The department head, who had turned down transfers to remain in a regional position, said to me:
“Don’t rush so much, Ichinose-kun. You’ve got plenty of time. You’re newly married—take this chance to visit Hokkaido’s sights with your wife, enjoy the food, and relax a little.”
Don’t lump me in with people like you who’ve given up on climbing the ranks.
I was aiming much higher.
I didn’t have time for a carefree Hokkaido honeymoon.
I was going to lead a more successful life than the classmate marrying Akane.
Frustrated, I returned home—only to become even more annoyed.
I had spent the entire evening unpacking.
Yet, despite Otoha supposedly working on it all day, I had still unpacked more than she had.
In fact, I couldn’t even tell what she had done all day.
The only thing I had noticed was that our home was slowly being invaded by strange, misshapen objects.
A crooked umbrella stand by the entrance.
An oddly shaped aroma diffuser in the bathroom.
A toothbrush holder at the sink.
A seasoning rack in the kitchen.
A small chair in the bath.
Some of them were just physically off-kilter.
Others had odd illustrations drawn on them.
Judging by the style, Otoha had drawn them herself.
She seemed to enjoy drawing animals, and she added little animal doodles to various things—a cat on the calendar, a bird on the curtains.
Most of these items were things I had already owned before we got married, but I noticed a few must have been new additions.
So this is where all her time was going…
Honestly, I didn’t get it.
Who was even going to see these?
Aside from Otoha and me, no one else would ever look at them.
Instead of wasting time doodling, shouldn’t she be focusing on housework or finding ways to make money with her art?
This was why, even at twenty-eight, she still hadn’t achieved financial independence.
This was why she had no real accomplishments as an illustrator.
As I ate my dinner, I asked, “Hey, Otoha, what were you like as a kid?”
Tonight’s meal consisted of rice, miso soup, pickles, seasoned vegetables, and a little sashimi.
There was also yuba [tofu skin] in a thick sauce.
Originally, the main dish was supposed to be hamburg steak, but when I got home, she was just about to start making it—so I told her to save it for tomorrow.
Even when I came home on time, the main dish was never ready.
If I waited for her full meal plan, I’d be stuck waiting another two hours.
“Um… I wasn’t very talkative,” she said after a pause.
“I like to think things through before I speak, but by the time I answered, people would forget what they asked me. So conversations never really flowed.”
Figures.
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