To Be Enough (HiyoIku)

Chapter 1: Hiyori

I stood, somewhat uncomfortably upright, outside the barbeque restaurant, Hoshinoya.

In front of me, the restaurant's door swung open and close as customers entered in twos and threes and fours. It was dinnertime, the street around him bustling with people, many still in office wear, a few in long-sleeved shirts or scarfs meant to keep away the chill of late spring, while most others were welcoming the new season with shorts and dresses and halter tops. Summer was approaching, and already I could feel the slightest hint of the humid heat settling in.

The time on my lockscreen informed me I was already 20 minutes late. I'd told Ikuya I was just stopping by the convenience store to grab some mint drops, and if I stalled any more, things might look weird. 

There was a golden sheen of dust blanketing the high-rises sprawling towards the horizon, which also featured the jutting shapes of skyscrapers, their glass walls reflected the orange glow of the setting sun. My favourite time of the day. If you didn't know the time, twilight could feel like both dusk and dawn. Twilight represented a sort of possibility, that if you stayed and watched, you might see the sun rising to herald the start of a new day, or set to bring in the cacophony of the neon-illuminated city. Even as a kid, I had loved it, pretending I didn't know it was evening, pretending that the orange hue would lighten and brighten and morning would come, and I could – if I were lucky – catch my parents at the breakfast table before they leave for work.

Now, my life felt like twilight too – a game of pretend where I pretended I didn't know that the day was over, that all that would be left was an eerie dark sky, with no stars to comfort me. I simply lived 'in the meantime'.

But it was hard.

I sighed, and pushed the restaurant's swinging doors open. 

The interior teemed with activity. Families, friends and salarymen after work sat around tables, the exhaust nozzles working in full force, absorbing the smoke but allowing the fragrance of grilled, juicy meat to linger, like mist. Servers floated with hurried grace around tables, serving plates and plates of raw meat with shining smiles. At the far end of the restaurant, Shiina's fiery red hair beckoned. Tachibana smiled his gentle smile as I walked over, Nanase sitting quietly but expectantly beside him. Ikuya glanced up from the menu and relaxed his expression.

"Sorry, the queue was long," I apologised and sat down beside Ikuya.

Shiina waved his hand airily. "Don't worry, we just ordered their signature combo, and as long as you're not unreasonable like Haru, you'll definitely like it."

"What's unreasonable?" I asked, responding to Shiina's expectant gaze. The words came out flat, like an actor who found himself in the wrong play, desperately pretending to know the lines, terrified of ruining the entire performance.

Nanase replied, curtly. "There is nothing unreasonable about mackerel."

"It is very unreasonable to want mackerel in a barbeque place, Haru, and you know it." Tachibana chided gently, and everyone laughed.

That'd been how things were for weeks following the relay. They met up frequently to splurge in food, and every time Ikuya invited me, I would say yes, and become the awkward fifth-wheel. Everyone – except me – bantered over the meal, and it was easy to see why Ikuya had never been able to let go of his Iwatobi friends. Shiina, Tachibana, even Nanase, spoke and acted with an easy sincerity that Ikuya gravitated towards, because their open and straightforward personalities made up for Ikuya's reserved nature and tendency to overthink. That honesty was something I lacked; I was too careful, too calculating. I sometimes imagine, in an alternate universe, if I'd met them the way Ikuya had, a young and shy boy meeting a group of enthusiastic friendly boys, I probably would've liked them too.