Hina leads a quiet, solitary life—gaming marathons, school, and the familiar four walls of Nitta Yoshifumi's apartment. She doesn't care about much. She definitely doesn't care that Nitta won't stop talking about Anzu, the former assassin-turned-waitress who smiles too brightly and makes gyoza that are apparently "on another level."
...Except she does. And she has absolutely no idea why.
When the culture festival approaches and her class decides to recruit Anzu for their café, Hina's carefully
Hina and Anzu's Great Misunderstanding Operation - A lazy girl and a nameless restlessness
Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, picking out the buttons of the controller on the floor in pale white. Hina was curled up on the sofa, her oversized hoodie pulled all the way over her head, expressionlessly gunning down enemies on the screen. Her long black hair spilled from her back down onto the sofa cushion, bangs hanging over her eyes. The light from the TV reflected faintly in her deep, dark-brown eyes—eyes that gave away nothing.
"...Gaming first thing in the morning?"
Nitta Yoshifumi emerged from the bedroom, adjusting his tie, his voice thick with exasperation. His blond hair was slicked back in its usual immaculate pompadour, and his narrow black eyes fixed steadily on Hina's back. The scar over his left eyebrow stood out sharply in the morning light.
Hina didn't turn around. Her thumb tapped the controller buttons in quick, small strokes. On-screen, her character mowed down enemies one after another.
"I'm heading to Rairai-ken for ramen again today."
Nitta's voice suddenly lifted with excitement. Hina didn't stop her fingers. Only the gunfire from the screen echoed through the living room.
"You see, when I look at Anzu-chan's smile, all my work fatigue just blows right off. That girl is really something special."
Hina's eyebrow twitched—barely. A few millimeters at most. So small she didn't even notice it herself. But somewhere deep in her chest, something pricked her. Something thinner than a needle, but unmistakably painful.
"...Huh."
That was all she said, and she focused on the screen. No—she pretended to focus. Nitta's voice kept going.
"Anzu-chan's gyoza are incredible too. The wrappers are so crispy, and the filling's so juicy. That's worth going three times a week for."
Hina's grip on the controller tightened, just slightly. On-screen, an enemy exploded spectacularly.
"...Shut up."
She muttered it under her breath. Nitta didn't hear. He was still fixing his hair in the mirror, still talking about Anzu.
"Oh, right—you want to come to Rairai-ken sometime? I'll introduce you to Anzu-chan. Wait, you've already met her, haven't you. Whatever."
Hina paused the game. The screen froze, and silence dropped over the living room all at once.
"...Not going."
"Hm? Did you say something?"
"...Nothing."
Nitta tilted his head, but didn't press further. He pulled on his suit jacket and headed for the door.
"Alright, I'm off. Lock up properly. And don't just play games all day—do your homework."
"...Yeah."
The front door clicked shut. Hina stayed motionless on the sofa for a while. The word "PAUSED" floated on the TV screen.
(Anzu.)
Just thinking the name made something stir uneasily in her chest. Until a few months ago, that girl had been an assassin sent to kill her. Dispatched by the organization, fighting with psychic powers, stranded when her teleportation device broke. And now she was the poster girl at a Chinese restaurant.
(It's not like I care.)
Hina tried to tell herself that. It didn't work. Every time Nitta said Anzu's name, this strange feeling spread through her chest. Something fuzzy and nameless.
She unpaused the game. She shot through the enemies on-screen a little more violently than usual.
──
Watanabe Middle School sat in a residential neighborhood of Toshima Ward. The building was old, and the floors creaked when you walked down the halls. From the classroom windows, you could see the roof of the shopping arcade in the distance.
"For the culture festival, our class is doing a café—that's decided."
At the front of the room, Mishima Hitomi wrote "Café" on the blackboard in white chalk. Her straight black bob was neatly maintained, and her narrow black eyes were always cool and composed. She stood four-foot-nine and hadn't grown a centimeter since starting middle school. And yet, where that tiny body found so much drive, nobody in the class could figure out.
"We'll keep the menu simple. Cookies, tea, coffee. Maybe pancakes too, if we can borrow an oven."
Hitomi wrote out the menu proposal on the board with practiced efficiency. Her classmates followed her instructions without complaint. In this class, almost no one dared cross her.
"Hey, Hina-chan, what do you want to do?"
The girl at the next desk spoke to her. Hina had been gazing absently out the window. On the schoolyard, the soccer club was running morning practice.
"...Nothing."
"There's that 'nothing' again. Hina-chan, seriously, nobody ever knows what you're thinking."
The girl laughed and turned back around. Hina kept staring out the window. Autumn clouds floated high in the sky, and the wind stirred the curtains slowly.
"Oh, right."
Hitomi suddenly spoke up. She stopped writing and looked out over the whole class.
"What if we ask Anzu-chan from Rairai-ken to help with the café? She works at a Chinese restaurant, so she's used to dealing with customers, and she's cute—she'll draw a crowd."
The classroom buzzed. The boys let out a chorus of "oooh." Anzu's name was pretty well known around here. As the poster girl of Rairai-ken, she was popular in the shopping district too.
Hina's spine twitched.
"...Nothing to do with me."
It slipped out before she realized. Her voice was quiet. But the classroom had gone silent, so everyone heard.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Hitomi stared at Hina from the front of the room. Her narrow eyes narrowed further with interest.
"You don't want Anzu-chan to come? Is there a reason?"
Hina went quiet. Even she didn't know the reason. It was just that the moment Anzu's name left Hitomi's mouth, the fuzzy feeling in her chest suddenly swelled.
"...It's not that I don't want her to."
"Then what?"
"...Nothing."
Hina turned her gaze back out the window. Hitomi watched her for a moment, then muttered "whatever" and turned back to the blackboard.
"Anyway, I'll approach Anzu-chan myself. Everyone, the culture festival is in two weeks. Get it together."
The classroom stirred back to life. Hina stared vaguely at her own reflection in the window glass. An expressionless face. But behind it, something was moving.
(Why did I say that?)
She didn't understand it herself. It wasn't that she didn't want Anzu to come. If anything, if she came, then that would be—well, that would be fine...
(...Whatever.)
That word again. Hina stuck her tongue out at herself in her mind.
──
After school, Hina came back to Nitta's apartment. Room 805 in an eight-story building. The living room had the fancy sofa Nitta had bought, the game console Hina had claimed, and a cushion by the window.
Hina dropped her school bag on the floor and sat down by the window. She hugged her knees and looked outside.
From the apartment window, the Toshima cityscape spread out below. Low buildings and houses mingled together, and beyond them stretched the roof of the shopping arcade. Rairai-ken was in that arcade.
(I wonder what Anzu's doing right now.)
The thought made Hina shake her head. She tried to stop thinking about it. But her eyes turned toward the shopping district anyway.
The evening light dyed the streets orange. Below, housewives on their way home from shopping and students coming back from club activities walked by. Everyone living their own ordinary lives.
Hina touched her throat. The old scar hidden under her clothes. The mark of the collar the organization had once put on her. When it broke, she'd become free. But even after gaining her freedom, the habit of staring out windows like this never went away.
(It's quiet on days Anzu doesn't come.)
That's how it felt. Sometimes Anzu came by to visit, delivering ramen on her way. Every time, she brought gyoza. Hina ate it without changing expression. She'd murmur "good," very softly. That was the extent of their exchanges.
But on days Anzu didn't come, something felt off. The room felt bigger than usual. Even gaming, she couldn't quite concentrate.
(Why?)
Hina pressed her forehead against the window glass. The cool sensation felt faintly pleasant.
"I'm home—"
The front door opened and Nitta came in, a grocery bag in hand.
"Oh, what are you doing by the window? Staring outside?"
"...Nothing."
Hina moved away from the window and sat down in front of the game console. Nitta stood in the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of the bag.
"I'm making gyoza tonight. You like gyoza, right?"
Hina didn't answer. She picked up the controller and turned on the power.
"Can't hold a candle to Anzu-chan's, though. Hers are seriously good. The crispiness of the wrapper is on another level. How does she get them to fry that perfectly?"
Nitta's voice drifted in from the kitchen. Hina stared at the game's loading screen and didn't move.
"Anzu-chan really is a good kid. When she serves you ramen with that smile, you've got no choice but to keep coming back. I'd go every day if I could."
Nitta's voice was innocent. There wasn't a trace of malice in it. Just his fondness for Anzu, leaking out everywhere.
Hina's hand—the one that would hold chopsticks—stopped. No, she wasn't holding chopsticks yet. She was gripping the game controller. But in her heart, the hand holding the chopsticks had stopped.
"...Nitta, you're loud."
"Huh? What is?"
"...The Anzu talk. It's loud."
Hina started the game. On-screen, her character swung a sword wildly.
"What's with that? You get in a bad mood whenever I talk about Anzu-chan. Could it be—you're jealous?"
Nitta said it with a laugh. Hina didn't take her eyes off the screen.
"...No."
"No, huh. Whatever. The gyoza's almost done."
From the kitchen came the sound of gyoza frying. The sizzle of oil, the smell of wrappers browning. Hina breathed it in as she played.
(Not jealous.)
In her mind, she denied Nitta's words. It wasn't jealousy. It was just that Nitta talked about Anzu so much that it was annoying.
(...Really?)
Another version of herself asked the question from somewhere deep inside. Hina didn't answer.
"Here, done."
Nitta set the plate of gyoza on the table. Steam rose from them. The wrappers were fried golden brown, and the smell filled the whole room.
Hina paused the game and sat at the table. She picked up her chopsticks and lifted one gyoza.
"How is it? Good?"
Nitta leaned forward eagerly. Hina put the gyoza in her mouth. The crispy wrapper crunched between her teeth. Juice from the filling burst out, rich and savory.
"...It's good."
She murmured it softly. Nitta's face lit up.
"Right?! My gyoza's not half bad either! Even if I can't beat Anzu-chan's!"
Nitta happily stuffed his own gyoza into his mouth. Hina put another one in hers.
(Nitta's gyoza are good too.)
But Anzu's gyoza were better.
(...Why am I thinking about Anzu?)
Hina chewed her gyoza and looked out the window. It was dark outside now, and the lights of the shopping arcade dotted the distance.
──
Night. Hina lay under her futon, fiddling with her phone. The screen's glow lit her face pale blue in the dark room.
Several messages had come in on the culture festival group chat. The group Hitomi had made. A handful of girls from the class were in it.
"I added Anzu-chan to the group! We'll start festival prep next week!"
A message from Hitomi. Below it, a row of stickers.
"I'm Anzu! Nice to meet you all!"
There was a message from Anzu too. With emoji. Cute, cheerful writing.
Hina left it on read and set the phone face-down. She stared at the ceiling.
"...Whatever."
That word again. How many times had she said it today?
(It's not like I care if Anzu joins the group.)
She tried to tell herself that. But deep in her chest, the stirring started again.
(If I really didn't care, why does it bother me this much?)
Hina pulled the futon over her head. In the darkness, she could hear only her own heartbeat.
Outside the apartment window, the lights of the shopping arcade flickered in the distance. The glow of the Rairai-ken sign was mixed in among them.
Anzu was probably working under those lights right now. Carrying ramen, frying gyoza, smiling.
(Anzu'
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