Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051600327232539
There’s an 80% chance that updating an app will make the user interface worse.
People call it “optimization” to justify it to themselves, but from the perspective of those who’ve grown accustomed to the button layout, it’s nothing more than a violation of their territory.
It was 2:00 a.m. I was sitting on my usual bench, searching for the refreshed browser button in its new spot, and thinking about the arrogance of technology.
“…Man, I’m exhausted. My shoulders are stiff.”
A heavy sigh drifted over from beside me.
I looked up to see Shizuku slumped listlessly at the edge of the bench.
She hadn’t been around for the past few weeks. Seeing her for the first time in a while, it took me a few seconds to process the visual information my eyes were taking in.
“Your upper and lower halves seem to belong to different timelines…”
At my remark, Shizuku looked away, looking awkward.
Her upper body was wrapped in a beige spring coat that looked decidedly high-end. Her lower body, however, was clad in a maroon tracksuit covered in pilling.
“Well, the top is something my manager gave me, saying, ‘Make sure you look presentable even late at night,’ and I wanted to wear the bottom because it’s comfortable.”
“You look like the end result of an alchemist who failed to create a chimera.”
“It’s not like I enjoy dressing this mismatched. Lately, I haven’t even had time to pick out my own clothes.”
The barrage of notifications that night didn’t end as mere digital number games.
Direct messages flooded in from all over to that account, and as a result, Shizuku ended up signing with a major talent agency whose name everyone knows.
Even the phrase “smooth sailing” feels like an understatement. It was like a roller coaster that took off with the safety bar still up.
“So? Is the interview over?”
“It’s a meeting. Apparently, I’m supposed to be in a pre-debut event next month. And all I was doing was stepping in time to direct traffic in the park.”
“It wasn’t directing traffic—it was a fairy dance.”
“You’re full of it. That’s different from what you said before.”
“I guess the agency folks decided they wanted to ‘protect and farm that fairy.’”
“Don’t call it ‘fairy farming’! It sounds so gross!”
Shizuku shoved her hands into her coat pockets and let out a sigh.
“It’s like I’ve been floating on air this whole time. They made me wear high heels, surrounded me with strangers, and it feels like they’ve been crafting the ‘Shizuku Hoshino’ brand the whole time. …Hey, did you miss me even a little while I was gone?”
Shizuku looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Nah, not really.”
“That was an instant answer!?”
“Thanks to you, I’ve been able to lie down and make 100% use of the bench’s surface area these past few weeks. I’ve secured a comfortable sleeping environment. If anything, I’m grateful.”
“You’re the worst. Just say you missed me, even if it’s a lie.”
“Ah, I did miss you.”
“There’s not a shred of sincerity in that!”
Shizuku gave my shoulder a warm pat. I brushed it off casually, stood up, and dropped some change into the vending machine.
I dropped the super-sweet cocoa, which clattered down with a clunk, onto Chimera’s lap.
“Hyaa. …Oh, thanks.”
“It’s sugar. You better stock up before the contents get worn down by all that excessive packaging.”
Shizuku pulled the tab, took a sip, and gave a wry smile.
“…As I thought, this is the best. That organic herbal tea they served at the office today tasted exactly like a grasshopper.”
“Have you ever eaten a grasshopper?”
“No, but it tasted just like one!”
“Herbs are grass, after all. So basically, Shizuku, you’re consuming the same thing as a grasshopper in an attempt to climb the social ladder. It’s just like the food chain.”
“Don’t lump me in with grasshoppers.”
Shizuku wrapped both hands around the can and stared at the vending machine’s light.
“Hey, Minato.”
“What?”
“Someone at the agency told me, ‘From now on, act with the awareness that you are public property.’”
“That’s sound advice. In accordance with the Cultural Properties Protection Law, maybe we should anchor Shizuku to the ground in this park.”
“I’m private property! I don’t belong to anyone!”
“If you were public property… say, if I went through the proper procedures at city hall, could I rent you out for 200 yen an hour?”
“…If it’s just for you, Minato, I might let you have me for free.”
Shizuku murmured softly and took a sip from the cocoa can.
In the cold midnight air, her profile looked far more refined than before. It might have been the expensive coat, or perhaps the professional makeup applied to her face.
But deep within her eyes, the same clumsy, lost child remained.
“…I have to get up early tomorrow, too. Voice training, and starting over from the basics of dance.”
“Basic training for hunting mammoths, huh? Good luck.”
Shizuku slowly stood up. Reluctantly, she traced her finger along the back of the bench.
“See you later, then.”
“Yeah.”
I just watched as her footsteps faded into the darkness of the night.
This is for the best.
She’s heading toward the light. I’m here on this bench in the shade, wrestling with the remains of my corn chowder. Creatures inhabiting different layers are better off not crossing paths—it’s for the good of both our ecosystems.
Alone on the bench, I swallowed a sip of slightly lukewarm cocoa.
The park felt just a little bit bigger than usual.
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