Chapter 1
The morning after I quit my job, I get up and smash my head against the wall. On purpose.
"Whaddaryoudoing?" Miki mumbles sleepily from my bed.
I've woken her up partially. She's sleeping over at my place because I wouldn't let her go home last night. I haven't seen her in months. There's no way she's going to be anywhere else but beside me.
"Punishing myself," I mutter, letting my forehead crash into the wall again.
"Oh, no. Don't. Let me do that for you," she says in a calm, reasonable manner.
She is obviously still half-asleep or she either wouldn't have said that or she would have said it in a dirty way.
I choose not to reply to her. I finished up with the wall and slip back into bed. Miki has woken up fully by the time I settle in under the covers.
"What were you just doing?" she asked, confused, a vague, incomplete memory probably tugging at her mind.
"Hitting my head against the wall as punishment," I reply crisply.
"...Why?"
The perplexed look on her face is so cute that I want to make a mould of it and bring it out every time I need to smile.
"'Cause I basically quit my job 'cause of you," I reply bluntly.
There is silence until Miki moves. She hugs me.
"Thank you Aya," she says in a sweet, spoiled, childish voice.
She sounds like a naughty little girl whose mother had just slapped her on the wrist and told her to thank Aunt Yuka for the delicious cookies. It's obnoxious and it makes me want to... melt.
"You understand this means I have nothing to do all day, right?" I inquire sharply.
"You'll find something," she says optimistically, her voice muffled because she has her face pressed into my side.
"It'll take too long."
"Hm. At least this means I can expect you to surprise me at my place more often and clean up and cook me delicious meals when I come home from work."
I can hear the sneaky grin in her voice.
Without a single word, I peel her hands and face off of me, get up, and stroll out of the room.
"Hey, where are you going?" she calls out after me.
I don't reply.
"Come back!" she laughs.
I walk calmly into the bathroom, lock the door, and begin to run the water. I hear the door handle shake a bit as Miki tries to open the door.
"Come on, let me in," she whines.
I smile victoriously as I undress quickly and step under the spray of water.
"Come on, Aya. I'm sorry I said that. I was just joking."
I smirk and lather up my hair. I hear her sigh in exaggerated frustration.
"I didn't mean it. In fact, I'll do all your cleaning and cook for you."
My shower is short and sweet, but it feels like it stretches for hours because she stands right outside serenading me with compliments and apologies.
When I'm finished and dried off, I wrap the towel around me and open up the door. Miki is sitting beside it patiently, and she shoots up to her feet when she sees me.
"I'm sorry, Aya," she says cutely.
I press the tip of her nose with my finger.
"Breakfast for fifteen days in a row," I demand.
She knows exactly what I mean. If she wants forgiveness, she has to earn it. Since I'm the world's worst morning person, breakfast is the meal I most often skip and thus the meal I appreciate most. Having her cook it will be a good penalty.
"Does that mean I have to stay over here with you for two weeks?" she asks with a grin.
I can't help but smile back.
"If you want."
She lets out a cheer and then uncharacteristically runs off to the kitchen, leaving me to get dressed.
What a strange girl.
I put on my clothing for the day and then make my bed, rolling my eyes at how Miki's side is always so much more wrinkled and messy because of her restlessness. At least she doesn't drool all over my sheets. No, she usually does that all over me because she ends up sleeping half on top of me anyway. But at least it's easier to clean myself and my pyjamas. I'm kind of glad we don't live together.
Once my bed looks presentable, I sit on it and take a breather, thinking about this "miracle" that has just happened to me.
I can't concentrate, though, because I can hear noise coming from the kitchen. Miki is fumbling around doing who knows what with all my appliances. I can hear her muttering from time to time, singing out the names of things she's looking for - salt, sugar, a spoon. It's cute, and it reminds me of cooking with her and Baachan in Takikawa just a few days ago but a few realities over. The only difference is that the other Miki is put together, organised, and smart in the kitchen. This one here is silly, clumsy, and likes to burn things.
I laugh at how I can like such a person so much. But I accept the truth. I'd prefer to eat burnt toast made by this Miki everyday for a year rather than fluffy rice and tender salmon made by a professional chef. It doesn't matter what the food is. As long as whoever makes it puts all his or her care and love into making it.
My face turns red in embarrassment at thinking such mushy things, and I lie back and roll onto my stomach, covering my face with my hands and groaning in pain.
"The hell are you doing?"
I flip over in fright and see Miki standing at the doorway to my room. She's leaning against the frame, her arms crossed and her face screwed up in amusement. I take my hands away from my face and sit up.
"Uh..."
I was thinking silly things about you and I embarrassed myself, I think. I don't want to tell her that. Then she'll just make fun of me and I'll get all flustered.
"Were you thinking about me again?" she teases me.
I roll my eyes. I also don't tell her because it’s redundant. I know she knows. It's so obvious.
"No. I was... tired," I reply defensively.
She comes over and sits beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder.
"You know, you were really different yesterday. Really nice to me and not at all like my mother, who you normally try to be," she said.
"I didn't notice," I say indifferently, looking down at my hands.
"But you know what? I honestly missed this you that treats me poorly and doesn't let me have any fun."
"I don't treat you poorly!" I gasp in offence. "I tolerate things nobody else in the world would put up with!"
"Pshht, maybe if everyone else in the world had the same views as you and was just a little less nice," Miki snorted. "I bet I could find fifty people in this neighbourhood who don't find my behaviour quirky."
She knows exactly what to say to send waves of jealousy through me. Harmless, playful jealousy, that is.
I clamp my arms around her possessively.
"No. Nobody else. Me," I pout like a child.
She giggles her insanely dorky giggle and pats me on the head.
"Okay, okay."
I revel in this soft moment.
"Hey," she says, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?"
"We should move in together."
I sigh.
We've had this conversation before and it never ends well. Not because we don't agree. Just because there are so many factors we have to consider that we become irked and confused and don't end up coming to any conclusion.
First of all, we have way too much stuff. We'd have to find a big enough place where we could both fit the mounds of shoes and clothes we both own, and unfortunately, while we make good money, we're not billionaires. Housing is expensive in this dense city, and finding a big enough place is difficult because of the lack of supply. Second of all, it's rather convenient to have apartments in different neighbourhoods. It's like having two headquarters rather than one from which to base our operations. Third of all, we're getting too old to be moving in together like that without people starting to question us. It's not something we talk about often because it makes us uncomfortable, but it's true that when your age starts to plunge into that "should be married soon" range, you don't start moving in with your friends and having slumber parties every night. According to the people around us, that is.
But then again, it would make life easier. If we could find a place with enough space for our shoes, that is. We'd have all our belongings in one place. We wouldn't have to waste time and money going back and forth to our different places to pick things up. We would be able to see each other a little more often. Every night, in fact. And it might save us some money on utilities (if the rent doesn't eat us out of a home).
Many things to consider.
I don't even have to open my mouth to remind Miki. She knows all of it.
"But I guess we have to think about it more, huh?" she says resignedly.
She tries not to sound dismayed, but I know she is. I am, too.
"It would be nice," I say in a quiet voice with a soft, honest smile, dropping my holier-than-thou act.
I absently pick at a thread that's poking out of the hemline of her pyjamas.
"Who knows," Miki starts in a mysterious voice. "Maybe it's safer to live apart. My life might be in danger if I piss you off too badly."
"Hahaha."
I continue to pull at the loose thread. It suddenly starts to unravel and I slap my hand down on it in fear and surprise.
Unfortunately, the hemline of Mki's pyjamas lies on her hipbone.
"Ow!"
"Ehh... Sorry," I cough, patting her hipbone lightly and secretly tucking the thread, now longer than the length of my hand, under her pyjama shirt.
"Anyway," I say quickly, "we can think about it more. We still have lots of years ahead of us."
And thus I say something she likes to hear. My words remind her that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. She's got power over me for what I think is going to be forever. She grins and bounces giddily on the bed, sending me bumping against her and the wall in a painful but kind of fun way.
And that's when I smell something burning.
"What are you cooking?" I ask in a low, dangerous tone.
"Shi-"
She's out of the room before she finishes her word. I hear her run to the kitchen and crash pots and pans around.
"ARG!!" she yells as if engaged in combat with the enemy.
I put my head in my hands and wonder if she's killed something. I'm afraid to find out.
I get up and poke my head out gingerly from my room. I walk out and round the corner.
Miki is fanning the contents of a frying pan with a towel while jumping up and down. I look on the ground and see that there's steam rising off the soaked floor. In the corner is a pot that has spilled its contents - half-boiled eggs and water. Her feet are burning.
"Miki, put that down and get over here!"
She doesn't think twice about it. She throws the pan in the sink and skips to safety as the hot metal hisses, leftover water in the sink sizzling instantly from the heat.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers.
I bend down and pick up one of her feet, making her yell out a series of curses as she wobbles around. I look at the sole. It looks fine. A little red, but not burned. I do the same with the other, and she claws at my back as she tries to stay upright.
"The good news is that your feet aren't burned," I inform her as I straighten up.
"Thanks, doctor," she grumbles, fixing her hair.
"The bad news is that you've burned whatever you were frying and you've destroyed two eggs and gotten my kitchen floor wet."
There's a long silence.
"But you still love me, right?"
I burst out laughing and move off to clean the mess. We work together, and in ten minutes, the floor is dry and everything is put back in its place.
"Let's skip breakfast for today," Miki says shyly.
"Right," I agree. "Go take a bath."
I point her in the direction of the bathroom and slap her on the butt to get her started. She shoots me an inviting look that I try my best to ignore and I go to my room.
While she's off in bathland, I look through the things in my room. I inspect all my photo albums. They are all back to normal. The pictures of Miki all exist, and I enjoy looking at them again. I look through my drawers and find some of her clothes there. The books she bought a few days ago are still on my shelf.
I shake my head and laugh. I've missed this life so much. I admit that Hokkaido was refreshing, but it really served as a reminder of how great my life is here and how much I need Miki around to keep me sane and make me feel whole and normal.
"And whoooooo would I beeeeeee if I couldn't beeeeee beside yoouuuuuu!?"
I hear horrendous singing coming from the bathroom. I cringe. Miki's singing a song that she's been trying to write for weeks now. She's been obsessed with trying to compose her own deep lyrics, but it still needs work.
Secretly, though, I like her cheesy lyrics. She shows them to me sometimes and I make fun of her, but they do touch my heart deep down inside. She writes them just for me.
"Whyyyy would I eeeeeeeeever leaaaaaaaaave if youuuuu are heeeeeeere!?"
I grab Mr. Monkey from the shelf and lie on my bed, hugging him tightly and looking up at the ceiling while listening to Miki screech out her song.
I'm definitely glad to be back.