should be proactive about protein intake. Protein builds muscle, and increasing your muscle mass is what boosts your basal metabolism."
"I see, I see."
Hayashi didn't sound like she was truly paying attention as she clicked off the stove. I stood up to help her carry the plates to the table.
"Let’s eat."
"Let's eat."
We pressed our hands together and began our meal. Quietly, slowly... this peaceful breakfast time had become a staple of our daily lives.
"Thanks for the food."
"Thank you for the meal. That was good."
"Sure."
Exchanging these brief pleasantries, Hayashi stood up with a heavy sigh.
"I'm going to make the protein shakes."
"I'll help."
"It's not exactly a complicated process. I don't need help."
"Fine, I’ll stay seated then."
"Mm-hmm."
We had only started drinking protein about three days ago.
I was the one who suggested it. Three days prior, I’d lectured Hayashi at length about the importance of protein during a diet. Eventually, I convinced her to go halves on a shared tub of protein powder, even though it was fairly expensive.
Making it was simple. You just filled the dedicated shaker with water and added the proper amount of powder. You had to be careful to put the water in first, though—otherwise, the powder tended to clump at the bottom. Once the powder was in, you just closed the lid and gave it a good shake.
That was it.
The rhythmic sound of two shakers being rattled echoed from the kitchen.
"Here."
Hayashi walked back while already sipping her own. She handed me the other shaker, which was still closed.
"Sit down before you drink. Walking while eating is unseemly."
"Yeah, yeah. I used to care about stuff like that before I moved in here."
She took a long gulp of her protein, then paused.
"I feel like I’ve been corrupted by this place."
"If I wasn't the one who built 'this place,' I might have found that funny."
Since I was the one responsible for this environment, her comment was basically a declaration of war. Or a fight, at the very least.
...Actually, it would probably just be Hayashi verbally slaughtering me.
I stayed silent and reached for the lid of my shake.
"Wait."
I paused, noticing something off.
"Hayashi, you grabbed the wrong shaker again."
When we bought the two shakers, we purposefully chose different colors so we wouldn't mix them up.
Mine was black.
Hers was pink.
And yet, the shaker Hayashi had handed me had a pink lid.
"Oh, sorry. My mistake," Hayashi said, having already finished hers.
"Good grief. That’s three days in a row."
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't do it on purpose. Forgive me?"
"...I’m not exactly angry, but still."
Her lack of genuine remorse was a little grating, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I unscrewed the lid and took a drink.
"That’s an indirect kiss."
Hayashi smirked as she whispered it.
I say "whispered," but she’d clearly made sure I was close enough to hear her. She was teasing me.
...I’d be lying if I said I hadn't realized it. I’d just been trying my best to ignore it.
The liquid almost caught in my throat, but if I coughed or sputtered now, I’d be playing right into her hands.
...I absolutely refused to let that happen! I would not give this woman the satisfaction!
With a will of steel, I forced the rest of the protein down.
"It’s not an indirect kiss. The shakers were washed before we used them."
...Victory.
Maintaining a mask of total composure, I spoke with absolute certainty.
"...Tch."
Wait.
Did she just click her tongue at me?