That night.
We sat across from each other at the dining table, eating dinner.
Yuno seemed distant, her eyes vacant. There was no light in her pupils; her chopsticks moved with mechanical precision.
She brought a side dish to her mouth, chewed it slightly, and reached out with her chopsticks again. She simply repeated this cycle over and over.
“Yuno.”
No response.
“Yuno?”
“Eh?”
She snapped back to attention, her large eyes widening as she blinked several times. Finally, her gaze locked onto my face.
“You seemed spaced out.”
“…Huh? …Ah, oh, is that so? Maybe I’m just a little sleepy.”
She gave a flimsy smile.
For a while after that, Yuno told me about her part-time job. The director’s favorite catchphrases. Scary episodes from her night shifts. Her tone was bright, and she even used gestures as she spoke.
Her expression was certainly smiling.
But the depths of her eyes were not.
Even though she was telling funny stories, her gaze would drift far away every time she finished a sentence. The phrase forced cheer crossed my mind.
When I got out of the bath, Yuno was leaning back on the sofa, sitting with a cushion hugged to her knees.
I sat down a short distance away with a coffee in my hand, stealing a glance at her profile.
She was supposed to be looking at the television, but her gaze was hollow, as if she were looking right through the screen. A faint frown creased the space between her eyebrows.
It was different from dinner. Perhaps she no longer had the energy to maintain the facade of being okay.
Suddenly, the memory of that moment on the sofa the other day flashed through my mind.
Being gently pressed down into the cushions, exchanging kisses, the passion deepening—
My body throbbed. I felt myself growing wet.
I wondered if my body was anticipating a continuation of that night.
What am I doing?
Despite my thoughts, I realized my body was being drawn toward Yuno.
The closer I got, the faster my heart hammered. Yuno’s body heat was right there. I could feel her breath.
Thump.
I rested my head on Yuno’s shoulder.
After a moment.
“…Aha. Cute.”
A hand landed softly on top of my head.
Gently, so gently, she stroked my hair. Just that simple act made a slow ache throb deep inside me.
Next, my body held its breath.
My heartbeat accelerated.
—But.
Slowly, her hand stopped.
Yuno quietly returned her hand to her lap and let out a small sigh.
“…Onee-san, I’m sorry. I’m feeling a bit unwell today. Can I borrow the bed?”
“…Eh? …I mean, yes, but…”
“Sorry.”
Without looking back, she stood up slowly.
I remained frozen on the sofa until her back disappeared into the bedroom.
The next morning, Yuno was energetic.
“Maybe it’s because I slept so well last night? I’m all better!”
She narrowed her eyes and gave a beaming grin. Her cheeks were a healthy pink, and her voice had a certain spring to it.
It was as if last night had been a lie.
She must have been exhausted from the consecutive night shifts she wasn’t used to. I need to make sure she gets proper sleep in the bed.
That’s what I thought.
The president’s office in the afternoon.
Unlike yesterday’s clear, spring-like blue sky, the sky visible from the window was a dull, overcast gray.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes.”
Click.
Matsuyama entered hesitantly, glancing around the room.
Ever since the recent incident, he seemed to have become extremely cautious even about opening the door to the president’s office.
He placed the coffee on the desk with a soft clink and immediately turned on his heel.
“Thank you, Matsuyama-san.”
“No problem.”
After taking a few steps, he stopped.
“Um, President…”
“What is it?”
After a moment of silence, he looked back at me.
“About Yuno-san…”
“Eh?”
Matsuyama cast his eyes down and began to turn back toward the door.
“No, on second thought… it’s nothing. Please excuse me.”
Before he could leave, I grabbed his hand with a snap.
Hearing Yuno’s name had made me react instinctively.
“What about Yuno? …What happened?”
Matsuyama looked at the hand gripping him, and his face turned red in an instant.
“P-please let go…”
“Ah, sorry. But what about Yuno?”
Still averting his gaze, Matsuyama spoke softly.
“…It might be better if we don’t talk about this here.”
Something turned cold deep in my chest.
“Eh, what do you mean…?”
“Do you have time tonight?”
After work, I went into an izakaya near the station with Matsuyama.
I poured a bottled beer and silently ate the appetizer. Watching the foam vanish at the bottom of the glass, I hesitated over how to start, and in the end, I asked point-blank.
“…So, what is it? This thing about Yuno.”
Matsuyama took a sip from his glass. He drank, dropped his gaze to the table, and paused for a moment.
He seemed to be debating whether to tell me or not.
I waited without saying a word. The bustling noise of the izakaya felt strangely distant.
Eventually, Matsuyama slowly opened his mouth.
“Yuno-san and Saeko-san are—”
“Eh…?”
A small sound escaped my lips involuntarily.