I woke up before the alarm went off. Miyano Arisu stared at the ceiling. The old apartment's ceiling had one stain. A familiar stain. The management company had told her it wasn't mold, but a water leak mark. That was three years ago. Exactly six o'clock. The smartphone screen lit up, and she stopped the alarm with her finger before it could even start ringing. She couldn't remember when this habit had begun. Room 206 of Corpo Misogi was quiet. Six tatami mats and a small kitchen. Arisu slowly sat up and looked around the room. The furniture was minimal. A folding low table, a futon left spread out, a small shelf placed by the window. On the shelf, twelve paperback books lined up with their spines facing her. Reading the titles, some were books someone had recommended, others she'd picked up at a store. She had almost no memory of going to a bookstore and choosing something herself. On the edge of the shelf, a single potted cactus. That was the only thing she could say with certainty was truly hers. It hadn't been given to her, nor had anyone recommended it. Two years ago, at a closing sale at a miscellaneous goods shop on the opposite side of the station, she'd bought it on a whim. The price tag had been three hundred yen. Since then, she'd watered it a little every morning. The cactus was the only action she took for herself. Thinking about it, it was a bit funny. A twenty-five-year-old woman's room, with only a single potted cactus as a personal possession. It was almost laughable. But that absurdity quickly sank away somewhere. She stood in front of the sink. In the mirror, loosely permed black hair reflected back. Sleepy, thin, drooping eyes. Dark brown irises. She didn't think her face was unattractive, but she didn't think it was particularly beautiful either. Just her face, there. Arisu hardly ever looked in the mirror. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. During that time, her gaze was directed at the faucet. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost the habit of looking at her own face straight on. She didn't even know when that had happened. She pulled an oversized hoodie over her head and put on denim pants. A slightly loose fit on her slender frame. This was also just... a outfit she'd chosen somehow. She had a memory of someone once saying, "That kind of look suits you." But who was it? Late October. When she stepped outside, the air was cold. The morning of Kagerou Slope was quiet. This town, named after the heat shimmer of summer, had no haze at all in late autumn. Under a gray sky, many shops in Hikari Street shopping arcade still had their shutters closed. Of the roughly two-hundred-eighty-meter-long shopping arcade, only twenty-two stores remained. She'd once heard from the owner, Majima, that there used to be sixty shops lined up here. After the bubble burst, they'd gradually disappeared. As she passed the shuttered storefronts, the smell of bread drifted over. "Komugi Doki." A small bakery near the north exit of the station, at the entrance of the shopping arcade. It opened at five in the morning. Passing through the sliding door, the shop owner Fujikawa was arranging bread in the back. Sixty-three years old, with distinctive shaggy white hair. "Good morning, Arisu-chan" "[gentle]Good morning" The same exchange as always. Arisu stood in front of the showcase and picked up one cream pan. One hundred eighty yen. As she paid at the register, a thought suddenly occurred to her. ——Do I actually like this bread? She traced back her memory. She'd started coming to this bakery seven years ago, right after she began working at Hinata. Someone had said back then, "Komugi Doki's cream pan is delicious." Was it a regular customer? Was it Yoshioka? With that one comment, she'd started buying it, and had been buying it ever since. Seven years of eating it every morning. But——she'd never seriously thought about whether she actually found it delicious. She left the shop and walked through the shopping arcade. She took a bite of the cream pan. Sweet. Custard cream was packed inside, and the bread was fluffy. It's delicious, she thought. But whether that was "her own preference" or "an impression imprinted because someone said it was delicious," she still couldn't quite tell. It was a bit funny. Seven years of eating it every day, and she still didn't know. But that absurdity, too, sank away somewhere. —– When she opened Hinata's dark brown sliding door, the smell of wood filled the dim interior. An old pendulum clock hung on the wall. A small shop with fourteen seats. Six at the counter, eight at tables. The wooden counter had the shine of long use. Arisu put on her apron and began the lunch preparations. "[gentle]Good morning, Arisu-chan" Yoshioka Noriko, the lunch shift part-timer, came through the curtain. Fifty-two years old, with a plump build and always a soft expression. Her hair was cut short, and her hands moved practiced as she tied her apron strings in the back. "[gentle]Good morning" "It's cold again today, isn't it" "Yes, it is" The conversation ended there. The two worked silently through the preparations. This quietness wasn't bad. At eleven o'clock, the owner Majima Yoshiaki came down from the second floor. Fifty-eight years old. Short hair with white streaks, a worn checkered shirt. Tall but slightly stooped, always with a somewhat sleepy expression. A gentle man. She'd never seen him raise his voice in anger. "Arisu, I haven't made this month's shift schedule yet" "Ah, yes. I'll get it done today" "Thanks" With just that, Majima began brewing coffee. Making the shift schedule was Arisu's job. The orders, inventory management—she did almost all the small details. Seven years, and somehow it had become her responsibility. No one had asked her to do it, but someone had to, and if Arisu did it, things ran smoothly, so Arisu did it. Lunch service began. Two types of set meals: seven hundred fifty yen and nine hundred yen. Today it was pork soup set and grilled fish set. After noon, nearby salarymen and people from the shopping arcade came in, and the fourteen seats were nearly full. Arisu kept moving behind the counter. Taking orders, carrying dishes, processing payments, greeting the next customer. During a brief lull when there were no customers, Yoshioka said: "[laughing]This place would've gone under for sure without you, Arisu-chan" She said it with a laugh. Not a hint of malice. It was meant as a compliment, and it was probably true. "[gentle]That's not true" Her usual response. Arisu smiled and carried the next plate. ——She'd said it wasn't true, but. Something deep in her heart trembled slightly. It might be true. But even if it was, what would change? This was Arisu's place, and working here was her daily life. That was fine. It should be fine. She quietly suppressed the thing that had started to waver. She wasn't very good at thinking too much. The evening service ended after nine o'clock. A regular male customer—around thirty, came a few times a month—said to Arisu at the counter as he was leaving: "[serious]Hey, want to go out for drinks sometime?" Arisu paused for a moment. She searched for a reason to refuse. ……Nothing came to mind. "[gentle]……Yes, I'd love to" That's what she'd answered. The man looked pleased and said, "Then let's exchange contact information," and Arisu took out her smartphone. The sliding door closed, and it became quiet. Majima had already gone upstairs. Arisu cleaned up alone, took off her apron, and locked the door. Outside, the air was even colder. From Hinata to the apartment was a four-minute walk. She passed through the shopping arcade, through the station area, and walked along the path by Misogi River. The cherry trees lining the river had lost all their leaves, and the bare branches cut through the streetlight in the darkness. She saw a bench. For some reason, her feet stopped. She sat down. She looked at the river surface. Misogi River was a narrow river, about three meters wide. The water was only knee-deep. But at night it reflected light well, and the streetlamps wavered and rippled on the surface. It was quiet. The "yes" from earlier echoed in her head. She couldn't find a reason to refuse. If asked whether she disliked it, she couldn't say she did. If asked whether she liked it, she wasn't sure. She simply couldn't find the words to refuse. That was all. ——What do I want to do? The question floated up as she looked at the river. Vague, but strangely well-defined. Not small things like what she wanted to eat or where she wanted to go. Something more fundamental. Did she want to keep working here? Did she want to stay in this town? Did she want to go out for drinks with that man? Where was she facing? Before an answer could come, the wind blew. The October night wind was bone-chilling. Arisu hunched her shoulders and stood up from the bench. She left the question on the river surface and started walking. She took out her smartphone and saw a missed call. An unknown number. It wasn't a 0120 number, so it might not be a sales call. But she had neither the energy nor the curiosity to call back, so she put it in her pocket. That was all. —– Back at the apartment, she showered and got into bed. Right after turning off the light and closing her eyes, she heard a voice from the next room. The walls were thin. Corpo Misogi was a thirty-seven-year-old wooden building, and sound traveled well. A man's voice and a woman's voice. She realized it was an argument when their tones began to rise. She couldn't make out the actual words. She just knew both were getting emotional. And the woman's voice rose even higher. The wall shook from the force of her voice, and it sounded like: "You don't understand anything about me!" Arisu listened to that voice, facing the dark ceiling. ——Had she ever shouted like that? She traced back her memory. No. She thought not. She'd never raised her voice in anger, never blamed someone while crying. Those emotions might have existed. But she'd never shouted. There was no anger, no envy. Just the confirmation of their absence. That was all. The argument next door eventually quieted down. Arisu had fallen asleep without noticing. —– The next morning, she woke before the alarm again. She watered the cactus, washed her face, and pulled on her hoodie. She headed toward Hinata. Before entering the shopping arcade, Arisu walked a bit faster. She'd planned to replace the exhaust fan filter before the lunch prep. Something was wedged in Hinata's dark brown sliding door. A business card. She pulled it out and looked at the front. "Kinoshita Seiji　Freelance Writer / Photographer　Shuukan Libre Contributor" Shuukan Libre. She'd heard the name before. A weekly magazine that ran socially conscious articles. It might have been on Hinata's bookshelf. She flipped it over. There was handwriting on the back. "Considering a feature on restaurants in Kagerou Slope. Requesting an interview." Arisu looked at the business card for a while. She thought she should show it to Majima. It was the owner's decision to make. But she opened the sliding door, put on her apron, and started the preparations, and somewhere along the way, the business card was in her apron pocket. She'd missed the timing to show him, or rather——she'd postponed the decision. As always, she thought. She lit the stove. She began preparing the broth. The smell of kombu and bonito flakes slowly spread through the cold morning shop. The pendulum clock struck seven. She tried not to think about the business card in her apron pocket. That's how time passed—by not thinking about things until enough time had gone by. She repeated the name "Kinoshita Seiji" once more in her heart. That was all. The broth began to simmer quietly.