It happened on a Sunday.
Since I didn’t have any shifts that day, I went out in the afternoon to do some grocery shopping. I stocked up on things that would last for a while — and when I got back, I found Minase Mishio sitting in front of my apartment door.
She was squatting against the wall, fiddling with her phone in both hands.
The moment I saw her, I froze. Did we have plans today? That was the only reason I could think of for Mishio to be waiting for me.
Noticing my presence, she looked up.
“Yo.”
She raised a hand in greeting when she spotted me. Her face was bright and cheerful — definitely not the expression of someone who’d been stood up. Which only made it more confusing why she was here.
As I got closer, Mishio stood up. She was dressed casually in a mini skirt. Not the kind of outfit you should be squatting in, I thought to myself.
“Uh, did we make plans to go somewhere?”
I asked, just to be sure.
“Nope, we didn’t. Wait— oh!”
“What?”
She suddenly raised her voice mid-sentence, like she’d just remembered something.
“Darn it. I should’ve said we did have plans. Can I redo that?”
“Right. So we *didn’t* have any plans. That’s a relief.”
Getting accused of breaking a promise that never existed would’ve been too much.
“So, what’s really going on?”
I asked, looking at her as she pouted in dissatisfaction.
“Well, I went grocery shopping too, but when I got home, I realized I didn’t have my key.”
“That’s rough. …Any chance you just forgot to lock the door when you left?”
“I wish. I already checked — it’s locked tight.”
So she hadn’t left without it; she’d actually lost it somewhere.
I’d been in a similar situation once — I panicked when I couldn’t find my key, but when I tried the door, it opened easily. The relief and the cold sweat that followed were unforgettable.
“Could it be that you dropped it at the supermarket? Or on the way there or back?”
“Maybe,” she said.
Actually, that was probably the most likely case.
“Anyway, can I leave my stuff here for a bit?”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”
At her feet sat an eco-bag stuffed with groceries and her usual tote bag. Carrying all that while searching for a key would be a pain.
“Alright, come on in.”
“Thanks~”
I had my own shopping bags too, and standing around talking like this was silly, so we both went inside.
“Excuse meee~”
With that cheerful voice, Mishio followed me in. Before I could even offer, she helped herself to a pair of slippers.
After the short hallway, she set her things down in the living room while I put mine in the kitchen.
“I don’t mind holding your bags for a bit, but what were you planning to do if I hadn’t come home?”
I was usually working on my days off. She might’ve been waiting until nightfall.
“I saw you at the supermarket,” she said with a grin.
Now that she mentioned it, she did say she’d gone shopping too. So she’d seen me there without saying anything?
“You were walking around, staring at your phone so seriously.”
“I was checking my shopping list,” I said.
I always jot down what I need on my phone, but I didn’t realize I looked *that* serious doing it.
“So, what now? You wanna go back out and look for it?”
I didn’t have any plans anyway, so I didn’t mind helping.
“Can I have some tea first?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed a bottle of oolong tea from the fridge, poured it into a glass, and handed it to her.
“Thanks~”
“You sure look relaxed,” I said, a little exasperated.
“I mean, it’s just a house key. Even if someone finds it, they won’t know whose it is. It’s either been turned in somewhere, or it’s gone for good.”
She took a sip of tea, her tone calm and unbothered.
That was true. It wasn’t like losing a wallet — no one would have any use for it. Unless someone somehow recognized it as *her* key, which seemed impossible.
“And if it’s really gone?”
“Then I’ll call the building management company.”
“Figures.”
I glanced toward the fridge. There was a magnet with the management company’s emergency number on it — given to me when I moved in. It listed things like “Water leaks,” “Power outage,” “No water supply,” but not “Lost key.” Still, if she called, they’d probably direct her to the right department.
“Think they’d answer on a Sunday?”
I asked, staring at the magnet.
I’d never needed to call before, but since the listed problems were all serious ones, it probably was a 24/7 number.
“I mean, I can survive one night without it, right?”
“Don’t look at me. You’re not staying here.”
I wasn’t exactly prepared to have a girl stay over — not even for one night.
“Aw, come on. We’re supposed to help each other out.”
“Helping doesn’t mean inviting people over. Why not ask Koreda Murasakiko instead?”
“It’d be awkward with her family around.”
She gave a wry smile. Yeah, in that case, I was probably her only option.
“How about this — I’ll ask Misumi-senpai to let you crash at the café. You can sleep on the sofa.”
“Ooh, that actually sounds fun.”
“Don’t get excited, it was a joke.”
There *had* been events where people stayed overnight at bookstores — maybe it could work at a café too? Unlimited coffee until morning… actually, that didn’t sound half bad.
“Anyway, the management company will probably handle it, so it’s pointless to overthink it.”
“True. Oh, thanks for the tea.”
She handed me the empty glass, and I took it to the sink.
Then came a sudden rattling sound — I turned to see Mishio sliding open the large balcony door and stepping outside in my sandals.
“What are you doing?”
“I was just wondering if I could climb up.”
“Stop doing stupid stuff.”
She was seriously examining the structure, looking up and down.
“Think you could make it up there, Sakura?”
“Me? You’re the one locked out — do it yourself.”
“Wow, pervy much? You just want to peek up my skirt, don’t you?”
She smirked wickedly.
“What the hell. Like I’d make a girl do something dangerous for that. I’d at least do it safely.”
“Oh, so you *would* if it’s safe? Like, with a ladder or something?”
“Just drop it already.”
Why did she look so amused by this?
“Anyway, even if you could climb up, the balcony door’s probably locked.”
“There’s a chance it isn’t.”
She said it like it was obvious.
“Seriously?”
“I mean, I leave it open a lot. I lock it when I go to bed or to school, but not always for quick trips.”
“You’re more careless than I am.”
Maybe living on the third floor made her that relaxed.
“Whatever. Switch with me.”
“Okay~”
We only had one pair of sandals, so we swapped, and I went outside.
I looked up to estimate the height. The balcony railings were the same as mine, so I could use my own as reference.
If I climbed onto the railing, balanced myself by holding the ceiling edge, then grabbed the upper railing, I could probably pull myself up. It didn’t seem impossible.
The real problem would be if the door was locked. I could get up, but not down — unless I broke the glass, which would be bad. Sure, there was a chance it was unlocked… but if it wasn’t, the damage would be huge.
“Hey, Mishio, if it’s locked— wait, what are you doing?”
I turned around, and she was digging through her tote bag.
Then—
“Found it!”
She raised her hand triumphantly, a shiny key glinting between her fingers — her house key.
I nearly collapsed to my knees.
“It was at the bottom of my bag. I decided to check one more time, just in case!”
“Yeah… I can see that.”
My voice came out weak as I stepped back inside.
“Sorry for the trouble.”
“Glad to hear there wasn’t actually a girl locked out of her house.”
I said, half out of relief and half in frustration.
Then she suddenly spread her arms wide.
“What now? You trying to scare me like a red panda?”
Should I be falling over right now?
“No, dummy. It’s a hug. To say thanks.”
“No thanks.”
I shot her down immediately.
“I didn’t even do anything worth thanking me for.”
“Aww, too bad. …Well, I’ll head home then.”
Still smiling, Mishio picked up her bags.
I followed her to the door.
“Oh, right.”
Just before putting on her shoes, she turned around.
“Can I come back later to make curry for you?”
“…”
That must’ve been her way of showing gratitude. She really couldn’t rest until she did something.
“…Sure. I’ll be waiting.”
“Okay, I’ll come by this evening then.”
And with that, Mishio left.
Like a passing storm.
Completely typical of her.
Or maybe… typical of us.
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