The table was set with the dinner Yarai-san had made.

Rice, miso soup, fried eggplant in broth, and on the main plate… some kind of grilled meat (probably pork) and a hamburger steak. That was a lot of meat. It looked more like the meal of a household with a high school baseball player.

Once Yarai-san sat down as well, I pressed my hands together.

“Let’s eat.”
“Go ahead, help yourself.”

I started with the miso soup. The seasoning was a bit saltier than at home, but delicious.

The fried eggplant had retained its ginger aroma, with the flavor soaked all the way through.

Next, I reached for the hamburger steak. It didn’t have any kind of sauce on it, but maybe that was the standard here. Yarai-san was eating it plain, so I followed her lead.

“…It’s good.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. The seasoning was soy-sauce based, kind of like the flavor from that chain restaurant, Bikkuri D*nkey¹—surprising you could pull that off at home.

“Ehehe, I’m so happy to hear that.”

Yarai-san beamed, smiling from ear to ear at my comment.

Still smiling, she started shoveling huge bites of her mountain of rice into her mouth. Maybe that was why there were so many meat dishes—to go with all the rice she ate. She really was like a ballplayer.

“I think I’ll have seconds. How about you, Kaidou-san?”
“N-no, I’m fine.”
“Okay!”

She picked up her bowl and headed straight for the rice cooker. Even after piling on that ridiculous first helping, she was still going for more.

Her second bowl was just as full, and she returned to the table with a satisfied grin.

“See? Tsuzuri eats a ton. The food expenses are no joke.”

Her mother sighed as she sipped her drink and nibbled on side dishes.

“I can imagine…”
“And the most annoying part is, she doesn’t gain a single ounce. Drives me crazy, even as her own mother.”

It was true. Eating like that should have shown on her body right away. And it wasn’t like Yarai-san was on a sports team burning calories. Just where did it all go?

“…Her chest?”
“Her chest.”

My voice and her mother’s overlapped in unison. Looks like we were thinking the exact same thing.

Her mother’s bust wasn’t particularly large, so either it skipped a generation—or Yarai-san herself was some kind of singular anomaly.

“If you two eat a lot too, yours will grow bigger as well!”
“Uh, no thanks, I’ll pass.”

That big just looked like it would get in the way—physically and mentally. It would attract way too much attention. Honestly, the only one who could endure all the curious stares from boys is you, Yarai-san.

“I’ll double-push the miso soup too!”

What, was she an Ak*gi fan?²

Humming cheerfully, Yarai-san ladled miso soup into her bowl and started back toward her seat.

That’s when it happened.

“Whoa!”

She tripped. On absolutely nothing, as far as I could tell, and went down hard.

The soup bowl she was holding flew from her hands—its contents landing squarely on me.

“…”
“Oh dear, Ritsu-chan, are you alright?”
“Ah, yes. I’m totally fine, but…”

Despite being tipsy, her mother immediately appeared with a towel, gently patting my head and shoulders dry.

“S-sorry, Kaidou-san! You’re not burned or anything, are you?”

Yarai-san scrambled up and rushed to me, her forehead red from where it had hit the floor.

“Aside from my head smelling like miso, I’m fine.”
“R-right… sorry…”
“You, on the other hand, look more hurt than me.”

She must have bruised herself—the redness on her forehead stood out. Her pretty face was ruined, at least for now. …Although, I had to admit, the damage gave her a certain kind of approachable charm.

And above all, seeing Yarai-san’s uncharacteristically contrite—nearly in tears, even—was rare.

If only she’d been this humble when apologizing for stealing my first kiss.

“I’m fine. I’m always like this.”

Constantly covered in scrapes and bruises… she was like an elementary school boy.

“Tsuzuri, go bring Ritsu-chan something to wear.”
“Ah, right. Got it.”

Prompted by her mother, Yarai-san left the room to fetch clothes.

“Sorry about this, Ritsu-chan. I’ll have those clothes cleaned and returned to you.”
“Oh, no. Sorry for the trouble.”

It was overkill to go as far as dry-cleaning, but I chose to respect her mother’s decision. Getting into a back-and-forth of polite refusals would have just been a hassle.

I waited for Yarai-san while patting myself dry with the towel. But she was taking her time coming back.

What’s she doing? Well, given how different our heights were, maybe it was harder than I thought to find something that would fit me.

Eventually, she returned—empty-handed.

“Sorry! I started thinking about what kind of clothes would look good on Kaidou-san, and I couldn’t decide.”
“I’m just going home after this, so as long as it fits, anything is fine.”
“No way, I can’t let you walk around looking frumpy!”

What on earth was she getting so worked up about? Honestly, a tracksuit would have been more than enough.

“Ah—before that, Ritsu-chan, why don’t you take a bath? You smell like miso, and you’re going on the train, right?”
“Ah… well, you’re not wrong.”
“The water’s already heated. You’ll be taking your clothes off anyway, so might as well.”
“In that case, I’ll take you up on that.”

Once I agreed, she told Yarai-san to go and show me to the bath.