Yuu-3
“Meat, meat, yay for meat!”
Misa was tapping the edge of the table to the rhythm of some kind of marching song. Ratatatat. The sight of her swaying her head repeatedly as she stared at the mountain of roast beef with sparkling eyes was utterly adorable, just like a toy marching band. Should I not write a proposal to include my little sister, a bona fide angel, into the pantheon of religious paintings?
“All right, I have to start off with ponzu (1)! Could you please pass the ponzu?”
“Haruma-san, Misa wants you to pass the ponzu.”
“…Kay.”
Sitting across from Misa was Haruma-san, who had recently gotten out of the bath. He smelled of our shampoo. He was like some kind of cat or dog marking his own scent. He handed me the seasoning from the table, which I passed on to Misa.
“Thank you very much, Kusaoka-senpai!”
“Haruma-san, Misa is expressing her thanks.”
“…Um, just so you know, I am Japanese so I can understand the Japanese language. You don’t need to interpret for me, you know?” Haruma-san scratched his head and expressed his dissatisfaction with utter impertinence. He ought to know his place. In a feudal system, there are relationships in place where messages are conveyed via proxy.
“I’m sorry. Onee-chan’s shy around people, so she sometimes goes into weirdo mode.”
“Haruma-san, Misa feels an unpleasant gaze, so she would prefer it if you did not get close to her.”
“You’re failing at that whole diplomatic policy of not imposing your own opinions on the message…”
Haruma-san said something very clear and perceptive, but our relationship was not particularly global in such a manner. This was simply crisis management. I did not want my adorable sister to be exposed to the fangs of a wild beast.
I divided the roast beef between the three plates and passed out a rice bowl and chopsticks for each of us. Misa held the rice in her left hand while I held it in my right; we were a mirror image of each other.
“Oh, so you’re left-handed…” Haruma-san muttered to himself, staring at this arrangement of ours as if he had come to some kind of realisation.
“What about it?”
“Oh, nothing.” He looked to the side, as if he was worn out.
I care little about whether another person is right or left-handed, but perhaps he had made a point of finding out this information out of his love for me. My goodness, these adolescent boys are unabashedly driven by their carnal desires even in broad daylight.
“That reminds me, you have a fondness for this kind of meat, don’t you?”
“I picked it, so yeah.”
“I thought boys were drawn to fleshy meat.”
“When they’re young, I guess.”
“But you’re different, Haruma-san.”
“Mmm, guess so.”
“When it comes to what you touch and look at, you prefer it when they’re not too big. You didn’t appear to have much interest in Kuriu-sensei.” I smoothed over my wrinkled blouse and smiled winningly. When I thought of it that way, I felt as if I could forgive this beast today for a lifetime of actions. How benevolent I am.
“If that’s what you think… Well, whatever.” Haruma-san smiled resignedly.
“…I don’t really get it, but it looks you two’ve made up!” Misa looked at us and smiled with genuine happiness.
And then—
“Let’s eat!”
The three of us began feasting on a peaceful meal, all smiles.
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) Ponzu is a kind of citrus-based Japanese sauce.
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