"I haven't finished my cigarette."
"It doesn't matter. I don't want someone to die at my place."
Tayama huffed as she kept staring at him, waiting till he entered her place instead of hanging out on the wet balcony.
Nifuji only smiled before he entered the room, as the drizzle became rain.
As he entered, the rain hit the corrugated metal of the balcony roof and the thin glass of the frosted kitchen window with a relentless, tinny rhythm. It is a sudden Tokyo downpour, heavy and vertical. The sounds of the world—the distant trains, the waking city—are instantly drowned out by the wash of water.
Nifuji held the ashtray as he smoked, and Tayama paused with the pot holder in her hand, and the two of them looked toward the blurred window. The sudden darkness of the storm makes the orange light of her apartment feel instantly warmer, smaller, and more secure. The smell of the rain—metallic and wet—drifts in through the vents, mixing strangely but pleasantly with the rich, salty scent of the pork broth and scallions.
They are sealed in, safe in their warm, savory-smelling cocoon while the world outside is washed clean.
"The smell is delicious."
Nifuji made a comment as he held his belly, wishing to eat as fast as possible.
"Be patient. It will be done soon."
Tayama smiled, pleased with his words, since, despite her poor style of cooking, he could tell that Nifuji anticipated it eagerly.
The rain is now a deafening sheet of white noise against the city. Inside the kitchen, the steam from the pot curls comfortably against the ceiling. She divided the contents into two mismatched ceramic bowls—one a chipped blue-and-white patterned bowl, the other a plain black one. She made sure both got an equal share of the poached egg and the ham.
She carried the bowls to the low wooden table (chabudai) in the center of the room, setting them down on cork coasters. She then turned toward her room.
Through her room, she could see Nifuji's figure sitting in the corner of her room, right next to the sliding glass doors. He pressed back against the wall, protected well from the spray and the wind that whipped the rain sideways, but as he was a little late to enter, his navy suit jacket was damp at the shoulders, darkening the fabric. He looked lost, staring out at the grey deluge.
Her heart quickly felt something, and she quickly put the two bowls on the table, causing the clack sound to break the silence of the room.
"Hurry up and eat! It won't be good if it's cold!"
"...aren't you the one who made me wait?"
"...are you just being hungry?"
Nifuji looked strangely at Tayama and asked, "Did you think that I was thinking something weird?"
"....." Tayama.
Nifuji's mood wasn't melancholy, but he was just hungry. Nothing else and nothing more. As for what might happen between the two of them, he would just leave it to the flow, and according to the flow, he knew what might happen, yet considering their situation be, especially since he only slept for a short moment, and she also hadn't fallen asleep, it was better for them to delay what might happen, and wait till their next meeting, as he knew that this wouldn't be their last time.
There would be a next time between the two, and because of that, instead of being affected by the momentary heat, which made him always do as he did before, making an advance to any woman who gave him a chance, he decided to rest.
Yes, resting, and that wasn't bad at all, especially since he had tossed his body carelessly, so it wouldn't be weird if his body was broken.
"Sit over here. You can't eat if you sit so far away."
Tayama pointed at the beanbag chair, a place for him to sit down, while she took a floor cushion on the opposite side of the low table.
"Okay."
As Nifuji moved closer to the low table, he could feel the temperature return to a warm, amber-lit hush. He sat awkwardly at first, his long legs folded underneath the low table, his suit looking out of place in her eclectic, punk-rock sanctuary. The warmth of the room hit him, and instantly, his wire-rimmed glasses fogged up completely.
He took them off, wiping them on his tie with a weary sigh, revealing eyes that were red-rimmed but soft. When he put them back on, he saw the bowl in front of him. The steam rose in a perfect column. The yellow yolk of the egg peeped out from under the green onions and ham.
"It seems delicious."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Haven't you eaten something better?"
"Yours is special."
Nifuji wasn't even sure when the last time he had eaten the instant noodle was, since his diet had been healthy, being taken care of by all of his women.
Yup, whether it was Eri, Chizuru, and all others, when they prepared food for him, they tried to prioritize anything that was beneficial to his health, as they knew that he was working hard. Moreover, he also had given them a lot of money, and because of that, they splurged a lot on the ingredients for his food.
Sometimes, he saw an old ginseng or other unique ingredients that would be hard to find in this country, in his place or their places, making him speechless.
"Can I eat it now?"
Nifuji asked as he didn't notice how relieved and gentle her expression was as she heard his previous words.
"Yes, here are the chopsticks. Also, be careful since it is still hot."
"...what are you? My mom?"
Nifuji was speechless at Tayama's intense care.
"Oh, you want me to coddle you? Do you want me to feed you, Nifuji-chan?" Her face was full of teasing, like an older woman who wanted to tease a younger man, although she was the younger one between them.
"...." Nifuji.
"Eat."
"Okay~!"
While his face was as blank as ever, completely exhausted, Tayama seemed to be full of energy despite how exhausted her body was. They faced each other, breaking their chopsticks apart before they started to eat.
They ate in a companionable silence, the only sounds the rain drumming on the glass and the slurping of noodles—a sound that, in this culture, signifies enjoyment.
Nifuji took the first bite, and his shoulders dropped two inches. The hot, salty broth, the richness of the egg, the simple, honest warmth of the meal seem to seep into his bones, thawing the frozen exhaustion of his long night.
For a moment, in this cluttered apartment in Shimokitazawa, eating instant ramen with a woman who looked like she could beat him up, he felt like he had become the most peaceful man in Tokyo.