{The Two’s Pride 1}

Before I knew it, the clock was pointing to 6:30 PM.

I had planned to go straight home after my fifth period class. Miyu had said she’d likely get home earlier tonight, so she was going to make dinner and wait for me. I wanted to hurry back too, but unfortunately, I got caught by the head of my club and was forced to endure a pointless chat.

The head of the basketball club is a third-year student like me. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s the kind of person who, while talking, keeps remembering more and more things to mention. What starts as a five-minute conversation ends up dragging on for ages. He’s fun to talk to when you’re not in a rush, but when you’re in a hurry, it’s the worst.

“Sorry, but my girlfriend’s waiting for me at home…”

When I tried to cut the conversation short, he gave me a blatant look that screamed, “Oh, bragging, huh?”

If he didn’t want me to brag, he should’ve kept it brief. People need to understand that if I talk about my daily life, it unintentionally sounds like bragging.

Anyway, after finally shaking him off, I walked briskly through the campus and called Miyu.

“Sorry I’m late, I’m heading home now.”

“Don’t worry! The curry’s ready,” Miyu said, sounding a bit proud.

She must have made some really good curry.

With my stomach growling since the end of fifth period, I was even more eager to get home.

“I’ll hurry back. Do you need me to pick anything up?”

“No, nothing at all. Just come home safely.”

Her kind words warmed my heart.

Having such a sweet girlfriend waiting for me at home—how could I not feel proud of that? I’m sure there are plenty of college students in Japan who live with their girlfriends, but I’m the only one in the world who gets to live with Miyu. I take both pride and happiness in that fact.

“Let me know when you’re close. I’ll unlock the door.”

“Got it. I’ll text you.”

After that exchange, I hung up and started making my way home.

It was just before 7 PM, at the tail end of spring as the sun had fully set.

As I walked through the residential area at this time of day, delicious smells were wafting from all directions, making my already hungry stomach suffer even more. Every house seemed to be in the middle of dinner. There was the rich scent of soy-sauce-based simmered dishes, the savory aroma of grilled fish, and the smell of freshly cooked rice—all of it drifted into my nose.

I’ve been what they call a “latchkey kid” since elementary school, so the smell of dinner always made me excited.

I remember the case my parents bought me, along with my school backpack, just to store my house key. Sometimes, though, one or both of my parents would try their best to come home early, and our house would be filled with the mouthwatering smell of dinner. On those days, I was always a little happy not having to unlock the door myself.

By the time I got to high school, I became a bit more rebellious and would sometimes think, “Oh no, they’re home early today.” But even then, I appreciated not having to unlock the door and not having to make my own dinner.

It’s been two months since Miyu and I started living together, and I still get the occasional call from my parents. They seem as busy as ever with work, but they’re getting along just fine. They’re always more curious about how Miyu is doing than how I’m doing—something I like to think is a sign of their trust in me. But I’m probably wrong.

Before long, our apartment came into view.

The exterior was something I was already used to, but I still found myself looking up to spot our window. The curtains were drawn, and a faint light shone through. Seeing that light filled me with joy, just a little—no, actually, quite a lot.

Resisting the urge to break into a run, I sent Miyu a message.

“I’m almost there.”

As I started climbing the outdoor stairs to our apartment, I heard the sound of the door unlocking on the second floor. At the same time, the smell of curry, strong enough to notice even from outside, hit me. I couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I rushed to the door and opened it.

“I’m home!”

“Ah!”

Miyu was still by the entrance, probably just about to head back to the kitchen. She turned around, startled by my sudden entrance.

“Sorry for surprising you. I hurried home.”

I apologized, and after standing there blankly for a moment, she started laughing.

“You really rushed, didn’t you? Welcome home!”

Under the warm light of the entrance, her smile seemed to shine even brighter.

The happiness I feel here is something unique to me. I’m not trying to brag, but I can’t help it—it just feels like something worth boasting about.