I Drink Every Night With a Lookalike of a Popular Idol on the Riverbank
The moment I closed the sliding door to the private room at the izakaya, the hustle and bustle of the station square faded away as if it had been a dream.
The warm lighting illuminated the space, which now belonged only to the two of us.
The strange excitement I had felt on the street just a moment ago had now transformed into a pleasant intimacy that warmed my core.
We looked at the tablet together to choose our drinks. The moment we saw the lemon sour, our hands reached out at the same time.
“Let’s start with this.”
“Yeah, me too.”
After finishing their usual exchange and placing their first order, they warmed their cold hands with hot towels while looking at the menu.
“There’s a handwritten ‘Today’s Special’.”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
“But the handwriting is so beautiful that some parts are hard to read…”
“Yeah, but that’s what makes it special. Oh, look, there’s the famous ‘genkotsu karaage’. Let’s try that.”
Nanase was smiling happily. It was a different kind of smile from the lively one she had when dancing with strangers on the street—it was more gentle and relaxed, like she felt completely at ease.
Soon, we clinked glasses with lemon sour drinks and several dishes were placed on the table. Among them, the fried chicken, which was as big as a fist, stood out the most.
“Wow… it’s huge. Look at that. It’s bigger than my hand.”
Nanase placed her fist next to the fried chicken to compare sizes.
“Isn’t it just that your hands are small…?”
“Does being told that my hands are small mean I’m being complimented?”
“Hmm… I guess so?”
“I see… I thought only faces were complimented for being small. Basically, bigger is better, right? Everything.”
Nanase unconsciously leaned forward, placing her chest on the table.
“… everything, huh?”
“Yeah, everything. The exception is the face. I’ll add hands too, just in case.”
Nanase smiled and showed me her open palm.
Without thinking too much about it, I placed my palm on top of hers, and Nanase laughed and said, “It’s not that different,” then pulled her hand back. Indeed, our hands weren’t that different in size.
“So that means the fried chicken is huge…”
“Yeah. Big is good… but this is a set of five, right?”
Nanase stared at the plate. There were five pieces of fried chicken on it.
“Yeah, five.”
“Five… isn’t that the most awkward number?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Because to divide it evenly, you need five people. With two people, you’d end up fighting over the last one, with three people, one person would lose, and with four people, one person would win. If you had six pieces, you could divide them evenly between two or three people, and with four people, you could divide one piece and a half evenly among everyone.”
“Well… I guess so.”
“In other words, these fried chicken pieces aren’t just fried chicken. They’re a source of conflict.”
Nanase said this while moving the lemon, the original “source of conflict,” to a separate plate.
“Source of conflict…”
“Well, let’s just eat for now. The conflict can wait.”
Nanase shrugged her shoulders, took one piece, and bit into it heartily.
◆
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
And before we knew it, there was only one piece of fried chicken left, sitting alone in the middle of the plate.
We both noticed the last piece at the same time.
Perhaps we had been unconsciously adjusting our eating pace to each other up until then. The last piece problem. This is an extremely important moment in human relationships.
Normally, in this situation, both parties would want to eat it. The act of giving up the last piece to each other is what Nanase-san referred to as the “spark of conflict.”
However, after eating two large pieces of fried chicken, it felt like both of us were silently asserting that we didn’t need a third.
“…Nanase-san, please take the last piece.”
Breaking the silence, I declared my relinquishment of rights.
“No, you can have it, Yousuke.”
Nanase shook her head rapidly, as if she didn’t want to see the fried chicken anymore.
“Oh, I’ve already eaten enough.”
Nanase smiled sweetly and shook her head neatly.
“No, men eat more than women. Besides, I already ate potato salad earlier.”
“Nanase-san, you were spinning around on the street earlier, burning calories. You need to replenish your nutrients.”
“Yousuke, you used a lot of unnecessary muscles in that awkward bon odori dance, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t bon odori, it was Irish dance!”
A futile argument. Nanase-san’s words, “the spark of conflict,” weren’t entirely wrong.
“Y-yeah, look! I have to maintain my figure! It’s my job!”
“I think all girls are like that… You’re a stylist, right? You’re not an idol…”
“Ah… then, then, then, ah, I’ll become an idol!”
“Eh…”
Nanase-san decided to debut as an idol on the spur of the moment.
“There’s a risk that this fried chicken will ruin my idol image. That’s not good, right?”
“It’s okay. Your image won’t be ruined by one piece of fried chicken.”
“Well… I guess so…”
Nanase blushed and scratched her cheek shyly.
Taking advantage of the moment, I pushed the plate of fried chicken toward Nanase.
“Ah, Yousuke… that’s not fair… if I eat this, I’ll love you forever.”
“I’m not interested in love that can be bought with fried chicken.”
“Love that can be bought with fried chicken…?”
Nanae tilted her head, and the two of us burst out laughing.
“…Then…”
I finally came up with a groundbreaking solution.
“Let’s split it in half.”
Nanase looked puzzled for a moment at the suggestion, then burst out laughing.
“Haha, what’s that? You’re like a kid.”
“But if we keep this up, you’ll never eat this fried chicken.”
“Hmm. You’re right. I was the one who asked for it in the first place, so it’s actually a generous offer. Thanks, Yosuke.”
With Nanase’s agreement, I picked up my chopsticks and carefully divided the last piece of fried chicken on the plate into two equal portions.
Then I gently placed one half on her plate.
“Here you go.”
“…Thank you.”
We looked at each other and simultaneously brought our pieces of fried chicken to our mouths. The final boss had been defeated.
“Hey, Yousuke.”
“What?”
“You said that bigger is better for everything, but that’s not true. A little bigger is just right. Too big is too much trouble. Everything.”
“Well… everything.”
“Yeah, everything. A little bigger than average is best.”
“Wait, we’re talking about fried chicken, right…?”
“Of course. Anything else—”
Nanase stopped there, her face turning bright red, and looked at me with a bewildered expression, saying, “What are you talking about? You’re not slow to react in that area.”
Maiasa