Chapter 11: Volume 1 - CH 2.4

In the Sakamoto household, the division of roles was that my mother cooked breakfast and lunch on weekdays and I cooked dinner.

I washed the rice and put it in the rice cooker, peeled the potatoes and carrots, and cut them into bite-size pieces. In the middle of the cooking, Izumi came downstairs in her loungewear, a loose-fitting T-shirt with a red border on a white background, and a pair of soft, navy blue, three-quarter-length pants.

"Are you making dinner?" she asked me as she came to the kitchen.

When I answered "yeah,", Izumi said, "If you like, I'll help you." Izumi began to tie her hair into a single bun with a pink hair elastic wrapped around her wrist.

When she lifted her hair, a soft smell wafted through the air, and I leaned away from Izumi and looked away from her.

"---Then, can I ask you to cut up the rest of the vegetables and meat? I'm making curry and salad."

"Okey," Izumi nodded, washed her hands in the sink, picked up a knife, and began to chop the carrots. I took the cooking utensils and seasonings out of the cabinet and put oil in a deep pan to fry the meat.

As we stood side by side in the small kitchen, our arms occasionally touched each other. Each time, we would stop working and give each other space.

"Does auntie always come home late?"

Izumi asked as she cut the vegetables in an experienced manner.

"Not really, but I think it's most often around 10 p.m. Sometimes she comes back around 6 p.m."

"I see. I guess you must be very busy if you are head of a department. Here, I have cut the vegetables and meat."

My mother works for a medium-sized food manufacturer, and she told me that she had recently been promoted to head of the department. She is not a workaholic, but she often hangs out with people from the company and her life seems to be fulfilling in her own way.

I put the meat Izumi had cut up in a pot over the fire and stir-fry it with chopsticks. The kitchen is filled with whitish smoke and the savory smell of roasting meat.

"Kenichi-kun, do you cook as often as you do today?"

"I'm in charge of weekday dinners. Cause I don't know when mom will be home."

"I see," Izumi said.

After frying the meat and adding the vegetables and simmering for about twenty minutes, the curry powder is added. I took out a plate from the cupboard with a glass door on the side of the kitchen and served rice, then poured the curry on top of it. I put the cabbage and other vegetables Izumi had cut up on another plate, and dinner was ready.

I filled two cups with barley tea and put them on the table. Izumi untied her tied hair, and we sat down at the dining table facing each other.

The living room was quiet because the TV was still off during the meal. The sounds of people walking outside and passing cars echoed through the house. We ate in silence for a while, and halfway through the meal, Izumi looked at the deep pot containing a large amount of leftover curry and said, "Looks like we made a little too much."

"We can have it for breakfast tomorrow. It will save you the trouble of cooking."

"is it okay, with that?"

"Yeah. We always did that on the days when we had leftover curry."

"I see."

We didn't talk much while we ate, but the silence didn't bother me as much as it did when we first met. I was a little surprised to find myself already getting used to Izumi's presence in my home.

When I finished my curry, I spoke to Izumi, "I heard you made lunch for me today."

She stopped moving and looked at me with only her eyes.

"Ah, that's right...How was it?"

Feeling embarrassed, I replied, "It was delicious." Izumi's cheeks softly relaxed and she looked relieved.

"But isn't Izumi busy early in the morning? You don't have to worry too much."

"No. If you make it together, the amount of work will not increase. Auntie and I share the cooking task. We seem to wake up at about the same time."

I put my own dishes in the sink, put the salad on a plate, covered it with plastic wrap, and put it in the refrigerator to prepare my mother's dinner.

"What kind of work does Izumi's mother do?"

I filled my glass with water, returned to my seat, and asked Izumi.

"She told me she was working for a trading company and was currently importing coffee beans."

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"That's why she went overseas, huh."

"Yes. She said she is going to work in South America for a while."

"Hee."

I sipped my glass of water while listening to her words. Then Izumi asked me about my family.

"Kenichi-kun's brother is a graduate student, right? I heard from auntie that he writes book reviews for a magazine, is that true?"

"Yeah. He has frequently been writing for magazines for about two years now. He said it was our father's influence, our father's fault, or something like that. A friend of Dad's at the publishing company gave him a chance to try it out, and it turned out to be so good that he got it published in a magazine.

"......Uncle, he was an instructor, wasn't he?"

Knowing my father's situation, Izumi lowered his tone a little.

"Yes, he was a teacher in the philosophy department. I heard he specialized in French thought, but he died before I could find out what exactly he did, so I have no idea what kind of reputation my father's work had."

"I see," Izumi said. Another silence fell. Izumi spooned the rest of the curry and ate it, then clasped her hands together and said, "Thanks for the food,". Then she put the dishes back in the sink, sat down again, and opened her mouth.

"I don't know what kind of man my father is either."

I had never heard about Izumi's family situation. However, I had a vague idea that there might be something about her father since she came to our house only because her mother was away from home.

I thought it was going to be a bit heavy, but Izumi surprisingly began to talk about it without hesitation.

"I heard that they had a quarrel and broke up. It was when I was very young, so I don't remember anything about it. I think it's because my mom very strong-willed."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. She is very active and likes to keep herself busy with work. The other day she said, 'My boyfriend is my work.'"

Izumi talked about such things with a smiling face. There was nothing shadow in her tone of voice or atmosphere.

"She's amazing."

"Yes. She's the complete opposite of me in personality."

Today, we had something to talk about. After finishing dinner, Izumi and I chatted for a while at the dining room table.

In the middle of talking with Izumi, my mother came home, and then they started talking lively, so I went back to my room. I took a shower when I got home, so I decided to leave the first bath to Izumi, and decided to kill some time in my room reading a book.

Lying on my bed, I slowly turned the pages in the quiet night.

When I read, I can tell whether my mental state is in a good or bad mood. When I am worried or depressed about something, it is difficult for me to follow the words. Perhaps it was because I had just had a lively conversation with Izumi, but I was feeling very good today.

After about 30 minutes of reading in this manner, I soon heard the sound of someone's footsteps coming up the stairs. Following that, I heard a door open and close nearby. Thinking that Izumi had gotten out of the bath, I took a change of clothes from the wardrobe in my room and headed for the bathroom.

As I was taking off my clothes in the changing room with its rubber-like flooring, and putting them in the washing machine, I suddenly noticed a strangely soft-looking white cloth in the changing basket. At first, I couldn't quite make out what the soft, curled-up cloth was, but then I recognized that it had something like lace on it and realized, along with a sensation of electricity coursing through my brain.

My heart jumped loudly and I reflexively looked away. The zipper of the laundry net was halfway open, and Izumi's, well,...panties were out.

Emptying my mind of the image of Izumi that floated in and out of my consciousness, I reached up, careful not to look directly at it, picked up the curled up cloth, was surprised at the shocking softness of the women's underwear, placed it in a real lightweight laundry net that I assumed contained her complete set of undergarments, and firmly I zipped them up and threw them in the washing machine.

Then I exhaled loudly, as if I was letting out all the air in my chest, took off my clothes, and went into the bathroom.

I washed my body and got into the bathtub with a splash. Drops dripped from my wet bangs. My heart was still beating a little strongly.

The more I tried not to think about it, the more the image of Izumi's face and the underwear I had just seen came to my mind, and my head felt dizzy. The soft sensation of the white underwear still lingered on my fingertips. Picking up a pair of panties of a girl my age and putting them in the laundry net, I felt like I had acted in a perverted way, thinking back on it.

I had no ulterior motive, I told myself, but as if to symbolize what I was feeling, a part of my body was honestly showing that example of physiological reaction.

"Don't put your hand on her."

My brother's words refrained in my head, "I ain't touching her," I muttered. It echoed vaguely in the steamy bathroom.

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