Tells the story of Aruta Kuroyuki, a 19 year old guy who thinks life is boring with his monotone routine. He's just an ordinary person.
Or is he?
With something he hides in his past, and after his encounter with Noarin Otorii, who shares the same fa...
"Same as always, huh?" said the cashier, showing her annoyed face as she started scanning the groceries.
I glance at her for a moment, then avert my eyes. "Can you stop giving me that 'I'm tired of your monotone life' look on your face?" I replied, staring at the discount list above the cashier desk. She sighed.
"Aruta, if your monotone life was good and healthy, I wouldn't complain," she said, her annoyance growing. She pointed at one of the goods she scanned. "For the past month, I keep seeing you buy these instant noodles. Is that all you eat?" she puts her hand on her hip.
I glance at the direction she's pointing. "Mostly, yeah." I answer flatly.
She sighed again. "I'm surprised you're still alive," she said, packing the goods into the plastic bag.
Oh right, my name is Aruta Kuroyuki. I'm just an ordinary person who thinks life is boring. I graduated high school six months ago and now work remotely from my apartment. For these six months, I haven't really gone five miles away from my apartment, just staying there and barely having a life.
"Don't worry, sometimes I also buy food outside."
She raised her eyebrow. "Oh? What do you usually buy?"
"Pizzas." I quickly answer, flatly
She stopped mid-action, one hand still holding a can of soup, and then stared at me. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. "Seriously?"
"Yeah?"
"Gosh darn it, eat some rice and veggies!" she exclaimed, her frustration evident as she tossed the can into the bag with a bit more force than necessary.
"I know, I know. Fine," I sighed. I mumbled. "Are you my mom—"
"What did you say?" she raised her tone, her eyes narrowing into a glare that could pierce steel.
"Eh, nothing," I smiled wryly, trying to defuse her rising temper. "Rishia, what's the total price?"
The scary cashier here is Rishia Ninomi, my former classmate in high school. She's one of my few close friends. Right now, she's studying at college and working part-time at this convenience store.
"Actually, wait here for a sec," she said, turning on her heel and walking briskly into the food aisle. I watched her go, my curiosity piqued. She returned moments later with three packed onigiris and dropped them into the plastic bag.
"Hey, I'm not paying for those."
"Well then, I will," she said, handing me the plastic bag with a determined look on her face.
"Okay, just kidding. I'll pay for that," I said, pulling out my wallet.
"Good, the total is 63.9," she replied, her voice softening a bit as she punched the numbers into the register.
I handed over the money, and she counted out the change with practiced efficiency. She slipped the receipt into the bag and handed it to me.
I take the change and receipt, and turn around. "See ya."
"See ya, and don't forget to eat the rice," she shouted after me, her tone a mixture of concern and exasperation, waving her hand in a dismissive yet affectionate manner. I chuckled and waved back, pushing the door open and stepping into the cool evening air.
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