Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051600327232539
Instant ramen eaten late at night is an extremely dangerous creation of capitalism.
You pledge your future healthy life expectancy as collateral and take out a loan against it to buy temporary pleasure through salt and chemical seasonings. It is a clear act of terrorism against the human body.
1:30 a.m. A room in a high-rise apartment building protected by multiple layers of security.
Standing at the pointlessly spacious marble kitchen island, I was simmering a cheap five-pack of bagged noodles—bought at the supermarket for 300 yen—in a small snow-white pot, while my thoughts wandered to the failure of home economics education.
“…Hey, Minato. Isn’t it ready yet? I’m starving.”
Shizuku approached from behind, dragging a giant squid cushion along with her.
“Just wait another minute. Still, cooking this bottom-of-the-barrel junk food on a state-of-the-art induction cooktop like this feels like it’s going to drop the ‘spatial IQ’ of this room through the floor.”
“It’s fine! I was definitely in the mood for this right now, rather than ordering an expensive salad from Uber Eats.”
“Okay, it’s ready. Be careful not to burn yourself.”
I turned off the IH cooktop and placed the piping-hot snow-white pot—using the magazine with Shizuku on the cover as a trivet—right in the center of the dining table.
We didn’t bother with anything as fancy as individual serving bowls. We sat facing each other and plunged our chopsticks directly into the single pot.
“Aren’t we going to transfer it to bowls?”
“It’s a rational approach to minimize the waste of water resources caused by washing dishes. Eating straight from the pot also prevents the food from cooling down. It’s an eco-friendly, thermodynamically sound, perfect dining style.”
“Hehe, Minato’s logic is as crazy as ever. …Mmm, this is delicious!”
Shizuku blew on her noodles, huffing and puffing, and happily slurped up the curly noodles.
The rising steam gradually dampened her neatly styled bangs, flattening them against her forehead. An idol who flashed perfect smiles in front of her fans was now in a high-rise apartment late at night, wearing no makeup and a tracksuit, sharing instant noodles with an ordinary college student.
The muddy waters of everyday life had already flowed into this room, beyond any hope of recovery.
The two of them slurped their noodles in silence, and in the blink of an eye, the pot was left with nothing but brown soup.
“Oh well, I ate it all. I’ve just loaded up on carbs and salt at a time like this.”
Shizuku sipped the barley tea in her plain mug and exhaled contentedly.
“If you’re worried about puffiness in your face tomorrow morning, I recommend getting some potassium to flush out the water. An idol’s face is like public infrastructure, after all.”
“Nah, it’s fine, it’s fine.”
It was at that very moment. The vulnerable aura that had surrounded Shizuku vanished in an instant.
She reached across the table and slowly, yet firmly, gripped the cuff of my hoodie.
When I looked up into her eyes, the light of an idol had completely vanished. Instead, emotions as heavy and dark as muddy water swirled within them, seeping up slowly from the bottom of a pot.
“…If I keep eating all this stuff that’s full of salt and bad for my body, I won’t be able to fit into my slim idol costumes anymore.”
“…”
“Hey, Minato. Fill me up even more with your unhealthy lifestyle.”
It was a possessiveness far too ugly and inescapable for someone living in the spotlight to bear.
“Give me all the salt, all the calories. Let me get dirtier and dirtier until I can’t be an idol anymore… until I can never go back to that glittering world.”
Her fingertips were trembling slightly.
“Then, maybe I’ll be able to stay here forever, eating hot pot with you, Minato.”
Even if it meant deliberately undermining her own worth, she wanted to crash completely into the gravitational pull of my everyday life. Her twisted survival strategy echoed heavily in the silent room.
As a reaction to how hard she usually works, I suppose she sometimes feels like letting her guard down here.
I exhaled softly and gently placed my hand on her head.
“…Listen, Shizuku. Even if the agency sues me for hundreds of millions of yen in liquidated damages for breaching my contract due to excessive calories, I have no intention of increasing my part-time shifts. Besides, with your basal metabolic rate, this amount of salt and calories should be completely offset by tomorrow’s dance lesson.”
“……”
“You have a duty to maintain that perfect figure and perform on stage tomorrow and the day after. I don’t want you to use my unhealthy lifestyle as an excuse to escape.”
Hearing my dry, objective reply, the grip on her hoodie loosened just a little.
I could see a small flame of relief lighting up deep within her eyes.
“…Ugh. Minato, you really are quick to run away.”
Shizuku gave a small, deflated laugh and clung to the giant squid once more.
But behind that glimmer of relief, a dark, tainted desire—like a faintly overcast sky—still clung tenaciously.
The lukewarm brown soup left in the center of the table.
We continued to wait quietly for dawn to break, sharing that daily life with its excessively high salt content.
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