Like in Predator, Sort Of

The rain seemed to persist, lighter than last night, just a drizzle now.
I’m still not sure if I was woken by the gray light of a cloud-covered sun or the fact that sleeping on the couch had given me the worst back pain of my life.No, sleeping next to Sayo wasn’t an option, and using Aranara’s room… it didn’t feel right.

Besides, I wanted to give her some space. After what happened last night, I figured she needed rest, and judging by the fact that it was past noon and she was only now coming down the stairs, I’d say she managed to get some.

“Oh… uh… good morning,” I said, sitting up abruptly, trying to fix my hair. “Sleep well?”

“You’ve got three leaks, and one of them’s aimed right at the pillow, so I had to sleep diagonally.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Kidding, Eiji. Thanks for letting me stay the night. I slept better than I expected,” she said, bending down to grab her raincoat. “But seriously, check those leaks.”

“Not staying for lunch?”

“Huh?” She froze like a statue at my words. “Don’t you think that’s too much? I’m fine now.” Despite saying that, her hand still hadn’t touched the raincoat.

“Do I look like I’m complaining?”

“N-no, but…”

“No buts. Just a simple lunch. Besides, there’s too much kurage left from last night—I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“C-clearly, we can’t waste food,” she repeated, almost stuttering as she walked to the table.

“By the way, did you sleep down here?”

“Yup,” I replied, setting out the plates while trying to loosen my stiff neck.

“You could’ve told me to take the couch. It’s your house, after all…”

“And deal with the supposed leak all night? No thanks.”

She was doing that thing again—looking at me and instantly looking away.“Eiji… can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Before she could say anything, the loud slam of the front door startled both Sayo and me.
Soaked to the bone, trembling, hair plastered to her face, bags under her eyes—Aranara walked in as if she’d never left. I’ll admit, though she was only gone for a day, it felt like much longer.

“Aran—”

“Shut up,” she cut me off, not even looking at me as she headed straight for the stairs.

“Don’t you think we should at least… you know, clear things up a bit?” It was instinct—I didn’t think it through. I just stood up from the chair and blocked her path to the stairs.

“Move.” Her flat voice tightened the air, made worse by the fact that she wouldn’t even look at me.

“No.”

She didn’t even respond. She pushed me aside like I was disposable, her hand cold—freezing, actually—against my chest before I stumbled back.
But in that moment, I noticed something: the tips of her fingers were pink.
For a second, I forgot about lunch, Sayo, everything. I followed her up the stairs, but like before, she locked herself in her room.

“Come on, are you doing this again?” I said, uselessly twisting the doorknob. It wasn’t locked—she was leaning against it from the other side.

“What do you want to talk about? Didn’t you have enough the other day?”

“You got the floor all wet. You should’ve taken off your parka.”

“What the hell does that have to do with what I asked?” I felt her fist hit the door.

I stayed quiet for a moment. Sometimes, there aren’t any right words.

“Aranara…”

“What?”

“How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” she asked, her voice thick with obvious irritation and a rasp.

“The cold.”

“Idiot…” she said, softer this time. “Way worse than you told me…”

I felt the door lighten, and I nearly stumbled when it swung open suddenly—I hadn’t realized I was still turning the knob.
I saw her clearly, shivering from the cold, her heavy parka dripping like it was raining on the floor. The tips of her fingers, her nose—they were pink.

“You’re gonna need a change of clothes,” I said, laughing. “Come down for lunch. We can put the other day aside for now if you want. Just… come eat, okay?”

She nodded and pushed me out of the room. I felt her weight against the door again, but this time, there was no need to go in.

“The other day—”

“I needed it,” I cut her off. “I really needed it.”

“Even if you say that…”

I knocked on the door twice with my knuckles. “Come on, forget it. Just change and come down to eat. We can talk about this later—it’s not necessary now.”

When I went back to the kitchen, Sayo was oddly tense. She hadn’t touched her food. Her eyes were fixed on her plate, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere.

“Hey… everything okay?” I asked to deaf ears.

“Sayo! Sneaky crybaby, I’ve been looking for you since the other night,” Aranara said, practically leaping down the stairs. “No greeting, or what?”

The sound of Sayo’s hands gripping the edges of her chair told me that whatever had happened between them wasn’t good.

For some reason, it felt like watching a nature documentary. The lion slowly approaching the gazelle.
Probably just my mind wandering.

“Sayo, the food’s gonna get cold,” I said, brushing past her, letting my hand rest on her shoulder for a second—just an attempt to calm her down.
Aranara didn’t say more. She sat at the table, in my spot no less, right across from Sayo.

“This doesn’t look like it came out of a microwave,” she said, eyeing the plate of kurage.

“Because I made it,” I replied, serving her a portion.

“You don’t cook.”

“Not cooking doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”

Aranara rested her hands on either side of the plate, letting them linger. The steam from the soup hit her face, and she had an expression I hadn’t seen before—almost, just barely, a smile.

“You made sure it wasn’t too hot again…”

“Yup,” I said, sitting between them. The plates formed a strange triangle. “How is it?”

“Weird… but compared to the cold I felt coming here, this is, uh… you know…”

“No, I don’t.”

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s… nice, I think… that’s how it’s supposed to feel, right? It’s warm.”

Sayo watched the whole scene, her confusion painfully obvious. Her relationship with Aranara clearly wasn’t like mine.
Maybe she’d only known her for a short time.
Maybe she only knew one side of her. It took her a bit to snap back to herself.

“Eiji, what I was going to ask—”

“Eiji?” Aranara cut in, confused. She glanced at Sayo, then at me. “So that’s your name, huh?”

I nodded. Aranara squinted at me, slurping her soup obnoxiously loud, on purpose.

“What’s up?”

“How long have you known four-eyes?”

“Sayo.”

“Yeah, whatever her name is. How long?” she repeated. There was more color in her face now, and it wasn’t just from the warmth of the food.

“Since yesterday.”

“24 hours and 47 minutes, minus the time we spent cooking last night,” Sayo added, taking off her glasses as the steam fogged them up in seconds.

“So… you barely know each other, and you’re already inviting her to dinner? No, I mean, cooking together—you, who’s never turned on the oven except to try sticking your head in it,” Aranara said, her eyes locked on me. “She slept here?”

“It was… just something that happened in the moment. Eiji offered to let me stay until the rain stopped,” Sayo said, nearly finishing her plate.

“Yeah, sure…” Aranara muttered, stirring her soup. “This tastes awful, ‘Eiji.’ I’m gonna heat something up in the microwave.”

She probably didn’t realize it, but she was an open book right now.
She stood up quickly and went straight to the fridge.

“You know it’s not awful,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Actually, Eiji, you cook really well for someone who doesn’t do it often,” Sayo said, sliding her plate toward me, hinting for a second serving.

“It tastes awful,” Aranara insisted, still rummaging through the fridge.

“Since when do you have a sense of taste?”

“Since now,” she snapped back, sharp and curt.

“So how do you know you’ll like microwave food?” She didn’t answer, tensing up for a moment and muttering something I couldn’t catch.

No doubt about it—she was upset. The question was why.

“I guess… real food isn’t for everyone…” Sayo said, keeping her soft, subtle tone but clearly using the moment to take a jab at Aranara.

“What did you just say?!” Aranara slammed the fridge door so hard it nearly wobbled.

“Just thinking out loud, that’s all…” Sayo replied, sipping her soup. “I had no idea that ominous presence you carry falls apart around Eiji.”

Aranara stormed back to the table, practically stomping. She slammed both hands down and leaned toward Sayo, their faces inches apart.
To my surprise, Sayo had an odd calm, while Aranara… was strangely irritable.

“Say it again,” Aranara demanded, slapping her palms against the table. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I’ll admit, the other night I was terrified. It’s not every day you talk to Death…” Sayo said, not breaking eye contact. “But seeing you now… honestly, you seem like a teenager who can’t control her emotions.”

“How about you both, you know, calm down a bit?” I said, trying to step in.

“Shut up,” Aranara snapped, pointing at me before turning back to Sayo. “Looks like having someone to talk to and a home-cooked meal changes your personality, huh? Or do suicidal people just click like that? Where’d all those tears and that cheap monologue go? Toss them off the bridge? Maybe you should’ve jumped yourself… wasn’t that the plan?”

“Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” Sayo pushed her chair back and stood, her movements were light but deliberate. “You come to me looking for a ‘replacement’… talk to me about living, and now, in a fit of teenage jealousy, you suggest I should die? Isn’t that a bit contradictory?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Aranara’s tone dripped with exaggerated sarcasm. “Maybe I should’ve mentioned your trembling hands—would that have hurt more?”

“Eiji, if I told you I wanted to be a photographer, what would you say?” Sayo asked.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”“Just answer…” she said, her soft tone never wavering.

“I’d say it’s way better than being the CEO of a family company—that’s practically a cliché.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she said, chuckling lightly while Aranara just watched us. “And if I told you my hands never stop shaking?”

“I’d say I noticed that back on the bridge,” I replied, scratching my neck. That tic wasn’t going away.

“I’m a photographer who’ll never get a shot in focus.”“A kind of—”

“Failure,” Aranara cut in, finally finding an opening to jump back in.

“David Lynch,” I finished. I’d heard Aranara but didn’t give her comment any weight.

Sayo put her glasses back on, and I caught a brief flicker of surprise in her eyes. She lowered her head slightly and walked toward the door.

“Thanks for your time, Eiji. And the dinner,” she said, grabbing her light blue raincoat.

I followed her and opened the door. The air was still cold and damp, but at least the rain had stopped.“I’m… sorry…”

“Don’t worry… it was fun, up to a point. And it’s true, you cook well.”

I patted my own back. “Thanks, now I don’t need to self-validate.”

“By the way… I wanted to ask…”

“The answer’s yes.”

“You don’t know the question.”

“Then ask it.”

“That’s what I was trying to do, dummy… Can I come back to visit? Doesn’t have to be tomorrow… or the day after… whenever you’re free is fine.”

“The answer’s still yes,” I said, my gaze drifting upward as the clouds started to clear.

“In that case, we might see each other tomorrow,” she said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she turned to leave.

“Bring your camera.”

I realized something. The ground was wet, the air cold and damp, some trees still dripping.
What I mean is, the rain stops; life goes on.