In principle,
as a doomed wage slave, Gotō Hitori couldn't just ditch his shift to stand around chatting with customers.
If he did, the already-middle-aged manager would label it slacking and dereliction of duty, then gift him the deluxe "pay deduction package," leaving him with nothing but two bitter lines of tears.
But unfortunately—no, fortunately for everyone else—
Hiroi Kikuri happened to know the very embodiment of "principle."
The manager.
And with a hearty laugh, the manager waved a hand and granted Hitori special permission to keep sitting at that table for the rest of the night.
Then the manager even proposed a deal to Hiroi Kikuri and Ōtsuki: if the two of them would perform outside on the street and help draw in customers, they could eat here for free all week.
Honestly?
The manager had a point.
Hiroi Kikuri was the bassist and leader-vocalist of the wildly popular band SICK HACK, and Ōtsuki was a fairly well-known guitarist around Shinjuku, with plenty of achievements to her name. Skill-wise, there was nothing to question.
On top of that, both of them were obviously attractive. Performing outside at peak dinner hour would absolutely pull in a crowd.
More importantly—
Hiroi Kikuri was perpetually broke, a legendary "beggar sage" known far and wide. How could she possibly let a whole week of free food slip away?
And Ōtsuki, as Hiroi's fan, naturally wanted nothing more than to get a chance to share a stage with her.
And so…
A world where only the part-timer gets hurt was completed.
Customers ate their fill.
The band girls played and sang their fill.
The manager made money to their fill.
And only the miserable employee got his workload doubled for no reason, tears swirling around in his stomach.
What?
The manager said everyone would get a bonus tonight?
Ah—just kidding, just kidding. Work is such a wonderful thing.
A world where nobody gets hurt was completed!
"Eh? That's weird—if you don't have to work and you still get overtime pay, why do you look so unhappy, Gotō?"
Inside the restaurant,
fresh off their performance, Hiroi Kikuri set her instrument case aside, slipped off her jacket, and revealed the green dress she seemed to wear in all four seasons. She happily ordered herself a whole lot of shōchū.
Of course, it was still the cheap, bargain-bin kind.
It was hard to tell whether she genuinely liked the taste, or whether she was quietly considerate—refusing to order anything expensive even when she had a "free meals" ticket.
Meanwhile, Hitori—sitting across from her—went to help bring all the bottles over.
Even though he'd been granted the manager's permission not to work,
he couldn't relax while everyone else was busy—especially Toyokawa Sakiko.
The customer flow was heavier than usual, and without him nearby to help, she was washing dishes so fast she was practically leaving afterimages. Hitori couldn't bring himself to sit there carefree like he was the only one on vacation.
It stood out too much.
It made his skin crawl—like knives at his back, like sitting on needles.
He tried again and again to go help in the kitchen. The poor underclassman barely got enough to eat most days—how was she supposed to handle work this heavy?
But every time, the manager clamped a hand on his shoulder and shoved him right back into his seat.
Which made Hitori feel like he wasn't a restaurant server at all—
but some host in Kabukichō, selling off his dignity and his awkward, tender heart to the darkness, chatting people up to squeeze money out of them… and someday the manager might even shove him onto other tables to smile and flatter customers…
Just imagining himself sliding toward that depraved, chaotic future
made Hitori go pale, a few strands of pink hair practically standing on end.
"Gotō's been like that for ages," Ōtsuki said, glaring at him with blatant displeasure beside Hiroi. "He always recovers after a bit. You're worrying too much, Hiroi."
Ōtsuki kept staring at Hitori like she wanted to burn a hole through him.
Back when she'd been outside performing with Hiroi, she'd been expecting to spot Hitori in the crowd.
She wanted him to hear it with his own ears: she hadn't wasted the last half-year. She'd practiced guitar every day—because she wanted to catch up to him someday.
But she scanned and scanned and didn't find him at all.
When she turned back, she realized this idiot hadn't even come outside.
The sheer audacity made her chest heave. She felt like ripping out the cable, swinging her guitar, and cleaving this hateful pink-haired bastard in two.
Perhaps sensing the killing intent leaking off her, Hitori snapped out of his daze.
Ōtsuki immediately lifted her chin smugly, about to show off how well she understood her "rival" (self-appointed).
But no one said anything to her.
So she pretended nothing had happened again.
She cursed that naturally infuriating Gotō Hitori in her heart—how dare he ignore his formidable rival (self-appointed)—then lowered her head and went back to eating in moody silence.
"Um… did you two say something just now…?" Hitori asked gently, noticing how dejected she looked. "I kind of spaced out and didn't catch it…"
"Hmph. You didn't hear that? What a careless guy," Ōtsuki said, instantly perking up. "But fine—today I'm in a good mood.
Since you absolutely must know, I'll begrudgingly repeat it for you. Ahem… listen carefully—"
She immediately got fired up.
She deliberately acted like it was a hassle, spouting lines worthy of an "ultimate tsundere textbook," while secretly thinking: This guy's not completely unbearable sometimes!
But just as she was about to repeat what she'd said, Hiroi cut in first.
"Actually, we were talking about that 'little sister' thing you and Kita-chan mentioned yesterday."
No we weren't!!
We were talking about Gotō Hitori!!
You asked why he looked so gloomy, and I said he's always like that and he'll get over it—no need to care!
That's what it was supposed to be!
It has nothing to do with that random sister who showed up out of nowhere—aaagh!!
Ōtsuki clutched her head so hard she nearly bit through her lip. In the end, she still surrendered to Hiroi's chaotic narrative, tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes.
Hitori silently slid the tissues a little closer to her, then looked at Hiroi.
"...You mean… um… Big Sis's… senior's… little sister?"
"Yeah," Hiroi sighed. "She didn't come home at all yesterday. Said she went to stay somewhere else for the night. My senior couldn't sleep at all—before dawn she kicked down my front door and dragged me out to help look for her sister."
Hiroi let out a long, weary breath.
"I get why she's anxious, but the sister's already an adult this year, you know? She's not a little kid who needs constant supervision. Staying out one night isn't a big deal.
And she even reported in—said she's resting at a hotel, she's still attending her university classes, everything. There's not really anything to worry about. I've seen that girl plenty of times—she doesn't seem like the type to do something reckless. She'll probably come back on her own soon.
But I'd never seen my senior that frantic before, so I didn't say any of that. I just promised I'd do my best to help. What do you think, Gotō?"
Hitori lowered his head.
He tried to imagine Gotō Hitori—no, Gotō Ichiri—saying she was going to stay somewhere else alone…
"N-no… just imagining it makes me feel like… my heart's going to stop…"
Hitori clutched his chest, sweat streaming down his cheeks, and toppled backward.
It was like his body had become a rapidly inflating balloon—swelling in seconds to the point it might burst any moment.
Ōtsuki stopped eating entirely and hurried over to shake him awake.
"Hiroi, don't scare him like that! Gotō can't handle it!"
"Ahahaha, sorry, sorry," Hiroi scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I just figured Little Ōtsuki was here, so—"
"Y-you still have to be careful!"
Ōtsuki really was easy to placate—one line and she was tsundere again. She turned her face away and muttered, almost inaudibly:
"If I'm not here, who's going to deal with Gotō, seriously…"
"Anyway," Hiroi said warmly, "that's basically the situation. And if you also feel like we can't just leave her out there… then, Gotō, please—if you happen to run into her somewhere, help her if you can."
Then she looked at Ōtsuki too.
"And Little Ōtsuki, thanks for spending the whole day looking for her at the university. We still didn't find her, but you worked hard."
"It wasn't hard at all, Hiroi!" Ōtsuki saluted like a loyal private. "I'll complete the mission!"
And because someone released him too quickly, Hitori—collapsed into the sofa—slowly propped himself up and asked Hiroi, confused:
"...Um, Big Sis… shouldn't we take her back?"
"We're definitely taking her back," Hiroi said with a smile. "Just… not right now. That's only my personal opinion, though.
What to do, how to do it, whose wishes to respect—ultimately, that depends on what you think."
"If you feel my senior is more pitiful—she's the older sister, worried sick, and still ended up driving her sister away because she couldn't express her feelings properly—then help send the sister home.
But if you feel the sister is more pitiful—she wanted to help her sister, was willing to give up her own dream for it, and still got yelled at until she completely lost herself—then help her within your ability."
Hiroi slowly filled her tiny cup with shōchū.
"Everyone has a lowest point in life. Everyone has times when they're depressed and exhausted, when they make mistakes they'd never make normally, clumsily covering themselves in ash—yet they can't find the right shoulder to cry on.
So they grit their teeth and keep walking alone, thinking they've climbed out of the pit and become brighter… when really, they've just gone numb. They stop feeling.
Whether it's my senior or her sister—both of them have places they were wrong, and both of them have their own grievances.
So it doesn't matter whose feelings you choose to respect. Any choice you make can have meaning.
As long as you truly believe you won't regret it—that even if you could do it over, you'd still choose the same—then go ahead and do it.
I'll have your back."
After that speech,
Hiroi Kikuri somehow managed to suppress her "drunken mess" aura so completely that anyone who didn't know her might actually mistake her for a dependable adult.
Ōtsuki's eyes practically sparkled as she stared at Hiroi with pure admiration—she really did look like a mature grown-up right now.
And Hitori, head bowed, sank into thought.
Without realizing it, Gotō Ichiri's face flashed through his mind.
If this were the old him, he probably wouldn't have understood what Hiroi meant at all.
More precisely, he would've dismissed it as generic life advice and filtered it out automatically.
But now… he could sort of understand.
What it meant to be an adult.
"...I understand, Big Sis."
Hitori nodded softly.
Right then, another dish arrived.
Seeing the table was out of space, he stood to clear away some extra plates for his coworkers.
He was just about to take them over—
when he turned and spotted, at a table not far away, a single "ahoge" cowlick, long and stiff like a corn snack stick.
And faintly,
he heard that strange sound again—the one he'd heard years ago in the park.
A powerful premonition rose in his chest.
In his mind, what flickered past was golden hair that only existed in broken memory—youthful, evocative, vanishing in the breeze before he could grasp it.
He instinctively tugged on Ōtsuki, who was still sitting beside him. She snapped her eyes over with a fierce expression, her tone sharp—though with a voice that cute, it sounded more like play-acting at intimidation.
"What?"
Hitori quickly sat back down and whispered to her.
"...That customer at that table—isn't she… the runaway little sister…?"
"Hah?"
Ōtsuki frowned.
She talked tough, but her body was honest—she followed his pointing finger and looked.
"There's no way it's that convenient. You think this is a light novel? Hiroi and I searched all day and didn't find her, and now you're telling me we sit down for dinner and she just—"
"Ah."
Ōtsuki froze.
Hiroi blinked, then clomped over in her wooden sandals to take a look.
"Let me see, let me see—oh. It really is her."
"Wait, Hiroi, don't come over!" Ōtsuki protested in a low voice. "It's obvious enough with me and Gotō staring—if you squeeze in too, she'll notice!"
Since Hitori had just stood up a moment ago, Ōtsuki had ended up in the innermost seat.
The sofa was already narrow; it was fine with just her and Hitori. But with Hiroi squeezing in, she ended up pressed right up against Hitori.
"S-sorry… Ōtsuki… could you move in a little?" Hitori stammered. "Big Sis smells like alcohol, it's t-too—"
Hitori was completely unaccustomed to being trapped in the middle—especially between two women. His face returned to its infamous "609" dead-eyed form.
"You bastard, Gotō! Don't insult Hiroi!" Ōtsuki snapped. "Filthy trash booze-buckets smell like alcohol—Hiroi's is fragrance!"
"Then… Ōtsuki, want to switch seats with me…?"
"...Being next to Hiroi is your honor. I'll pretend I didn't hear that this time. Don't say it again."
"Hey—your beloved big sister who likes to drink is about to have her heart shattered, you know?" Hiroi said, looking wounded as she squeezed even closer to Hitori.
"W-wait, Hiroi—are you the one pushing? Gotō's going to pass out!" Ōtsuki hissed.
"Isn't this perfect?" Hiroi grinned. "Little Ōtsuki never gets chances to be close to Gotō. Let big sis repay kindness with kindness and help you out once—"
"I-I don't want to be close to this idiot!!!"
"Ōtsuki—shh, shh… if you yell like that, we'll get caught…!" Hitori whispered frantically.
"It's not my voice! It's the three of us shoving around that'll get us caught—!! Gotō! Idiot! Moron! Get down!"
Ōtsuki planted both hands on Hitori's head and tried to press the pink-haired creature down like a springy toy.
But when she looked up again—
she stiffened in horror.
Their eyes met.
Ah.
Oh no.
Ōtsuki froze in place.
She tried to call out—
but the moment the blonde girl saw Ōtsuki and Hiroi, she lowered her head and bolted straight out of the restaurant.
"..."
S-she ran?!
"Hiroi! Gotō! Move!" Ōtsuki yanked Hiroi up. "We have to chase her—can't let her get away!"
She reached out with her other hand to grab Hitori too, only to realize that he'd been squeezed so hard he was practically in liquid form again.
With no choice, she dragged Hiroi to her feet first.
"Gotō! Store our instrument cases for us, then come after us!"
After barking that order,
Ōtsuki hurried out with Hiroi in tow.
Hitori, dizzy, slowly pushed himself up.
Good thing this place is pay-first, serve-later, he thought. Otherwise that girl running out would've been a dine-and-dash.
He wobbled to his feet, brought both Hiroi's and Ōtsuki's instrument cases to the front register, took a photo of each, and sent them over.
Then, on the way, he stopped by the blonde girl's table.
Originally, he meant to tidy the bowls and chopsticks, clear the other table too, then ask the manager for leave and go help search.
But when he lowered his gaze—
he saw a ribbon, neatly folded with care, left behind on the tabletop.
It was probably something she'd forgotten to grab in her panic.
Hitori blinked.
In the end, he found a delicate little box, carefully placed the ribbon inside, and tucked it into his pocket.
-------
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