After School, at a Family Restaurant at Night, With That Girl From My Class

Chapter 1: The Usual Seat, the Usual Girl

Translated by Dawn

Chapter 1: The Usual Seat, the Usual Girl

“One clubhouse sandwich.
Set with a free refill drink.”

Without looking at the menu at all, I placed my order, and as soon as the waitress left my seat, I went straight to the drink corner with my accustomed gait and picked up a clear glass with the store’s logo on it.
After adding a little ice, I placed the glass in its place on the machine and pressed and held the standard melon soda.
Tasting it carefully, I found it to be a greenish liquid that didn’t taste much like a melon.
After pouring it in just enough to keep the bubbling carbonation from spilling out, I stuck the straw in, and returned to my usual seat, taking the same familiar route I had taken when I first came, this time with the same accustomed gait.

Family restaurant, Flowers.

On a Friday night, the restaurant was crowded with people with children and working people after work.

I sipped my melon soda through a straw as I gazed at the scene in the restaurant with a dazed head after my part-time job.
The plastic straw turned green and I breathed a sigh of relief as my mouth started to fill up with water.

“It’s still 8:00 pm…”

The current time was 8:03 p.m.
Not a very appropriate time for a high school sophomore to be outside.
However, for me, it was still “not yet”.

I, Narumi Kouta, would continue to waste my time today as a high school sophomore with a melon soda.

As I was waiting for the menu I ordered, a golden light suddenly flickered in my vision.
The color of her long, wavy hair that flashed across my vision was gold, reminiscent of the color of the sun, sunflowers, and other dazzling yet beautiful colors.

On her fingers, the color of her nails was the same as her eyes, a beautiful shade of blue that reminded me of the surface of reflecting water.
Although it was hard to tell from this distance, she was probably wearing make-up as well.

She had a firm waist and ample breasts.
The uniform of Hoshimoto Gakuen, which I also attended, enveloped her outstanding style, which was as good as a model’s.
I wonder why she hasn’t gone home yet, given that her bag is by her side.

Her somewhat cold gaze was fixed on her phone, and she didn’t seem particularly interested in looking at any of the content on it.
The look in her eyes, as if she was wasting her time, left a deep impression on me.

“Kazemiya…is she still here today?”

Her name was Kazemiya Kohaku.
She was a classmate of mine, so to speak, in the second-year high school D class of the Hoshimoto Gakuen.

The only thing she and I had in common, however, was that we were classmates.

We were neither friends nor acquaintances.
We didn’t sit next to each other, we weren’t childhood friends from next door to each other’s house, and we weren’t sworn enemies who had been related to each other in a previous life.

We had only one thing in common.

We were both regular customers of this family restaurant, Flowers.

That was it.

We neither discussed the taste of the juicy beef hamburger set, a standard dish at Flowers nor promised each other that we would conquer the entire menu.
We didn’t talk to each other or even say hello to each other.

Always sitting at the same seat, spending time idly, without interacting with each other, without any mutual interfere