Life In The Reverse World

The outer walls, tiled in jet-black stone bricks, were lit up with crimson neon signs that blazed even in broad daylight, drawing the eyes of hurried passersby.

If that were all, it would’ve been fine. Choko quietly guessed what kind of lunch Onii might have chosen. With this kind of aesthetic, it could’ve been a Western restaurant, or perhaps some trendy new fusion place…

That was what she’d hoped, right up until she followed Onii to the entrance and saw the two display boards set by the roadside.

Yellowed noodles sprinkled with sesame seeds, and a rich broth dotted with floating beads of oil, every detail was captured in the oversized photos of ramen.

The owner probably thought that showing off the shop’s signature dish like this would attract more customers. It was a perfectly normal idea. In fact, most restaurants did something similar, but…

Choko didn’t like it.

At least, not today. Absolutely not today.

“…Haa.”

Was it that she’d seen this coming all along? Or had she simply held Onii to standards that were too high, filled with expectations and idealized fantasies?

Back when they’d gotten off the boat at Chidorigafuchi and started talking about lunch, she’d already tried to guess what kind of odd place Onii might take her to. Especially when he’d brought up his senpai again, at that point, all her hope had drained away.

McDonald’s? Lotteria? Gusto, the family restaurant? Or maybe Yoshinoya, Hidaka-ya, something like that?

She’d even mentally prepared herself for being dragged to Matsuya for a cheap set meal. And yet, in the end, Onii had chosen… a ramen shop.

The entire frontage of the restaurant was glass, clear floor-to-ceiling windows and tall glass doors. From the street, you could see everything inside at a glance.

If it were something like Ichiran, that would be one thing. But this place even did counter seating,

Everyone sitting at the bar in front of an open kitchen, close enough to hear each other slurping noodles?

Even though Choko disliked the Shihou family’s stiffness and harshness, the upbringing she’d received still made this kind of dining arrangement unacceptable to her. At the very least, when it came to manners, she thought the rules her great-grandmother and mother had taught her were quite proper.

Ding-ling.

“Welcome!”

With the chime of the doorbell, a hearty greeting rang out from inside.

Like most noodle shops, this place had a self-service ticket machine right by the entrance where you paid and ordered.

This time, Choko didn’t hesitate. She directly pressed the button for the small serving of the signature oil-mixed noodles, 780 yen.

“Choko, is a small bowl really enough? Want to add a few slices of chashu or something?”

Seeing her choose the small portion, Sato asked with concern.

Why couldn’t he be a little more attentive than this?

She sighed softly in her heart, then forced a faint smile and shook her head.

“N-no… it’s fine. I… I was waiting for you at 7-Eleven earlier, and I got a bit peckish, so I already had an onigiri and some bread.”

She came up with a perfectly reasonable excuse to stop him from asking more.

After all, the reason she’d been waiting at the convenience store in the first place was because Onii himself had overslept and been late.

“Ahaha… sorry… but my senpai said the abura-soba here is one of the best in Tokyo. The flavor and texture are both amazing.”

As expected, she thought. The moment his tardiness was mentioned, all he could do was apologize and move on.

But again with the upperclassmen. She really couldn’t understand, were those so-called “senpai” really more important than a childhood friend?

“Let’s sit over here.”

“Eh? That far inside? You won’t be able to see the chef cooking…”

“I don’t want to be too close to other people.”

Just as Sato was about to sit down in the middle of the counter, right in front of the chef, Choko quickly grabbed his sleeve and pulled him deeper into the shop.

Sitting farther inside meant they wouldn’t be visible to passersby through the window, and they’d also be a bit farther from the other customers,

Right now, all she could hear were the constant slurp slurp sounds of noodles being eaten. Even if making noise while eating noodles was considered “traditional culture” in this country, she still couldn’t accept it.

If anything, many young people these days didn’t slurp their noodles the way the older generation did anymore.

Once they took their seats on the high stools at the counter, silence settled between Choko and Sato.

Bar-like pendant lights cast a warm yellow glow downward, making Choko, who didn’t know what to do with herself, feel restless and uneasy. Those lights seemed to give off heat as well, like the heating elements inside a microwave or an oven…

She felt like food inside an oven, or something sitting in a supermarket deli case or on a buffet tray, left under warming lamps, her head hazy, her mood irritable.

Swish, swish.

The noodles rolled in the strainer as the chef shook the pot, tumbling through the water.

Sss, sss.

In the cramped space, the sounds of people slurping noodles rose and fell.

Bara-bara, wara-wara.

Even thick, long noodles couldn’t keep most diners’ mouths occupied.

All of it was like pouring oil on a fire, indirectly, and directly, magnifying the frustration in Choko’s heart.

“…Haa.”

She couldn’t help it. She lightly covered her mouth and yawned.

This time, Onii wasn’t playing on his phone. He alternated between glancing at the chef’s progress and reading the instructions and notes placed in front of him.

Because he wasn’t deeply focused on anything, he immediately noticed her yawn.

“Well, um… the one who introduced me to this place was Obara-senpai, a first-year at Todai. He was also the former president of our Nichiya High literature club…”

“Oh… a Todai student. That’s impressive…”

Choko nodded along.

Who cared whether he was a Todai senpai or a Keio senpai? This idiot, when you’re out with a girl, don’t you think it’s strange to keep talking about some unfamiliar “senpai”?

Sure, those senpai and club members had helped Onii quite a bit, keeping him from completely sinking into the bottom rung of school life as an invisible loner…

But treating him like an errand boy, a convenient lackey they could order around, wasn’t that going too far?

No matter what, she absolutely hated those people who took up what little free time Onii had.

Dinners, gatherings, karaoke, reading groups, study sessions, every single messy event, they always dragged Onii along…

And Onii was such an idiot too. Why couldn’t he just learn to say no?

No matter how unwilling she was to face it,Choko had to admit that Onii was both different from before, and almost exactly the same.

What had changed was his perception of her. From an uninhibited childhood playmate, an almost-older-brother figure, he’d become an “ordinary person” who was wary of the surname Shihou, an “ordinary person” who feared and shrank from the gap in status.

What hadn’t changed was his personality, and the way he saw her.

Kind, careless, clumsy, lacking in confidence… yet he was still her Onii. Even while fearing the Shihou family’s power and position, he still wanted to get close to her, still tried to maintain the same relationship and attitude they’d shared as children.

“…At the most recent reading group, everyone voted to read haiku. When the senpais took turns reciting them, their breadth of knowledge was really impressive.”

Resting his chin in his left hand, Sato spoke as he reminisced.

“My favorite was Kobayashi-san’s line: ‘My birthplace, there, the grass can be made into mochi.’”

“Grass mochi would totally be sour and bitter, right? Just imagining it sounds awful.”

Choko tried to respond in a joking tone, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a little.

“Choko, you should respect the creator… Kobayashi-san’s line is about remembering hardship and longing for home, describing the poverty of his childhood.”

“Onii, you’re way too serious~”

…Forget it.

She gave up on being proactive, letting out a quiet sigh in her heart.

If it were Harutaki he would’ve followed up with a joke like, “I’ll make grass mochi for you sometime,” or even asked whether she wanted grass from Ueno Park or Shinjuku Gyoen, using those silly jokes of his to make her laugh. No, maybe with Harutaki, she wouldn’t even need to prop up the mood at all. He’d handle everything himself.

“But now that you mention it, I remember you once pulled grass out of the ground and tried to eat it.”

As if a light had suddenly gone on, Onii spoke with a nostalgic expression.

“You said it looked so green and tender, like it’d be crisp. Then you took one bite, scrunched up your face, and spat like crazy…”

“Hmph. But didn’t you also stupidly eat a whole handful of grass afterward?”

“That’s because you told me it was delicious.”

“Onii being dumb isn’t my fau— ”

Thud.

Thud.

Just as Choko was starting to feel a bit more like continuing the conversation, a large and a small bowl of abura-soba were set down in front of them.

“Eat it while it’s hot. Once it cools down, it’ll definitely feel greasy.”

“Mm…”

The conversation that had finally gained some momentum was cut short. Yet, to her own surprise, she didn’t feel disappointed.

In the past, she might have felt angry and let down if a pleasant, nostalgic chat about childhood memories with Onii was interrupted. But now…

‘Rather than always immersing yourself in the past, it’s better to try creating more interesting memories in the present.’

She couldn’t help recalling a line she’d once heard in a TV drama.

“Choko, could you hand me the red jar of chili oil?”

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

Choko picked out the chili oil from the condiments lined up in front of her and handed it to Onii on her right. But as her gaze followed the jar, she froze when she saw his bowl.

“Onii, that’s…”

“Ahaha… I’ve been eating with senpai a lot, so my tastes have gotten heavier. I remember you prefer lighter flavors, Choko, so you can just eat it as is.”

No, that wasn’t what she meant.

Staring at the white minced garlic covering nearly a third of his bowl, she hesitated. After a moment of silence, she gave up on warning him.

Choko still remembered, on their way deeper into the restaurant, she hadn’t seen any complimentary mint candies anywhere…

“Hah…”

She let out a helpless, shallow sigh. As she did, the rich, oily aroma of the abura-soba rose with her breath and filled her nose.

It smells… fine, Chouko thought. At least it shouldn’t taste bad.

She twirled a portion of the glossy, golden thick noodles around her chopsticks with one hand, while using the spoon in her other hand to support the loose ends that refused to coil properly, then brought the noodles to her mouth.

“……”

The noodles were extremely chewy, but a little too hard, not the texture Chouko liked.

And more than that,

Isn’t there way too much oil?!

She understood this was largely a matter of personal taste. To most people, this bowl of abura-soba probably wouldn’t seem excessive at all. But for her, it felt as if someone had poured an entire spoonful of oil straight into her mouth.

Slurp, slurp.

“So? How is it? Pretty good, right? This tangy, spicy oil sauce paired with these springy thick noodles, it’s just amazing!”

As he spoke, Sato lifted another bundle of noodles and slurped them down noisily.

“Mm… it’s… good…”

If it were Harutaki, she thought with a hint of grievance, he’d definitely notice how uncomfortable I am, wouldn’t he?

Still, unwilling to waste food, she forced herself to finish every last strand in her bowl.

Thankfully, she’d ordered the small portion. At this moment, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for that earlier moment of prudence.

As for Sato, who finished his large bowl almost at the same time she did, Chouko wasn’t sure whether she should resent his slurping manners, or be thankful for how quickly it brought her ordeal to an end.

Either way, at least she wouldn’t have to suffer much longer.

“Where are we going next, Onii…?”

She asked eagerly, clearly urging him to leave this restaurant filled with slurping noises and the lingering scent of oil as soon as possible.

Even if the smell itself was appetizing, the memory of that greasy mouthfeel made it unbearable.

“Uh… how about Shinjuku?”

Sato checked the time on his phone before turning back to her with the suggestion.

Meanwhile, Chouko subtly shifted half a step away, holding her breath as she waited for the garlicky smell around him to fade.

“Shinjuku…?”

After hesitating for a moment, she nodded.

“Onii, do you have anything in mind to do there?”

At the mention of Shinjuku, her thoughts drifted back to what had happened a few days ago,

If Harutaki hadn’t been there, something truly awful might have happened to her.

The leering, vile grin of that upperclassman Yobitani resurfaced in her mind. Her heart still pounding, she pinched her cheek lightly and forced herself to think of Harutaki instead, his gentle expression, his warm, comforting embrace…

Once they stepped back onto the wide streets, it felt as if the world itself had grown brighter and more open.

The sound of slurping noodles faded away.

Vroom, vroom.

In its place came the rumble of car engines on the road.

Click-clack, click-clack.

High heels and leather soles struck the pavement, producing crisp, rhythmic sounds.

“Phew…”

Chouko took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Even though she could faintly smell exhaust fumes in the air, she couldn’t help but feel that life at this very moment was wonderful.

All of it was thanks to him, Hoshikawa Harutaki.

I’ll definitely repay him properly, she resolved silently.

……

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