They say in books and videos…
Getting drunk with a stranger is one of the fastest ways to close the distance between two people.
Once everyone's inhibitions are down, you don't just get a clearer read on who the other person really is — you also end up spilling the kind of secrets you'd never share sober.
Yoshiiro Chiose gave it a try tonight. Sure enough, Tomori was already well and truly hooked.
"I — I'm not drunk! Let — let go of me!"
"Senpai♪ That face you're making on your very first drink is absolutely tragic."
"What… aren't we drinking… wheat juice?"
"Ha ha, yep, that's right — wheat juice."
Takamatsu Tomori was a complete amateur when it came to alcohol. All Chiose had to do was keep refilling her glass a few times, and she'd dissolved into a hopeless, sloshed little puddle.
Too adorable. Chiose had now witnessed Tomori drinking both milk and alcohol — what a monumental milestone.
"Tomori-senpai! Your apartment building is right up ahead!"
With one arm around Tomori to keep her upright, Chiose used her other hand — the one holding the takeout bag — to point across the road toward the dark residential complex.
It was so dark over there it looked like sunlight had never once paid it a visit, and the silence was as complete as a graveyard.
"Right… everyone who lives here is a… ugh, an office worker, so they're either… not home yet… or they made it back and passed out."
What a tomb for the living — a place so thoroughly cut off from nightlife it might as well not exist.
Tomori's head was throbbing and swelling. She needed to throw up. But every time that thought bubbled to the surface, her deep-seated sense of shame clamped down hard and refused to let it happen.
Vomiting in front of a junior she'd only just met today — that was absolutely out of the question.
"Heh heh, I'll walk senpai to the door and then head off, okay?"
Chiose wasn't feeling great either. She'd chosen drinking because Sachiko had given her the idea, but after four or five attempts she still hadn't quite mastered the skill.
The takeout box in her hand held the grilled beef rice bowl they hadn't finished — cheap, just ¥164.
Add in the cost of a few beers, and for Tomori, who had essentially no spending hobbies, tonight's total was barely a drop in the bucket.
[Heh heh, Tomori — you really have grown up, haven't you.]
A dim street. A pitch-black apartment building. An empty corridor. A front door with a pile of rocks sitting by it.
So this… this was where the adult Takamatsu Tomori lived now.
Chiose was a little dizzy herself, but nowhere near as far gone as Tomori.
Tomori seemed to have already started snoring. She really was going to be a little kid forever, wasn't she.
Breathing in the scent of Takamatsu Tomori, Chiose fished the apartment key out of Tomori's small shoulder bag. The difference between the smell of drunk Tomori and mini-Tomori was, frankly, enormous.
Underneath the alcohol there were traces of the familiar scent Chiose had known on little Tomori — but layered over all of that was a mature note Chiose didn't recognize.
What a change. She'd started out as a tiny little thing just a few dozen centimeters long, and now here she was, a full-grown, seasoned senpai.
The smell coming off Tomori was strong enough that Chiose almost felt drunk from it alone — but she kept her mission firmly in mind.
Open the door. Close the door. Lock the door.
Tomori's apartment, as expected, was full of hopelessly random little things.
Chiose settled Tomori temporarily onto the pale grey sofa and swept her gaze across the cluttered but cozy rock-filled room.
Various notebooks were sorted neatly into storage boxes, the boxes stacked up into a wall. On the other side, where a balcony should have been, was an enormous stone storage area instead.
The balcony was covered in small smooth pebbles. Tomori probably walked barefoot over them sometimes for a foot massage.
Apparently penguins were very fond of rocks — they would offer them as a gesture of love.
"Mmh…"
Tomori, a soft little bundle on the sofa, let out small, muffled sounds of discomfort every now and then — adorable, delectable, and utterly pitiful all at once.
"Tomori-nee-chan, get some rest here for now."
Chiose found the electric kettle buried among the rocks, boiled some water, stirred in a bit of honey, and waited until it cooled before holding it to Tomori's lips.
"Senpai, drink at least a little — you'll feel awful otherwise."
"Ugh… I told you… I can't hold my liquor… and you kept pouring anyway…"
Aggrieved to her very core, Tomori barely managed to squeeze out a few simple words before losing the ability to form sentences entirely.
"So cute, heh heh."
They'd been so busy pouring drinks that they hadn't even touched the food they'd ordered.
Chiose pulled a small cotton blanket over Tomori. The blanket was a warm golden-orange color with fraying edges and small holes along the border — clearly old.
Chiose recognized it.
The very first time she'd simulated Tomori, this was the blanket she'd opened her eyes to see, wrapped around her in the crib.
Touching that familiar fuzzy texture again after so many years — she'd really missed it.
"Looks like… even in a world without me, Tomori turned out just fine."
She could afford to rent a place. She'd found work. Her day-to-day life looked boring beyond belief, but she was fed, sheltered, and warm.
Little Tomori… she should be happy.
Taking one last deep breath of Tomori's scent, Chiose waited while the rice cooker steamed a fresh bowl of rice. She tipped the entire grilled beef rice bowl into the rice cooker, drizzled on some sauce she'd found, and stirred the whole thing vigorously with a spoon.
In the first simulation, her virtual mother Takamatsu Hikaru used to make exactly this — a deluxe version of grilled beef rice — every time her father Takamatsu Yuji came home drunk after a work dinner.
It might not necessarily sober anyone up, but it always made the drunk person feel a little better.
The savory richness of the grilled beef paired with the sweet creaminess of the dressing — they melded together perfectly, the aroma drifting all the way across the room.
"Mmh… what's that…?"
Takamatsu Tomori had recovered a fraction, and the smell drifting in from the kitchen gave her goosebumps all over.
"Familiar… but also strange… sniff, sniff…"
"Senpai♪, what are you sniffing at — you look so cute with your nose all scrunched up like that."
Yoshiiro Chiose, having shed her work blazer and now wearing just a white button-down shirt, came walking over carrying a plate.
"Did… did Chiose cook something?"
That smell was coming from the plate!
"Yep! It's the food we just brought back — grilled beef rice bowl!"
"Oh… thank you for the trouble, I hope it wasn't a bother."
Surely nobody wants a senpai who needs to be taken care of, Takamatsu Tomori thought.
Her black-stockinged feet, freed at last from a full day inside her shoes, swung back and forth with restless unease, betraying the turmoil inside her.
It hadn't occurred to her at all that the sorry state she was in right now was entirely this junior's fault.
"Senpai, eat up — while it's hot. It won't taste the same once it cools down."
"Ah — okay!"
The words came out at an instinctively loud volume. In her haze, Tomori immediately felt embarrassed by it — until she saw that her junior didn't seem to mind at all, and relaxed.
"Let's eat."
Takamatsu Tomori brushed her hair back from her ear, opened her mouth, and in the same moment felt acutely, absurdly self-conscious about how she must look.
Food entered her mouth, chasing away the taste of the alcohol.
She chewed a few times and it slid smoothly down into her stomach, warming every inch of the way.
"!!!"
This feels so… good. Why does this feel so satisfying?
Before she knew it, the grilled beef rice bowl was gone. Tomori leaned back against the sofa; Chiose sat beside her.
Takamatsu Tomori's quiet, monotonous daily life had been thoroughly, completely upended.
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