Unease and suspicion struck her simultaneously; Inohara's drunken words cut into her like a knife.
"I want to know what I lost to her. Looks? Family background?" Inohara gripped her wrist, then pried open her clenched fist and intertwined their fingers. "The cultural festival concert is perfect for a date, don't you think?"
"..." Kusanagi bit her lip tightly, finally lowering her resisting hands and letting Inohara pull her into an embrace.
"You two can't stay together forever. She'll get a boyfriend, get married, have children. She'll return to China after graduation. She and you aren't even from the same world. You asked me why I was so late coming up that day?" Inohara leaned close to her ear. "She told me all this herself."
"I don't believe it."
"Don't believe it? Go verify it yourself. See if she'll push you away with disgust and immediately move out to escape. Who would want to live with a clingy pervert?"
Upon hearing this, Kusanagi's face instantly turned deathly pale, her eyelashes trembling.
Seeing Kusanagi with this expression, Inohara's heart twisted violently with pain. Why? Why won't you show such an expression for me? Since the effect was achieved, she decided to tear everything apart completely: "She's going to leave Japan in the future. You're different. You can't be together forever!"
The girl hung her head, her lips slightly quivering.
"Kusanagi, I'll always be with you. I won't leave you. What do I lack compared to her?" Inohara cupped her face, staring directly into her eyes, emboldened by the alcohol.
Kusanagi's gaze was vacant. She seemed utterly crushed by Inohara's words, offering no resistance even to Inohara's actions, her arms hanging limply.
"Where did those two run off to? They're not here either."
I searched along the way. The streets of Shinjuku had many twists and turns, with lots of small alleys. I should have asked Li Shijia to come help search; she knows this area best.
I walked forward along the dimly lit alley, calling their names. The noise from the city streets was overwhelming, making my voice seem insignificant.
For some reason, I felt a slight tightness in my chest, a breath stuck halfway, uncomfortable.
When Inohara left, she glanced at me. What was that look? It was filled with thick resentment, pain, jealousy, and hatred, as if we had some deep-seated grudge, as if she wanted to tear me apart the next second.
I thought after our talk at the apartment, she had let down her guard and wariness toward me. I didn't expect it to worsen this time.
What on earth is the reason?
"...What do I lack compared to her?... Friend?…"
Inohara's drunken voice came from a secluded street corner, which I keenly caught. Finally found them. I quickened my pace and called out to them, "Inohara, Miss Kusanagi—"
The scene before me made me freeze mid-step. Inohara had Kusanagi pinned against the wall, the two entangled in a very close position. Their long hair obscured their faces, but the distance between them was only a few centimeters.
My heart suddenly clenched.
"...Miss Nozawa?" Kusanagi seemed to finally snap back to reality, murmuring uncertainly, struggling to lift her eyes to look at me.
Her face was pale and despondent, fragile as if she had been sobbing uncontrollably. I had never seen Kusanagi with this expression before, and my heart ached intensely.
"What are you two doing here?" I quickly separated them, wordlessly taking Kusanagi's hand while hoisting the drunken, unsteady Inohara onto my shoulder. Just as I was about to walk away, I suddenly noticed a layer of purplish-red bruising on Kusanagi's wrist.
My heart sank to the bottom. This Inohara. What did she do to Kusanagi?
A surge of anger rose within me. Suppressing the fire in my heart, I forcefully held onto Inohara without any gentleness. She, however, was restless, swaying and trying to break free.
"Why are you here... let me go!" Inohara glanced at me blearily. I released my grip, and she slumped to the ground.
"I let go. Sleep on the street then."
I coldly took out my phone, messaged Momozawa to come pick Inohara up, then pulled Kusanagi's wrist over and silently began massaging the bruised area.
The atmosphere around me was terrifyingly low. Several passersby wanted to ask what was happening but were scared off by my oppressive mood.
Kusanagi also sensed my anger. She obediently extended her wrist for me to massage. It hurt a bit, and her hand instinctively tried to pull back.
"Don't move."
Hearing my forceful tone, the girl was startled, even her breathing softened. I silently massaged, my inner annoyance growing stronger, mixed with an indescribable irritability.
"From now on, except for school, you are not to leave my sight alone."
The girl lowered her damp eyes and nodded silently.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Seeing such a large bruise on her wrist made my anger flare up. I glared fiercely at Inohara lying on the ground. How painful must that be? How could she use so much force?
"Are you angry?" After a long while, the girl asked hoarsely in a low voice.
I didn't admit it, but my tightly pressed lips said it all.
A wave of irritability surged within me; even the air I breathed felt cold.
If I had found her earlier, the injury could have been avoided. Drunk people usually have no reason. It's all my responsibility. If I had arrived any later, who knows what worse things might have happened.
My irritability turned into guilt, regret, anger, and some unclear, tangled thoughts.
"You need to learn to protect yourself. No one is allowed to hurt you. This is important, very important. Not even friends, understand?"
The girl murmured softly, "Will you protect me?"
"Of course I will protect you." I answered firmly without hesitation, massaging the subcutaneous bruise. It seemed cold compresses were needed to reduce the swelling. "I'm an adult."
"For how long will you protect me?" The girl suddenly smiled. Her dark, deep pupils were clear and bright, yet mixed with profound loss.
How long? I had never thought about this question.
A spark that could start a prairie fire smoldered faintly, deep within my heart.
I met her gaze, unable to voice an answer.
Weeks passed in a flash.
In the morning, I got up early specifically to prepare a table full of good dishes, all following Mr. Kuroki's recipes, including some very labor-intensive sushi. Fresh ingredients from the morning market—Japanese people love fresh fish and shrimp, and Kusanagi especially likes them, something I noticed from the dishes she ate most before.
Since that unpleasant incident with Inohara, Kusanagi's mood hadn't been good. She often sat silently curled up on the sofa. I didn't feel great either and kept trying different ways to cheer her up.
Fish, deboned, placed white and glistening in a bowl. Bright red shrimp shells piled high on a plate, the orange shrimp meat heaped into a small mountain.
"Miss Kusanagi." I brought it over with a smile.
Seeing the peeled shrimp, the girl's chest heaved heavily, as if she was suppressing something with great effort.
"I remember you like shrimp. Peeling is troublesome, so isn't this way of eating directly great?" I picked up a piece, carefully holding it with my hand and offering it to her lips. "Try a bite, hmm?"
The girl's gaze flickered uncertainly. She stared at me for a moment. "Who told you to peel them?"
Her sharp tone startled me. "I just wanted to make it easier for you to eat."
"You really know how to take care of people." She pursed her lips, her face cold, looking extremely indifferent.
I put down the chopsticks, not knowing what I did wrong. The girl's anger was like unpredictable rain on a cloudy day, falling without warning.
I could only say, "Eat a little, okay? Otherwise, your stomach will feel uncomfortable."
"No appetite." The girl stood up, closed her door tightly, leaving no gap, as if closing the door to her heart.
I felt somewhat awkward and at a loss. Watching her retreating back, I helplessly rubbed my temples.
Why did it turn out like this?
I even started to doubt whether I should have stumbled upon her and Inohara that day. They are close friends, while I'm just an outsider who's been here less than five months. Whatever happened between them wasn't for me to comment on.
The mind of an underage girl was unprecedentedly difficult to discern.
I rubbed my temples for a while but still had no clue.
In the following weeks, I privately asked Momozawa for help, hoping she could arrange a meeting with Inohara so I could apologize in person and also hoped she and Kusanagi could talk properly. But Inohara didn't want to meet me and even asked Momozawa to tell me that her relationship with Kusanagi was none of my business to lecture about.
Afterward, Momozawa comforted me for a while, telling me not to take it to heart. Their arguments were normal, and they would make up soon. I had no choice but to let it go.
It seemed things could only be left like this. Leave it to time.
I took a bite of the shrimp meat, chewing slowly. The sweetness held a hint of sourness.
Hearing the sound of dishes being cleared outside the room, the girl seemed like a taut string snapping. She leaned against the wall and slowly crouched down.
Looking at the large table of carefully prepared dishes, she only felt a clogging sense of frustration in her stomach, making it hard to swallow. All those negative, incomprehensible emotions were finally stripped of their cover by Inohara's words, exposed openly under the sun.
The better that woman was to her, the more she felt shameless and despicable. Seeing her gentle, smiling face made her heart inexplicably race. She wasn't a fool; she knew what this meant.
She wore black clothes on purpose. She deliberately left her collar open when she threw herself at the woman. Including the teasing texts, holding hands at the cultural festival—it was all intentional. It was originally bold and Extremely unrestrained, but the moment she thought about being disliked by the other, all her courage vanished.
She would leave Japan in the future. Once this thought took shape, it could no longer be erased.
Defeated before the battle even began.
In the days that followed, time passed quickly. Several months flashed by.
The damp, stuffy summer transformed into the desolate autumn wind, then into the cold winter with temperatures just a few degrees. Kusanagi and I still saw each other every day, but she spoke less and less. From leaving in the morning to returning home at night, having dinner and going back to her room, sometimes we had almost zero communication.
It felt like we had never had this kind of dynamic between us. Since we first met, she had always brought me all sorts of surprises and joy, but this current way of getting along seemed more like what roommates ought to have. Not disturbing each other, living in peace. It made sense both emotionally and logically.
By the end of the year, I was running around like a headless chicken, having to squeeze in time for my part-time job, so in the rush, I pushed the matter to the back of my mind.
By the time I realized something was wrong with her, November in Tokyo had already arrived quietly.
In November, cold air scattered endlessly, quickly chasing away the warm sunshine. The biting wind blew against everyone's faces, yet young people unafraid of the cold walked along the streets in miniskirts or shorts, their nose tips red—a beautiful sight to behold.
It had been two months since I started my internship, and the end of the month brought our first mock exam. As a grade-level exam, it would go into our permanent records and count toward our academic scores, so for a while, I was so busy I could barely touch the ground, running between the clinic and the classroom every day.
After winter set in, the number of patients in the cardiology department increased, and I was temporarily assigned to the internal medicine department to learn. With the volatile climate and the constant shifts between hot and cold, many people were highly susceptible to cardiovascular and cerebrovascular diseases, including symptoms like hypertension, heart disease, and cerebral insufficiency. Some patients, lacking knowledge about seasonal care, would frequently appear at the hospital during winter, greatly increasing the workload for medical staff.
At the same time, I kept in frequent contact with Alex. He had recently transferred from emergency rescue to the resuscitation unit. It was said that the practical mock exam would likely cover emergency care knowledge. To secure these marks, I decided to take the initiative and invite Alex to a meal, taking the opportunity to ask him about the details of the assessment.
"You two stood me and my junior fellow up last time. Don't you think you should make it up to us this time?"
Last time, he and his junior fellow had been shoved into a car by that tigress. Not only did they not get to eat, but they didn't even have the chance to say goodbye to Miss Nozawa before the two of them returned to the school dormitory all alone.
"It's one thing to shove you in, but why chase me away too?" Peng Keming scratched his head. "Senior, if you want to pursue Miss Nozawa, you should do it properly. Hanging out with a bunch of girls late at night really doesn't look good."
"You're a well-fed man who doesn't know what it's like to be hungry. Get lost, get lost, get lost."
How did that Chinese saying go? "It rains on a leaking roof, and the boat is delayed by a headwind." Miss Nozawa taking the initiative to invite him to dinner was truly the rain on his leaking roof sent by the heavens.
Peng Keming looked at him like he was an idiot. It was probably better not to tell his senior what the phrase "it rains on a leaking roof" actually meant.
Alex's fresh and handsome face lit up with a smile, carrying a dash of dashing charm. "How have things been since that day? Did you have a good time?"
"We went to Shinjuku and ate a lot of good food." I paused. "There was a small incident, but it's all fine now."
The meal went quite pleasantly. I asked many questions about the details of the emergency care assessment, and he sent me PDFs of the past five years' exam papers—all internal materials, which were very hard to come by.
I packaged these materials along with the newly updated content and sent them to Li Shijia. I snuck off to the front desk to pay the bill in advance, but to my surprise, Alex had beaten me to it. He had already paid and was waiting for me with a smile.
However, I didn't want to owe him any more favors, so I immediately pulled up the chat box on WeChat and transferred the money to him.
"It is my honor to treat Miss Nozawa to dinner, and it is also my honor to drive you home." Alex opened the door of his Mercedes and chivalrously shielded my head. "Miss Nozawa, please get in."
"Check your WeChat first. If you don't accept the payment, I won't get in the car."
"How can that be..."
"Senior."
Seeing my insistent attitude, Alex raised both hands. His phone screen showed a screenshot of the payment received. He shrugged. "Wow, Miss Nozawa is the first girl to treat me to dinner."
I was unimpressed. "You've probably said that to many girls, right?"
He remained unflappable. "I've only ever said it to Miss Nozawa."
I rolled my eyes internally. Li Shijia was truly right—a common phrase that playboys love to keep on their lips is: 'I've only ever done [XX] with you.'
The car sped off, heading in the direction of Tokyo Tower. Taking taxis in Japan is very expensive, and maintaining a Mercedes like this costs at least tens of thousands of yen a month, not including parking fees, tolls, and other expenses. I wondered how much Alex earned at the clinic per month.
I gripped the backpack in front of my chest tightly; in the inner compartment was Kusanagi's signed card. That guitar.
"Miss Nozawa, you seem to have something you want to say." The watch on Alex's wrist was also quite valuable as it gleamed silver while he steered the wheel. He played a very soft song, sung by a well-known Japanese female star.
"Senior, you really are discerning."
"Ming cha qiu hao? What does that mean?" He laughed.
"It means having very good insight," I explained. "Actually, I wanted to ask, Senior, how much is the salary at the Japan University clinic per month?"
"Why are you suddenly interested in this?" He flicked on the left turn signal, yielding to pedestrians passing by.
"I've been wanting to buy something expensive lately, but my part-time job at the bookstore isn't enough, so I wanted to look for something else."
"The emergency department is hiring nurses and medical guides recently. It's about 250,000 yen a month." Alex glanced at me from the side. "Miss Nozawa, if you don't mind, I can refer you directly to the clinic."
"I do mind." I interrupted him, then felt I had been a bit too harsh, so I softened my tone. "Thank you for telling me, Senior, but I want to work for it myself. This expensive item is a gift, and it's very important to me."
Alex paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. "I knew Miss Nozawa would react like that. Alright then, I'll wait for you in the emergency department."
"Okay." My eyes curved into crescents.
The car stopped across the street. A cold breeze blew by, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. Just as I was about to say goodbye to Alex, a man holding a large package ran over in a hurry. "Are you Ms. Nozawa? Please sign for this."
It turned out to be a package my family had sent me. My birthday was in a few days, and they had sent me the local specialties I loved. There was even a colorful note attached that said 'Birthday Gift, handle with care.'
I took it with some difficulty. Seeing this, Alex got out of the car to help. The man was strong, and he took the package quite easily.
"Oh? Is your birthday in November too?" Alex noticed the writing on the package and opened his eyes wide in surprise. "Mine too! November 6th!"
"That's such a coincidence." I was also very surprised.
"I'm holding a birthday party at home the day after tomorrow. Miss Nozawa wouldn't refuse to give me this honor, right?" He was very delighted by this unexpected coincidence. "Shijia will be there too. I'll come pick you up then, and we can celebrate together."
Since he had put it that way, I had no reason to refuse. "Okay, that's fine."
We chatted for a while longer. He insisted on carrying it to the door. We went back and forth for a while before finally settling for leaving the package in the entryway. Before he left, he reminded me to be ready for him to pick me up on time the night after next, and I had no choice but to nod and agree.
I struggled to move the large package and took out a pair of scissors to open it. The ingredients inside smelled delicious. I wondered if Kusanagi would like this kind of food. Based on my judgment of her, she definitely would. She would hold the chopsticks with her slender, fair hands, express a bit of disdain, and then stuff it into her mouth.
Come to think of it, it had been a long time since I had seen the girl's smiling face.
The weather had been getting colder recently. I didn't know if she was wearing a scarf or gloves. I heard her cough a few times last time, and she hadn't even drunk the medicine I brewed for her.
Even as slow as I was, I could feel the girl's obvious and sudden coldness.
She no longer taught me Japanese, no longer called me "Hey," and no longer lost her temper with me. Occasionally, if we made eye contact, she would quickly look away.
Sometimes when I called out to her, she would pretend not to hear and walk away quickly, leaving behind only a slender silhouette. This situation had been going on for a long time. I didn't know where the root of the problem was, and I had no way to solve it at all. At the same time, I felt disappointed by this change in her. A dense, crushing bitterness filled my chest, stemming from her indifference and lack of communication.
My heart felt blocked. For the first time, I understood the meaning of melancholy—a belated sadness that I couldn't put into words.
Whatever happened, no one had the right to interfere. That was what people said, but in the end, I still cared—cared very much.
The scene of Inohara pinning her against the wall kept flashing through my mind over and over again.
Kusanagi actually didn't resist. But her expression looked like she was about to cry.
What were they... doing at that time?
I didn't see it clearly at the time, but thinking about it now, that face-to-face posture was far too intimate. But if she hadn't resisted, how did Kusanagi get that bruise around her wrist, and why did she show that expression of asking for help when she saw me?
I couldn't figure it out; my mind was a mess.
I got distracted for a moment and didn't notice that the seasoning I was boiling had started to boil over. The boiling water spilled onto the stove and instantly flowed all over the floor.
"Ugh, what is this?" I rolled up my sleeves helplessly to clean it up. I prepared new seasoning, mixed it well for marinating. Kusanagi had a mild palate, so I specifically reduced the amount of seasoning and made a Chinese dish exclusively for her.
I hoped she would be a little happier and reconcile with Inohara as soon as possible.
... If it was really as I had just thought, then wouldn't I have interrupted their intimate moment? That would really be a mood killer. If they truly liked each other, there was no need to rush for this moment. After all, their studies weren't finished yet, and they still had plenty of time to squander. It wouldn't be too late to play then, right?
I stared at the dish on the table.
Fresh, bright red, tender, and juicy.
This was the age for falling in love, after all.
I couldn't describe the feeling. A tightness blocked my chest, and a wave of depression and discomfort surged into my heart.