Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
After the festival, just as Yuta and I were about to leave, someone called out to us right away.
“Yuta!”
He turned around. His face showed a mix of surprise and delight. “No way! Look who it is!”
And they hugged. It wasn’t until later that I realized who this guy was.
“Ryoki? From Boys Of Future?”
My surprise caught their attention.
Yuta replied, “He’s the only person in the idol industry I trust. By the way,” he pointed me out to Ryoki, “this is Ayako. My girlfriend.”
“Better than Sachiko?”
He nodded.
“That’s good to hear.” “Remember how she tried to date both of us? Back when you first came to Tokyo, only to go back home and get ready to move.”
“She… What?” A cold sweat ran down my body.
“Long-distance relationships are the worst thing ever invented. I’ll never trust her again.”
Ryoki just nodded understandingly, then added, “Maybe we should pick a place to celebrate our successful performance?”
“I know a surefire option.” And Yuta looked at me.
By that point, his team had already packed everything into the car and was getting ready to leave. We drove to our apartment, since celebrating a concert performance has become something of a tradition for us.
Once we arrived, I started preparing a festive dinner. Yuta was once again making appetizers and helping me with dinner.
“How long have you known him?” I asked.
“Ryoki? Pretty much since our debut two years ago. Hiromu and I came to Tokyo back then just to ‘test the waters.’” We found a studio where we’ll be rehearsing after our first success, while we gain experience and save up money for our permanent move here. And one day, he took me to a recording session for Boys Of Future. That’s when, thanks to Hiromu, we met."
Once the guests had all gathered, I served Toshikoshi Soba again and also made shrimp onigiri. From the sidelines, I watched Yuta interact with his team and an old friend, and I felt a little envious that he had such a large social circle. As for me, I could only really get along with Rina and her boyfriend Goro, since we’d gone to the same school together. Even though Rina was older than me—she’d entered Kyoto College of Art while I was finishing high school—we only knew each other because of our parents; our moms had been classmates.
As I stood in the kitchen washing the dishes after the party, I could hear Yuta singing his songs with the guys while playing guitar, and as he, Ryoki, and Hiromu reminisced about their early days in the music industry when Boys Of Future were preparing for their debut, I felt like I didn’t belong. After washing all the dishes and leaving them to soak, I thought about calling Rina so we could hang out together, but Yuta’s hands on my waist stopped me, and he pressed his nose against my neck.
- Why are you looking so down? Your smile is my biggest source of inspiration.
- It’s just that the way you interact with them makes me a little jealous. You have such a big social circle, but what about me? I only have one friend I can trust.
Yuta kissed me on the neck and whispered.
- Even if I were friends with the entire Japanese music industry, you’d never be just another face to me. You’re my inspiration, my personal stylist, my girlfriend.
We were interrupted by a noise from the living room.
“Yuta, where are you?”
He just looked at me and kissed my shoulder again.
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
I woke up either to my phone alarm or to a call for Yuta from his bandmates. He would cook me breakfast and pack lunch for work, and at college I created stage outfits for him—taking photos on my phone or showing him sketches at home. The camera couldn’t capture all my effort with its 128-by-128 pixel resolution.
So when I finished a piece, I carefully packed everything into my bag and went home. For fitting sessions, I bought an iron and an ironing board and set them up in my room.
“Not bad,” Yuta said, studying himself in the mirror.
I had sewn a gothic-style jacket and a cape decorated with lacquered crosses.
“I also started working on a dress for myself. It’s not really my style—black, rock, gothic—but I don’t mind making a gothic lolita dress and wearing it to your next concert.”
“You’re the best, Achi. I love you.”
One day, after classes, Tsubaki-san paid my salary in cash. I slipped the money into my wallet and walked home, unsure what to do with it—I had earned quite a lot that month. When I arrived, I folded a small envelope out of paper and put some of my salary inside. Yuta noticed and quietly added a few bills from his own wallet.
“I’ve got enough for notebooks, pens, and guitar strings for now. By the way, remember we have our first official CD?”
I nodded.
“We’ve been offered a contract. PCI Music. They backed us up. Music officially became a job.”
I hugged him. I was just as happy as he was.
One morning I had a day off. I was surprised I had slept until nine. Yuta had left a note by my side of the bed.
Back late tonight. Writing new songs.
I had wanted to make him breakfast.
So I decided to make up for it.
I tied my hair into a ponytail and started cleaning the entire apartment. I organized the shelves in my room, scrubbed the bathroom until it shone, washed all our clothes. As I hung everything on the line, I suddenly saw myself as his wife. Mom had been like this during maternity leave with me—waiting for Dad to come home from the jewelry company, while Akira and I helped her clean.
What if one day Yuta and I were like that?
When I finished cooking dinner, I heard the door unlock.
“I’m home!” he called.
“Welcome back!” I answered from the kitchen.
“Looks like your day off did you good.”
He immediately noticed how the apartment sparkled, walked into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my shoulder.
“Okonomiyaki? Just like in my hometown, Osaka. And a whole pot of rice again. Then let me treat you too.”
He took the apron off me and put it on himself. I saw him take out the octopus he had bought “to spoil my Achi.”
“I know we don’t have the proper mold, but I did my best,” he said, placing the plate on the table.
“Takoyaki!” I exclaimed.
“I’ve loved them since childhood. Back when Hiromu and I were just starting to write music together, I lived off these from street stalls near my house. Then I learned to cook them myself.”
Dinner felt warm—almost like we were already married.
Afterward, Yuta insisted on washing the dishes and told me to go to bed early since I had work and classes the next day.
That night, I imagined our future—a small house in the suburbs, me sewing custom clothes, Yuta writing songs. I had a feeling he imagined it too.
The next day at the atelier, a bride came for a fitting. Tsubaki-san personally adjusted the dress into a masterpiece.
“You’ll look beautiful at your wedding,” she told the customer.
After the client left, Tsubaki-san suddenly turned to me.
“Ayako-chan, try it on.”
“Me?”
“Try it.”
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t just see myself. I saw a bride marrying for love.
Immediately, I began sketching a wedding outfit for Yuta. I imagined he might prefer a leather jacket instead of a traditional blazer, so I drew two options.
At college, I kept working on those sketches. In the workshop, I crafted metal embellishments like my father had taught me.
Ayato once again tried to get my attention.
“Why do you need that punk? Don’t your parents want a proper husband for you?”
I ignored him, put on my headphones, and listened to Black Stones.
When I returned home that evening, exhausted from climbing to the fifth floor, Yuta opened the door before I could knock.
“Ayako-chan!”
“Yuta? Why are you so happy?”
“The label approved us to perform at Zepp Tokyo! Forty-five minutes!”
I smiled and hugged him as he spun me around. I asked Tsubaki-san for time off to finish his stage outfit, and she agreed. I threw myself into preparation.
It was early May. I was finishing Yuta’s costume while sewing my own dress.
I worked endlessly in my room, painting secondhand trousers for his outfit and perfecting his jacket. While working, I wondered who I could attend the concert with—most people preferred famous bands or Western rock.
Then, while sketching in the college courtyard, Rina approached me.
“I heard you’re looking for company for the concert?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go with you. I’d like to meet that guy too.”
I was relieved not to go alone.
On the day of the concert, I double-checked everything, zipped Yuta’s costume into its protective cover, while he checked his bag—though I thought all he needed was water, perfume, and cigarettes.
“Ready for the biggest concert of your life, Achi?”
“More than ever.”
We took a taxi, listening to songs on his player.
“If we’re talking about our rock scene, I mostly listen to visual kei,” he said. “You can tell from my style.”
Then “Honey” by L’Arc-En-Ciel started playing.
“Your favorite?”
“The band I try to measure up to. Maybe one day I’ll open for them.”
He tried to hit Hyde’s high note as we left the taxi—but his voice, a couple tones lower, wouldn’t reach it.
“You’ll impress them one day,” I said while adjusting his costume in the dressing room.
On stage before us performed a young idol group—Ichigo Milk.
Each member had her own color. The audience glowed with light sticks—mostly pink.
The face of the group: Fujiiwara Sachiko.
They sang a cheerful love song, but I sensed a hidden layer beneath it—especially ironic considering the youngest member, Hinata, was still underage.
Then the screen displayed Sachiko alone.
“Sachiko, we love you!”
She appeared in a soft pink dress, backed by a live band—guitar, bass, drums.
Was she trying to copy Yuta?
Pink lights swayed to the rhythm.
I glanced at him. His mood had shifted.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m ready.”
Sachiko. Fujiiwara Sachiko. The face of Ichigo Milk.
A girl who sold her soul to producers for fame. I knew what she was really like back in Osaka.
When it was our turn, I adjusted the mic.
“Good evening! We’re Black Stones! You just saw polished idols—only one side of the coin. Now you’ll hear real words. Real pain behind the masks.”
We played Off The Mask—written a week after I broke up with her.
Then Prisoner. And for Ayako, Possibo-hoo.
“Thank you for these forty-five minutes!”
Back in the dressing room, I drank water and stepped outside for a cigarette. As I lit it, Sachiko approached.
“Long time no see.”
I nodded.
“You still smoke?”
“You still lie on camera.”
I crushed the cigarette and returned inside.
Ayako was sitting there, sketching. I sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her.
“Ichigo Milk made a serious mistake making Fujiiwara Sachiko the face of their group.”
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
Previously: Pt1_Pt2_Pt2 (insert)_Pt.3_Pt.4_Pt.5
Almost right after my mom and I discussed tuition payments and possible allowances, I headed to the bank to check how much money I currently had in my account. Of course, I could have checked it on my phone — I had a DoCoMo with i-mode — but it felt easier to take a walk in the fresh air.
Yuta walked beside me, a shoulder bag hanging at his side, inside it his lyric notebook and a few small belongings.
I clearly remembered the conversation when he first mentioned my phone. It was the day I had forgotten it at home.
“NTT DoCoMo? And with i-mode? You actually use that?”
I blushed a little.
“My parents helped me choose it. So it could help me with my studies.”
Yuta looked at me more carefully.
“Help you?”
“Well…” I hesitated, searching for words. “Emails. Schedule. Addresses. So I can check things if I get lost.” I smiled awkwardly. “So I’m not completely alone.”
He didn’t reply at first. He simply nodded and carefully handed the phone back to me.
“Then it’s a good phone,” he finally said. “The right one.”
And there was no mockery or irony in that “right.”
When we reached the bank, I gave my account number at the counter while Yuta sat nearby on a bench. I felt like people were avoiding him. Of course. A guy with bleached blond hair, a leather jacket, and ripped jeans.
“Here’s a list of your recent transfers,” the woman said, handing me the paper.
I froze.
“Three hundred thousand yen?” I said once we stepped outside.
“And that’s all from your mom? Looks like Chie-san is really generous with you.”
It was true. Sometimes my parents received very large orders, so we usually had money for almost everything.
“Maybe we should make gyudon then? I know a place where we can buy meat at a good price.”
“I already bought a few packs of natto,” Yuta said, pointing at the grocery bag. “Let’s just get some meat and head home.”
At the small market I had once discovered during a walk alone, I picked out a nice piece of beef for a good price.
“You’ve got a good nose. Like a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog, by the way.”
I looked at him.
“Want me to buy you a bone, Achi?”
Then he kissed my forehead. I could feel how much he loved me.
When we reached the apartment building, we noticed Hiromu sitting by the entrance.
“What are you doing here?” Yuta asked.
“A Tower Records representative came to our house today. Dad said it was for our band.”
I saw Yuta tense up.
“What did he say? I mean, the representative.”
Hiromu stood up and showed us a jewel case with a beautiful cover.
“They approved an official CD release with our Osaka singles.”
Yuta handed the grocery bag to me and hugged his friend. They stood like that for about a minute before going upstairs.
“Naoi, Sota, and Haruka will come soon. We’ll celebrate our success at your place.”
“Ayako, make gyudon!”
I nodded. Then I remembered how my mom used to cook festive dishes for important days. So I decided to make toshikoshi soba as well. While I was cooking, I noticed Yuta preparing sashimi, slicing vegetables, and making yakitori from the chicken in the fridge.
“What’s that for?”
“Snacks for beer and sake. Though I know all of us will drink except Sota — he’s not allowed alcohol yet. Even at the dorm they check if he’s been drinking. Hiromu will probably choose something non-alcoholic since he’ll have to drive everyone.”
“I rarely drink,” I replied.
Yuta wrapped an arm around me.
“That’s obvious. Otherwise you’d stitch your own hand or poke yourself with a needle.” He kissed the top of my head.
“That’s why we don’t work the next day after drinking. Mom and Dad taught me to drink in moderation.”
He smirked.
“My homey Achi.”
When everything was ready, Hiromu arrived with drinks and said his father would probably pick him up later and drive everyone home.
“To our first successes!” Yuta raised a toast.
“To Yuta!” Haruka added.
They clinked glasses and took a sip of beer while I served the noodles. Everyone immediately commented on how domestic I looked — in a home dress, apron, and my hair tied back.
“Ayako-chan…” Naoi began. “Are you busy?”
Yuta immediately stopped him.
“Idiot! Don’t you dare.”
Hiromu supported him, pulling Naoi back. After all, I already had Yuta.
The whole evening we ate the food I cooked, Yuta’s snacks, and laughed. The guys sang their songs with a guitar, and for the first time since moving and starting school, I truly relaxed.
When everyone was getting ready to leave and Hiromu stepped aside to call his father, my mom called me.
“Yes, everything’s fine. No problems with school, I pay on time. Tsubaki-san pays well for my work at her atelier.”
“I knew you wouldn’t have any problems in Tokyo.”
“By the way… what was that large amount of money you sent me?”
“Consider it for a rainy day. Or maybe… wedding money.”
Mom knew I had always dreamed of a wedding. A beautiful dress, a beautiful ceremony. But looking at Yuta now, I felt like even a modest wedding among friends would be enough.
“Just don’t come back home if things go wrong. I know you.”
I froze.
“Okay, Mom. Bye.”
When everyone left, I was alone with Yuta. He was already drunk. After I told him about my conversation with Mom, he just laughed.
“She really said that? Rainy day money? ‘Don’t come home’? God, Chie-san! Best mom!”
“Let’s go to sleep. You’re drunk.”
After putting him to bed, I went to my own room so I wouldn’t disturb him. I spent a long time thinking about Mom’s words before finally falling asleep with thoughts only about a good future.
The next morning, when my phone alarm woke me up for work, I first checked on Yuta. He was still asleep. I placed two aspirin tablets and a glass of water by his bed, then went to get ready.
“God, my head is splitting…”
He woke up just as I finished breakfast and makeup.
“Achi? Achi? Where are you going?”
“To work. I packed everything I need — and I have classes after.”
“You…” He grabbed his head. “Ugh!”
“Relax. It’s just a hangover. Did you take the pill?”
“Pill?”
“I left two aspirin tablets by your bed.”
He noticed them, took them immediately, then hugged me.
“Thank you.” He kissed my forehead and cheek. “What would I do without you? Go to work, I won’t hold you back.”
After kissing him goodbye, I left. And I understood that love exists even in such small things. I truly believe we might get married and live here, in Tokyo.
My day started at the atelier until noon, and then I walked toward college. I had headphones in, connected by a cord to my CD player inside my bag. I was listening to the disc Hiromu had brought yesterday when I saw, in a shop window, a whole row of those CDs with a sign: “Black Stones.”
I felt proud. Even though I knew it was Yuta who should be proud.
At college, I was surprised to be the first one to arrive.
“Sakamaki Ayako, good to see you here first,” the professor said.
Then I noticed a guy approaching me — the class representative, Nakamura Ayato. He always insisted I should be his deputy, repeating the same arguments. “Our names are almost the same. You should be with someone who’s also a specialist.”
“Ayako-chan, let’s go to the studio. I want to discuss something about our collections.”
I nodded and followed him.
In the studio, he showed me sketches, drafts, asking for my opinion.
“Honestly, this looks like cheap Western vulgarity. Feels like you’re trying to design for gyaru.” I pointed at an overly short skirt. “Make something that emphasizes a girl’s natural beauty instead of objectifying her.”
I sat at my sewing machine when my phone rang in my bag. It was Yuta.
“Hello, hello! It’s Ayako!” I answered cheerfully.
“We’ve got rehearsal soon. Want to come?”
“Of course! I’ll pack up and head out.”
“Hiromu and I will pick you up. Love you.”
When I hung up, I noticed Ayato’s gaze.
“Your boyfriend?”
I knew our relationship wasn’t officially announced, but in this situation, it was better to say it.
“Yes. He’s picking me up soon. I’m leaving.”
As I walked out, I heard him sniffle. It felt like a small victory. I never intended to date him. I have Yuta.
At the studio, I heard the guys rehearsing new songs. At one point, Yuta sat beside me and suggested I sing with him. I grabbed a tambourine like at karaoke and sang along. I hadn’t felt such joy in a long time — especially next to someone dear to me.
After rehearsal, we walked home together while Sota took a bus to his dorm.
“Tsubaki-san will pay my salary soon,” I said, stretching. “I’ll slowly start saving for a new apartment. Or maybe a country house like my parents have.”
“A country house? That’s a good dream,” Yuta replied, taking a drag from his cigarette.
We kept walking, sharing music through his headphones. When the song ended, he said:
“You know, I can make a living from music. And we’ll buy that house.”
My eyes sparkled.
“You’ll have your own workshop there. I’ll have a small studio. Maybe even space… for our future family.”
And I realized — Yuta is the one I truly want to share my life with. Before, all my attempts to find love failed, so I focused on my studies and moving to Tokyo. But now, I’ll try to balance my dream and love.
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
Previously: Pt1_Pt2_Pt2 (insert)_Pt.3_Pt.4
Almost immediately after the concert, we received the money. A month had passed since enrollment, and I was granted my scholarship. For the first time, Yuta and I felt like we could afford something more than just survival.
We decided to buy real beds — with proper mattresses instead of futons. But by then, I had grown so used to his presence — his breathing at night, the sound of his footsteps — that the idea of sleeping in separate rooms felt strange. In the end, we chose one double bed — in his room.
The first few nights we still slept apart, each on our own side. I would lie there and listen to him walking around, the faint clink of a mug, the quiet sound of him adjusting his guitar strings. For some reason, those sounds reminded me of a concert — the same focus, the same tension, just without the stage.
Another morning. I woke up to my phone alarm. Yuta wasn’t beside me, so I stepped out of the room, rubbing my eyes sleepily. He was in the kitchen, making breakfast for me.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” he nodded, finishing up.
He made tamagoyaki and a simple cup of coffee.
“You need strength before classes,” he said.
It was honestly very good.
Just then my phone rang — or rather, my reminder alarm went off to signal that the bus would arrive soon. I rushed to do my makeup, got dressed, and ran out of the apartment.
Only when I reached the bus stop did I check my bag.
Keys — there. Wallet — there. Phone. I had left it at home.
At that same time, my mother called my number. She expected me to answer, but Yuta picked up.
“Ayako? Is everything alright?”
“Excuse me, Sakamaki-san, this is Yuta. Ayako’s neighbor. She rushed to class and forgot her phone at home.”
“Yuta?… Is she okay? Tell her to call me back as soon as she can. I need to discuss something with her.”
“Of course, Sakamaki-san. Goodbye.”
When I arrived at college, I saw Sota near the entrance. He was taping something to the board.
“Sota? What are you doing?”
He turned and smiled.
“Trying to promote the band. Printed flyers in the library. Maybe I’ll burn some CDs from the last performance too.”
“Does Yuta know? Hiromu?”
“Not yet…”
Suddenly I realized how much Sota reminded me of myself — a little scattered, a little lost without someone older guiding him, but sincerely trying. Even if he was guessing his way through it.
Then I noticed Yuta. He was standing a little away from the entrance, bag over his shoulder, phone in hand. He walked up and held it out to me.
“You left your phone at home, Achi.”
I froze.
“What…?”
He looked away, as if he’d said it casually.
“Check your bag next time,” he added in his usual tone. “You’re completely lost without it.”
I pressed the phone to my chest. That nickname lingered warmer than anything else he had said.
“And by the way, your mom called.”
I remembered she wanted to discuss tuition payments and possible financial support, so I called her back immediately.
After classes, I headed outside — and once again saw Yuta.
“Want to hear our upcoming hits?”
I nodded, eyes shining. We walked to the studio where they rehearsed and wrote their songs.
“Ready for rehearsal before recording the album?” he asked the group.
“Are we going to be self-published artists?” - I asked him.
Yuta adjusted the microphone and glanced at me.
“Previous concert only happened because of connections. Hiromu’s father owns the club. He believed in us and recorded fifteen CDs. We sold them at the show. In Osaka, Hiromu burned the discs himself. Only ten people bought them. Five thousand yen is one disc. Not much — but enough to rent the studio and split what was left.”
He shrugged.
“So yeah. We’ll sell our music ourselves.”
They started playing the songs from those discs. And just like at the concert, I saw how Yuta changed. His gaze sharpened, his movements became precise, his voice deeper. After one song, he stepped aside to drink water. I saw him by the vending machine, lighting a cigarette.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He handed me a can.
“Bought you coffee.”
“Thank you.”
After rehearsal, we walked the others to the station, then headed toward the dorms.
“That was amazing!” I couldn’t hold back. “You become so cool when you sing.”
Yuta smirked.
“Guess it’s not for nothing that we’re in the same college,” Sota laughed.
“I can make stage outfits for you,” I blurted out. “I’ll design the logo and the album cover. Who’s the best?”
Yuta stopped, turned to me, and without a word, kissed me. It was my first kiss. I stood frozen, as if time had stopped. Then suddenly I came back to myself and ran after them.
“Yuta! Wait!”
At home we had simple homemade yakisoba for dinner. I decided to shower first. As I stepped out, I noticed a bottle of Anna Sui perfume in the hallway — the same one I had used before moving.
He remembered.
When I returned to his room — he had insisted we sleep together again — I couldn’t stop blushing, replaying the week in my head. The concert. The rehearsals. The kiss.
“Yuta… please don’t come onto my side of the bed,” I murmured.
“If you don’t want that, go sleep in your own room,” he said with a teasing smile.
“No, it’s just…”
I noticed his hand near the middle.
“What about this? Am I on your side now?” he asked, moving it slightly closer.
I pushed it away.
“And this?”
Now his leg.
We laughed and played like that until I forgot all my embarrassment.
Eventually we fell asleep wrapped around each other.
Just before I drifted off completely, I felt him kiss the top of my head and whisper something so quiet it was almost inaudible.
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
Previously: Pt1_Pt2_Pt2 (insert)_Pt.3
It happened on one of the weekends.
The atelier was unusually quiet, almost homely. I sat at the sewing machine, stitching a neat seam on a blouse — a piece I had been assigned that morning. Moments like this slowed time down: fabric beneath my fingers, the soft hum of the machine, and my thoughts drifting freely.
“Ayako?”
I flinched and looked up.
“Rina!” I exclaimed. “Just a second.”
I finished the seam, turned off the machine, and stepped away from the table. We hugged — briefly, but warmly.
“You picked a good place,” she said, glancing around. “Close to home and college. And most importantly — it suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Tsubaki-san approached us.
“Are you Ayako-chan’s friend?” she asked. “Ayako, go have lunch with her. You’ve been sitting here for hours. I’ll finish the order.”
We went to a small burger place nearby — Rina had told me about it before, about how the owner cooked everything himself and cared about quality.
“You were right,” I said after my first bite. “These really are better than the chain ones.”
“You always knew where food was made with love. Back in school, they even called you ‘homely.’ Chie-san always packed lunches for you. And when you cooked yourself…” she smirked. “You chose the strangest combinations.”
I laughed.
“That’s true. Hey… can we order to go?”
I called the waiter.
“Could we get five signature burgers to take away, please?”
“Five?” Rina raised an eyebrow.
“I want to treat Yuta and his band. They have a concert today. I’ll go after my shift.”
Earlier
“Is Yuta your boyfriend?”
Tsubaki-san’s question caught me off guard.
“No!” I answered too quickly. “We’re… roommates. And friends.”
My cheeks flushed, and she noticed.
“You can go,” she said gently. “I’ll handle the orders. Your mother used to look exactly like that when your father asked her out. Soon you’ll be spending an hour getting ready too.”
I chose a soft floral dress. It was warm outside, but I still put on leggings. My makeup was light — pink tones. I slipped my perfume into my bag — the one I liked to ‘bathe’ in. Before, it had been Anna Sui, like most girls my age. Now, it was something more grown-up, yet still romantic — For Her.
The dressing room was empty. I left the bag with the burgers there and went out into the hall, sitting closer to the stage.
The lights went out. Red spotlights flared up. The brightest one was on Yuta.
“Good evening! We are Black Stones! This is our first concert in Tokyo. And you won’t forget tonight.”
He was different. Confident. Focused. His voice sounded lower, deeper. Black eyeliner emphasized his eyes, and the dark suit fit him perfectly. For a moment, I thought I saw a temporary tattoo under his jacket.
“I’m your king, you’re my queen. I’ll show you a brand-new world.”
For some reason, I was sure those words were meant for me.
“The next song,” he smirked, “we first played in an apartment — when our guitarist showed up without an invitation.”
He lightly shoved Sota, and they laughed. Their friendship was real, even from the stage.
The familiar notes began to play. That song. Now I heard it differently — as if it had finally revealed itself.
“Thank you! That was Black Stones!”
Security stopped me and asked me to go to the dressing room. The guys were already eating burgers, washing them down with cola.
“Ayako, come here.”
Yuta took my hand.
“Thank you for coming. Really. Without you, this concert wouldn’t have meant anything.”
I’d been preparing for our first Tokyo concert since early morning. A small club, but a good starting point. We rehearsed at the dorm — because of Sota, who attended the same college as Ayako.
The neighbors complained about the noise. I didn’t care.
The guys teased me — about Ayako, about my past, about my ex who had become an idol. I hated the idol industry: too much glitter, too little soul.
With Ayako, everything was different. I caught myself waiting for her, cooking for her, thinking about her. One of the songs was for her — even if she didn’t know it.
On the way home, I stopped by a cosmetics store. The familiar sweet scent of Anna Sui hit me — her scent. I bought an eyeshadow palette and a bottle of perfume, just to feel her presence nearby.
At the register, they offered a second bottle as a bonus. I chose Dior Fahrenheit — the one I wear on stage.
“Nervous?” Hiromu asked.
“More about whether she’ll come.”
“She will.”
On stage, I became part of the performance. I noticed Ayako only during the song I sang for her.
After the show, I saw the burgers and knew: she was here.
“Ayako, come here.”
I took her hands.
“Thank you for coming. Without you, this concert wouldn’t have had any meaning.”
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
The first days at art college turned out to be exactly what I imagined them to be.
The classrooms are bright and filled with the smell of paper, fabric, and something else that is very alive. The teachers were strict but enthusiastic, they spoke quickly and to the point. I tried to keep up with everyone: I wrote down every word, made notes in the margins, I was afraid to miss something.
When the bell rang, we were taken to the workshop.
It was spacious, almost frighteningly large. Rows of sewing machines, neatly sorted spools of thread in all possible shades, jars of accessories, fabrics — stacked, hung, waiting in the wings. I found myself just standing there and watching.
Images immediately appeared in my head: dresses, silhouette lines, lace, flowers. My first collection. Everything that I've been carrying around for years.
"I'm sorry, Teacher! I exclaimed. – Is it possible to stay in the workshop after lessons?
- If you want to create your own clothes, then of course. But you have to pay for the costs of fabric, threads, and accessories.
And I understood. There is not enough money. Therefore, immediately after the lessons, I started looking for a part-time job. As I rode the bus home, I carefully looked at the shops that were recruiting staff. And I noticed the studio. When I got to the bus stop, I immediately went in his direction. After opening the door, the bell at the top of the door rang. A woman came out from behind the counter. She was like my mom when she was young.
"Hello, young lady. How can I help you? What is it?" she asked.
"I saw the recruitment announcement. I can sew and study at the College of Art. I can earn extra money."
She asked to see her hands. I held out my palms, and she saw that I was really working with fabric, holding needles and threads in my hands.
- It's immediately obvious that you've been working. Let me know your name.
- Ayako Sakamaki.
- Sakamaki. Isn't that the daughter of Chie and Deiki Sakamaki?
"And how do you know my parents?"
"We studied together with Kyoto. Yes, we are from the same land. I can see the passion with which your mother worked when sewing another women's kimono."
I was hired right away. Tsubaki-san, that was the woman's name, said that I would work full-time, even if I worked part-time in connection with my studies.
When I returned home from college, the living room was unusually lively. Yuta was collecting something, sitting on the floor, among boxes and tools.
I called out in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He turned around and smiled so calmly, as if it were the most ordinary thing.
"I'm a bit of a carpenter. I put together a table and two small sofas. We don't even have much to eat."
I looked around the room. The apartment really started to take shape. Not just walls— but space.
I took off my coat. — Exactly! What are we going to have for dinner? I can go to the combine for groceries.
He grinned and shook his head.
"Don't worry. I made miso soup and onigiri with shrimp. Everything is the simplest. And inexpensive."
Those words made me feel unexpectedly warm inside. I came closer and, without hesitation, hugged him.
"Thanks. Really."
He was a little confused, but quickly relaxed.
— I'll be at home or at rehearsals a lot anyway. So... it's okay.
The soup was very tasty. And the onigiri are exactly the way I like them. I caught myself thinking that he guessed it without even asking.
—By the way..." I looked up. — What does your tattoo mean?
He looked down at his hand.
"A chain? And the numbers on the lock are the day of our debut."
"It must have hurt," I said thoughtfully. — I've been afraid of getting my ears pierced since I was a kid. I didn't decide until I was eighteen.
—Pain breeds discipline,— he replied calmly. "I have two more. The butterfly is a symbol of freedom." He nodded somewhere in the direction of his stomach.
— And a feather. A little lower.
I couldn't help but blush.
"Are you a masochist?" Is that why there are three?
He chuckled.
"Sadistic, actually."
I laughed. The laughter lightened the atmosphere, and suddenly there was a strange feeling that we had known each other much longer than we really had.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
— Urgent message for Nakamoto Yuta! — There was a voice outside the door.
Yuta opened it. A guy with a guitar was standing in the doorway.
—Sota?— asked Yuta. "What are you doing here?"
— You didn't come to the rehearsal. We came up with such a melody," he broke off, noticing me. "Oh... is that your neighbor?"
I was immediately embarrassed.
"Stop staring,— Yuta muttered. — Come in already.
"But you have to hear it!"
"I want to, too," I suddenly realized. "What's the song?"
Sota turned on the tape recorder. The melody was strange, catchy, as if it wasn't fully formed — and therefore alive. I listened with bated breath, and I caught myself thinking that I could become a fan of this band faster than I graduate from college.
Yuta stopped the music.
— Will you play? - he asked. "Maybe we can figure something out right now."
When they dragged the amplifier into the apartment, Yuta suddenly turned out to be... different. He was bare-chested, and I hurriedly squeezed my eyes shut, but he immediately threw on a leopard fur coat.
— One spectator? He grinned at me. — Okay. You have to start somewhere.
He turned on the voice recorder on his phone.
— Good evening. We are the Black Stones. This is our first concert in Tokyo. And it promises to be hot.
He leaned so close to me that I could feel his breath.
— You will remember this evening for a long time.
The table became a stage. The phone is equipped with a microphone. He sang, mixing English with Japanese, not perfectly, but honestly. And it seemed to me that there was more truth in this song than in anything I had heard before.
I looked at him and realized that something was going on between us that didn't have a name yet.
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
We played concerts in the clubs of our city. We tried to do our best every time, not for the sake of the applause, but for the sake of the future. So that one day it would be enough for the road to Tokyo.
In two years, we managed to raise the necessary amount for the move. When Mom found out about my plans—it was a year ago—she just hugged me.
"I hope you find a happy life," she said. "Mothers always want the best for their children. Fulfill your dream. And I will support you from here... watch your concerts on TV".
I nodded. I didn't know what to say at the time.
"When I turn twenty," I said later, "and that's next year, I'll take a one—way ticket to Tokyo. And I will definitely perform in Budokan".
The day has come when, as the mother said, the chick leaves the parent nest. She helped me pack my suitcase and promised that she would send the rest of my things by parcel later. I carefully packed the guitar, and put a notebook and a pen in the pocket of the case so that I could write new lyrics right on the road. In my Iriver, which I bought with the very first fee, I downloaded Japanese and foreign rock — everything that once made me believe that music could be life. The farewell was short. I got into Hiromu's car, and the whole group of us drove to the train station. The guys said that there were almost no empty seats left: four at the back of the train, and one in the middle. They gave it to me. I knew why—because of my closeness, because of the habit of being alone with my thoughts. It didn't offend me. Rather, on the contrary. — Next stop: Kyoto Train Station.
When I enrolled, I reread the email a few times, just to believe it.
Then i screamed all over the apartment with joy. I woke everyone up, raised their ears, but no one was angry. On the contrary, my parents helped me pack, as if it were a common cause.
I called Rina right away. By that time, she was already a sophomore.
"Will you be there soon?" she asked.
— Yes.
— Okay. I'll also ask the landlady if I can put you up. I'll be waiting for you at the train station.
I switched off and suddenly felt strangely calm, as if part of the way had already been covered.
When we packed up, Akira, my sister, got behind the wheel. On the way, I endlessly checked my bag: documents, notebooks, exercise equipment — to make sure everything was in place.
At the train station, we hugged each other goodbye.
I didn't cry. I was happy and a little scared, just enough to feel alive.
I got on the train, and the doors closed softly behind me, almost imperceptibly.
Plot: The train to Tokyo was supposed to be the starting point of two completely different souls, two people with different aspirations. But that was their special feature.
Tags: Romance, slowburn, Rockstar gf Ayako (her appearance is Minnie), Yuta as Nana Osaki, Ayako as Nana "Hachi" Komatsu.
I've always loved people. Too much, actually.
I liked being around, listening, helping, laughing louder than others. I got attached easily and believed just as easily—words, promises, feelings. That's probably why I was often called naive.
I grew up in a house where it was always warm and beautiful. Mom sewed kimonos and yukatas, carefully arranging the fabrics by color. Dad worked with metal and stones, creating jewelry — cold, perfect, almost eternal. And I was dreaming between them. About love, about the big city, about a life that will be real.
I wanted to be needed. Just one person. For real.
Sometimes it seemed to me that if I tried hard enough, loved enough, I would definitely become a home for someone. I often fell in love—not so much with people, but with the feeling that I was being chosen.
Design became my dream almost by accident. I just wanted to create beautiful things. The kind that make people happy. Dresses, jewelry, flowers — everything that can be given, worn, saved.
When the letter about admission to the Tokyo University of the Arts arrived, I cried. From joy. Out of fear. From the feeling that life is finally beginning. My parents were happy — I was leaving, growing up, letting go of the house.
The Kyoto—Tokyo train seemed to be the boundary between "before" and "after."
I was traveling alone, with a suitcase, a backpack, and too many expectations.
I thought that I would definitely find myself in Tokyo.
Love.
Happiness.
I grew up in a family where everyone was on their own. My father left before I was born. Mom was almost always at work. The house was quiet—too quiet for a child.
The only thing that was never silent was the old piano in the living room. I started playing when I was three years old. The adults said that I was talented, that I had "something in me," but in fact, the music just saved me. It filled the void when no one was around.
At the age of five, I picked up a guitar. I've hardly let her out since. I wrote melodies, words, whole worlds — so as not to feel lonely.
At the age of eighteen, I formed my own band, and we were able to gain fame, however small, but in our hometown. In Osaka.
"Hello everyone! We are the Black Stones!" I said into the microphone. I nodded to Naoi that it was time to start the performance.
Three songs. Butterfly. Goodbye. Prisoner. My words. My voice. My pain.
Fans were waiting for us after the concert. Flowers, gifts, screams.
— Yuta! This is for you!
I took the package and grinned. Vivienne Westwood. Sure.
"Isn't it too expensive, Junko?"
The girl was surprised. "How did you remember my name?"
I laughed back. - "You've been to all our concerts. Of course I'll remember you. Let's go, guys," I said to my group. "Let's have a drink and celebrate our concert!"
In izakai, we drank sake, joked, and talked about music. It was my family—noisy, imperfect, real.
"For a successful victory in the music competition!" After making a toast, we clinked glasses of sake.
The years of rehearsals have not been in vain. - Said Haruka in response. Our bass player. – And not without our Yuta.
"Still, I only graduated from high school. Like most of us." - I answered.
"By the way," This question was already from Hiromu, the keyboardist, with whom I often stay in the studio writing songs. "What did that fan give you? Haven't you looked yet?"
At that moment, I opened the package and the box. There was a leather jacket. I tried it on right away. It was perfect.
"It suits you." – It was Sota. The guitarist and, perhaps, one of the juniors of our team. He was going to have a graduation soon, which we promised to attend together, so we tried not to get drunk so that tomorrow, in a sober mind, we would appear at an important event.
Everyone was walking in their own direction. I returned home late at night. Mom was asleep. I turned out the light in her room and closed the door. In my room, i took off leather jacket, washed off my makeup, and opened the window. I took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. Seven Stars has always been with me. Not expensive, not cheap, regular cigarettes. It's just a habit that helps you breathe. I looked up at the sky and thought. Isn't it time for us to go to Tokyo? The city is big, especially since we will have a contract so that we can perform on big stages, for example, at the Nippon Budokan Stadium, which was my main dream. And I knew we were going there.
