Gimai Seikatsu - Days With My Step Sister

Chapter 101: April 20th (Tuesday) – Asamura Yuuta

I parked my bike in my flat's parking lot and shot off a LINE message to Ayase-san letting her know I was home.

[Welcome back. I'll let stepdad know]

Looking at her near-instant reply on my phone's screen, I felt admiration for my old man well up inside me and wondered if he'd been able to leave work early today.

I passed by the building's flower bed filled with blooming white magnolia flowers, went through the entrance, and took the elevator up to my floor.

"I wish he wouldn't push himself so hard…"

My old man has been coming home past midnight recently, but ditched work early tonight especially to make dinner.

Since April, our cooking rotation has changed. We already had a system for dividing up cooking duties, but Ayase-san and Akiko-san were nice enough to take more than their fair share. Akiko-san prepares dinner before leaving for her bartending job, and Ayase-san makes breakfast. Plus, since Ayase-san and I often came home from work together nowadays, she would touch up and reheat the dinner left for us. In short, a lot of the work fell on Ayase-san's slim shoulders.

That's why I've been trying to help out since the end of last year. Before the new school year started, my old man said: "Since you two are going to be taking entrance exams soon, we should reorganize the cooking duties starting in April." He declared he'd also cook dinner on weekdays. It was a big step for a man who, until that point, had relied on pre-prepared meals and food deliveries. He was in charge of Tuesdays, Akiko-san had two days, and Ayase-san and I had one day each. On weekends, Akiko-san and my old man would cook together. She took that chance to teach him how to cook.

Today marked the third week, meaning it's his third time cooking solo on a weekday.

But just as things were decided, my old man's work suddenly got a whole lot busier. It made me realize once again how difficult it is to balance work, or study, and household chores. That said, if things really did get too tough, we'd go back to the drawing board or I'd fill in for him.

"I'm home," I called out as I opened the front door of our flat.

Responses from my old man and Ayase-san came almost in unison. As I opened the door leading to the dining room, I saw Ayase-san already sitting down, wiping down the table with a cloth.

"We just finished getting everything ready. Go wash your hands."

After acknowledging her, I tossed my bag into my room. I stopped by the bathroom to wash my hands and returned to the dining room, where dinner was ready and waiting. My chopsticks were already laid out for me on the table. Everything was perfectly arranged, leaving me with nothing to do but eat. I reluctantly took my seat.

"Alright, grub's up. Let's eat."

At my old man's urging, Ayase-san and I also parroted, "Let's eat."

On the menu today was... stir-fried vegetables, rice, and miso soup. The vegetables were the standard combination of cabbage, carrots, and bean sprouts, with pork as the meat. It was piled up generously on a huge plate, and we each took our portions onto smaller plates. Ayase-san served herself a larger portion of vegetables, but I can't tell if it's because she likes vegetables or if she's on a diet. I'm not going to touch that particular topic.

"So… how is it?" My old man asked nervously.

"It could use a touch less salt."

It tasted saltier than what Ayase-san usually makes. I wonder if my old man thought it tasted normal. People who were run down tend to crave saltiness, so I'm worried about him. I wish I could've given some clever advice on seasoning, but with almost the same limited cooking experience as him, I couldn't think of the right words and ended up being too blunt.

"I see…"

His face fell with disappointment. I'm sorry.

Ayase-san quickly came to the rescue, "It's delicious! The cabbage has a nice crunch to it."

"Oh really?! Yeah, Akiko-san told me to pay attention to that."

"Yeah, this is good."

"Good, good. There's more if you want seconds."

"Thanks."

My old man seemed to have perked up after Ayase-san's compliment. Maybe I should leave that stuff to her.

And she didn't forget to offer advice either, "So, when you taste-test a dish, you only taste a small amount of it, right?"

"Right, yeah."

"Well, salt builds up in the body as you eat. So, the amount stated in the recipe should be enough. Even if you think it's not enough during the taste-test, you don't need to add more. It ends up way saltier than what you tasted. It's kind of like soup, in that way."

"Ah, I see. Now that you mention it, sometimes when I think a soup is too light on flavor, it gets more intense as I continue to eat and it becomes overpowering."

My old man nodded in agreement to Ayase-san's explanation.

Ayase-san was way more knowledgeable about cooking and her advice was solid, so I made mental notes as the two of them went back and forth.

My cooking skills were only slightly better than my old man's since I've been helping Ayase-san with her cooking. But, he was learning from Akiko-san on weekends, too, so there was a chance he might surpass me soon. I'll probably only be able to critique his cooking for a little while longer.

After dinner, Ayase-san took her turn in the bath first.

What should I do? Should I read a book in my room or should I finish my lesson prep for tomorrow?

As I was about to return to my room, I suddenly recalled what Yomiuri-senpai said yesterday. She told me to start thinking about my future career path now.

My future job, huh?

My old man was sitting in front of me, leisurely sipping tea with a carefree expression on his face.

He looked like someone with his head in the clouds, but he'd been diligently working the same job for almost 20 years. I've never heard him talk about changing jobs before, nor have I ever asked him about it. I wonder how he ended up working for his current company.

"Hey, Dad. I'm making coffee, want some?"

"Oh, sure, I'd love some."

It was already nighttime, but I wanted to have a clear mind for the conversation we were about to have, hence the coffee. Since he didn't question why I offered him coffee at night, he might've sensed that I wanted to talk about something important.

As I brewed coffee for two using the dripper, I warmed both my old man's and my own cups before pouring the coffee and sitting down with him.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

"Dad, I just realized I've never really asked you about your job before…"

My old man, who'd been enjoying the aroma of the coffee, looked at me curiously with a "Hmm?"

I told him that since university entrance exams were approaching I've started thinking about my future. As part of learning about various professions, I wanted to hear about his job as well. He seemed surprised at first but then broke out into a smile.

He was clearly happy that I was interested in his work, and he leaned forward slightly as he began to talk.

"Where should I start?"

"Well… is that the same job you've had from the start?"

"If you mean working at the same company, then yes. It might be unusual nowadays though."

done.me

Is it really that unusual…?

"You don't think it's rare to find a job you can do for your entire life from the get-go?" He asked.

"…I can't even imagine myself working yet."

His expression turned serious as he said, "Neither could I back then."

My old man worked at a food manufacturing company with its headquarters in Tokyo. I know that much. Currently, he's the head of the product planning department.

"Oh, so you're the department head?" I said, and he replied, "Well, pretty much." It felt kinda strange for a son to only just be learning about his old man's position at work, but he never really talked about that kind of thing at home.

"But I wasn't always in product planning."

"Really?"

"When I first started there I was in sales. I might have mentioned it briefly before."

Come to think of it, I do remember hearing something like that. He used to pay more attention to his appearance back then, too.

"I've heard sales is pretty tough."

"Well, I don't think there's any job that isn't tough in some way. But I was quite shy and introverted back then."

Introverted… was that really true? My old man's words were almost enough to make me question the concept of introversion as he didn't seem that way at all. I couldn't help questioning it. He just chuckled awkwardly in response.

I wondered out loud how someone who was bad at communicating could have gotten drunk, proposed to a woman who took care of him at a bar he frequented, and managed to get married.

"Yeah, that's because I used the sales skills I honed to—oh wait, no, never mind."

My old man went along with his son's joke and even followed up with a comeback of his own. He might even have a younger mindset than me.

"I was really shy, introverted, and had trouble talking to people when I was young. That was almost 30 years ago, though."

"To be honest, it's hard to imagine."

"Well, I was really pushed around by my seniors back then. I used to go to wholesale stores and mass retailers—although you might not know what mass retailers are."

"A store that buys and sells products in large quantities at low prices?"

I quickly looked it up on my phone, and it seemed to be something along those lines.

"Can you think of any examples of stores like that?"

"Supermarkets and department stores?"

My old man nodded. It seemed I was right.

"And I used to go around to restaurants too. I would go to make sales pitches. I would go to each store, bow my head, and say things like 'We're releasing this new product soon' or 'Would you consider carrying our products?'"

"Oh, really…"

I could only offer a vague response because I didn't really understand the details.

"Obviously you can't just ask and expect an immediate "yes". In fact, more often than not you won't get it. Sometimes you get turned away before even getting a chance to make your pitch. You know how there are people handing out flyers at the train station? Most people don't take them, right?"

"I'm one of those who don't take them, actually."

"Haha. Well, that's how it is. Many stores have long-standing relationships with their suppliers, so asking those stores to switch to your company's products can be quite challenging. You're essentially trying to cut in from the side. Even when you succeed in making a sale, the salespeople from their previous supplier might hold a grudge against us."

"Wow."

"Sometimes I even had to cook right in front of the person in charge in order to show off the products."

"Cooking...wait, you cooked?"

That's surprising. That'd mean he's been cooking for much longer than me.

"Well, it wasn't actually cooking. It was more like just heating up or boiling the products. No actual cooking skills were required. But since it was done in front of important people, I was always nervous, afraid of making a mistake. I did that for about ten years."

"That's quite a long time."

So he was still in sales when I was born.

"Well, yeah. Seeing the products I pitch actually make it onto a store's shelves made me incredibly happy. It made me feel like all the hard work had paid off," My old man said with a profound sense of emotion.

"That sounds nice."

"Although, after that, if there were any issues, all the complaints would come to the sales department."

With a distant look, he told me how much it drained him, as it required good communication skills and sucking up to the customers.

Listening to his explanation, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd struggle to do those kinds of things.

"I don't think I could push products aggressively like that."

My old man silently shook his head from side to side.

"No, Yuuta, it's not called 'pushing' in sales. What you are talking about is called 'pushy sales'."

"Uh... Yeah. I guess so. Maybe you're right."

"To be successful in sales, you need to understand both the good and the bad qualities of your company's products. If you aren't honest with your clients, it'll eventually come back to bite your own company. Relationships built on hiding flaws won't last, understand?"

"But what if there aren't any good qualities?"

"I can't say there aren't any salespeople who can sell products that won't sell well. But personally, I'm not good at that, and in the long run, I think it's bad for the company. Besides, strengths and weaknesses can depend on your point of view, wouldn't you agree? The same goes for human personalities. Like, for instance, if someone was careful you could say they're 'cautious' or you could say they're 'timid'."

I think I get it.

"So the same trait can be seen as good or bad depending on the other person?"

"Exactly. So, you find qualities that the other person would see as good. Things or people, whether a relationship lasts or not can come down to how compatible you are with the person you're dealing with. It might sound harsh, but that's how it is…"

In the end, his tone held a hint of bitterness. It was supposed to be a conversation about products and sales targets, but maybe something else had crossed his mind.

"Plus, it's a big help if the product you're pitching is something you believe in yourself. I get really excited when I'm promoting products like that. I mean, if it's a great product, you know it's going to be good for the customer, too."

With that, my old man sipped his coffee and sat in silence for a while.

He grabbed a milk capsule from the table, broke off one corner with a snap, and poured it into his cup. He lightly stirred it with a spoon held between his thick fingers, creating a white swirling pattern.

As he sipped his coffee, my old man continued talking, "Well, anyway, after going through those kinds of experiences, I got interested in actually making products that people would want to recommend."

"Ah, I see. So that's why you joined the product planning department?"

"Actually, I was invited to try it out."

I mentioned we were going off on a tangent, so my old man brought the conversation back on track.

"Basically, in summary, I think sales is a job where you start new relationships with strangers. It's not about forcing or pushing things onto people if that makes sense? I believe that with your unique approach, Yuuta, you can find a way to connect with others in your own way. I don't think you can't do it. You should choose the path you love, but don't discard it as an option just yet."

I wasn't entirely sold on sales as a possible career or if it'd suit me, even after hearing all of that, but the conversation was still very informative. It's a topic I usually find tricky to discuss with my old man.

I thanked him for the chat, then took my cup of coffee back to my room.

***

My eyes slid across the open book's pages like rain off an umbrella.

The text may as well have been moon runes, and none of the content was soaking into my brain. Realizing that, I closed the book with a thud.

"Should I sleep...?"

As I lifted up the comforter on my bed, I noticed the towelket[1] I was using instead of an inner blanket had slipped and was bunched up at my feet, so I let out a sigh and fixed it. As April was nearing its end and it started to warm up again, my down comforter had been stored away in the closet, and now the setup was a towelket topped with an ordinary comforter. But, these two didn't seem to go well together, as the inner fabric would slide towards my feet and bunch up while I was asleep. I don't think it's because of my bad sleeping posture—definitely not.

[1: A towelket is a lightweight, absorbent, and quick-drying blanket made of towel-like material, popular in Japan. It's typically used in the warmer months.]

I was just about to slide under the covers when there was a tap on my bedroom door. After I responded, the door creaked open slightly and I heard Ayase-san's voice through the gap. It was rare for her to visit my room two days in a row.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Ayase-san slipped her body through the narrow opening she'd left for herself and locked the door behind her. That action reminded me that my old man was still home. With his job being busy recently, he normally wouldn't be back for another 30 minutes. Simultaneously, I felt my heart rate go up a bit.

"Were you about to go to bed?"

"Yeah."

"If it's a hassle, I can wait until tomorrow."

"No, it's okay. What's up?"

I felt anxiety creep up inside me.

"Um, well... I don't really have anything in particular to talk about, but…" As she said that, she walked over and joined me on the bed, where I was sitting with my legs to the side.

"...I was just thinking we didn't have much time to talk today."

Ayase-san didn't have work today, so we hadn't walked home together, and when I thought about it, we didn't spend as much time together as we did yesterday.

"Well, let's chat for a bit, okay?"

"Okay."

Ayase-san started telling me about her day little by little, and I responded with occasional nods and chimed in with things that happened to me, too. But, as a typical high school student, nothing particularly exciting happened to me today… well, aside from talking to Yoshida for a bit. Oh yeah, speaking of which–

"I talked to Shinjo for the first time in a while during lunch today."

"Shinjo-kun?"

"Yeah. I just happened to run into him in the cafeteria. You know the bench in the courtyard? We ate our lunches there."

At Suisei High, the main building and the second building (which houses classrooms that require special equipment, such as chemistry labs and cooking practice rooms) are built side by side, with a courtyard in between that has a small garden and benches. In winter, it's too cold because it's in the shade and the wind blows through, but at this time of year it's like a terrace seating at a café, so the benches are highly sought after. Today, we happened to find one that was empty.

"Eating lunch together, huh. That sounds nice."

"Well, it's not like we had anything in particular to talk about."

"Still, I'm a little jealous."

"But we ate dinner together, didn't we?"

Today, I just happened to have lunch with Shinjo by chance, but I basically eat breakfast and dinner with Ayase-san every day.

But Ayase-san didn't seem at all pleased with my response.

"We weren't sitting next to each other at dinner."

Ah, so that's what it is?

Our dining table seating arrangement wasn't set in stone, so it's not like Ayase-san and I can't sit next to each other. But Ayase-san and Akiko-san, who were often in the kitchen, tend to sit closer to the sink, while my old man and I sit across from them.

"Sitting next to each other like that, your shoulders probably touched."

"No, they didn't touch."

"I'm jealous."

"Of Shinjo?"

"Yeah, I wish I could do that."

"Well, if I wanted to touch shoulders with anyone, it'd be with you."

"Really?"

As she said "Really?", she lightly bumped her shoulder against mine. It seemed she wanted to be physical because we didn't have much time to talk today. The problem is it could cause misunderstandings if we don't talk it through first. I wonder how other couples in the world make sure they understand each other's intentions with physical stuff. Both Ayase-san and I aren't great at reading the mood or picking up on unspoken cues.

On the suspension bridge at Palawan Beach, we'd been so happy to see each other that we ran into each other's arms without a second thought. But, I haven't felt Ayase-san's warmth as clearly since then.

It's also a bit scary.

I whispered softly in her ear, "Can I hug you?"

As if she'd been thinking the same thing, Ayase-san leaned into me, pressing her weight against my chest. I wasn't expecting it, so I lost my balance and we both fell onto the bed.

"Be careful," I said as I wrapped my arms around Ayase-san as if to support her. I didn't want to let go of the warmth I felt.

I couldn't see Ayase-san's face as she had buried it in my chest. But, I could feel her shoulders trembling slightly. When I asked, "What's wrong?", she didn't say anything, only shaking her head from side to side. I did notice her grip on me tighten just a little, though.

I felt warmth radiate up the arms I had wrapped around Ayase-san's back.

" " So warm…" " we murmured in unison. I felt strangely moved by it. Ah, right now, we're feeling the same way.

Yet, a faint sense of unease lingered in the back of my mind.

I remembered the time when we first met and she tried to keep her distance, saying that we shouldn't interfere with each other's lives.

Was Ayase Saki really the type of person who craved so much physical affection? And was I also the type of person who didn't want to let go of someone I've touched like this?

Ayase-san's arms wrapped around my back, and I squeezed her tight with both of mine.

The breeze from the air conditioner, which we had set to a low setting because early summer was approaching, gently stirred Ayase-san's hair. Even though it was warm air, it probably wasn't good to have it blowing directly onto our damp bodies. When I draped the towelket over her, Ayase-san thanked me in a small voice.

Feeling comforted by the soft sensation of holding each other, I fell asleep, not knowing who drifted off first.

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