A woman with a deep tan and an avant-garde updo, wearing a flashy
outfit, was saying her guy had bad taste in clothes and little experience
with women, and he couldn't understand a girl's heart.
I felt like saying to her, "Uh, excuse me, are you sure you want to be
making fun of someone else when you're dressed like that? Maybe you
should complain directly to your boyfriend if you aren't happy with him."
But of course, I could never say that, so I passed them by and started
looking for my dad, who had already arrived. He'd texted me directions to
where he was sitting, and I tried to follow them.
I hoped I never had to deal with flashy women like that who expected
way too much from men. I was so glad the stepsister I was about to meet
was a grade-schooler—though again, I'm not into that kind of thing. I
didn't get my hopes up, but I quietly prayed that she wouldn't grow up to
be like those women by the door.
"Hey, Yuuta. Over here."
Dad must have noticed me looking around. He was seated by a
window, waving to me.
I looked down, embarrassed that the other patrons were staring at us,
and promptly went to his table.
I could already feel a seed of discomfort budding in my mind.
It got bigger with every step I took, planted its roots firmly, and
sprouted when I saw our new family members sitting across from Dad. A
flower of confusion bloomed when I reached his table.
Something wasn't right. What was going on here?
"Hello! You must be Yuuta. I'm sorry we had you come out here right
after work."
"N-not at all. I'm Yuuta Asamura. You must be…"
"Akiko Ayase. Tee-hee. Taichi told me all about you. My, you look put
together."
I was standing there, completely bewildered. The woman who first
spoke to me—the one who introduced herself as Akiko Ayase—smiled
happily as she said my dad's name with a touch of familiarity.
She had something of a baby face, but her gaze and expressions gave
off a mature kind of sex appeal. Dad hadn't been exaggerating when he'd
described her as a beautiful lady with a big heart. She made me think of a
dandelion that grew in the city at night.
But this gorgeous woman wasn't what was confusing me.
It was the person sitting next to her who caught my attention—my eyes were glued to her. I recognized her face from the photo. This must be the
girl who was about to become my stepsister. But she was nothing like I
had expected.
"Come on, say hello!" her mother said to her.
"Okay," she replied.
The girl straightened her back until she looked like a well-carved
statuette. Then she ran her fingers through her brightly dyed hair as the
earrings in her pierced ears sparkled a dull silver, and she shot me a
mysterious smile.
"Hi. I'm Saki Ayase."
"Oh, um, hi. I'm Yuuta Asamura."
I matched her formal greeting, straightening my back without realizing
it.
…She was in no way what I'd expected.
She clearly looked like the girl in the photo. If someone told me they
were the same person, I'd be convinced immediately.
That is, if they said the photo was taken a decade ago.
Somewhat overwhelmed, I looked her over. This was no elementary
schooler. This was a woman, through and through.
She had her long hair set neatly and not in some bizarre style, but the
color was flashy, and she wore jewelry on her wrists and had pierced ears.
Her top covered only one shoulder, though it wasn't vulgar or indecent.
The restaurant lighting made it hard to tell, but she was probably wearing
full makeup.
She was trendy and modern, fully armed with the latest fashion. An
outgoing high school girl of the kind I hadn't ever expected to be involved
with.
And yet she also seemed mature and sensible—perfectly comfortable
meeting me for the first time. I felt uneasy, as if she had done up her
buttons a little wrong.
I wasn't sure what to say as I sat down in the booth.
"Hey, this isn't what you told me," I whispered to my dad.
"I was surprised when I met her today, too. She was in elementary
school in that photo."
"Seriously. She's gotta be my age."
"She is. She's turning sixteen this year. She's a second-year high
school student."
"Sounds like she's not my younger sister at all."
"Your birthday is a week earlier than hers."
"Only one week."
Just a week. No matter what my dad said, we were the same age. The
image of a worry-free life with an easygoing kid sister shattered to pieces
in my mind.
"Sorry for the confusion," said Akiko. "Once she grew up, Saki
stopped letting me take photos of her, and that old picture was the only one
I could show you."
With a hand at her cheek, Akiko glanced at her daughter as if she
didn't know what to do with her. She seemed to have guessed what Dad
and I were whispering about.
I wasn't fond of getting my photo taken, either, so I could understand.
The thing that baffled me was why Akiko had shown Dad a picture of her
daughter as a little girl when she first told him about her. It was like she
had no common sense.
"I'm not photogenic. I always look like I'm angry," said Ayase.
"Oh, um, okay."
Saki—no, I didn't want to get too familiar—Ayase smiled like she
was embarrassed.
She had a pretty face by conventional beauty standards. I could
understand why a guy like me, who wasn't particularly good-looking,
wouldn't want his picture taken, but it didn't make much sense for her. I
decided to keep that thought to myself, though. I wasn't going to push my
preconceptions about what pretty girls did or didn't like on her.
Ayase pressed a hand to her chest.
"This is such a relief."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"We're going to be living together, so I wasn't sure what I'd do if you
turned out to be scary."
"Oh, I don't know. The scariest people look nice on the outside."
"Taichi was just telling us about you. He said you work part-time
practically every day, and you're saving up for college. You sound like a
pretty serious person."
"Actually, just ten minutes ago, my senior coworker got mad at me for
being irresponsible."
"Your dad said you get good grades at school, too."
"A lot of criminals are smart."
"Ah-ha-ha."