Chapter Seven: Instant Ramen’s the Safe Bet at Home

A splitting headache yanked me out of sleep.

“…Too damn bright.”

I must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing my hollowed-out shell of a body in its glow. The clock read one in the afternoon. Full-on daytime, huh.

Last night, I canceled a call with Yuna because my homework was nowhere near done. Sleep didn’t come easy after that. Every time I shut my eyes, Sakuraba’s teary face floated up, like she was about to break. Since it was Friday night, I figured I could stay up, so I doomscrolled the internet until exhaustion finally hit.

I must’ve spent three hours aimlessly trawling through random info before a wave of sleepiness mercifully dragged me under. Even now, I barely remember what I was doing.

At least I managed to pass out.

Despite staring at my phone for hours, I couldn’t recall a single thing I’d looked at. A quick glance at my search history revealed a mortifying list: “long-distance girlfriend,” “accidental kiss.” I seriously wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“What was I even hoping to find…?”

Was I possessed? Out of my mind?

Unless I had a time machine, there was no undoing what happened. That kiss with Sakuraba—accident or not—wasn’t something I could just erase. Her next shift at my place isn’t until early next week. Would she even show up? Or… maybe she’d never come back.

I shuffled to the bathroom to splash water on my face, but my fingers unconsciously traced my lips. A heavy sigh escaped me. My mind kept wandering, but I managed to wash up.

I needed something—anything—to lift my mood. Maybe some good food. No way I’m cooking today. There’s that ramen joint I’ve been curious about. I grabbed my phone to check it out.

Suzu: 《Shiーkun》

Suzu: 《You free today?》

I considered ignoring her. Nothing good ever comes from ignoring Suzu’s messages, though. The second she texts, something’s already brewing.

Reluctantly, I marked her message as read and started typing a curt 《Nah》 when the intercom buzzed. No way. I didn’t want to check. A bad feeling churned in my gut.

Suzu: 《I’m here~》

I clutched my head, groaning, and peeked through the door’s peephole. A close-up of Suzu’s sharp, almond-shaped eyes stared back.

Yup, it’s her. I swung the door open. She stood there in a cropped white tee and black track pants, her sporty look somehow annoyingly perfect.

“Seriously, what if I wasn’t home?” I grumbled.

“Guess I’d wait ‘til you got back?” she said, tilting her head.

That’s way too reckless. She’s got no sense of how rough Tokyo can be—or how her looks make her a walking target.

I flicked her forehead lightly. “Ow!” she yelped, clutching her head, but there wasn’t a hint of remorse in her eyes. With another sigh, I let her in. She kicked off her paint-splattered sneakers, lined them up neatly at the entrance, and muttered, “Pardon the intrusion,” before plopping down at the table.

“Tea okay?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Crap, I’m out of tea. Water cool?”

“Whatever works.”

I hadn’t gone shopping, so the tea was long gone. I dug out a spare water bottle from the back of the kitchen shelf and poured her a glass.

“You eat lunch yet, Suzu?”

“Nope. Was planning to eat with you, shi-kun.”

“Wanna hit up that ramen place then?”

“Hell yeah.”

This. This is why I like hanging with her. No complications, just easy vibes.

A year ago, this was my life—simple, predictable. Ever since I started living alone, it’s been one curveball after another. I’m exhausted.

Since I’d just rolled out of bed, I chugged some water, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Can’t exactly go out in pajamas, even if it’s just around the corner. When I came back, Suzu was glaring at me, clearly unimpressed.

“…You could’ve changed out here, y’know,” she said.

“That’d be awkward for both of us.”

“Wanted to check out your muscles.”

“…Right.”

I’d completely forgotten—she’s got me under her thumb. The whole “modeling for her art” deal. My arms instinctively wrapped around myself as I remembered her saying she was into my body.

“Later,” she said, poking my chest with her index finger, a sly smile creeping across her face. When it’s for her art, I can’t say no, no matter what she asks.

After yesterday’s mess, I kept my mouth shut. Suzu just said, “Let’s go,” and slipped her sneakers back on. Everything felt like it was spiraling in the worst direction.

I know I can’t keep going like this, but I haven’t the faintest clue how to fix it. Where did I screw up? What’s the first step?

For now, I’d focus on what’s in front of me. I slapped my cheeks lightly and stepped into the sneakers Yuna gave me for my birthday two years ago.

“…Suzu, how many people are in line?”

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

We locked eyes.

The ramen shop, famous for being the best in the neighborhood, was packed beyond belief. Our stomachs were growling, so we made a quick U-turn and headed back to my place.

Guess it’s instant ramen today. Gotta make do with what’s in the pantry.

As soon as we got back, Suzu kicked off her sneakers and dove straight onto my bed.

“Hey!” I shouted.

She faceplanted, took a deep breath, and then sat up with her usual poker face. “Mmm… smells like Shi-kun. So comforting.”

“Don’t go sniffing my bed like a creep.”

She’s treating my place like a damn hotel.

It’s her first time here, but she’s acting way too comfortable. Probably because we go way back.

“Finally got to see your new place. I’m stoked,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s farther now that I moved. Took you a while to get here, huh?”

“Yup. Missed my train and had to ask a station attendant. Shinjuku’s scary…”

Six years in Tokyo, and this is her navigation skill? Even her “artist” excuse doesn’t cut it. That’s just pathetic.

I patted her back, then playfully wrestled her off the bed in a loose chokehold. She let herself get dragged along, but she was heavier than I expected, so I dropped her by the kitchen. She hit the floor with a thud, glaring up at me with teary, resentful eyes.

“…Big brother’s being mean,” she whined.

“You’re totally at fault here. Anyway, pick one.”

I pointed to the cabinet under the sink, where I keep my emergency instant ramen stash.

Suzu’s eyes zeroed in on my prized possession—a limited-edition collab with a famous shop, impossible to find now. She grabbed it without hesitation.

This girl’s got game. No surprise, considering we’ve been hitting up every ramen joint praised by that big-shot ramen blogger.

“That one, huh? You sure? I’ve got others,” I said, trying to save my treasure.

She looked up suddenly. “Wait, don’t you have more stuff than before?”

“Oh—yeah, Sakuraba… uh, a friend who’s teaching me to cook, keeps leaving kitchen gadgets here. Plus, Natsukawa forced a cabbage slicer on me.”

“It’s getting crowded. Wanna toss it all?”

“That’d sting a bit.”

Have I accumulated that much? Maybe. I didn’t even have plates or cups when I moved in. I wouldn’t have a tamagoyaki pan if Sakuraba hadn’t left one.

Hell, I barely knew what kitchen tools were beyond a knife, cutting board, and frying pan. When Natsukawa showed me kitchen scissors at the cooking club, I was so blown away I hugged her on the spot. Kitchen scissors are a game-changer. Love ‘em.

I couldn’t tell why Suzu was annoyed, but her mood was obvious. I might need to declutter soon. Yuna could visit any day, too. As I mulled it over, Suzu started rummaging through my bookshelf.

“Let’s pull out your elementary school yearbook!” she said, waving a colorful, nostalgic booklet. She’s a year older, so she’s not in it, but her artwork’s plastered on the cover since it was displayed at school. For some reason, she’s got a copy of my yearbook.

“No way. The others might see it.”

“…Then don’t let them in your house.”

Oh, she’s sulking. Suzu turned away, sitting cross-legged in a huff.

From experience, the best way to snap her out of it is to pester her. I plopped down in front of her and gently bumped my forehead against hers.

“C’mon, you’re my best bud, right?”

“…”

“I mean, you can come over anytime.”

“You think this’ll fix my mood.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

“Bingo.”

Suzu flashed a grin like she did when we were kids, her mood flipping instantly.

She held up the coveted instant ramen. “Guess I’m claiming this.”

“You’re unreal! I’m the homeowner here!”

“Grateful to the homeowner.”

“Ugh, fine!”

She got me.

Resigned, I grabbed my second-favorite instant ramen and started boiling water.

“Suzu, queue up a three-minute song.”

“Nice call, Shi-kun. Using a timer’s boring.”

“I mean, I don’t have one… Wait, I do. Sakuraba bought one.”

A deafening blast rang out. I whipped around to see Suzu playing some hardcore death metal. I scrambled to stop it. “What the hell!?”

“Oops, wrong one. Meant this.”

Now it was some pastoral tune from who-knows-where. You’ve got better options than this.

Grumbling, I poured the hot water and had her play an actual three-minute song. A nostalgic Vocaloid track filled the room.

“You know this song’s turning ten this year?” she said.

“No way. It was just a recent banger back then.”

“Right? Remember swapping favorite song lists in the nurse’s office? So nostalgic.”

Back then, we’d scribble our favorite songs on scraps of paper, trade them, and talk about what we liked. Our music tastes are practically identical.

“Never thought we’d end up slurping instant ramen together while watching MeTube, huh?” I said.

“Nope. Thought we’d never grow up.”

“You still haven’t.”

“Shut up. I’m more grown-up than you. I’m old enough to get married.”

As we reminisced, the song neared its end. I opened the lids and stirred the noodles. I like mine firm, so I’m quick about it. A dash of the spicy paste, and I slurped them down.

The heat hits. That glorious junk-food flavor!

“So damn good!” I shouted.

“Love that face. The chef’d be thrilled.”

I need to tell someone about this bliss.

It’s insanely good. I’ve been eating Sakuraba’s home cooking so much lately that I was craving this kind of trashy perfection.

“Mmm… this is great,” Suzu said, blowing on her noodles—she’s got a sensitive tongue—before diving in.

She clearly loved it.

“Stock up on these,” she said.

“Don’t turn my place into your pantry.”

“Your place is my place. Home sweet home.”

“You’ve literally never been here before.”

“Caught me.”

It’s not about being caught. It’s my stuff, not hers.

We scarfed down the noodles before they got soggy and threw on a random B-grade shark movie. It was a total gem—we were hooked.

“Shi-kun, this calls for cola and chips!” Suzu declared.

“Dammit, I’m fetching them?”

“You’re the homeowner.”

Unfair.

I bolted to the fridge and back in record time, but by the time I returned, Bob, the main character, had been chomped in a flash. What happened to you, Bob!?

Bob’s fate remained a mystery, but the movie was a blast. Naturally, we fired up Smash Bee Stars. Last time, my guard was weak, and Suzu’s dash attacks sent me flying. This time, I was ready.

“How are you this good!?” I yelled.

“Dunno. Am I a genius?”

She’s smug as hell.

I’m using a popular, well-rounded character, but Suzu picks a tricky suit-wearing girl just because she likes the look. Losing to that stings extra.

“Aw, crap—!”

A perfect double-jump into an aerial attack. She nailed me. Another loss.

I tried a few more rounds, but my win rate was abysmal. Suzu smirked, holding the controller triumphantly.

This vibe, though. It’s… nice.

“Y’know, hanging with you’s still the best,” I said.

“Really? Wanna get married?”

“…How’d we get there?”

“I mean, I have the most fun with you, too. Marriage means we’d be together forever, right?”

“…”

“Kidding!”

Was that a joke? It sounded way too serious, but her tone was so casual it threw me off.

Suzu always deadpans her jokes, so it’s hard to tell. My heart skipped a beat for a second there.

To get back at her for messing with me, I playfully ground my knuckles into her arm. She flashed a rare, bright smile and perked up.

“Guess it’s time for you to strip, as promised.”

“…Huh?”

“Just the top for now.”

“…For your art, right?”

“Yup.”

If I weren’t under her blackmail, I’d call this harassment. But she says it’s “normal in our world” with such a straight face that I sighed and peeled off my shirt.

“Cold?” she asked.

I shook my head. It’s early summer, so it’s not chilly, but the breeze on my bare skin and her staring at my torso made my heart race.

Back in the day, I saw her as a cute little sibling. But Suzu’s a girl—a stunning one now, with all the right curves. Of course I’m nervous.

“Gonna touch you now,” she said.

“W-Wait—!”

“Don’t squirm. We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

This is beyond embarrassing!

Back in elementary school, when we were just kids with no concept of gender, it was fine. But now? After chilling like bros all day, this shift in vibe is throwing me off.

Her hand grazed my collarbone, her index finger tracing downward toward my stomach. The gentle, almost reverent touch made it even more ticklish.

“Uh, Suzu-san? Maybe that’s enough—!”

“It’s important. I need to feel the shapes, the contours…”

Her slender, pale hand slid to my navel, brushing my abs slowly.

“Heh. You’ve grown.”

“E-Enough already!”

“Not yet.”

“Show me more,” she said, her hands roaming, studying every inch of me. Her gaze was so direct, so unflinching, I couldn’t move. I could barely swallow.

She’s usually such a brat, but in moments like this, she pulls out this mature, almost seductive air. It’s not fair.

“There’s a mole here,” she said, brushing my hipbone, making me jump.

“Does Yuna know about it?”

“N-No…”

“Then it’s just me.”

Suzu’s lips curled into a small, fleeting smile, like she was savoring those words as if they were a precious gem. I stood frozen, caught between confusion and nerves, but just as quickly, her face slipped back into its usual blank mask.

“All done. You can put your shirt back on,” she said.

“God, you’re unbelievable,” I muttered.

“What? Wanna feel me up too, Shi-kun? I’m game,” she teased, her tone light but her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Don’t just say stuff like that!”

Shaking my head at her usual recklessness, I yanked my trusty hoodie over my head. Suzu, never one to miss a chance, grabbed my freshly tousled hair and ruffled it like I was a kid.

“Hey, knock it off!” I protested.

“Heh. Shi-kun, ever thought about dyeing your hair again?” she asked, smirking.

“Yuna chewed me out last time, remember?”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, and it’s your fault.”

Last year, Suzu barged into my place out of nowhere, begging me to dye her hair. So, I grabbed some drugstore bleach and turned her into a blonde bombshell. Then she got all excited and roped me into dyeing mine too, saying our school’s lax rules wouldn’t care. I ended up with light brown hair—didn’t mind it, honestly, kinda liked it. But then Suzu, being Suzu, decided to video-call Yuna and show off. “Check out my Shi-kun. Isn’t he hot?” she’d said, practically waving a red flag. Naturally, I got an earful from Yuna, had to dye it back to black, and dealt with damaged hair and a pissed-off girlfriend. Total disaster.

“Shi-kun, you rocked that brown hair,” Suzu said, undeterred.

“Yuna shut it down. Says it’d look bad to my folks too. Can’t argue with that.”

“Hmm…” Suzu’s eyes narrowed. “So, you really planning to marry her?”

The question hit like a sucker punch.

Honestly? I can’t even picture myself marrying anyone. I’ve never earned my own money, and yeah, I love Yuna, but the idea of spending my whole life with someone? It’s a blank. No big dreams to chase, no grand goals to hit. I’ve vaguely thought maybe that’s where I’m headed with Yuna, but we’re not even engaged. Being treated like marriage is a done deal feels… off.

Suzu stared at me, her usual playful vibe replaced by a rare, dead-serious look.

“Her family’s a lot, Shi-kun. Way more complicated than you think. They’re into old-school stuff like arranged marriages, and I bet they’ve already dug into your family’s background without asking.”

“…Yeah?”

I love Yuna. That’s it. That’s all it’s supposed to be. So why’s there so much noise around it? I’ve thought about this before—too many times.

My family’s lucky; being transfers, we don’t have deep roots or baggage. But when Yuna and I started dating, my parents got bombarded at PTA meetings. Suzu’s family knows Yuna’s, so they’re probably some big-shot clan. Maybe Suzu’s dealt with her own family drama, too.

“Shi-kun, you’re the most important person to me,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “If anything happens, tell me. I’ll always have your back.”

“…You’re being dramatic,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

But deep down, I know I’ve got maybe a year left before things get real. Yuna’s parents have already mentioned wanting me to study business in college, even offered financial help. I don’t know if Yuna’s in on it, but the pressure’s there.

And then it hit me.

If I move back to Mie, I won’t just leave Yuna—I’ll lose Suzu, Natsukawa, Nikaido… and Sakuraba. I’ve been through goodbyes before, but knowing how hard it is to reconnect makes it sting worse.

“Thanks, though,” I said. “I’ll think it over.”

Suzu’s lips quirked into a goofy grin. I ruffled her hair, feeling a pang of guilt. She’s probably worried, being close to both me and Yuna.

She’s a good friend. The best.

“Anyway, you good just chilling here? It’s getting dark,” I said.

She was supposed to come over to draw, right? Trying to shift gears, I tossed out the question, but Suzu just tilted her head and let out an “Oh.”

“Today was just about feeling you up,” she said. “I’ll draw when I get home.”

Now that I thought about it, she did show up empty-handed. No brushes, no paints—guess that’s not how it works?

“Fine, but—”

“Admit it, you’re kinda into being my model, huh?” she teased, smirking.

“…I’m curious to see how you draw me, at least.”

“Best compliment ever.”

Suzu cupped my cheeks gently with both hands, her touch warm. “Artists capture moments, you know. Once I paint you, that moment’s mine forever.”