I Drink Every Night With a Lookalike of a Popular Idol on the Riverbank
On a calm night by the riverbank, the moment she recognized me, Nanase’s face, which had been lying down sadly, lifted up, and her mouth broke into a smile like a flower blooming.
It was a smile full of relief and joy.
The moment I saw that smile, all the words and common sense that had been in my heart melted away in the night breeze and became irrelevant.
The smile I had been longing to see was this one.
“Nanase-san. You must be tired.”
“Hmm. must be thirsty, right?”
Nanase-san took out an extra can of chu-hi from her bag and handed it to me, who had come empty-handed.
I naturally sat down next to her. Our usual spot. The distance between us was just right for two cans of lemon-flavored chu-hi.
“I thought you weren’t coming today.”
Her voice sounded a little cheerful.
“Well… I just happened to be passing by.”
“…I see.”
“What’s wrong? You seemed a little down just now.”
When I asked her that, her shoulders shook slightly.
Her cheerful expression suddenly changed, and once again, that lonely shadow covered her face. She lowered her gaze and looked at her fingertips.
“…Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about something.”
Her voice sounded flat, but there was a hint of weakness in it.
The only sounds were the wind blowing across the river and the distant sound of cars driving on the road.
I didn’t know how to deal with the invisible wall around her.
It was she who broke the silence.
“…Hey, Yosuke.”
“Hm?”
“What do you put on fried eggs?”
“…Huh?”
It was a question that was completely unexpected. I was so taken aback by the lack of context that I lost my words for a moment.
“Fried eggs…?”
“Yeah. It’s a type of egg dish where you crack an egg into a heated frying pan and cook it so that the white and yolk look like an eyeball. You know, the kind you have for breakfast.”
“I know what fried eggs are!”
“Hehe… Good. It seems like we’re on the same page.”
I was confused, but I desperately tried to think. Was this some kind of signal from her to change the topic?
“What’s suddenly gotten into you?”
“Well, there might be times in the future when I have to make even a cliché topic interesting. This is for reference.”
“Interesting, huh…”
(Is this a job where you have to make small talk…?)
I wondered if she was a streamer or a radio DJ, but I decided to go along with her consultation and casual conversation.
“Um… I’d say soy sauce.”
When I cautiously answered, she suddenly looked up.
“Hmm, same here.”
“So, what do you think is the main ingredient in fried eggs?”
“…Huh?”
The question had become even more difficult than before.
“The main ingredient… Well, it’s a fried egg, so isn’t it the egg?”
When I answered that, she shook her head quietly.
“No, that’s not it.”
“What, it’s not?”
“The main ingredient of a fried egg isn’t the egg. It’s the seasoning you put on top.”
She said this with a serious expression, as if she were explaining some universal truth.
“The egg is just the stage. It’s merely the set. What we’re really tasting is the soy sauce, the sauce, and so on.”
“So… we’re not eating the egg, but using the egg as a medium to eat the soy sauce?”
“Yes, that’s right. What seasoning do you use to flavor the stage that is the fried egg? That’s the key point.”
“Soy sauce, right?”
“Still soy sauce?”
“Putting the runny yolk mixed with soy sauce on rice and scooping it up like this—that’s the best, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I do that. I totally get it.”
Seeing me make the gesture of mixing rice, she nodded with a cheerful laugh.
“Well, they say it also depends on the frying pan. They say it tastes different when cooked in an iron frying pan. It gets a nice sear and tastes better.”
“I wonder if I can tell the difference… No, I definitely can’t. An egg is an egg no matter how you cook it.”
It was a truly trivial conversation.
But that trivial conversation seemed to gradually blow away the invisible clouds that had been covering her heart.
“Hehe… Sorry for talking about such trivial things. But it’s helpful.”
Nanase nodded and said, “A fried egg tasting project… The difference between Teflon-coated and iron frying pans…” as she took notes on her smartphone.
“No, not at all. Important conversations don’t happen on the riverbank, do they?”
When I said that, she looked a little surprised.
“Yosuke, you seem like the type who holds onto things.”
“Huh, really?”
“Yeah, just a feeling. So you probably have a lot of stuff you can’t throw away.”
Hearing her words, I thought of the bookshelf in my room.
“Ah… I can’t deny it. I’m the type who keeps everything, like old video games, manuals, and boxes.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Do you have any, Nanase-san?”
When I asked her, she looked up into the air as if deep in thought.
After a while, she looked into the distance and muttered softly.
“…Fan letters, I guess.”
“Letters…”
From the sound of her words and her expression, I imagined a scene in my mind.
A single envelope carefully stored in the back of a desk drawer. A letter that had been read over and over again, its corners slightly rounded. Her occasionally taking it out and quietly smiling to herself.
…Could it be a love letter!? Do people still confess their feelings through letters these days!?
“Huh, huh… Is it from someone important?”
I hid my confusion and replied with a gentle smile.
“Yeah. It’s something important. I’ve received a lot of courage and energy from it. It’s a lot of letters.”
“That’s nice. I think it’s wonderful.”
From the way she spoke, it didn’t seem like a love letter. If that’s the case, is receiving letters—or rather, correspondence—a part of her daily life?
A job where you have to talk about mundane topics and make them interesting, so you receive a lot of letters… a radio DJ!?
“Are you a radio DJ, Nanase-san?”
“Huh? Ah… uh, heh… no. That’s a sudden question.”
“Don’t talk like a bonehead.”
“Haha… You got it. Alright, this is working.”
As we continued our casual conversation, I noticed that her expression had softened considerably compared to when she first arrived.
“When I talk to Yosuke…”
She looked up and met my eyes directly.
“Even trivial things become so much fun.”
It seemed like a genuine smile.
“I’m having fun too. Talking with Nanase-san. It was worth cutting the drinking party short.”
“We’re drinking here too, aren’t we?”
Nanase-san pointed at my hand and laughed heartily. There was more alcohol than usual. Was it because she planned to stay longer alone, or because she intended to be with someone else?
I don’t know her true intentions, but the canned chu-hi on Friday night tasted much better than usual.
Maiasa