Morning came, bringing with it no dramatic events, such as a personal
wake-up call from my stepsister.
The night before, Ayase had bathed last again and gone to bed after I
fell asleep. She must have gotten up before me as well and was now
preparing herself for the day.
"Yuuta! You aren't going to believe this!"
I stepped out into the hall and ran into a clown with a face full of
shaving cream. Correction: It was Dad getting ready for work. He opened
his bloodshot eyes wide and flapped his lips as he pointed toward the
living room.
"What are you so excited about?" I asked.
"I had just started shaving—"
"I can see that."
"—when I heard a noise from the kitchen and went to look."
"And?"
I wanted to tease him for making this sound like the setup to a murder
reveal, but I held it in. Then he struck a pose like a dictator making a
speech and said excitedly:
"It's S-Saki… She's making breakfast!"
"Is that so shocking?"
"Of course it is! Who would have thought the day would come when I
would eat breakfast prepared by my own daughter?"
His glasses couldn't hide the tears of joy pooling in his eyes. It was
great that he was so moved, but I wished he'd stop dripping shaving cream
all over the floor.
"Okay… Well, why don't you go back to the bathroom and finish
washing up?"
"That's cold, Yuuta. It wouldn't hurt for you to be a little more
charming, like Saki."
"Ayase, charming?"
I thought of her cool bad-girl look and cocked my head in confusion.
Sure, she had a cute face. She was definitely attractive. But charming? I
had my doubts about how well that particular descriptor fit her.
…Mean thoughts swirled around my head as I pushed Dad into the
bathroom and headed for the living area. There, I noticed the fragrant
aroma of pepper wafting through the air.
"Are those eggs sunny-side up?" I asked Ayase.
"I know it's standard, but if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to keep it basic
in the morning."
"I don't have any complaints, but can I say something?"
"That really sounds like the lead-up to a complaint…but go ahead."
"Why are you making breakfast?"
She hadn't made breakfast the previous day. Something like toast for
breakfast was fine for Dad and me, and we were more than capable of
making our own.
"We made a deal," she said. "Remember?"
"You mean what we talked about last night? Wasn't that about
dinner?"
"Yeah, but I thought I might as well make breakfast while I was at it.
My policy is to give a lot when I give and take."
"I see…"
Her response was beyond conscientious, and yet she delivered it in her
usual matter-of-fact tone.
Ayase was wearing an apron over her school uniform. Seeing one's
younger sister making a home-cooked meal first thing in the morning was
a sight that would have a lot of guys salivating. But at the same time,
Ayase was far from the kind of imaginary stepsister those guys fantasized
about.
Feeling guilty that she was doing all the work, I considered what I
could help with and decided to wipe the tabletop. She glanced at me from
the kitchen and saw the shiny surface of the table reflecting the light.
"Thanks," she said awkwardly as she brought three plates of eggs into
the dining area. How typical of her to thank me for something that any
family member would do.
Next, she brought out the steamed rice and miso soup. Both were
freshly made, fragrant, and piping hot.
"When did you whip these up?"
"I got the preparations done before bed last night—it wasn't much
trouble."
She spoke casually, as if to stress that it wasn't a big deal. This was
quite impressive to me, who had considered it too much trouble to bother
for years.
We sat facing each other, folded our hands in front of our faces, and
said our thanks for the meal just as Dad arrived, finally ready for work.
His eyes sparkled as he took in the standard Japanese breakfast on the
table.
"This is so moving…"
"Ah-ha-ha. You're exaggerating, Dad," Ayase said, smiling wryly.
Her attitude toward him was different from the cool, dry tone she used
with me. I figured it was her way of showing respect for the new adult in
her life.
Judging by the emotional distance and the subject matter of their
conversation, Ayase seemed less like a stepsister and more like a bride
who had just married into our family.
Dad devoured the eggs, commenting all the while on how delicious
they were, then said it was time to go and quickly took off for work.
I was appalled by how quickly he'd finished eating. That said, I'm
usually a fast eater, too. But this morning, I had a reason to slow down.
"Don't you like your breakfast?" Ayase asked.
She looked at me with worry as I continued eating slowly and silently,
not explaining myself.
"That's not it," I said.
"You don't have to be polite. If it doesn't suit your taste, I'll make
something different next time."
"No, I mean it."
She had stuck to the basics, preparing the eggs by the book without any
weird special touches. The yolk and the overall shape were a perfect circle
and tasted as good as they looked. Whereas little sisters in manga and
anime tended to be ludicrously bad at cooking, Ayase was cool, subdued,
and competent.
So why wasn't I gobbling down her cooking?
"It's just that I often pour soy sauce on my fried eggs…," I said
awkwardly. "So I'm not used to eating them like this."
I was being honest. That was my only reason.
Ayase had used salt and pepper. Unfortunately, she hadn't cooked the eggs in a way that left room for other seasonings. I wasn't allergic to salt
and pepper and could eat the eggs just fine, but soy sauce added moisture,
so they were dry compared with what I was used to, and the sensation on
my tongue and throat as they went down felt wrong.
"Fried eggs with soy sauce… I didn't know a combination like that
existed…," Ayase muttered, sounding surprised. From my standpoint,
however, it was more shocking to eat eggs with only salt and pepper.
Ayase's expression didn't change much, but she lowered her shoulders
slightly as she spoke.
"Sorry. I cooked the eggs how I like them and didn't think about what
you might want."
"Oh, please, it's nothing for you to be sorry about. It's my fault for not
mentioning it and worrying you by eating so slowly."
"From now on, I'll try to ask about your preferences beforehand."
"Okay. I'll make sure I tell you stuff, too."
And that was that. We talked it out and reached a compromise. This is
kind of nice, I thought. Our exchange might have sounded cold and matter-
of-fact to someone else, but it was a relief for me.
After spending some time together that morning, Ayase and I once
again left for school at different times. This was both to ensure that our
classmates didn't grow suspicious of us and to help maintain a healthy
distance between ourselves.