Chapter 25: Temperature

At the same time, in Hoshino Haruka’s apartment.

She stood in the kitchen, flipping the teriyaki chicken breast.

For tonight’s dinner, she planned to make the same dish as lunch.

There was still half a bag of chicken breasts in the freezer.

Then, the ringtone of her phone came from the living room.

She turned down the heat, wiped the water off her hands, and trotted to the living room to pick up the phone.

Caller ID – “Grandma” (Waipo).

Haruka stared at those two characters on the screen, her heart beating a little faster.

She wasn’t ready to talk to Hoshino Haruka’s Waipo yet.

Haruka’s Waipo was named Yuki Chiyo.

In her phone contacts, she was pinned to the very top, with a contact frequency second only to Ritsu.

The chat history was filled with everyday greetings—asking how she was, what she had cooked, how her health was, and so on.

The way Haruka spoke to her Waipo was unlike how she spoke to anyone else.

More coquettish than with Ritsu, more affectionate than with President, and more childish than with anyone at work.

It was a state of complete vulnerability, soft and almost fragile, that only appeared in front of “family.”

And she hadn’t experienced that state for many years.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had a phone call with “family.”

Probably about ten years ago, a few days before her mother passed away.

Just an ordinary call, agreeing to meet back at the family home.

She had forgotten the content, only remembered saying “Take care” to her mother before hanging up.

Then her mother was gone.

The phone on the table was still ringing.

Haruka took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

“——Hello? Waipo?”

An elderly woman’s voice came from the other end—full of energy, with a gentle scolding, as if she had just stepped out of the kitchen.

“Haruka? You finally answered! Your Waipo has been calling you for two days and you didn’t pick up! Do you know how worried I’ve been!”

Haruka almost laughed.

This tone was exactly the template of a “kind but unyielding Japanese old lady.”

“Sorry, sorry——”

She naturally switched into a coquettish tone, as if her body automatically entered a certain mode upon hearing her Waipo’s voice.

“I was discharged from the hospital yesterday, so there were a lot of things to take care of——”

“Why didn’t you call your Waipo first after being discharged!”

“Because… hehe, I wanted to give Waipo a surprise?”

“…”

A second of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“You child.”

But there was no dissatisfaction in that sigh, only relief.

“How’s your body? What did the doctor say? Is there any pain? Have you eaten? Did you eat properly? Don’t just eat pudding——”

“I ate, I ate!”

Haruka quickly replied.

“I made chicken breast myself today! Very healthy!”

“Cooked yourself?!”

Waipo’s voice rose half an octave.

“You? Cook? Aren’t you the one who burns the pot even when boiling instant noodles——”

“That was such a long time ago, Waipo!”

“It was the month before last. When you came back for your holiday.”

“…”

Well, the previous Hoshino Haruka’s cooking level was indeed exactly as she had guessed.

“A-anyway! I can do it now! I learned a bit while in the hospital! My body is recovering well! The doctor said I’m recovering very fast!”

“Really?”

“Really, really! I’m in great shape! Waipo, don’t worry!”

“…How can I not worry.”

Waipo’s voice suddenly softened.

“You’re alone in Tokyo, and such a big thing happened… Waipo wanted to come see you in the hospital, but Ritsu said not to, afraid it would disturb your rest… Waipo has been worried at home for a month…”

Haruka’s throat tightened.

“Waipo…”

“It’s good that you’re all right, it’s good that you’re all right.”

Waipo repeated twice.

There was a hint of nasality in her voice—probably holding back something.

“Rest up well, don’t push yourself too hard. Work can wait, health comes first. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Eat properly. Don’t just eat pudding.”

“Okay.”

“Sleep early at night. Don’t stay up looking at your phone.”

“Okay.”

“It’s getting cold, wear more clothes.”

“Okay——Waipo——”

Haruka found herself smiling, a smile she couldn’t control, involving her mouth, eyes, and whole face, like a child’s smile.

“I got it——you take care of yourself too——I’ll come back to see you when I have a holiday during New Year’s——”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Then Waipo will make you oden. You love Waipo’s oden the most, right?”

“Mm!”

She nodded hard.

“Love it the most!”

“Then Waipo won’t bother you anymore. Go eat quickly.”

“Mm! Waipo, bye——!”

“Bye, Haruka.”

“——Waipo.”

“Hmm?”

“…I’m fine, really. Don’t worry.”

There was a two-second silence on the line.

“Mm. Waipo understands.”

—

Haruka put down the phone.

She stood in the middle of the living room, still holding the phone, staring blankly at the screen that had returned to the standby state.

Call duration: 7 minutes 12 seconds.

In those seven minutes, an elderly woman in her seventies, with no blood relation to her, whom she had never even met—had told her, “Eat properly,” “Go to bed early,” “Wear more clothes,” “Waipo will make you oden.”

Haruka realized she still had a smile on her face, unable to wipe it off.

‘She thought, probably because she hadn’t felt this way in a long time.’

‘The feeling of having someone waiting for her to come home on the other end of the line, having someone worrying from afar about whether she had eaten, having someone whose tone when saying “bye” carried the hope that “I hope you’ll be fine tomorrow too.”‘

After Matsumoto Hidetoshi’s mother passed away, this feeling disappeared.

At first, there were sudden moments when he remembered, “Mom would call around this time.”

He would come home and instinctively ask what’s for dinner, only to find no familiar figure standing in the kitchen, and his heart would ache.

Later, that ache turned into a dull pain, the dull pain into numbness, and the numbness into habit—habit of no one calling to ask if he had eaten, habit of no one putting prepared meals in the fridge, habit of spending New Year’s alone watching the Red and White Song Battle while eating convenience store rice balls.

He thought he no longer needed that feeling, that he had gotten used to it.

And now, there was an old lady on the other end of the line calling her “Haruka,” urging her to eat, urging her to sleep, urging her to wear more clothes.

Even though that wasn’t her own Waipo—it was Hoshino Haruka’s Waipo.

But the warmth that came through the receiver, mixed with the scent of oden and nagging concern, was real.

“Waipo…”

Haruka put her phone back on the coffee table and walked back to the kitchen.

She had turned the stove fire to the lowest before answering the phone, but one side of the meat had still burned slightly.

She quickly flipped it over.

The sauce was bubbling at the bottom of the pot, and the steam carried a sweet and salty aroma upward.

She looked at the chicken breast in the pan, still unable to bring her smile down.

“Hoshino Haruka——”

“You really have a wonderful Waipo.”