119 The Norms Between Miyagi and Me - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

The Norms Between Miyagi and Me Chapter 119 With the arrival of spring and the completion of the move, I have settled into a routine where I no longer receive five thousand yen from Miyagi. As expected, every day is fresh when the 5,000 yen that existed between us is gone. When I wake up, Miyagi is there and if I greet her with a "good morning," she returns it. It feels more like a humane life compared to living with a family who would often ignore even the sound of my voice. However, it's not as if Miyagi and I are living harmoniously. There are numerous issues, yet Miyagi doesn't let them get resolved. I pull out the milk pan from under the sink. After a brief hesitation, I fill it with enough water to make tea for two and place it on the stove. There's no electric kettle or teapot in this house. I brought everything I thought was necessary, and purchased whatever else was missing. But as we started living together, I realized there were still many things lacking. An electric kettle is one such item I wish to purchase, but I haven't been able to go get one yet. That's Miyagi's fault too. With a sigh, I hear footsteps and turn around to see Miyagi with a sleepy face, prompting me to speak up. "Good morning." "...Good morning." "Want some tea?" "No, thanks." "What about lunch?" Miyagi, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, seems unbothered by the casual attire, yet the question about lunch isn't something she expected, and she frowns slightly. Even though it's already about to be noon, because it's a Saturday morning and waking up late isn't an issue, I'm unsure how much I should interfere with Miyagi's routine. Still, since we live together, it seems reasonable to ask about meals. "I'll eat whatever." "Why don't we have lunch together? I can make something after we have some tea." As I retrieve mugs from the cupboard, I ask. "I have plans with Maika." Here we go with Utsunomiya again, I think. It doesn't give me a good feeling. Miyagi seems to be meeting with Utsunomiya excessively since moving here. "Are you eating here or not?" "I'm in a hurry." A non-answer comes back. Whether she's eating out with Utsunomiya or grabbing a quick meal before dashing out, or even something else entirely, Miyagi's intentions remain unclear from her words. And even if I pressed her, it seems she wouldn't provide a definitive answer. "I see." I reply ambiguously as Miyagi disappears into the washroom. It appears she's planning to have lunch elsewhere, so I return the newly retrieved mugs to the cupboard. It's been like this ever since we moved here. Miyagi doesn't say much. It feels like we've reverted to the past. When I first started visiting her room, Miyagi hardly spoke, and I used to feel uneasy with the silences she created. Even now, it feels similar. Neither of us has quite adjusted to this new life yet. The five thousand yen that was always between us is gone; we've achieved a roommate relationship, yet we are uncertain of what form it should take. It was normal to be by each other's side just weeks ago, but now being near feels too close, and being separate feels too distant. I pour out the water from the milk pan. I knew living with Miyagi isn't all joy, and it wouldn't be easy, but I hadn't expected it to be this challenging. I prepare eggs and milk, taking out a bowl. I crack the eggs into the bowl, mix them with sugar, and add milk, stirring well. Ideally, I should cut the bread with a knife, but today, I tear it into four pieces by hand and toss it into the bowl. As I watch the bread soak in the egg mixture, Miyagi emerges from the washroom, but retreats back to her room before I can speak. Deciding to make French toast a bit early for lunch, I heat up a frying pan and melt some butter. Compared to Miyagi's former home, the kitchen here is small. It's usable and clean, although it doesn't quite feel comfortable. This house hasn't become my home just yet. I arrange the egg-soaked bread in the frying pan and watch it closely. Whether it's when I wake up, return from university, or before going to sleep, Miyagi is always here. When I'm in my room, I'm alone, but just beyond a single wall, Miyagi is almost always present. There's a slight tension that accompanies such presence all the time. I think Miyagi feels the same. It's probably better than the dorms, though. I exhale with a "phew," turning off the gas stove. I take out a plate from the cupboard, place the French toast on it, and bring it to the table. Opening the refrigerator, I reach for the orange juice but decide on soda instead. I pour it into a glass and set it next to the French toast. As I sit down with a fork, I hear the door open. "I'm heading out, Sendai-san." Her voice prompts me to look away from the French toast and at Miyagi. "Will you have time when you get back?" I want to know what time she'll return, but it feels too controlling, as if I'm keeping track of her movements every hour. "I don't know." Miyagi replies curtly and heads towards the entrance without waiting for further questions. She escapes succinctly. I sip on the soda Miyagi always drinks. It's not good after all. The sensation of carbonation fizzling inside my mouth and expanding in my stomach is unpleasant, so I can't comprehend why Miyagi likes it. For me, soda isn’t something I'd choose to drink, as I can't tell whether it’s even sweet. I slowly nibble on the French toast. The toast has a delicious balance of butter and eggs within its sweetness, comforting my stomach with its fluffy and moist texture. Halfway through, I take another sip of the soda. The university enrollment has just begun, and I haven't completed my course registration yet. I want to discuss what lectures to choose and how to schedule my college life with Miyagi, but I keep getting avoided. Although she has dodged me numerous times in the past, in this confined space, it's much more hurtful. The small table with two chairs, meant for joint use, has turned into more of my personal space. I can hardly recall Miyagi sitting across from me. Last summer, we made and ate French toast together. With a sigh, I push the remaining French toast into my stomach. From the tissue box on the table, I pull out a soft sheet and wipe my mouth. The tissue box doesn’t have a cover. If Miyagi wants a cover, I'd be willing to go shopping with her. I want to buy an electric kettle, and there might be other necessary items. Going shopping all at once could make our lives easier. But I don't know if Miyagi wants a cover for the tissue box, or even if she thinks an electric kettle is necessary. It's all due to the lack of conversation between us. And as for the crocodile tissue cover and the black cat plushie, I have no idea what has become of them. The reason is simple: I have yet to step into Miyagi's room. Despite living together, her room feels impossibly distant. I slump over the table and touch my neck. The necklace that was always there is absent now because Miyagi said I didn't have to wear it. I feel an urge to open the closed door and venture into her room. To sit beside her like I did in high school, to share a kiss— "She'd definitely get mad, right?" Now that the five thousand yen, which was an unquestionable part of our routine, is gone, those things we used to do naturally have become impossible. We haven’t kissed since the day we went to the movies. Does Miyagi ever think about wanting to kiss me again? I had always thought that I didn't need the five thousand yen. But now, I wish we still had it. These fresh days are harder to navigate compared to before. I want to talk to Miyagi. No—it's more than that. We need to talk. At this distance, living together is unsustainable. Eventually, it will lead to a breakdown. I knew living with Miyagi would be challenging from the start. Since I forced her to choose to come here, I bear the responsibility to change this atmosphere. If I can't understand the sense of distance, then I should prepare something to measure it. A ruler to find our new distance. With such a tool, we could find the appropriate distance to maintain our individuality, living without excessive interference. When I first visited Miyagi’s home, we established rules together. If we create guiding rules once more, this living arrangement could become more comfortable. I lift my head and reach for my phone sitting at the edge of the table. I send a message to Miyagi, whose whereabouts I'm unsure of. "I'll wait for dinner, don't eat without me." After a short wait, her response arrives: "I don’t know what time I’ll be back." "I’ll wait. Until you come home." It sounds a bit threatening, but it can't be helped. "I'll grab something for us to eat on my way back." She doesn’t specify when she'll return, but if she's planning to bring food, she should be home around dinnertime. I reply with "I'll be waiting," and proceed to clean up the plate and glass from the French toast.