There was one thing I had learned in life.
If you ignored a misunderstanding because clearing it up seemed like a hassle, it would always come back later as an even bigger hassle.
Although I had not had time to watch many movies since taking over this life—maintaining a deviation score of seventy-four while writing was no easy task—I had not avoided them entirely.
I had also sought out several works to compare this world with my former one, so I had accumulated a fair amount of input from this world’s films as well.
That was why, despite being caught off guard for a moment, I quickly came up with a plausible answer.
Of course, Yukimura still looked suspicious after hearing it.
It was the expression someone in my former life might have made after hearing a person name as the greatest movie ever made.
Or perhaps after hearing someone call <Steins;Gate> the defining work of their life.
Her thoughts came through loud and clear.
It is good enough to be someone’s favorite movie, but…
She could not tell whether I had watched countless movies before choosing this one above them all, or whether it was simply the only movie I had ever seen.
She looked like she had plenty she wanted to ask, but unfortunately, Yukimura was Cinderella. Whenever a customer came in, she had to go serve them.
Fortunately for me.
I drank a glass of water and rose from my seat.
Time to run.
***
At lunch the next day, I put a piece of simmered burdock root into my mouth and asked Saito,
“So why did you ask when I was coming back?”
“Am I not allowed to ask?”
Saito continued moving his chopsticks without a care.
That kind of composure even after being hit with an unexpected question. This was exactly why companies needed to stop conducting stress interviews. They only ended up hiring sociopaths like him.
I was joking.
“So can I go rest at a hotel now and just come back briefly tomorrow morning before school?”
“…Can you spare me some time?”
“Why?”
“There’s someone I need you to meet with me…”
This was the first time Saito had watched my reaction this carefully since nine years ago.
No. Come to think of it, he had not been this cautious even then. Not even when Rei divorced him.
I asked, just in case.
“Did Rei contact you?”
“As if. Would you, if you were her, Touji?”
At Saito’s immediate answer, I narrowed my eyes.
Seeing my expression, Saito set down his chopsticks and spoke.
“You hate it when people beat around the bush, right?”
“So do you.”
“I’m getting remarried.”
“Oh. I thought that was probably it from the start. You kept dragging it out so long that I started wondering if it was something else.”
It could not be said often enough that my current family situation was far from normal.
A father who failed to act like the head of the household. A mother who got sick of everything and left both her husband and child behind.
And now a stepmother on top of that?
Any ordinary child would have been classified as high-risk the moment they took a stress assessment. Saito had good reason to hesitate.
But had we not come too far to worry about something that minor?
Environment was a relative concept.
What felt like a happy home to one person could feel like neglect to someone else.
That was why I actually found things more comfortable now.
Rather than living in a supposedly normal family where I had to call someone Father even though I did not think of him that way, I preferred the Saito household, where I could simply say exactly what I thought.
This was where Saito’s most remarkable quality came in. There was a reason I did not think badly of him.
Saito had calmly accepted that I did not call him Father.
His reasoning was that if he did not properly act like a father, then the other person had the right not to call him one.
No matter how pathetic someone was, they were usually tolerable as long as they were not a hypocrite.
No, sometimes it even made them more likable.
I had wandered slightly off topic, but for those reasons, Saito and I had maintained a very detached relationship.
At least, that was what I thought.
Apparently, I had been mistaken.
Did he still think of me as his son deep down? Was that why he was being so cautious?
When I stared at him in fascination, Saito picked up his chopsticks with a broad smile.
“I knew you wouldn’t care much.”
…Or not?
Maybe we really did have a detached relationship after all.
Saito continued while eating.
“You’re busy, right? So I was going to get married first and introduce you later when you had time, but Yuna told me to stop talking nonsense.”
“Any normal person would.”
So that was why he had been dragging this out. His future wife had ordered him to do it properly, and now he was squirming over it.
He had not been watching my reaction at all.
Saito was Saito after all.
What a relief.
Still, he was surprisingly capable. How had he managed to win a woman over?
Even now, Saito was an unknown painter.
He did make money, so he was probably doing better than the average painter, but compared to the average person, his income was somewhere near the very bottom.
And in that situation, not merely dating, but getting remarried?
That took serious skill.
I asked to make sure.
“What does she do?”
“She’s a lawyer.”
He really was capable.
I was genuinely impressed.
How did an unknown painter with a child manage to win over a lawyer?
Knowing Saito’s tastes, she was guaranteed to be younger than him too. It was practically one of the seven wonders of the world.
“When am I meeting her?”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight. All right.”
Making time was not difficult. A writer who was not writing was no different from being unemployed.
Of course, I was effectively independent, supporting myself with the money I earned, so I had no obligation to listen to anyone.
Still, she was the woman Saito was going to marry.
I could meet her the way I might meet a friend’s wife.
“Oh, Yuna is remarrying too. She has a daughter.”
“I assumed as much.”
Being an unknown painter was already a serious drawback. An unknown painter with a child?
No matter how skilled he was, winning over someone who had never married before would have been asking too much.
“Her daughter is three grades below you. I heard she starts her first year of middle school this year.”
“…How old is the woman you’re marrying?”
“Hm? Thirty-one. Why?”
“No reason.”
I started calculating when Yuna must have had her child, then smacked my lips.
A lawyer?
Was she some kind of superhuman?
Separately, Saito seemed to possess an innate talent for attracting patriots.
Judging from the patriotic tendencies of both my biological mother and my future stepmother, that much was certain.
I gathered up the dishes and stood.
“Then call me again around dinnertime.”
“All right.”
I went into my room and picked up my smartphone and wired earphones. Then a question occurred to me, and I looked around.
This place was closer to a studio apartment than a one-bedroom, and it was extremely cramped for two people.
Living with someone else would be uncomfortable, so what was he planning to do after remarrying?
Well, that was the exact sort of thing I did not need to worry about.
They were both grown adults. They could figure it out themselves.
They would probably live together in the home of his future wife, who was likely financially comfortable.
Wherever she lived, it had to be bigger than this place.
I put in my earphones, worked my phone, and started a song.
A heavy band sound pounded against my eardrums.
That meant I was ready to run, so I slowly headed outside.
Unemployed people in their twenties often contracted a disease that made them mistake themselves for writers.
Countless actual writers had offered advice to those delusional patients.
Do not overthink it. Reward yourself. Follow genre conventions. Write contemporary fantasy. Send the protagonist back in time. Keep the setting simple. Consume more stories.
They gave all kinds of advice.
It was all useless nonsense.
More precisely, it came from people speaking only from their own perspective without considering the other person’s circumstances, so there was no need to take it seriously.
Even so, there was one piece of advice I believed was always correct.
Exercise.
The human body was amusing. Unlike a game, if you wanted to put points into Intelligence, you also had to invest in Strength.
Your mind worked better when you did both strength training and cardio.
To be honest, at my current age, my brain worked perfectly well even without exercise. But this was not something you did for the present. You did it for ten years from now.
To be healthy in your twenties, you exercised in your teens. To be healthy in your thirties, you exercised in your twenties.
Maintaining yourself was essential if you wanted to make a living from writing for a long time.
I emptied my mind and kept moving my feet, and before I knew it, I had reached the riverside.
Breathing in the distinctive smell of water, I put more force into my stride. I always increased my pace once I reached the river. It was my usual running routine.
For some reason, I felt especially good today. Maybe it was because I had slept well. My body felt lighter than usual.
I took out my smartphone and changed the song.
Something faster.
Aggressive drums poured through my earphones, and with my eyes fixed straight ahead, I drove my foot hard into the ground.
Then I slipped spectacularly.
My young body reacted quickly, but while I managed to avoid twisting my ankle, I could not stop myself from falling.
After thoroughly cleaning the road with my clothes, a hollow laugh escaped me.
No wonder I had felt so good. Had it all been foreshadowing for my one-day career as a street cleaner?
At least there was no one around.
Otherwise, I would have been so embarrassed I might have wanted to smash my head into the ground.
What had I stepped on? Judging by the hard, rounded sensation, it had to be a glass bottle…
I pushed myself up slightly and checked beneath my feet.
Sure enough, there was a glass bottle.
Of course.
I kicked the bottle away and awkwardly climbed to my feet.
I was mildly irritated, but it was not as though I could drag back the person who had littered.
I was planning to resume my run before my body cooled down.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not the one who threw that there.”
I froze at the sudden voice.
I had heard it somewhere before.
When I looked to the side, I saw someone I had met before leaning against the railing.
The center of the bridge jutted outward, which was why I had not noticed Yukimura until now.
Yukimura spoke while adjusting a camera.
“Can you help me for a minute if you’re not busy?”
“I’m busy.”
“Don’t be so distant. We know each other.”
“What exactly are we?”
“Movie friends?”
I had no idea when we had become movie friends, but I held out my hand to Yukimura anyway.
I had intended to quickly take a picture and leave, but Yukimura frowned at my gesture.
“What are you doing?”
“What?”
“Go stand by the railing. The light is perfect right now.”
My brain stopped for a moment.
Uh… What?
So I was not supposed to take the camera and photograph Yukimura.
Yukimura was holding the camera because I was the one about to be photographed?
Well.
What an unusual person.