Actually, was she about to say “Mama” just now?
Looking at her fingertips holding the lunch box, her nails are neatly trimmed. I wonder if she does martial arts or swimming.
…No good, I’m unconsciously observing her. I continue the conversation to sound natural.
“Well, if someone can make it for you, that’s fine, isn’t it? Both my parents work in Tokyo and leave early in the morning. So I prepare things myself.”
“Oh! I see! My mother works from home, so I’m always relying on her. Now that I’m in high school, maybe I should try making my own lunch.”
While saying this, Iwama took out lacquered chopsticks.
Someone who works from home—what could that be? Programmer, designer, writer… If the home doubles as a shop, there would be other possibilities. But if the home and shop are connected, you don’t say they “work from home.” Private tutoring sessions that bring people into the home seem possible, but…
I saw Iwama tilt her head slightly. I avert my eyes and toss a cherry tomato in my mouth. I accidentally ate it with the stem, but I can’t spit it out, so I swallow it. The herb-like aroma characteristic of tomato stems faintly tickles my nasal cavity.
What am I doing? Even though I’m not particularly interested, I’m trying to speculate about Iwama’s home environment. How unpleasant of me.
Iwama uses her chopsticks carefully to take a small amount of white rice and puts it in her mouth. The way she chews the small amount thoroughly, with her ponytail swaying slightly, somehow reminds me of a rabbit or rodent.
The hair tie holding her ponytail is, both yesterday and today, the same undecorated black hair elastic.
It must be my imagination after all.
“Izuta-kun, have you decided on a club yet?”
Iwama brought up a new topic. I shift my body in the chair and turn to sit sideways.
“A club… no, not yet. I’m thinking of deciding after doing trial memberships.”
“I see. That makes sense. I’m still undecided too.”
Just as Mizusaki predicted—or rather, hoped—I’ve ended up talking with Iwama quite naturally.
Incidentally, the boy to Iwama’s left seems mischievous. He’s gone off somewhere hanging out with his friends.
“Iwama-san, are you thinking about which club you want to join?”
When I return the same question as courtesy, Iwama goes “Hmm.”
“Well, my mother tells me I should join an athletic club, but I’m not really that good at sports…”
You’re being modest. Iwama is on the tall side, but not ostentatiously so. Judging from her build, she gives the impression she could handle any sport.
“What about middle school? What club were you in?”
When I ask, Iwama hesitates slightly, even though she doesn’t have anything in her mouth.
“Um, it was a weird club. Izuta-kun, you might laugh when you hear it.”
“I won’t laugh.”
Though if it was a Hide-and-Seek Research Club or a Young Ladies’ Club… I might laugh.
“Really?”
I nod while bracing myself, wondering just how odd this club could be.
Iwama opens her mouth slightly, looking somewhat guilty.
“I was… actually in the Kagaku Club. You know, growing alum crystals, stargazing, vegetation surveys… I wasn’t really serious about the activities though, just part of the fun-loving crowd.”
Setting aside the merits of being an fun-loving crowd, I think there’s nothing to laugh about.
“Huh, actually I was also—”
I was about to say “in the kagaku (chemistry = 化学) club” when I noticed something off. Alum crystals are fine, but the chemistry club doesn’t do stargazing. Vegetation surveys would be quite questionable too.
“Kagaku Club—you mean, Science (科学)?”
“Yeah! The kind with the tree radical—Science Club!”
Science and chemistry. The meanings are similar and the pronunciation is the same, so this kind of misunderstanding happens sometimes.
“I don’t think it’s a weird club at all. Actually, I was in a Kagaku Club too. Though mine was the Chemistry kind—the化学 with the化 for ‘chemical.’ Bakegaku Club.”
“Ehhh, really?!”
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After reacting loudly, Iwama quickly covered her mouth.
However, I didn’t miss how those black eyes truly sparkled—not just rhetorically, but actually glittered. She leaned forward slightly toward me, so maybe it was just the fluorescent lights reflecting at that angle.
Iwama said her next words in a slightly lowered voice.
“You’re right, Izuta-kun, a lab coat would suit you.”
No one had ever said that to me before. It sounded like a compliment, but probably wasn’t. Rather, it was likely a euphemistic way of saying “you really seem like an indoor type.” I thought it must be this honor student’s special skill—making any expression sound like praise.
“I actually wore a lab coat pretty often. We had activities three times a week, and half of them involved experiments.”
“Like what? What kind of experiments?”
“If I had to pick something interesting… the luminol reaction, maybe. Do you know about it, Iwama-san?”
“Yeah! It’s used in forensic investigations—the reaction that makes blood glow, right?”
As expected of a former Science Club member. It’s helpful when the conversation moves quickly.
“Right. What’s interesting is that it can detect even trace amounts of blood. We split into criminals trying to destroy evidence and forensic investigators trying to find it, playing an investigation game. In the end, as expected, the forensics side won overwhelmingly. That’s when we all came to appreciate the magnificence of catalytic reactions.”
I was on the forensics side. No matter what methods Mizusaki on the criminal side used to wipe away the blood stains, they were powerless before the might of chemistry. I still remember Mizusaki’s frustrated face from that time.
Before I knew it, Iwama was staring at me with her mouth slightly open, looking dumbfounded.
—Oh no, I talked too much.
This is the reaction I get most often when I do this in front of regular people. When I talked about the symphony of cherry tomatoes, even Mizusaki gave me a wry smile.
“Sorry… just ignore what I said.”
When I said that, Iwama shook her head as if snapping back to attention.
“Ah, no, that’s not it—”
What she meant by “that’s not it” never became clear.
“Well, well, Delta, you can’t let your guard down for a second. Men who can really move fast, don’t they!”
Mizusaki sat down next to Iwama with a beaming smile. I contemplated murder.
“Ah, um… Mizusaki-kun!”
Iwama raised her eyebrows and responded cheerfully.
To think she remembered Mizusaki’s name when he sits practically on the opposite side of the classroom, not just in the front row—truly a walking, talking honor student. Class 1-C has forty students, and we only met yesterday.
Even Mizusaki seemed caught off guard by being called by name, freezing in front of Iwama. It’s rare to see this guy genuinely freeze when it’s not an act.
“…Whoa. That’s amazing, Iwama-san, you already remember your classmates’ names?”
“More or less. But you remembered my name too, Mizusaki-kun.”
“Well, yeah, you’re the great Iwama-san after all?”
Saying this, Mizusaki regained his usual smirk and looked between me and Iwama. His modestly dyed hair looked almost black under the classroom lighting.
“Eh, am I really that famous?”
“But of course. When a beautiful cherry blossom tree blooms like this among a mountain of nobodies, everyone’s bound to notice. Right, Delta?”
Don’t ask me.
As a sign that I wouldn’t play along, I stuffed a cherry tomato in my mouth.
Seeing that I wouldn’t answer, Iwama smiled and asked Mizusaki.
“Um, Mizusaki-kun… Delta?”
She’s good at deflecting. She’s probably dodged flirtatious guys like this in the past.
But of all things, this was a topic this guy would love.
“Oh! Good question! Delta is the real name of Izuta Sho here.”
“Eh? Delta is your real name…?”
Knowing it was absolutely a lie, Iwama asked purely without any sarcasm.
“Yep. Izuta is like a posthumous Buddhist name. Back in middle school, everyone called him Delta. You should call him Delta too, Iwama-san.”
“Don’t go killing me off.”
Honestly, spouting such nonsense…
While this was happening, the warning bell rang.
As I hurriedly finished the rest of my lunch, the lunch break ended.
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