"There will be! There definitely will be!"
Minamoto Tamako loudly encouraged, "You have to believe in yourself! Even though you’re petty, stingy, miserly, vindictive, clueless about women, and terrible at interpersonal relationships... but, but..."
She hesitated for a long time, unable to say what "but" was.
This was different from what Fushimi Roku expected; he thought Minamoto Tamako misunderstood, assuming he was lamenting his unpopularity—which is the kind of thing people indulge in often in Japan. They often blame their life’s failures on "unpopularity," constantly whining online and proposing strange theories about "inequitable sexual resources."
In other words, Minamoto Tamako saw him as a self-pitying loser.
Fushimi Roku reached out his hand to interrupt, saying, "That’s not the point. Let’s not talk about the past; the focus is on the future..."
Once again, Minamoto Tamako was overwhelmed with sadness, plopping back onto her chair. She wanted to drown her sorrows in alcohol, but there was none at home; it had all been used by Fushimi Roku. Her troubles only seemed to compound.
"It’s not like I’m going to die right away."
Fushimi Roku finally felt the discomfort of being a terminal patient, which mainly stemmed from the low spirits of those around him.
Upon hearing this, Minamoto Tamako finally realized that this was her last chance to confess to Mr. Fushimi. If she continued to delay, she would deeply regret it when Mr. Fushimi passed away with a smile on his face.
Under these circumstances, Mr. Fushimi certainly couldn’t confess, or it would seem too selfish—he was dying but wanted to leave others alone with the pain. Wouldn’t that be holding someone back?
Mr. Fushimi would definitely think this way, wouldn’t he?
That’s why he said he still had a small regret and mentioned things like, ’I’ve never been in love,’ ’You’ll definitely look down on me,’ ’Would a girl like someone like me’...
Words he’s always wanted to say but could never express, surely Mr. Fushimi must feel very painful and sorrowful?
Minamoto Tamako lowered her head, her heart filled with mixed emotions.
On one hand, she knew this was a good time to confess, but on the other, she also knew this wasn’t the time for romance. At the same time, she still lacked the courage to fully reveal her feelings, and she felt deeply saddened by Mr. Fushimi’s terminal illness.
She could only keep repeating to herself: ’This is to help Mr. Fushimi fulfill his last wish,’ ’Mr. Fushimi should be able to see through this too,’ ’It’s just end-of-life care’... attempting to find various reasons to numb herself.
Minamoto Tamako stood up again, looking nervous. In Fushimi Roku’s expectant eyes, she said, "Then let me help you fulfill your last wish."
Fushimi Roku was taken aback; the statement sounded strange, as it had two interpretations: from a friend’s angle, it could mean helping him find a partner; from a romantic angle, it could mean using his words to confess. Moreover, the two interpretations could interchange, both making sense regardless of perspective.
When did her Tai Chi skill get this high?
Or is he overthinking?
Fushimi Roku looked puzzled and asked, "How are you going to help me fulfill it?"
Minamoto Tamako wiped away her tears, blew her nose with a tissue, and said in a muffled voice, "Don’t worry, I mean what I say."
Fushimi Roku thought, what are you saying? I don’t understand your meaning at all.
He wanted Minamoto Tamako to be clearer with her words, but was also wary of exposing his own wicked plan, pondering for a long time without knowing what to say.
After blowing her nose, Minamoto Tamako pulled back her chair and left the dining table. She didn’t eat a single bite of food and was getting ready to go out after putting on her coat.
Fushimi Roku felt utterly confused and couldn’t help but ask, "Where are you going?"
"To buy alcohol." Minamoto Tamako’s voice was nasal.
"Wine?" Fushimi Roku glanced around the dining table, realizing that indeed a candlelight dinner seemed incomplete without some wine. Minamoto Tamako’s pickiness was something he hadn’t noticed before.
"Whatever." Minamoto Tamako said.
"Then no need to buy it."
Fushimi Roku stood up, knocked on the door next door to Kazama’s house, rummaged around briefly, then returned home with two packs of beer, tucking two bottles of brown glass soju under his arm.
Seeing this, Minamoto Tamako directly opened the soju, sat on the sofa, and drank straight from the bottle.
Fushimi Roku hurriedly grabbed Minamoto Tamako’s arm, asking what exactly she intended to do.
Minamoto Tamako’s stomach burned, her throat was fiery, and the bitter liquor made her heart ache. She didn’t care about anything else, and with red eyes, she said, "I can’t say it without drinking."
Fushimi Roku understood in his heart. He let go silently, but still played dumb and asked her to clarify her words.
Minamoto Tamako didn’t answer, drinking on her own. She wanted to forget all the unhappy things and wanted the courage to express her feelings to Mr. Fushimi—this was Mr. Fushimi’s last wish, how could she refuse?
Was she supposed to help Mr. Fushimi date someone else?
If it had been before, she might have done such a foolish thing out of shyness, pretending to help find a partner for Mr. Fushimi while secretly inquiring about his preferences... but now, she didn’t have the time to play such games.
Because Mr. Fushimi was dying.
Just thinking about it made her heart ache.
Seeing her shed tears again, Fushimi Roku opened another bottle of soju and said, "I’ll drink with you then."
Drinking together made it less painful.
Halfway through, Minamoto Tamako couldn’t drink any more. Japanese soju had a high alcohol content of around twenty-seven to thirty-four percent, and on an empty stomach, her digestive system couldn’t handle it. She ended up hugging the trash can and throwing up everything she had just drunk.