On the morning of the day I was heading on a date with Hayashi, I woke up at my usual time. Hayashi always wakes up at a set time. However, during that time, she surprisingly doesn’t wake up even if there’s noise from cleaning or other activities. It’s a characteristic of hers that I learned after she started staying here.
Taking advantage of Hayashi not being awake, I began my morning cleaning routine. Of course, no matter how hard it is to wake her up, I still take great care not to disturb her.
“Good morning, Yamamoto.”
Yawning, Hayashi woke up.
“Good morning, Hayashi.”
By the time she wakes up, my cleaning has usually reached a stopping point. That has become the usual flow of our recent mornings.
It’s the beginning of August. Due to domestic violence from her ex-boyfriend, I’ve been hiding Hayashi in my apartment. It’s been just over two weeks. In such a short period of time, it has become completely normal for her to be in this room.
However, our life like this will soon come to an end.
“Hey, I can’t fix my bedhead.”
“Really? That’s a problem.”
“…Hmm.”
During high school, Hayashi was a notoriously unruly girl within our grade. She was nicknamed “Queen.”
However, when she first arrived in this room, her unruliness subsided, and she became a modest girl – not quite a proper lady, but close.
In just two weeks, Hayashi seems to have completely reverted to her former self.
“What’s that comb for?”
“Comb my hair for me.”
“Why?”
“It’s fine once in a while, isn’t it?”
“I’ve heard that girls don’t like having their hair touched by guys.”
“Some people are like that. But I’m fine with it.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“…Think about it the other way around.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just like there are girls who don’t want their hair touched by guys, there are also guys who don’t want to touch girls’ hair.”
“Are you one of those guys?”
“No, that’s not it.”
I approached Hayashi and took the comb from her. What kind of conversation was that? No retort came from her, which I appreciated. I had an absurd exchange with her, even by my standards.
“…You’re quite skillful with your hands, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, believe it or not, I was the best at sewing in my family.”
“You can’t really brag about that to others since you’re a guy, huh?”
Just a moment ago, I thought she had returned to her unruly self. However, in this situation, the old Hayashi would have said something like “disgusting” or “gross.” That was why she was called “Queen.”
She’s changed quite a bit.
Experiencing domestic violence was by no means a happy thing. But in terms of interacting with the opposite s*x, it might have been an important factor in softening her attitude.
I wonder where I’m observing this from.
“Thank you. My bedhead is completely gone now.”
“Yeah. But as you’re about to start living alone, it’s unbearable to spend so much time setting your hair.”
“It was the same during high school. I’m used to it.”
“But on days when you overslept, it must have been tough. What did you do? Did you set your hair on the train?”
“No, I just normally arrive late.”
“Because of your hair?”
“Yeah. I wrote on my late slip that I was late because I couldn’t get my hair to cooperate.”
Come to think of it, Hayashi often skipped school during high school. But I never thought the reason was… well, I don’t know if that was the reason for everything. However, listening to her now, it seems like all her reasons for being late were trivial.
What a bold woman.
Well, for her, setting her hair was a matter of life and death, more important than lowering her school evaluation points. This is just another difference in our values.
“From now on, stop doing things like that.”
Did she think I’d say something like that? I have to point it out from a public moral standpoint. I told her in an exasperated tone.
“Eh? But it’s important!”
“There’s no way that would work as a working adult. Try saying you were late because of your hair when you’re getting paid. You’ll lose credibility in an instant.”
First of all, she shouldn’t be waking up just in time to be late, but let’s put that aside for now. I told Hayashi with a sour face.
And then, I realized that might be a problem. She really hates it when I nag like this. Usually, she would get upset in these situations.
“…Well, if you say so, I’ll do it.”
But today, she accepted my opinion without hesitation.
“You’re surprisingly obedient. It’s a little scary.”
“What’s the matter? I’m just listening to you.”
“…My bad. Please do as I say.”
“Hmm.”
A brief silence filled the room.
“…What do you want for breakfast?”
The next one to speak was Hayashi. Both she and I were starting to get a little hungry.
