A Love Longed for the Tiger Lily (GL) - Chapter 7

Three steps forward, and I hear three footsteps behind me.

If I take a fourth, and there’s no sound behind me, I turn around.

And every time, she follows with that fourth step—
though always with a sharp glare in her eyes.

Looks like the distance between us today is exactly three steps.
But at least the beautiful girl behind me is quietly following along.

The once-scratching stray cat I took in has, for now, put away her claws.
Just for today.

“Is this how you are at school too, Sayo?”

“Yes.”

“Do you enjoy high school?”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re taking entrance exams this year, right? Is studying hard?”

“It’s fine.”

“Ugh, isn’t it such a pain going back to school tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

This conversation is so one-sided it’s almost funny.

It’s like talking to an AI assistant on your phone—
except Sayo has even less charm than that.

If I said, “Hey, Sayo!” like I was summoning a voice assistant, she’d probably just ignore me.
And honestly, if I actually did that, there’s a very real chance she’d never speak to me again.

But she hasn’t told me not to talk to her today, so I’ve been pushing my luck a bit.

“So, do you have anything you’re good at?”

“Do you really enjoy hearing about stuff like that from me?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, in my mind you’re still a little elementary school girl. Tell me about yourself—bring me up to speed?”

We used to be so close.
But time… time changes everything.

I think I’ve changed a lot since high school—
in good ways and bad.
There were parts of my younger self I liked more, but I think I’ve grown to like the current me too.

All in all, I think I like who I am now.

“…Weren’t you the one who pulled away from me, Taniguchi-san?”

“Huh?”

Her voice was small, almost mumbled—I didn’t catch what she said clearly.

I cursed my own ears for failing me.

While I was busy regretting that, I noticed the faint furrow between her brows.
That wasn’t my goal today—I didn’t want to upset her.

I just wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity to talk to her.
To learn more about her.
To understand what was going on in her heart.

“…What’s your favorite food?”

“…My mom’s cooking.”

“…”

That answer knocked the wind out of me.

I’d been so determined, so hopeful—
and just like that, I’d stepped on a landmine and blown myself up.

The look on her face was clearly pained.

I didn’t know all the details, but I did know her mother had gone overseas, leaving her behind.

My well-meaning curiosity had turned into something careless.
I felt awful.

But if I apologized now, I felt like it would only make her feel worse.

“…Does that mean you don’t like the meals I make?”

I carefully chose my words to avoid souring her mood any further.
Although, asking a question like that might’ve just made things more awkward.

My lack of conversational skill left me silently berating myself.
Still, it seemed better than apologizing and ruining the entire mood.

“They’re fine.”

“Just fine, huh. What kind of food do you like?”

“…Fried rice.”

“Okay then—fried rice for dinner it is.”

I had no idea if that was the right move or not.
But I was glad to have learned at least one of her favorite foods.

Smiling a little at the small win, I was surprised when she spoke again—this time with a question of her own.

“When you were living with your girlfriend… were you the one who cooked?”

“Mm, I cooked more often, yeah. But she made meals sometimes too.”

“I see…”

She asked, but then brushed it off like she didn’t care.
The other day, just mentioning my ex had made her upset, so I’d been careful to avoid the topic since.

Now she was the one bringing her up? I didn’t get it.

We continued shopping—
checking out furniture, picking up daily necessities, buying groceries.

As we passed by the arcade, I noticed Sayo’s eyes lingering on a giant, plush toy in one of the machines.
A cute one.

“You want it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you remember the time I won you that little bunny plush when you were a kid?”

Sayo had been crying that day.
She missed her mom, who had been away for a while.

I’d wanted to help her somehow, but I was just a kid myself.
There was nothing I could really do.

So, I did the one thing I could—I won her a bunny plush at the arcade.
I thought maybe, just maybe, it would comfort her a little.

I didn’t know what ever happened to that bunny.
But I hoped she remembered.
That would’ve been enough.

“…I don’t remember.”

Exactly what I expected.

Maybe I’m the only one still clinging to the past.
If I remember something like that so vividly, it’s no wonder I can’t forget someone I truly loved.

Back then, whenever I broke up with someone, I could bounce back pretty easily.
But now that I’m older, the wounds seem to linger.
They don’t heal so quickly anymore.

This shopping mall, too, is full of memories.

What I recall most vividly are all the moments I shared here with my ex—what we did, what we talked about, what we ate. It’s all etched into this place.

Maybe Sayo noticed I was getting lost in those thoughts, because she turned to me with a faintly annoyed expression and said:

“Taniguchi-san, is there anything you want?”

…Is it going to snow today or something?

For the second time today, Sayo asked me something totally unexpected, and the smile I’d been carefully wearing slipped from my face.

I couldn’t tell what she was really getting at.

After all the times she’s told me not to talk to her, now she’s the one initiating conversation?

I could’ve just answered her directly, but honestly, I was enjoying our little exchange—so I decided to drag the conversation out just a bit.

“You mean, something from this arcade?”

“Yes.”

“If you tell me what you want first, maybe I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t want anything. I’m not a kid.”

“High schoolers are still totally kids, though.”

“Please don’t treat me like one.”

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re still just a kid.”

And that’s true. Looking back now, I realize how much of a kid I still was back in high school.
I thought I was all grown up—coming home late at night, hanging out at arcades after school like I owned the world.

Those days feel so distant now.

Back then, I was fearless—invincible, even. I never worried about anything, and I acted like nothing could hurt me. It’s kind of amazing, looking back.

“…How do you stop being a kid, anyway? I want to grow up already.”

“Why do you want to be an adult so badly?”

“…I’m not telling you.”

“Aw, stingy.”

I smiled gently as I spoke.
No one likes being treated like a child—not really.

I remember getting so angry at my parents at her age.
If they came home late, I’d scold them. I’d lash out with sharp words, convinced they didn’t trust me to do anything on my own.

I thought they were just trying to control me, not realizing they were worried—truly worried—because I was still so young and naive.

That misunderstanding only existed because I was still a kid.

“…Why do you look so happy?”

“I was just remembering what I was like at your age.”

“You’re not that much older than me, Taniguchi-san.”

“I am, though. It’s been seven years. I’m practically ancient.”

Sayo grumbled something under her breath with a dissatisfied look on her face.
I didn’t bother asking what it was—no point wasting the effort when I knew she wouldn’t tell me.

We made our way home with both hands full of shopping bags.

There was still time before dinner, so I stepped into the kitchen to start preparing some side dishes for the week.
I wondered if Sayo would find it annoying if I started making her lunch every day…

Well, I figured I’d just make extra and hope she eats it without complaining.

Dish after dish came together nicely, and I couldn’t help feeling a little proud of myself.
Moments like these made me realize just how much I’d grown up.

After finishing the side dishes, I turned to today’s main mission: the fried rice Sayo said she liked.

I wanted to make a dish so good that she’d say, “Taniguchi-san’s fried rice is the best.”

It wasn’t about showing off—I just wanted to make something memorable for her.

Luckily, we had some slightly dried-out rice from yesterday—perfect for fried rice.
I stir-fried the ingredients until they were fragrant and fluffy, then plated everything neatly.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Sayo emerged from her room right away—I had no idea what she’d been doing in there—and sat down at the table.

When she saw the fried rice, her eyes widened.
That rare bit of emotion on her face made her look every bit the high schooler she was, and I couldn’t help smiling.

“Let’s eat.”

We said it in unison.

Turns out she really did like fried rice.
She kept taking bite after bite, her pretty lips parting again and again as she silently savored the dish.

It had taken me about fifteen minutes to make, and she took about the same time to eat it—slowly, chewing with care, until every last grain had disappeared into her stomach.

“…Was it good?”

She didn’t answer.

Dinner ended like always.
We’d each take our bath, head to our separate rooms, and go to sleep.

And with that, the day would end.

And when today ended, so would this brief moment of connection.

“Tell me, please? If you didn’t like it, that’s okay—I just want to know.”

Maybe I was being a little pushy.
But living together meant that sharing honest feedback—especially about meals—would help things go more smoothly for both of us.

“…It was good.”

And with that, Sayo stood up abruptly, bumping into the table as she began clearing the dishes.

It was obvious she’d only said it because I’d insisted.
But for someone who hardly ever talked to me, hearing her say the food was good was more than enough to make me happy.