390 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 390 Aquariums, zoos, and movie theaters. I must choose a place other than those three for the outing with Sendai-san. I've been in the university lecture room for a little over ten minutes, staring intently at the key case Sendai-san gave me for my birthday. A Borzoi like Sendai-san is on the case, guarding my keys. Just looking at it makes me want to talk, but much like the black cat plush she gifted me, it won’t respond or offer any hints about where to go out with her. Of course, talking to a key case in a university would seem insane, but I feel an urge to talk to it, hoping for a clue. —This is no good. I tuck the mute Borzoi case into my bag and press my palms flat against the desk. I regret not lingering at home a bit longer to relax. Sendai-san, with her endless excuses for kissing and cuddling, made me leave hastily even though there was no need to rush. I have too much time on my hands now. Maika hasn’t arrived yet. With no one to speak with, my mind is obsessing over picking a place for the outing with Sendai-san, a choice that inexplicably fell to me. How did it come to this? It's been less than two years since I've shared a home with her, but she has embedded herself firmly in my consciousness. We’re only sharing a place until we graduate from university, so we haven’t even reached the halfway point — and yet, the share of my life she occupies is far too large. This doesn't seem like a healthy thing. I can't imagine what might happen if someone who dominates my thoughts like this were no longer around. Yet, the halfway point will inevitably arrive, and graduation isn’t so far off in the future. On our high school graduation day, I couldn’t let go of Sendai-san. That tenuous bond that should have been severed stayed connected, leading us to this day. But no matter how firmly you tie those threads, they can sometimes snap in one cut, drifting apart. Humans can use scissors to sever knots or even throw the entire thread away as if it were nothing. Feelings are invisible, elusive things, even less reliable than a knot. I’m not saying that they aren't worth believing in because you can't see them, but I do think that they are extremely unreliable. Living with Sendai-san for a year and a half showed me she's someone who spends birthdays with me, someone who stays by my side. She transformed my home from a place of solitude to one of shared moments, granting me the routine visits to aquariums and zoos that I rarely experienced as a child. With this in mind, it seems natural for my head to be filled with thoughts of Sendai-san, and it also seems normal for me to worry about where to go out with her. If we were to go out, I want Sendai-san to have fun, and I want her to be happy. Perhaps it was inevitable that I'd started thinking like this, and maybe my worries were completely justified. Yet, I can’t think of a place where she might truly enjoy herself. “Hmm…” With my face buried on the desk, I clench and unclench my hands. Yanking at my hair and groaning “hmm” once more, I hear Maika's voice. "Morning, Shiori." I lift my face, responding with a “Morning.” Maika sits beside me, smiling gently, “Yesterday was fun, wasn’t it?” “Yeah. Thanks for the apron. I used it today.” “Oh, did you? So then, did you make breakfast?” “Sendai-san did." "And you?" "By the time I got to help, it was already done." "So, it was Sendai-san who wore the apron then?" "Yeah. It suited her. I tried mine on too, even though I didn’t cook. I’ll start using it from now on." Sharing the truth brightens Maika’s face instantly. With a bright, understanding smile, Maika said, "I'm glad," and continued. “I'm kind of relieved. I worried about it, you know—choosing an apron because Mio-san suggested something you could use might be better. But people have different tastes when it comes to what they wear, so I wondered if it would be okay.” “It’s fine. I like it. Truly, thank you.” "I'm glad you liked it." Her voice is light and lively. Whether it’s something that disappears once you eat it, something that’s used up once you use it, or even something you just keep in your room. I don’t want to see Sendai-san happily treasuring anything she’s gotten from someone other than me. Still, I didn't want to do anything to make Maika sad either. Anything involving Sendai-san becomes inherently complicated. Even a simple joy of receiving a gift burdens my heart. Everything would have been simpler if it were just me who received it. I would have been able to truly be happy about receiving the apron, and say so without any lies. But reality can’t be so straightforward. I glance at Maika, grappling with the guilt in the back of my mind. "By the way, Maika, you and Mio-san really get along well. I knew you joined her for mixers, but I didn’t expect you two would pick out a present together,” I remark. Maika and Mio-san—a duo that might have graduated without ever crossing paths if they’d been in the same high school—bring unexpected developments for Sendai-san and me. “Mio-san is incredibly forward, reaching out often, and before I knew it, we became close. Oh, and Mio-san wants you to call her Mio," Maika shares. I don't know why they're talking about this behind my back, but something "unexpected" is happening again. I can't help but feel like keeping Maika and Mio-san together might spell trouble for me. "Aren't you going to call her Mio?" I counter with a safe question. “For some reason, I've been stuck on using '-san'. But maybe I'll start calling her Mio if you do." “I’m stuck on using ‘san’ too.” Smiling in response to Maika’s attempt to involve me, I try to shift the conversation away from its negative trajectory. But as these things go, it tends to spiral into worse directions, with Maika touching on things I wish she wouldn’t recall. "It’s like how you call Sendai-san ‘san’ despite all this time sharing a room. Why not just call her ‘Hazuki’?” “Hmm, I’m not calling her that yet.” Sendai-san's name is mine, and now I sometimes call her "Hazuki." But I only call her that when I want to confirm that "Sendai Hazuki" belongs to me alone. "Yet, so someday you might?" she probes. "Who knows." Though I want to call her by her name openly, I simultaneously don't want to. I know that openly saying such things would only stoke Maika’s curiosity, so I offer an ambiguous smile. “Names are there to be used,” she teases. My heart aches sharply. Maika will still call her "Sendai-san" until I start calling her "Hazuki." This fact was one I extracted from Sendai-san, and Maika believes I'm unaware of it. “So, if I start calling Sendai-san ‘Hazuki’ like you do with Mio-san, will you follow suit?” I ask. “Well, maybe I’ll call her that if you do. Though it doesn’t seem like you’ll be switching anytime soon,” Maika replies with a chuckle. That's not the case, but I leave it like that. I have no intention of telling a lie, I can't think of anything else to say. “By the way, Shiori, what are you having for dinner tonight?” “Uh, instant noodles,” I admit, caught off-guard by Maika’s sudden shift in topic. “You can’t do that; use the apron properly!” she scolds playfully. “I’m by myself today, and I’m too lazy to cook.” “Today is Sendai-san’s tutoring day, right?” she confirms. “Yeah.” Ideally, I’d want to eat the hamburg steak made by Sendai-san. But I’m not cruel enough to demand that she cook one after her job, and making hamburg steaks isn’t my forte. Instant noodles will suffice for today. “When will Shiori’s apron be used?” “It’ll get plenty of use tomorrow, I think.” “Hmm, well, then that’s fine,” Maika declares with a theatrical tone, flashing a satisfied smile.