Dumped by One, Chased by Another? My Ex's Sister Is a Gal and She's Coming for Me - Episode 16

After we left the cat café, it was just before noon.

We started talking about grabbing lunch somewhere.

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“You know, living in Tokyo makes it feel like monjayaki is a common food, but it’s actually not that widespread, right?”

“Yeah, I heard it’s mostly a Kanto thing. Apparently, tourists come to Tokyo just to try it.”

“Then that means you’re a tourist today, big brother.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

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Monjayaki.

It’s well-known and popular in Tokyo, but I’d never had it before—and for two main reasons.

First, I rarely eat out to begin with.

Back when I lived at home, I brought bento lunches. And since moving into my own place, I’ve mostly cooked for myself.

Try imagining the process of making monjayaki for a second.

You need a pretty large griddle to make it properly.

In other words, monjayaki is one of those foods you practically never make at home—it’s almost exclusively eaten out.

Second, it depends on who you go out to eat with.

As I said, I didn’t eat out much with my family.

So, who did I eat out with? My one and only girlfriend back then—Fuyumi.

Back in high school, and even after starting college, we used to go out to eat together all the time.

Which brings me to the real issue: my own self-consciousness.

I’ve always had this thing—like, it’s embarrassing to drop food or make a mess in front of your girlfriend.

I think a lot of guys feel the same way.

It’s just that simple desire not to look uncool in front of someone you like.

So, I didn’t want to eat monjayaki in front of Fuyumi. And if I wasn’t eating with her, I didn’t really have anyone else to go with either.

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“So yeah, I just never had the chance.”

“That makes sense. Monjayaki does seem like it’d be messy if you’re not used to it.”

“Exactly.”

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The monjayaki ingredients arrived.

The toppings were piled so high you couldn’t even see the batter underneath—it looked almost like a rice bowl at first glance.

We began spreading it out over the hot griddle.

Well, actually… Haruki did most of the work.

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“Here you go, big brother—this one’s yours.”

“Thanks…”

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Grilling it, scraping the cooked batter off the griddle—none of it went smoothly for me.

This was my first time cooking something on a teppan like this, and before I knew it, Haruki had done it all for me.

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“You’re really good at this, Haruki. Have you done this a lot?”

“Yeah, I’ve eaten it pretty often… with friends and stuff.”

“I see.”

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She hesitated for a moment—maybe she was about to say “with family” instead.

Maybe she didn’t want to bring it up for my sake.

I decided not to mention it.

If I said anything, I felt like I’d be stepping on her feelings.

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“Itadakimasu.”

We put our hands together in sync and began eating.

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“Delicious!”

Again, we said it in perfect unison.

It feels like this kind of thing happens a lot between us.

Well, we’ve known each other for a long time, like siblings.

I guess it’s not that strange.

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“It’s a flavor I’ve never had before. It’s definitely a flour-based dish, but unlike okonomiyaki, all the ingredients are really mixed together.”

“Right? When you said you’d never tried it, I just had to bring you. I wanted you to discover how good it is!”

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Haruki’s date plan was built around places and experiences that were new to me.

It was her way of being thoughtful.

To make sure I wouldn’t be reminded of Fuyumi—she’d considered that carefully.

But I think, maybe, that wasn’t the only reason.

I’m sure she also just wanted me to have a genuinely good time.

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“This isn’t quite enough, is it? Should we order one more?”

“Yeah, let’s do it. What are the options?”

“There’s a carbonara monjayaki, and even a Genovese one!”

“Seriously? That sounds fun. Which one do you recommend, Haruki?”

“Honestly, both! You still hungry?”

“I’ve got room!”

“Alright, let’s go for both then! Excuse me—we’d like to order a couple more!”

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We decided to try the more creative, unconventional monjayaki flavors.

Soon, two new ones with different toppings were brought out.

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“Both of these are delicious—like, they’re magical dishes that instantly make you happy!”

“Calling it magic powder might raise some red flags…”

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Still, I couldn’t deny the happy feeling.

More than the food, it was the girl beside me—eyes sparkling—that made everything feel so warm.

As joy filled the air, we dug into our monjayaki.

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“Ahhh, big brother, you’re not getting it off the griddle at all! Let me do it!”

“S-sorry…”

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… I hope Haruki’s having fun too.

Really, she’s been guiding me through everything today. I can’t help but feel a little guilty.