"Hey, Aiko-chan, there's someone staring at Neiko-nee," whispered Nishino Sagiri, nudging her friend gently. Sitting not too far from Chihara Rinto were three high school girls huddled over steaming bowls of stew.
Yamagami Aiko paused mid-bite, cheeks bulging with food, and mumbled, "Where?"
Sagiri subtly pointed toward Chihara, suppressing a giggle. "There!"
Aiko followed the direction and noticed a man furtively glancing between his meal and their server—Neiko. He'd take a bite, glance up, then lose himself in thought as he stared at her back. To Aiko, it looked like he was using her sister as some kind of side dish.
Her temper flared instantly. Swallowing hard, she muttered under her breath, "Creep must think my sister's pretty. What a pervert!"
Futazeno Seiko, seated beside them, lifted her head, gave him a cold once-over, and nodded slightly. Pervert or not, the guy definitely seemed sleazy—a textbook example of someone shallow and superficial.
Sagiri continued observing Chihara, tilting her head curiously. She poked Aiko again and whispered conspiratorially, "Don't you think his movements look like a meerkat's?"
"A what?" Aiko blinked, utterly confused.
"You're such a dunce." Sagiri rolled her eyes playfully before mimicking the behavior she described. She brought her fingertips together to form two triangular "paws," scratching one against the other while darting her gaze around suspiciously. "See? Like this! Doesn't he remind you of a meerkat?"
Seiko couldn't help but crack a tiny smile at Sagiri's antics, though she quickly masked it behind her usual composed demeanor. Meanwhile, Aiko remained clueless, blurting out indignantly, "I don't know about meerkats, but I say he looks more like a weasel!"
Sagiri dropped her act, stifling laughter. "Fine, fine. Meerkats and ferrets are kinda similar—one's canine-related, the other… well, never mind. You wouldn't get it anyway." She glanced back at Chihara and added conspiratorially, "But seriously, doesn't he keep turning his head just like a meerkat?"
Aiko squinted at him for another moment, noting how he seemed to dart his eyes around aimlessly, almost like a thief searching for an unseen chicken coop. "Still no idea what a meerkat is, but yeah, he totally looks like a weasel."
Sagiri waved off her ignorance with mock superiority. "Alright, let's call him a weasel then. No point arguing with an idiot who doesn't even know what a meerkat is."
"You're the idiot here! The big idiot!" Aiko shot back.
"Poor thing, can't even insult properly. No wonder you need tutoring…" Sagiri teased, earning a chorus of giggles from the group.
As they laughed quietly among themselves, Seiko turned her attention away from "the weasel" and prepared to resume eating. But something caught her eye—a familiar figure sitting across the room. Leaning closer, she murmured, "Guys, stop fooling around. Isn't that… Hitomi-neesan from last week?"
"The one who saved Keita?" Both Sagiri and Aiko whipped their heads around, spotting Konoe Hitomi's unmistakable ponytail and round face. From the side angle, they weren't entirely sure, but it certainly looked like her.
"Should we say hi?" Sagiri suggested. After all, Keita—the troublemaker who nearly drowned—was Aiko's cousin. Ignoring Hitomi now would feel rude.
"We probably should," Aiko agreed hesitantly. Clearing her throat, she called out politely, "Excuse me! Are you Hitomi-neesan?"
Hitomi, engrossed in her meal, turned in surprise. "Huh? Is someone calling me?"
Chihara also glanced over, equally puzzled. You actually know people around here? Even I don't, he thought wryly.
When Hitomi fully turned, revealing her cheerful face, the trio confirmed their suspicions. It was indeed the same kind-hearted rescuer from last week. They hurried over to greet her.
Recognizing them, Hitomi stood up with a bright smile. "Oh! It's you guys!"
"Yes, Hitomi-neesan!" Sagiri beamed, bowing slightly. "Long time no see! How have you been?"
"I'm doing okay," Hitomi replied cheerfully, ever optimistic despite life's hardships.
Aiko chimed in, concern etched on her face. "Did you get into trouble after helping us last time?"
Hitomi scratched her head sheepishly. "Kinda. The fish stall owner wasn't happy about the bike scratches…"
The three girls exchanged sympathetic looks, shaking their heads in unison. Then Sagiri tilted her head curiously. "What brings you to eat here?"
They remembered Hitomi mentioning during their brief encounter that she lived near the docks—quite a distance from this neighborhood.
"Oh, Chihara-sensei lives nearby. I came to visit, and he kindly treated me to dinner," Hitomi explained, gesturing toward Chihara.
Chihara offered a polite nod and smile. "Hello there."
He vaguely recalled these girls—they were the ones running ahead of him when that kid fell into the water. Back then, he'd only caught glimpses of their backsides, but now, mentioning the incident made it all come rushing back.
"Nice to meet you!" the trio chorused, bowing respectfully. Despite privately mocking him earlier, they maintained proper etiquette. After exchanging pleasantries and introductions, Aiko ventured curiously, "Sensei? Does Chihara-sensei teach somewhere around here?"
Could he possibly work at Minamiyama Boys' High? Rumor had it those boys were perpetually hormone-driven, which fit the stereotype of a lecherous teacher perfectly.
"No, Chihara-sensei is a screenwriter." Hitomi quickly responded.
"Screenwriter?" The term instantly piqued the interest of three girls.
Chihara Rinto nodded. "I work at Tokyo Eizo Broadcasting (TEB)."
"Tokyo Eizo Broadcasting?" Seiko, who had been wearing a neutral expression while simply following along with her friends, suddenly perked up. She opened her mouth as if to ask something but quickly closed it again.
She wasn't one for talking to strangers, but Sagiri, ever the outgoing type, leaned forward with curiosity. "Chihara-sensei, what projects have you worked on?"
"Nothing yet, but my first show is currently filming."
"That makes sense—you're so young. Have you published any literary scripts?"
"Not exactly…"
"So, are you an assistant writer then? Who's mentoring you?"
This line of questioning grew increasingly professional, prompting Chihara to raise an eyebrow at Sagiri. Smiling faintly, he admitted, "Actually, I don't have a mentor. I skipped the assistant stage and went straight to lead writer."
He was self-taught, not part of TEB's formal training program. Most viewers didn't understand the hierarchy within screenwriting teams, assuming a single writer handled everything. Few realized the layers involved.
At his admission, Sagiri exchanged skeptical glances with her friends. One turned away dismissively, while the other gave a slight nod—clear signs of disbelief. Clearly, they thought he was bluffing to impress strangers by claiming lead-writer status at such a young age.
Their interest in Chihara waned rapidly. Believing him to be full of hot air, they chalked him up as yet another wannabe trying to inflate his credentials. As members of Kitahashi Girls' High Drama Club, they knew better than to fall for such claims.
Sagiri politely smiled, choosing not to press further and avoid awkwardness. Instead, she turned her curiosity toward Hitomi. "How did you meet Chihara-sensei, Hitomi-neesan?"
Please tell me you haven't been scammed, she thought silently. This guy gives off major sleaze vibes.
With genuine enthusiasm, Hitomi replied, "I'm acting in a TV drama written by Chihara-sensei!"
Aiko gasped. "You're an actress?"
Last time, you were just a fish delivery girl. Did you switch careers already? And did this rookie writer really fool you?
"Well, sort of. Just an extra," Hitomi admitted, looking a bit crestfallen. She'd prided herself on being the prettiest girl in her village, thinking that landing a role in television would naturally lead to stardom. Only today had she learned that becoming an actress required training—just like being an ama. Being beautiful didn't guarantee success.
Still hopeful, she turned to Chihara. "Sensei, when will the drama air?"
"January 5th, late night slot," he answered softly, inwardly sighing. She'd likely be disappointed. Directors rarely gave extras meaningful screen time, let alone close-ups.
"Please definitely watch!" Hitomi implored earnestly, addressing her newfound "friends."
"Of course! We'll support you all the way," Sagiri assured, joined by her companions. "Looking forward to your amazing performance, Hitomi-neesan."
Don't hold your breath, Chihara thought dryly. Even if you do watch, finding her will be next to impossible.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Sagiri decided to wrap things up. "Well, we've bothered you long enough. Let's leave Hitomi-neesan to enjoy her meal!"
"Wait a sec." Aiko dashed to the kitchen, spoke briefly with a middle-aged chef, and returned carrying a large plate of marinated ribs. Placing it before Hitomi, she declared earnestly, "Thank you again for saving Keita last week. This is our token of gratitude. Please accept it."
Hitomi hesitated, instinctively refusing. "No, no, I couldn't possibly. Helping drowning victims is tradition where I come from. Accepting gifts feels excessive."
"It's the least we can do," Aiko insisted, forcing the plate into her hands. "Saving Keita got you soaked and you yelled at by your boss. Consider this compensation." Smiling warmly, she added, "Enjoy the meal, Hitomi-neesan—and you too, Chihara-sensei!"
Chihara eyed her, then glanced toward the kitchen. Turning to Aiko, he asked curiously, "Is this your family's restaurant?"
It wasn't common practice to wander into kitchens unless you were close to the owners.
Aiko nodded, gesturing to her friends. "Yes, it's ours. We're having a study session-cum-sleepover tonight."
Sagiri smirked silently. Truthfully, she was tutoring these two dunces—Aiko, the classic slacker, and Seiko, who only looked smart but was equally clueless. No need to share that detail with outsiders, though.
Chihara nodded thoughtfully. So this was their place. Which meant… Was the waitress working part-time, or was she Aiko's sister?
He debated asking but ultimately held back. After all, resemblance didn't equate to identity. Better not dwell on it.