The next morning, Shuuji arrived at the vacation house before noon. At first, he figured he’d meet Koutarou for lunch, but then he got worried that Koutarou had probably skipped breakfast. The clone didn’t have anything to occupy himself with anymore, and Shuuji was concerned about how he would spend his time, in that house all by himself.

– – –

In the six years they’d been going out, he’d never once made a meal with Koutarou. Shuuji had been cooking for himself since he first lived on his own, and there wasn’t much difference between one person’s portion and two, so he hadn’t had any help before, not even in washing the dishes.

“We’ll start with how to use the rice cooker.”

“We should start from the basics,” the clone said, apparently enjoying himself, watching from a little bit away while Shuuji stood at his usual place in the kitchen.

Shuuji taught him how to cook, one step after another, and the clone had such an outstanding mind that he understood everything immediately with a single explanation. It was just that he’d never had any interest in it before. Once he learned the basics, he’d probably be able to make most anything straight off.

“There’s so much detailed work that goes into a meal,” the clone muttered appreciatively, watching Shuuji work with a kitchen knife. He’d been taking care of a mackerel, and was just getting to mincing it.

“You don’t have to remember everything. Once you learn what I’m teaching, you can try just some of the more simple dishes…”

It wasn’t like the clone could just saunter out to the store, so after Shuuji was gone, he’d lose all opportunity to get ahold of raw ingredients. Given that, learning how to cook with dry goods, things that could be stored long term, would serve him better.

“You make it because you like me, don’t you?” the clone said, apparently already knowing that he was correct, and Shuuji nodded.

Koutarou had never been a picky eater. He’d say anything was delicious, but Shuuji had learned his favorites over time, thanks to the way his expression changed when he tasted something he particularly liked.

His separation from Koutarou had been too sudden, and he hadn’t been able to do anything for him. So he wanted to do whatever he could for his clone at least. Shuuji was amazed at his own ability to make whatever selfish excuses he pleased, all while repeating that the clone wasn’t the same as Koutarou.

“You’re really skilled at this Shuuji.”

Seeing Shuuji proceed through the cooking with such familiar motions despite being lost in his thoughts, the clone continued to be impressed.

“It’s a bit of an exaggeration to call this skilled. What about the mothers out there who make meals for their entire family every single day?”

“Geniuses maybe?” the clone answered, his face quite serious indeed. Shuuji burst out laughing. People who could do things he couldn’t were skilled geniuses, apparently. The clone’s thought process – exactly like Koutarou’s – was fundamentally simple.

Shuuji’s hands didn’t stop even as they spoke, and he was almost done with making lunch. The menu was pork miso with minced mackerel, and white rice with a garnish of lightly pickled cabbage.

“And I was going to put a dash of cayenne on here too, but…”

Shuuji looked over at the spice rack, but couldn’t find the small jar that should have been there. Now that he thought about it, he had a hunch he’d left it on the dining room table last week when they had udon for lunch. He looked over, and sure enough, it was lined up with the other small jars of salt and stuff.

“Sorry, Koutarou, grab that for me?” Shuuji said to the clone in his usual tone, pointing to the jar.

He’d done it countless times before, there was nothing special about his behavior. So he’d ended up naturally using Koutarou’s name.

But from the very first instant he’d seen the clone, Shuuji had decided he would never call him Koutarou. The only person Shuuji would call by that name was the Koutarou who was no longer in this world.

Bewildered by his own behavior, Shuuji’s expression stiffened, and he stopped moving. But the clone didn’t seem to notice anything.

“Sure, here you go,” he said, reaching over to the table, picking up the jar, and handing it to Shuuji.

“Okay then, once I’m finished, I’ll take it over.”

And then he completed the meal like nothing had happened, put it on a couple of plates, and started to carry them over to the dining table.

Honestly, he probably had noticed it. Koutarou wasn’t interested in how other people felt, but with Shuuji, it was different. He was always looking at Shuuji, he never missed anything, no matter how subtle. Even so, if Shuuji didn’t bring it up, Koutarou would be apprehensive to point it out himself.

– – –

Starting the following morning, Shuuji started taking the train to the vacation house instead of a car. A rental car was fine for a few times, but if he was going to need it everyday, that would get rough financially.

It was about an hour and a half on the train, with the transfer to a bus, which made the round trip three hours, and Shuuji had always worked from home, he didn’t even really go for walks, he definitely wasn’t good with crowds. So even though it was easier on his wallet, it was harder on his constitution.

He’d been coming here like that every day for a week, and his fatigue had reached its peak. He remembered heading for the computer after lunch. But his fatigue turned into exhaustion and attacked him, and he ended up falling asleep right where he was.

He must have slept for a little while, even in that unnatural posture, because suddenly there was something warm on his shoulders, and he startled awake.