Interlude: A Visit to Nagafuji’s Meats, Part 2

Interlude:
A Visit to Nagafuji’s Meats
Part 2

COMPARED TO HINO’S, my room was a glorified storage closet at best. It was only three steps deep, and when you added in the bed and the school supplies and the clothes, there wasn’t even enough floor space for a fan. So what could Hino possibly like about it?

“Well, you’ve got a front-row seat to the fireworks!” she answered as we sat at the open window.

My room was on the third floor, so there were no neighboring rooftops in the way. This was the natural result of living in a tall, narrow building. Smoke rose from the mosquito coil sitting on the window sill, its smell reminiscent of barbecue.

“Summer exclusive, huh?” I murmured as I leaned against her with my full weight.

“Hey!” she growled from under my boobs. This was what always happened whenever I hugged her from behind.

“Too heavy?”

“Excuse me? …More like too hot, if anything.”

“Oh, ho, I see. Then let’s ask Mr. Fan to help us out.” I switched his power level to medium. But after a few moments, the fwsssssshhh turned into a duh-guh-guh-guh.

“That fan sounds like it’s on its last legs. Like my dad when he gets up from a chair.”

“Then maybe he needs to warm up first.” Should have given him some more time on low before I switched. “Oh, how I miss the sweet breeze of air conditioning…”

“Just get it fixed, then.”

I felt her head turn under me and realized she was looking at the little white box, yellowed with sun exposure, in the upper-right corner by the ceiling. But that wasn’t an air conditioner, for the record. It was a swamp cooler—a bratty little thing that spat out air at a “frosty” 96.8 degrees (or thereabouts).

“They said fixing it would cost more than just buying a new one.”

“Then buy a new one!”

“With what money?”

Besides, if I got it replaced, it would be one less thing I’d have to look forward to whenever I went to Hino’s house, and that would be such a shame.

Just then, a firework rose up. More accurately, the light in the distance made the window sill change colors, but that was all the “fireworks” we really needed. What followed was a big, booming explosion.

“Pewww! Boo-boom-boom! Pop pop pop pop pop! Pew, pew!”

“Knock it off!”

Wiggle, wiggle.

“Hey, quit swaying! You’re rubbing your boobs on my head!”

She’s so demanding, I swear.

“Have some class, for god’s sake.”

But I couldn’t hear her over the crackle of the fireworks. Bright green lit up all four corners of the window, and the mosquito coil started to smell like gunpowder. Green… The longer I looked at it, the more I started to crave kiwi. Or melon.

“Hey, Nagafuji?”

“What is it this time? Keep ’em coming!”

“You seriously have problems with this house?” In contrast with the sky-high fireworks, her voice was low and dark.

“A ton of problems, yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I can’t eat anything from the display case or they’ll hit me.”

“Oh, that. Okay, never mind.”

She hastily changed the subject. Hm. Apparently it didn’t matter, then.

Boo-boo-boom! The sky lit up in red, blue, then red again, burning brightly. Then, like a cat scratch, they slowly faded.

“Hey, Nagafuji?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, YAY!”

“What is with you?”

Alas, I was just trying to express what a good mood I was in. Apparently it didn’t get through to her.

“…To me, the fireworks we see through your window are the prettiest of all,” she continued, disregarding me in more ways than one. “Know why?”

Heh heh heh! The answer was all too simple. “All thanks to me, duh.” And I knew it full well. I laughed smugly.

She fell silent for a moment. Then, at last, she muttered: “Your udders are so obnoxious… Seriously, learn some class.”

This time there was no firework explosion to drown out her sass. Her voice was soft and sweet, mingling with the smoke from the mosquito coil.

Now that’s the Hino I know and love.