Our Life That Begins with a Convenient Relationship - Chapter 2

When I arrived at the izakaya where I work, the manager was already inside preparing for the lunch rush, just like always.

“Good morning!”

As I walked through the entrance curtains and called out, the strong arms moving a knife over a cutting board stopped, and the owner turned around.

“Oh, Kyoko! Good morning! Let’s work hard and stay cheerful today!”

“Yeah!”

I naturally pumped my fist in the air.

…This is probably the only workplace in the country that has this kind of interaction every day. But without it, it doesn’t feel like my day has truly started.

The manager looks like a muscular, buff man. However, his speech and gestures are feminine; he is what people call “onee.” I was surprised when I first came for an interview, but after talking to him, I realized he is incredibly thoughtful. He is also very kind to the customers.

By the way, he broke up with his boyfriend a few years ago, but apparently, he got a new one last year. He has so much more life experience than I do, and the gap between his look and personality often makes me smile.

Maybe because of this unique atmosphere, I feel very comfortable at this job.

Above all, it’s an easy place to work. The manager owns several buildings in this area, and he says he runs this shop just for fun. Because of that, the pay is pretty good for a part-time worker, and the free staff meals help me save money on food.

I’m also grateful when he gives me leftover ingredients, saying, “It costs money to throw these away, so just take them home.” For a woman living alone, this is the best kind of support.

“By the way, the new menu item you came up with was a hit yesterday. People are ordering it for lunch and dinner.”

“Really? I’m glad they liked it.”

The food I thought of reaches the customers as a real product. They eat it and say it’s “delicious.” It’s a small achievement, but it’s enough to make the work feel rewarding.

“Well, cooking and chores are the only things I’m good at.”

“Don’t say that! Having a talent is a wonderful thing.”

For some reason, this upbeat back-and-forth feels nice.

The customers at this shop are a bit unusual, too. You might expect only “onee” men, but there are also several female customers. I’m glad there are almost no creepy old men who get drunk and harass the staff. Of course, there are still some weirdos.

“Alright!”

I took a deep breath to change my mood, which had been a bit down after the call with my mother.

Being alone is easy, and I don’t feel any romantic interest in anyone. That’s why having a place where I can work without worrying about anything is enough for me. I don’t know how long I can keep this up, but I don’t want to think about that too much.

With that, I entered the kitchen and started helping the manager with the lunch prep.

The lunch shift goes from noon until about 2:00 PM. It’s not too busy; just a few regulars and office workers from nearby. Every time an order comes in, I move quickly and serve the plates in perfect sync with the owner.

Once the peak is over, I eat my meal, then clean and prep for the evening. During the break, I enjoy chatting with the manager about nothing in particular. I really like the flow of time here.

Then evening comes. Once the night shift starts, the atmosphere changes completely.

I take orders, carry food, and make drinks. The busy, frantic time begins.

“Kyoko, take this to table three, please!”

“Coming!”

“Excuse me, can I order?”

“Yes! Just a moment, please!”

I’m called, I answer, and I’m called again. It’s busy, but I don’t hate it. I sweat a lot, which makes my body feel light. I think this job is why I stay healthy even at my age. I try to be careful about what I eat so I don’t gain weight, but moving around is the best medicine.

Finally, the busy peak passed, and it was after 9:00 PM. I was washing dishes and quietly praising myself for another day of hard work when—

“Welcome!”

The owner’s deep yet high-pitched voice rang out. I stopped what I was doing and quickly washed my hands, thinking it was a customer. I wiped my fingers with a towel and looked toward the entrance.

Standing there was… as I expected…

“Ms. Sakurai, good evening.”

Sitting at the counter and waving lightly was—the strange woman I knew in a suit.

I first met her a few years ago, probably a month after she started her first job. She sat down with her shoulders slumped and a very tired face, saying, “A beer, please.” I wasn’t busy then, so I listened to her complain about work. Since that day, she has come here to vent whenever something happens.

Strangely, she always shows up on the days I am working. I don’t think she knows my schedule, but it’s too perfect to be a coincidence. I just tell myself that our schedules must be similar.

Plus, she always orders a lot and pays well. She is a great regular for the shop. It’s only natural that I’m extra polite to her… well, of course, I’m polite to all the customers.

“Kyoko! I’ll handle the floor by myself as usual, so go keep her company!”

“Okay.”

The owner pushed me toward her, as if telling me to go get a big order. I sat down next to her.

…Since I started sitting next to her like this, she seems to have learned my name from my nametag. However, I still don’t know her name. It’s not that I’m dying to know, so to me, she is still just a “strange customer with no name.”

Three or four years have already passed like this.

At that time, I never imagined that this woman would eventually become my lifelong partner.