Chapter — 2 Oden and Old Friends
It was around six or seven in the evening, that quiet but lively time when students and office workers streamed home, the air filled with the scent of warm dinners and faint city bustle.
The little oden stall was especially lively tonight, packed with familiar neighbors and regulars who greeted one another like old friends over steaming bowls.
Business had been brisk—daikon radish, in particular, was almost gone. At this rate, keeping it in stock was going to be a challenge.
"Brother, Sister Saki helped us take care of Nariyuki today. Remember to save some daikon for her—she loves it. Oh, and add fish balls, crispy bone meatballs, and some meat tofu too," Mizuki reminded, lifting the lid of the simmering pot to check on the ingredients.
The "Sister Saki" she referred to was Saki Kawasaki, eldest daughter of the Kawasaki family, who lived in the old wooden house next door.
The neighborhood wasn't wealthy, but it was close-knit. By coincidence, Saki Kawasaki and Ryuo Tenshin had grown up together and were now classmates at Sobu High School.
Saki's younger brother, Taishi Kawasaki, was in Mizuki's class, while their youngest siblings—Nariyuki Yuiga and Kawasaki Keika—were in the same kindergarten class.
The two families knew each other as well as their own. On busy nights, Saki often looked after Nariyuki, while the Kawasaki family would receive leftover oden from the Yuigas, saving them a little on groceries. Over time, this quiet exchange of help had simply become a way of life.
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By nine o'clock, the Yuiga family was preparing to close up for the night.
Saki arrived, holding Nariyuki's hand.
"Good evening, Sister Saki. Thanks for bringing Nariyuki back," Mizuki greeted warmly, setting out a cup of hot tea and a portion of the oden she'd set aside.
"Good evening, Mizuki. No need to be so formal—we're neighbors. I'm happy to help."
Saki handed over a small bag.
"These are fresh tomatoes from our yard. We had too many, so please take some."
After giving the tomatoes, she hesitated, her tone softening.
"By the way… I found a part-time job recently, so I might not be able to watch Nariyuki in the evenings anymore. I'm sorry."
Mizuki blinked, then quickly reached out to take Saki's hand, shaking her head.
"It's fine, Sister Saki. You've already helped us so much. Now that you're working, we'll just bring Nariyuki along to the stall."
She leaned in a little closer, her voice lowering.
"Actually… once we're done here tonight, could you stop by our place? My brother has something he wants to ask you."
Saki raised an eyebrow.
"What could Ryuo want with me this late?"
At that moment, Ryuo Tenshin—wearing a headscarf and apron as he packed away supplies—poked his head out, his expression mildly exasperated.
"I'm fine, but do you have to call me by my full name, Saki?"
Saki crossed her arms, her long ponytail swaying.
"Then maybe you shouldn't be eavesdropping on girls' conversations."
Mizuki leaned closer to Saki, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial whisper.
"Saki, my brother wrote a novel. I thought you could help review it—two heads are better than one."
Saki blinked in surprise.
A novel? Written by Ryuo Tenshin?
She had known him since they were three. Back then—and even now—he was the kind of person who drew people's eyes naturally, excelling at whatever he touched.
In kindergarten, countless little girls had announced they wanted to marry him. Even now, in high school, he remained inexplicably popular with girls.
Well… maybe inexplicably was the right word. She had known him far too long to see whatever charm other girls claimed he had. Sometimes she wondered if they were simply blind.
Still… the idea of him writing a novel was curious. She tilted her chin toward him.
"A sow?"
"Pfft—" Mizuki stifled a laugh, but when Ryuo shot her a glare, she quickly looked away.
Saki's jab was sharp—almost on par with Kasumigaoka Utaha herself.
Back in his first year of junior high, Ryuo had been a science-focused student whose writing lagged behind. In a composition contest themed "cute animals," most students wrote about loyal dogs like Hachiko, playful kittens, dolphins, elegant white cranes, the deer of Nara, or even Kumamon.
Ryuo? He wrote about A Sow.
It was unconventional, but the essay had perfect structure and a clever concept. The teacher praised it highly, and it became a school legend—teased about for years afterward.
Saki was clearly trying not to smirk.
"A sow, Ryuo. I'm not trying to mock you. Your Japanese grades are fine now, but I really do want to read that novel."
Ryuo's lips twitched. He wasn't a novelist, nor did he particularly want to be one. He only intended to turn his systematic ideas into something profitable—nothing more.
But Saki's smug face was irritating.
Fine. He decided he would let her read 'Your lie in April'… and watch her cry.