"Good morning, Aki," I greeted as I stepped into the staff room.
"Ryuko! Yesterday was your day off, right? What did you do?" Aki replied, her cheerful tone as bright as ever. Aki was always like this—kind, bubbly, and never short on things to talk about.
I smiled politely, trying to keep things simple. "Oh, I just stayed home and rested."
Her eyes widened slightly. "A homebody? Really? You seem like someone who loves going out and having fun."
"Not really. I enjoy staying in," I lied smoothly. I didn't want to get into the awkward truth of how I spent most of my day wandering around, searching for an apartment, and having that encounter with Rin.
Before Aki could dig further, the door swung open. It was Keiko.
"Good morning, Keiko," Aki greeted cheerfully.
"Morning," I chimed in with a smile, but Keiko ignored us both and stormed straight toward me.
"What did you do to Rin yesterday?" Her voice was sharp, and her piercing gaze pinned me to the spot.
The question caught me off guard, and before I could think, I muttered under my breath, "Did Rin always talk to her mom this much?"
Keiko's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
I shook my head quickly, trying to cover up. "What did I do?" I feigned innocence, though my heart was racing.
"She said you hugged her out of nowhere," Keiko said bluntly, a trace of frustration in her voice.
"Oh, that... I'm sorry if she misunderstood," I stammered, trying to sound sincere. "I was just trying to comfort her, you know, after everything she's been through." I bowed my head deeply. "I didn't mean anything weird. I'm really sorry."
Keiko sighed, her anger softening just a bit. "Alright, I'm sorry too, Ryuko, for confronting you so suddenly this morning."
I straightened up, relieved. "No, don't worry about it."
As she turned to leave, she murmured under her breath, "I've been too protective of Rin ever since my husband left us."
Hearing those words felt like a punch to my chest. My guilt swelled up as I watched her walk away. All I wanted in that moment was to hold her and tell her it would be okay.
Aki, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, looked puzzled but chose not to ask any questions. She excused herself and hurried off to start the day.
I sighed, still reeling from the confrontation, when Keiko reentered the room. She must have been in too much of a hurry earlier to prepare properly. She was now back to change into her uniform.
I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I thought about how flustered she'd been earlier.
"What's so funny?" she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I looked up—and froze. She was mid-change, standing there in just her bra. My breath hitched. It had been so long since I'd seen her like this. My heart raced. She was stunning, and I couldn't stop myself from staring.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped, covering herself as best she could.
"S-sorry!" I stammered, panicking. Without thinking, I blurted, "You have a nice body." I even gave her a thumbs up.
Keiko's face turned red, and she glared at me like I'd just grown another head. "What are you, a pervert?"
I waved my hands defensively. "No, no! I didn't mean it like that! I was just—ahh, sorry!"
"Just don't do anything weird to me or Rin," she warned, finishing her change quickly and walking out.
"Nice, Ryuko. Way to mess it up again," I muttered to myself, utterly mortified.
---
The day dragged on, and Keiko was clearly keeping her distance from me. Her coldness was like a weight on my chest, making me regret my earlier blunder even more.
While I was lost in thought, Aki noticed and called out, "If you're just going to stand there spacing out, you might as well go home, Ryuko!"
Snapping out of it, I quickly apologized. "Sorry, Aki!"
---
By 8 PM, the day was finally over. The chefs had left, and Aki had excused herself, leaving just me and Keiko to close the restaurant.
The silence between us was deafening, broken only by the clinking of dishes and the rushing water from the sink. I hated this awkwardness, but I didn't know how to break it without making things worse.
Then I noticed the keychain dangling from her bag. It was a Gundam figure.
"Keiko..." I started hesitantly.
"Hmm?" She didn't look up.
"Do you like Gundam?"
Her head shot up, surprise flashing across her face. "Huh? How did you know?"
I pointed to the keychain. "That."
She blushed slightly but couldn't hide the excitement in her eyes. "Oh, yeah. I love Gundam!"
"You're a collector?" I asked, smiling.
She shook her head, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "Not really, I only have one because I can't afford to buy more."
I knew how much she loved Gundam—once, Rin accidentally broke her figure, leaving her devastated as she stared at the shattered pieces, and though she was always calm and composed, that time she cried a river; I ended up saving for months to buy her the same figure to make it up to her. It was so stressful for me back then, but looking back now, I somehow find it a cute memory.
We talked for a while about Gundam, the tension from earlier melting away as she opened up. Her passion was infectious, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the conversation.
As we finished closing, Keiko hesitated for a moment before saying, "You know... I've always dreamed of becoming an anime illustrator and working on a Gundam production."
I looked at her, surprised. "Really?"
She nodded, but her smile faded. "Yeah. But it's just a dream. I can't exactly chase it now. Well, sometimes life doesn't go as smoothly as we plan, right?"
Her voice was heavy with sadness, and I felt a pang of guilt. I'd always thought I was the only one whose dreams had been crushed. But hearing her story made me realize that she, too, had sacrificed so much.
Without thinking, I said, "Do you want to go with me this Friday? There's a Gundam exhibition in the city."
She looked at me, wide-eyed. "Really? You're inviting me?"
I nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I think it'll be fun."
For the first time in what felt like forever, I saw her genuinely excited. "Okay. Let's go."
That night, I left the restaurant feeling a warmth in my chest I hadn't felt in years. For a moment, it felt like things might just turn out okay.