Kanae was in a terrible state of mind. Today definitely turned out to be the last straw in her already overflowing cup of patience. Sitting in the car, she was trying and failing to calm the storm of resentment raging within her. Every little thing was irritating, from the low hum of the radio to the swarms of cars outside, which dragged out her travel time to her destination. And, of course, it was irritating that Kanae wasn’t alone here.
The rattle of bags and suitcases jumping in the car trunk reminded her of today’s disaster. The theater manager called his decision a temporary suspension – as if he took her for a schoolgirl. The old man obviously didn’t have the guts to fire his most prominent star, but Kanae’s pride was still hurt. Biting the nail on her thumb, she barely held back the urge to start screaming.
She wouldn’t let herself raise her voice or burst out crying before someone else. At most, she could shed a few tears alone with her driver, who didn’t take his eyes off the road anyway. But right now, Kanae’s mood wouldn’t allow her to appear vulnerable even before the guy sharing the passenger seat with her.
“Your fans are quite peculiar. They do give up easily, though.”
With a smirk, Higura put his arms in the sleeves of the coat he finally regained. Kanae glared at the guy with a frown. She couldn’t take staying outside in her overcoat for ten minutes, and the temperature in the car made her want to turn the air conditioning all the way up.
“Yeah, wouldn’t miss them in a lifetime.”
The harsh words slipped off her tongue as if on their own will. Usually, Kanae avoided speaking her mind like this, but it was unlikely that Higura had a voice recorder running in his pocket. And her driver probably couldn’t care less about their small talk.
Any other day, Kanae would take meeting a fan in the street with reserved composure, but he just had to appear at the least convenient moment. Now the poor guy probably hurried to some dubious message boards to share his ruined impression. Kanae studied her line of work for years, and she was well aware of the methods fans used to relieve their heartache.
“Yuuka, that’s cruel,” Higura shook his head, assuming an exaggerated offended look. “And people really do love you. You should check the feed more often.”
Kanae rolled her eyes tiredly. Her official accounts on all social networks were exclusively handled by her manager, so she was only active from anonymous profiles. Just once and as a joke, she tried posting a couple of exclusive pics from one of those, but was strictly reprimanded for it. The actress put the blame not on herself, but on the whole bottle of champagne she had drunk all alone.
With no need for vanity searching, Kanae saw her name in the popular hashtags now and then. She treated it as part of her job. A bad or good post didn’t influence her personally, but raised the general engagement in the discussions around her presence. Message board talk, comments, and clicks to her profile brought money and business offers. And faceless users couldn’t take anything real from her.
“So much for love,” Kanae winced with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s just obsession.”
She wasn’t too eager to judge her admirers, but she knew the difference between obsession and love all too well. Kanae didn’t rely on her audience, nor go to it for understanding or support. Unlike many media personalities, she didn’t fake closeness with her fanbase to drain their hearts and wallets.
If it weren’t for the terms of her contracts, Kanae would never allow anyone to have trading cards or brochures with her photos. The culture of praising celebrities like deities disgusted her to the bottom of her heart.
“Yes, just like you said!” Higura answered vividly, slapping his fist against his palm. “Obsession it is! If they had the chance, they’d make clones of you in some labs and grind them for meat. Like in that one movie… We watched it together, remember?”
“I don’t,” Kanae scrunched her nose at the out-of-place comparison. “Sounds disgusting.”
Higura just laughed carelessly at her judgmental remark. It made him way giddier than it should have. Kanae sometimes wondered if he was under some influence when he lost his usual façade like this.
It happened so that Kanae came across Higura at the beginning of a spell of bad luck in her life. They met in a bar half a year ago, and the situation was far from perfect. That night could have ended in a disaster for her: she still reminded herself bitterly about the details of what happened, and she’d never share them with a stranger even at gunpoint. Higura, who had come to her aid then, had sworn to keep the secret for the rest of his life. The promise sealed their bond, strange as it was already.
Higura was the last non-industry person with whom Kanae maintained an ongoing relationship. And if earlier she allowed herself any sort of casual relationship, with the grand film premiere, everything was about to change. After the promo campaign for The Spider Lily was launched, Kanae started to get approached in the streets or curiously observed from aside more often. Movie fans were considered more straightforward than theater-goers, so she had to brace herself for trouble. The thought of hiring security made Kanae sick, but she always stopped herself sternly: it was part of the plan from the start.
Driven by a suspicion of everyone around her that sometimes became particularly acute, Kanae made a few impulsive attempts to break contact with Higura. She still somehow came back to him, and he leaned towards her just as much. Kanae even intended to buy Higura’s silence by accepting his friendship proposal, but their regular conversations led to genuine interest in knowing more about him.
Higura turned out to be a nameless composer who sold copyright to his music to other artists. He was several years younger than Kanae and lived in an apartment he inherited, carelessly letting random strangers in it. When Kanae criticized him, he responded that the honor was saved only for those he deemed safe enough. Even then, the explanation didn’t make the situation any more sensible.
What was notable is that Higura himself didn’t show any signs of danger. Kanae could relax surprisingly fast around him. He resembled a girl by his looks, and his physical strength was obviously behind the norm for a man his age.
“Hm?” catching her eyes on him, Higura tilted his head with a silly smile, which immediately ruined the charm Kanae saw in the unnatural features of his face.
“Nothing. Don’t stare,” Kanae snapped and turned to face the window.
Kanae found herself thinking about Higura’s type and the way it was needed in her line of work. A temporary suspension from her permanent work at the theater hurt her self-respect. Despite the movie’s anticipated success, Kanae couldn’t make peace with the idea she was so easily kicked off stage where she belonged. And in the film industry, it was even easier to get on someone’s bad side or pay dearly for your smart mouth.
What if The Spider Lily would be her first and last success on the big screen? For a woman in this business, it was either being tamed or silenced. Throwing an envious glance at Higura, Kanae imagined how many talentless actors were basking in glory earned with a pretty face. Hollow, burnt-down lives that never left a single memorable role after them.
Kanae’s journey to acting, ever since her teenage years, resembled walking barefoot on shattered glass. She remembered every person who had thrown a shard on her path. Yuu Kanae could be petty and resentful, but she surely wasn’t lazy or mediocre.
“Yuuka, you’re about to burn a hole in me staring like that,” Higura shook his head condescendingly, folding both arms on his chest. “Having unpleasant thoughts?”
“Yes, about my good-for-nothing colleagues,” Kanae muttered, as if aiming her accusation directly at Higura.
Apparently, the barrier of perceived nonchalance protected him against Kanae’s death stare. The acidity hidden in her words went completely over his head, and he just pursed his lips with unnatural but painstaking sympathy.
“Cinema suits you much more after all. Since you’ve been fired…”
“Temporarily suspended.”
“Yes, exactly, temporarily suspended!”
Higura suppressed an awkward smile that chased every hint of sympathy off his face. He reached for his chin as if to try to find his usual mask there; the one he just put in his pocket, as Kanae could recollect.
“I’m sure things will go uphill from here,” he continued with a reassuring wink. “On the big screen, you’re sure to drive everyone crazy.”
A scoff she made was to distract his attention from her self-satisfied grin showing through. Even if Higura’s words were nothing but flattery, they still cheered her up just a little bit.
“And why would you think so?”
“Because I’m Yuu Kanae’s undying fan.”
Higura squinted in a charitable grin. To Kanae, that smile, stuck to his face like glue, felt more and more uncanny with each passing second. It was like observing a composite picture of a missing person compiled with features alien to the face – eyes, noses and lips; all completely normal elements if seen separately, but causing inexplicable anxiety when combined.
“I’d rather not hear that,” clicking her tongue, Kanae leaned on the backrest and closed her eyes, escaping the conversation until the ride was over.
✧✧✧
The financial hardships brought by the loss of her permanent job hadn’t yet caught up to Kanae. The savings she had from her stage acting and the royalties from fan merchandise were enough to cover the necessary expenses. Still, renting a decent apartment threatened to consume half of her money. The convenient solution was Higura’s rent-free place, where Kanae would often stay anyway.
“Make yourself at home,” Higura kicked his shoes off at the entrance, grabbed several pieces of Kanae’s luggage, and carried them to the room.
To feel comfortable, Kanae would need one more room for a walk-in closet, but she’d make do with what she had. Observing Higura’s unfailingly neat apartment, Kanae gracelessly threw herself on the blanket-covered bed. Higura was polite enough to ignore it – he already knew her habits well enough.
“You made the right decision. My psychiatrist often told me how devastating physical solitude is.”
Evaluating the best place to put her suitcase for now, Higura rolled it under the table and went back to the hall to pick up the rest of her things. Kanae lazily observed his act of a hospitable apartment owner, resting her cheek on a pillow.
“Sweet. Keep your psychiatrist to yourself, I don’t need one.”
Her advice-giver never stuck to going to therapy consistently, just keeping empty packs of his old prescription meds everywhere around the house. Some of those meds helped with better sleep, so Kanae would borrow them once in a while to calm her hysterical fits. Regular mood swings were a part of everyday life to her.
“Speaking of physical solitude,” she added, not waiting for an answer to her previous statement. “Don’t forget it, living with a third housemate is a hard no from me.”
“I remember what we’ve agreed upon.”
“And no guests while I’m here.”
“I know, I know…” With a sigh, Higura loaded the last bag off on the chair and perched at the vacant edge of the bed.
Kanae’s demands obviously restricted his habitual way of life; but, for some reason, he was ready to meet her every whim. It made Kanae want to raise the bar even higher, curious how far she could go. In fact, she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t want to drag someone in here herself. Or disappear for a week or two, leaving Higura guessing.
“I’m earnest about keeping my promises. If you need my company so much, you better keep yours.”
Kanae poked Higura with her foot to get his attention. Stopping another jab with his palm, he made her move to the wall, taking more space on the bed.
“I don’t make promises I won’t fulfill. Why the doubt?” Higura looked at her mockingly over his shoulder, fighting against her attempt to push him off to the floor. “We need each other here equally.”
The arrogant statement made Kanae push his back with her knee again. If she ever needed anything, she'd rather say it herself and only in an especially good mood.
“Don’t count on me staying here for long,” having no other weapon at hand, she slapped Higura with a pillow before tugging at his clothes to make him fall over on the bed.
The two had their history of sharing a narrow single bed. Any complaints about the lack of space from Kanae only came when she wanted to nag him out of boredom.
“Don’t forget me when you become even more famous.”
There was no sadness or reproach in his words, but Kanae was immediately pulled back into her thoughts about the future. The movie release date was already announced to the public. The countdown to the verdict on Kanae Yuu the Actress had already started, with no chance to put it on hold. Both victory and failure promised a life-changing turn in her life path.
“If it works out, peace and solitude will be the last thing I can hope for.”
Kanae’s fingers dug into the pillow, betraying the unease buried deep in her chest. The goal she was working to achieve for so long was about to fall into her open hands like a ripe apple. And the long line of goals like this one led her to fulfill that very dream that came back to her thoughts every night when she went to sleep.
Carefully pulling closer to Kanae, Higura took the pillow out of her hands and threw it on the floor, offering his palm instead. Kanae grabbed it with both hands, pressing it flush to her cheek. The coolness of his skin felt so soothing that she allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment.
“There are places where you can run to from all the unwanted attention. I can show you one of those,” Higura answered in the same soft whisper. “You could use some new friends.”
“My time of making friends is over,” Kanae muttered, glancing at him from under her eyebrows. “You’re more of an exception.”
Higura’s palm stayed motionless, as if turned into a piece of white marble. The passive interaction bored Kanae pretty soon, so she pulled away without breaking eye contact.
“Don’t say that, Yuuka. A certain person recently reminded me how lovely it is to consider someone a friend,” Higura smiled and put a lifeless palm against his chest, like he was trying to sense something palpably warm and pulsing through the clothes.
The cold from his touch suddenly spread all over Kanae’s body, making her hug her own shoulders in an attempt to warm herself. If her teeth weren’t clenched tight, they’d probably start rattling as if in mid-winter.
For the first time since she met Higura, she felt an inexplicable urge to grab one of her bags and dash through the unlocked door, never to come back again even to pick up the rest of her things.
Luckily, Kanae saw no other affirmation of her sudden apprehension. Higura blinked in surprise, not dismissive of the sudden silence that filled the room.
“Did I say something wrong, Yuuka?” he asked carelessly, and all the remaining unease in her mind seemed to vanish on its own.
“Show me that place, then,” Kanae smiled adventurously and shoved Higura’s shoulder with her fist. “Maybe you’re actually worth not forgetting.”
Kanae-san is as beautiful as ever today! This dress makes her look like a sugar figure— no, like a tiny silver decoration... or a pretty pearl, maybe? That ring on her finger doesn't match at all, though.
But that gross mid-life crisis of a man near her!.. It's easy to keep your face perfect when you have a shit ton of money, huh?! Look at him, all dressed up like a clown. "Kitsch"? What an excuse to look ridiculous.
He and Kanae-san can't be of a similar mind. I don't believe that. Just waiting for that movie to see her on a big screen and praying that she won't appear beside that old guy ever again.
Sunao Yuusei was a decent man. At least he always believed he was. During school and college, he never stood out among his classmates, nor did he feel any discomfort about it. His surname, Sunao, was written with a kanji meaning ‘simplicity’, making it easy for everyone around him to remember. ‘Yuusei’ was spelled with a more appealing ‘willpower’ kanji, but even his friends kept calling him ‘Sunao-kun”. This was when he started to understand his parents’ jokes about their surname becoming their names.
At the age of twenty-nine, Sunao had only had one official job. His father’s friend had helped him to get a managerial position at an advertising company. Sunao had kept it for just two months before quitting after an argument with the higher-ups. He considered it to be an outrageous act of injustice – all he had done was point out that implicit encouragement for the staff to take overtime wasn’t a normal thing to do.
While the government promoted healthy work conditions, companies wouldn’t protect their workers from long hours. And when the overworked employee’s condition worsened, they were cold-heartedly reprimanded in front of the whole staff or even forced out to keep the stats perfect. Sunao genuinely believed the whole system to be inefficient and hypocritical. Even his older family members admitted that this obsession with the idea of everyone’s health and well-being worked poorly with the long-established conservative workaholic mindset.
After that, Sunao had been done with official employment. He had chosen freelance jobs that weren’t too bothersome – now he was doing photo editing, social media management, and graphic design all at the same time.
It was during this period of his life that Sunao came across his muse.
“Ahh, that’s it for today!” Spreading his hands blissfully, he collapsed all tabs in his browser but one: a popular video hosting page counting down to an upcoming stream.
Since he’d lost his first official job and had a fight with his parents, the young man had gotten into the oshi*[1] culture. He used to see zealous fans as weird and even obsessive; that was before he had learned more about the hobby himself. It had turned out that there was no need to interact with the whole fanbase. Each person could decide how to support their star: make fan art, post photos of official merch, visit collab cafes... Sunao’s choice was not so rich, but his idol was the most special of them all.
His favorite wasn’t some airheaded pop singer from a second-rate girls’ band. She wasn’t fooling around by hiding her face behind an animated mascot or playing computer games all day long. Sunao believed that he was a mature and serious person, so he chose an object of interest to match: a girl who was, in his eyes, already perfect, no pretense needed.
Yuu Kanae rarely appeared at public events that required active talking. Unlike many less famous actors and actresses, she never gave a single complete interview. Her comments usually concerned new roles or castmates, and every time, those comments were abrupt and positive. Despite the great attention she attracted as a person, Kanae obviously disliked drama.
In a few minutes, Kanae was about to appear at a press conference on the upcoming movie along with the other cast. It would be the fourth role in her filmography. Sunao could hardly wait to get to the premiere, to claim some promo cards and posters, and add them to his merch collection. If only he could find his way into the early screening and see his precious idol in person…
The screen dimmed for a moment when the countdown ended. Sunao shook his head, staring at his own smiling reflection. He was a decent man whose pipe dreams were left in the past. Despite having been to plenty of stage plays starring Yuu Kanae as the lead, he still hadn’t had a chance to say even a word to her. She never approached the audience and vanished from the events right after. It gave ex-fans a cause to say Kanae was snobbish, but Sunao never shared the opinion. He preferred to think Kanae and himself had it in common: feeling out of place when talking to strangers.
The monitor lit up again, with a brightly illuminated studio in view. There were seven places taken at the table: Sunao’s eye immediately found Kanae, who was seated almost in the middle. She winced slightly at the overwhelming camera flashes and pulled a water bottle closer to her.
The conference started with a movie presentation. Sunao couldn’t care less about the director’s chatter, so he barely even listened. The most important details had already settled in his head. In the dramatic movie called The Spider Lily, Kanae appeared in her usual lady villain role, attempting to separate the protagonist and his beloved. Unlike most of these stories, this time Kanae’s character was hopelessly in love with the female lead, not the male.
A short smile touched Sunao’s lips again. He couldn’t imagine Yuu Kanae with a girl, so he didn’t find the plot impressive. But the antagonist roles were the best to showcase her full potential. In the poster behind the conference members’ backs, Kanae’s character was in full view, wearing a long black dress, with purple lipstick on her lips – its color resembling the one she would sometimes wear herself.
If you made a list of all her characters, most of them got either an unhappy ending or justice delivered. Sitting among the audience, Sunao often couldn’t hold back tears, touched by the artistic talent of his idol. The pain in Kanae’s eyes would be so genuine and certainly telling of some personal experience seeping into the acting.
It’s easy for kind people to play villains on stage, because they are especially acute in sensing others’ mean intentions. Sunao had discussed the thought with other fans on the forum and had only grown more confident about it through the years. He couldn’t possibly know Kanae, but he knew enough about her to form this spiritual connection.
“Now Yuu-san, a few words on your character, please!”
After the section on the male lead and his lover, the journalists turned their attention back to Kanae. She folded her hands on the tabletop, feeling no more obvious irritation at the flashing shutters. Her crewmates also turned inquiringly to the diva, who was way better-known than all of them except the director.
“First things first, I’m immensely thankful to Dokuro-san for giving me a chance to appear in his fantastic work.”
With a grateful smile, Kanae exchanged glances with the director sitting on the right from her; he clearly appreciated the gesture. Dokuro Haida, famous for his dark and emotion-driven movies, had previously talked about wanting to collaborate with the rising star. Sunao didn’t follow his works, but he knew that getting a part in this one would take Kanae’s career to a whole new level.
“I play Asaka in The Spider Lily. My character may stir controversial emotions in you, which is certainly not the first time in my career.”
The press conference participants reacted to this claim of their crewmate with supportive laughter. Sunao also couldn’t help but laugh, never taking his eyes off the star’s lovely, reserved smile. Despite the grim roles she would usually take, she could always cheer up everyone in the room with a tactful joke while never crossing the line.
“Dokuro-san has mentioned before that there was a long list of candidates to choose from for this character. Please share the secret: why exactly did you get the part?”
“Let’s just say, our visions of the picture aligned,” Kanae threw a quick, curious glance at Dokuro, as if passing the mic to him as the one with the director’s capacity to speak.
“You could say Yuu-san and I…” Dokuro cleared his throat before continuing with a smile, “Are people of the same creative kind. It’s rare to come across such a person.”
Kanae nodded, and the journalist asking the question made a pointedly surprised gasp. The way the director handled it let him both avoid the question and heat up the public interest to finding out what exactly Kanae and him had in common. Sunao caught himself stiffening inside: as far as he was concerned, his idol was nothing like this shady forty-year-old dude.
“Tell us, Yuu-san, what was your motivation to accept?” Another man with the camera in the first row continued the previous one’s question.
Sunao was especially interested in this answer. As he had noticed, Kanae only accepted a part in a project if she liked it. Her fans never knew all the specifics, but she was probably offered many potentially viral roles other than The Spider Lily. The broadcast camera switched over to Kanae, highlighting her among her castmates. After a short pause, she intertwined her fingers, considering her answer and twirling a ring around her thumb.
“Asaka, this character, reminded me of what I want to embody the most.”
An indistinct noise of voices and surprised gasps ran through the studio. Sunao gripped the handles of his chair, pressing closer to the table. The cameraman kept Kanae in a close-up shot; she stopped talking, satisfied with the audience’s reaction.
This could become a newsworthy moment. Yuu Kanae sharing something deeply personal was a rare, if not a singular, occasion. Camera shutters exploded with noise again, and Kanae’s face, pale as it was, almost vanished in the flashes.
“And what is it, exactly?” The journalist took initiative again after his momentous question. “What is this idea you want to embody so much?”
The people with cameras and microphones in the front row were prepared to catch every second of the breaking news. Kanae shrugged, as if showing the audience there was nothing much to be expected. But then her next words did quite the opposite.
“A confession to someone dear to me,” Kanae smiled with tenderness so unfamiliar on her face. “A love letter, if you please.”
The composed manner in which she shared the news stood in stark contrast with the enthusiastic outcries of the press and guests. Even the main lead of The Spider Lily covered his mouth in mock astonishment.
“What?!” Even not being in the studio, Sunao couldn’t hold back.
The air temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Grasping the edge of his table with ice-cold palms, Sunao had to restrain himself from shaking the computer and demanding answers from it.
A love letter? Was this Yuu Kanae speaking? Of course, she probably has an affair or two, but there’s no need to just spill it! Even more than that, it should be kept top secret!
Wiping cold sweat from his forehead, Sunao suppressed the urge to turn off the livestream and convince himself nothing had happened. His Kanae simply couldn’t do this to him; no, to all of her fans. It was a dumb joke, a bit for the promo campaign – anything but truth.
Because Yuu Kanae hated rumors and drama. She was a reserved and fragile woman hiding behind her out-of-reach diva persona. She cared about her fans’ peace of mind, too, no matter what people said. It was true; otherwise, Sunao couldn’t have…
“Of course, there will be no details yet,” Kanae added to her confession, vague as usual, tilting her head slightly. “Both because you still have to see The Spider Lily from start to end first…”
Sunao couldn’t catch a single question from the explosion of voices. Judging by occasional passing words, the journalists were making their own assumptions: a director, a friend, a stage partner? It all sounded less and less like a joke.
“And also because I’m still looking for that someone.”
For a split second, Sunao felt like Kanae’s lipstick tint made her smile look venomous. The director of The Spider Lily politely raised his hand, calling the press to calm down and return to discussing the movie.
“Can we move to the next question, please? Though Yuu-san is amazing at agitating our viewers…”
“Not at all; it might be the scarce results of my theater education.” Kanae herself seemed to be glad for the attempt to push the topic to a conclusion. It was probably not the last of her responses, but Sunao hurried to close the tab and shut down the computer. The reflection that looked back at him now seemed blank. He couldn’t collect his thoughts and decide if Kanae’s last words felt reassuring or disappointing.
She said she was looking for someone. She could be either avoiding the question or hinting at who her beloved one may be. Had she lost contact with him? Or was she saying that she was still looking for a partner? The unpleasant ruminations weighed Sunao’s head down so much that he hung it lower and squeezed his temples with both palms.
“Kanae… What do I even believe now?”
Dozens of pairs of familiar green eyes, staring from the pictures all over the walls, responded with uncaring silence.
✧✧✧
It had been three days since the livestream. That time Kanae had appeared in public was considered the most recent one. The plays she was part of were suspended due to her work on the movie, and the theater promised no new announcements.
The promo posters for The Spider Lily covered the electronic billboards all over the city streets, shopping malls, and news websites. In Sunao’s head, Asaka was starting to displace Kanae’s real image. It would actually happen, if not for the photos of her he saw every day.
The young man dropped most of his freelance side jobs and never left home unless he had to. Several times a week, on random days, he’d take the subway to the theater where he last saw his favorite perform. Sometimes he caught the actors and actresses coming and going – the ones who shared the stage with Kanae, but never Kanae herself.
Was she taking a rest after the production? What if she finally started to look for the person to whom she wanted to convey her feelings? Or had she found him already?
Sunao was tortured by pointless guesswork that ruined his mood, his sleep, and his life in general. Within the short span of time, he had grown to hate the restrainer bracelets and the whole system more than ever. His health condition dropped to the orange zone, but he had zero motivation to climb back up.
Sometimes he would wake up from nightmares where he’d chase Kanae for a long time, trying to catch her by the hand. Despite the obviously violent act, the bracelet on Sunao’s own wrist wouldn’t react at all. Kanae’s face would freeze in shock and terror, and then he’d wake up.
He called this dream a nightmare just to stay secure within his own borders of decency. It wasn’t what he felt, though, and at times, he’d wish for this dream to continue.
A faint voice of common sense reminded Sunao that he’d better seek help. At least book a couple of medical appointments to avoid the trouble of ending up in the red zone. But today, just like the day before, he put the plan on hold and left his trash-filled apartment, heading towards his usual destination.
Because of slight vertigo and the slackness his seclusion had given to his motions, he arrived at the theater a bit later than usual. It was almost evening, and the weather forecast promised a high chance of rain after six. The sterile-white sky was cast over with a thick veil of clouds, hiding the sun. Quite an unusual sight for March; some passers-by even took out their phones to take a photo of the scenery.
Circling around the building out of boredom, Sunao stopped at the rear façade, warming cold hands in his pockets. The deserted stage door meant there would be no one to stare at him. Having no better place in sight, the young man perched on the wide border of the stone flowerbed, facing the road and observing the cars passing by.
If a security guard or someone else from the theater staff saw him there, he’d be chased away like a schoolkid. A humiliating and stupid situation for a day that sucked enough as it was. Monotonously contemplating the idea, he was watching the traffic until a whirlwind of moving details blurred together into an indiscernible kaleidoscope.
As if by coincidence, his parents’ apartment was close to the nearest subway station. They hadn’t kept in touch with Sunao for two years prior, but, if he just appeared uninvited at their doorstep and sincerely asked for help, maybe they’d answer?... Because he had no actual idea what he was waiting for.
One of the cars turned to the theater and stopped at the sidewalk. In a minute, a person appeared out of the passenger door; then the luggage trunk was flung open. By this time, Sunao already had his eyes closed in exhaustion and was only making guesses from more and more sounds around him.
Another new sound was the rattle of suitcase wheels against the concrete rolling past at Sunao’s right. Someone pulled their suitcase near him, apparently sneaking out of the stage door, and left it near the car. The cargo was loaded into the trunk with a forced grunt.
“How many more?” A low voice of a young man pierced through the stir of noises.
“Two more bags. Don’t just stand there, pick them up at the doorway.”
Sunao sharply opened his eyes just as the first word left the speaker’s lips. The stranger accompanying Kanae moved towards the stage exit instead of her. Kanae herself brushed back a strand of hair ruffled in the wind, wrapping herself tighter in a coat draped over her shoulders.
“Ka… nae…”
Kanae briskly turned toward the one calling her name. Looking down at Sunao, she crossed her arms on her chest, as if defending herself against unwanted attention.
“You got the wrong person.”
Less friendly and more fatigued than she was in the photos, this was, without a doubt, Yuu Kanae herself. Jumping up from the flowerbed, Sunao almost tripped over his own feet, taking a wide step towards his goal.
“Kanae… Kanae-san!”
“I said, you got the wrong person!”
Sunao desperately reached for Kanae and brushed his fingers against the bracelet on her wrist in an attempt to touch her hand. His balance immediately failed him, as if getting back at him for the sleepless nights and months of isolation. Kanae snapped her hand away in disgust and stepped back, watching as her admirer gracelessly fell to the ground.
She didn’t seem surprised or scared like she had been in the dream. It seemed more like she was about to squeamishly step over the body splayed on the sidewalk and keep on with her chore like it was nothing.
Staring at Kanae from below, Sunao finally understood why she was so natural in playing her characters. If only this very real scene was just an act, too...
“Wait, Kanae-san!..”
Sunao broke into a scream, but Kanae’s face didn’t change. They were interrupted by the hasty steps of the stranger returning; he put the bags on the ground and shielded Kanae with his body. Squatting near Sunao, the guy pulled the black medical mask down his face and furrowed his eyebrows in sympathy.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate… Let me help you.”
Sunao grabbed the hand offered to him, leaned onto it, and rose to full height. He moved involuntarily towards Kanae, but was immediately stopped by a hand softly pressing against his shoulder.
“Don’t invade other people’s personal space, will you?”
Hearing the noise, the driver walked out of the car and helped Kanae load the rest of her bags into the trunk. The stranger, who had just stopped Sunao from acting rashly, made a friendly smile and leaned closer to his ear.
“Good choice; nobody likes to be stuck at the police station.” Backing off, the young man patted Sunao’s shoulder and squeezed his palm in a farewell handshake. “Get home safe!”
Then he returned to the car and flung the door open for Kanae, who threw her coat into his hands. When both passengers were in the salon, the car started and drove into the street, disappearing in the rushing stream of traffic. And there was nothing Sunao could do about it. Slumping heavily onto the flowerbed border, he pulled out his phone from the pocket, his fingers numb from the cold.
He should have just kept admiring her from afar. This accidental encounter had been so sweeping that Sunao’s brain still couldn’t process the sheer amount of shock and disappointment. His expectations weren’t just fractured – they were stomped into pieces so hard that there was nothing left of them.
Smirking bitterly at his own foolishness, the young man stared at his phone screen, where Kanae was smiling from the background, and dialed his mother's number from memory.
That same evening, Sunao visited his parents, who gave him a surprisingly warm reception. Father promised to help find a permanent job, this time swearing to listen to his preferences in the line of work. What was waiting for him at home, though, was a heap of garbage and unsorted clutter, and he had to start figuring it out.
In a month, half of his merch with his favorite star was sold to other fans. But Sunao couldn’t get rid of it all at once: some of the promo pics of Kanae, instead of passing into the trash or some other hands, stayed in his desk drawer.
The news about The Spider Lily release stopped causing him acute pain, which gradually turned into indifference. After all, the more ads you see in the streets, the easier it is for the eye to skip them.
Only the ill-fortuned chasing dream kept coming back to Sunao from time to time. Sometimes, waking up with a sense of pulling hollowness in his stomach, he’d lie in bed for a long time, trying to recall who he had just been dreaming of. Kanae’s face was losing its features, becoming just one of many faces disappearing in the crowd. At times, she wouldn’t even look like a person and turned into a wisp of light that Sunao tried to reach, not even knowing why.
Yuu Kanae wouldn’t just vanish from his life without a trace. And something was telling the young man that the strange sense of loss would never leave him alone.
[1] oshi — a japanese fandom subculture popular among young people, in which a person spends significant amounts of time and money to support an idol or favorite character, primarily as a form of fan identity.
Higura didn’t sleep well the previous night. Nor the night before, nor any other recent night. Every time spring came and the days got hotter, it would become an actual challenge for Higura to get himself into bed. He would always fail to notice the first bold ray of sunshine sneaking into the room through closed curtains, reminding him that his sleep hours had gone to waste again.
It made him feel powerless. The pulsing headache caused by fatigue mixed with the birds’ singing outside his window. Only noise-cancelling headphones and music on full volume could drown out the sound, but it just made the headache worse in the end. So Higura would reluctantly stand up from his desk and put a random vinyl record from his collection on the record player. As soon as the needle touched the vinyl, starting to read the melody like a skilled stenographer, the background would grow distant. It didn’t help him sleep, though.
Higura didn’t even know why he’d go outside these days. No urgent matters were waiting, and all of the people he could need would rather appear at his doorstep than invite him out. Still, Higura felt the need to leave his house. Even though he’d feel like he was nothing but naked wires inside, he just had to touch something real and unpredictable.
Just like yesterday, with the police and that Kouta guy who thought he was about to jump in front of a car. Higura hummed and rubbed the metal band of the restrainer bracelet locked around his wrist. To his mind, that step into the traffic was a spontaneous impulse bound to fail. He had enough attempts in the past to know that no one would let him go that easily in front of all the eyes.
This state was not new to him. But Higura kept guessing what had provoked it this time. The flashing memories of the day before felt real in comparison, full of life and volition of every passerby. And if yesterday he forced himself not to think about the people around so that the thoughts wouldn’t overflow, today, unnaturally disfigured faces made him want to close his eyes tight and walk ahead blindly.
Higura knew that the illusion would shatter at the first direct contact or call. It would be over as soon as he’d confirm the reality of a hand on his shoulder or a word addressed to him. Even so, with each spell of derealization, he never stopped fearing that it wouldn’t work this time; that the deeply vibrating mass with skin hastily pulled over it wouldn’t become a human being again.
Faceless avatars, John-and-Jane-Does flooding the streets, silently carried him somewhere in their swarm. And Higura, knowing full well how helpless he was, chose to move along with them.
The humming human cascade flowed underground to flood the subway trains. There, it broke apart like a stream against the rocks, and Higura parted ways with the others. He lingered at the map for some time, recalling the name of the subway station where he had met his troublesome acquaintance.
He had no way to contact Aisuke Kouta. Nor did he need to. All Higura looked for right now was a glimpse of yesterday’s quiet and some certainty that the world around him was real. And, like a criminal manically attracted to their crime scene, Higura was obsessed with the idea of reviving it in his mind – the wide highway and the jagged rows of high-rise buildings.
After entering the subway, Higura hopped onto a train and found the least crowded nook. There was enough space around him to grab a handrail. Near him, other passengers started to regain sufficiently human traits, and Higura caught himself glaring greedily at some couple sitting nearby. Could turn into a problem, right? He looked away through the nearest window, found a crumpled face mask in his pocket, and pulled it over his nose.
The habit of wearing face masks in public had saved Higura from unpleasant incidents many times. He wasn’t worried about catching a cold or trying to merge with the crowd by doing it. It was much simpler than that: sometimes, losing his sense of reality, he also lost control over the emotions showing on his face. He’d rather have it covered from sight if it relieved him of the duty to explain his unintended smile or hostile expression.
Displays of frustration, pain, or sorrow never bothered the train inhabitants. Higura could still vividly remember taking the subway several years ago, when he was still at school. The judging glares he caught when he’d raise his voice slightly when talking to classmates on the way home. The way men and women would look away busily that one time when he burst into uncontrollable tears.
Yes, maybe he had needed a mask too, back then. Such a simple thing worked like a charm when he needed to hide any inconvenient outbursts.
The dull noise of the train rushing away on its rails sounded like an alerting growl. Some passenger emitted a suffocating odor of perfume. Someone dropped a folded umbrella from their bag, and it clattered against the floor, resounding in Higura’s ears much louder than it was supposed to. Every half-whisper, every click of a zipper, every creaking sole of a polished boot reverberated against his hearing with an unusual irritation. As though some part of his skull had been sawed off and picked off his head, leaving his brain exposed. Fighting the nausea, Higura made a few steps back, leaning against the wall.
The line on the digital display indicated his station was three stops away. It would be nice to relieve the discomfort with some breathing exercises or a comforting thought. But none of those methods worked on him, so Higura spent the rest of his trip convincing himself he wasn’t there. Every painful feeling is easier to survive if you make-believe it’s not actually yours.
The point of destination called for him. It stuck to his memory so strongly that he could see it behind his eyelids. To visualize the place of their meeting, Higura didn’t even have to close his eyes: he saw it clearer than anything. Rushing up the stairs surprisingly swiftly for his exhausted body, he barely looked at the people around him. The thing that had been bothering and balancing him off since he left his home faded completely into the monolith of indistinguishable office buildings.
The people exiting the subway along with Higura now parted ways. Instead of staying with the flow, he became a rock picked up on the shore and tossed into the water. But, come to think of it, it wasn’t such an unpleasant metamorphosis.
Soon, the crossroad he searched for was within his sight. This time Higura had to wait for the stoplight to turn green. He had no expectations of what his impulse was leading to. Would he meet someone on the other side? Probably not, but the inviting flash was pulling him to the spot with incredible force. He could barely suppress fluttering childish excitement – like a present waiting to be opened, a present you’d been waiting for the whole year.
If only he didn’t forget how easily his expectations could shatter.
A screeching female voice made Higura shudder and freeze in place. The stoplight signal flew over the suddenly quiet street, giving permission to walk, but no one in the crowd swarming before the crossroad even thought of moving forward. The car noise from the other part of the crosswalk was drowned out all of a sudden. Because now, nothing but this scene mattered.
Nobody got to realize what happened. Higura didn’t witness the fall himself either, but he could clearly see a fringed crimson splatter blossoming on the sidewalk right across. Unable to turn away from the broken, deformed body, its skull shattered from the impact and showing from the tangled mass of hair, Higura covered his mouth.
Someone behind him grabbed their phone in panic, dialing an ambulance number. Still unable to avert his eyes from the motionless figure in a pool of blood, Higura noted with detachment that there was no one to save there by now. The odor of death flooding the air and forcing the open space around to shrink was driving him crazy. The sky, the concrete, and the white trace of the crosswalk were engulfed with this red light.
His bracelet, which was called a restrainer for a good reason, worked as perfectly as the technical design allowed. When Higura used to engage in unsafe things, the wristband burned marks into his arm to stop him from causing irreversible damage. Now, when Higura stayed upright by mere force of will, his restrainer stayed indifferently cold.
Because there is nothing in this world that can keep you in it if you are actually determined to go.
As far as he stood, Higura still could swear drops of blood stained the hem of his coat, greedily burning into the fabric. He swayed and lowered to the ground, paying no attention to the crowd starting to move again. The mirage persisted, no matter how hard he clenched his fists, digging nails into his palm.
Because Higura had seen this before.
And he wouldn’t hesitate to give half of his life just to never face the horror of another’s demise again.
✧✧✧
Higura managed to get home somehow. Almost about to faint several times, he had to yank himself back up; he accepted help from a tender-hearted lady passing by, who led him away from the crowded part. Smiling to her with fake gratitude, as he was trying to discern if only a single detail in her face that remained blurry even up close was unbearable. The lady probably insisted on waiting for the taxi with him. Higura hardly remembered anything else.
In the car, he messaged one of the people who could keep him company in the empty apartment, but there was no response. With a wince, Higura tossed his phone on the seat and leaned the back of his head against the passenger window. Naturally, he was graced with her time and attention only when she found it convenient.
He was shivering from the cold, but his forehead and cheeks were on fire as if he had a fever. Higura would sleep all through the ride if each attempt to close his eyes wouldn’t project a vivid image of the event right into his brain.
“Excuse me, can we change the address?”
To doom himself for isolation in his hollow home would be just reckless. Higura knew it wouldn’t do him any good. Nobody was waiting for him, so he had no place to go. But the driver already turned to him impatiently, stopping his car at the curb.
Excluding all unavailable options from his mind, Higura checked the address with the maps on his phone and showed it to the driver. The man squinted, probably assessing the distance between two points.
“That will cost extra.”
“No problem at all,” Higura smiled with relief, leaned back on the seat, and glanced through the window at the sky, already turning darker.
As the owner of the place he chose once said, all that one needed to stay there with no trouble was being peaceful and paying.
✧✧✧
Higura paid the driver and got out of the car right when the bar opened. The official name of this place was Daikokuten – an outdated name only used by the loyal visitors and the owner himself. To get into the bar, one had to enter a small building from the street side and go down the stairs into a basement.
The hall that opened before him seemed spacious due to dim lighting and scarce furniture. If it weren’t for the LED lights outlining the walls and counter, Higura would surely trip over something.
Every weekend, Daikokuten held theme parties and other events one could only find out about through rumors in certain closed circles. The bar had no social networks. Sometimes Higura even doubted whether this place was in any papers at all. Despite all that, he loved this place with his whole heart.
On weekdays, like today, the bar was almost empty. Higura was fine with it – he sought comfortable solitude he couldn’t achieve being actually alone. The owner of this bar, who was also a bartender, was always eager to chat, but this time Higura politely withdrew right after picking up his whisky from the counter. Settling for the darkest corner, he placed himself on a wooden chair and emptied the strong drink in a couple of long pulls.
Re-checking the chat ending in a still unread message, Higura opened the recent calls tab out of habit. Among the added contacts, he found the untitled number with one outbound call. Kouta said the girl’s name was Erika and that she was his employer or something of sort.
Out of sheer curiosity, Higura quickly added the number to his contacts to check it through the available messenger apps. She had to have something like LINE, right? And indeed, Erika’s account appeared in the search results quickly, showing Higura a somewhat unexpected fact.
Observing the only picture in her profile, he drew the screen closer to his eyes with genuine surprise. An unfamiliar girl Kouta addressed so formally had a screenshot from some anime set as her avatar. For no apparent reason, Higura opened the private chat and fixed his eyes on the keyboard before moving his finger over it.
It could actually work. It also could fail – he had no idea what kind of person this Erika would be. Higura risked being blocked right after the first message, but even then, he wouldn’t lose anything. So, swallowing down the rest of his drink, he decided to test his fate that had been so unfavorable lately.
“Hello, Erika-san. Want to meet for a talk?”
✧✧✧
They’d been talking for about a week. Erika turned out to be a friendly, if slightly withdrawn, girl with harmless interests and earnest longing for human connection. Although she was obviously tense at the beginning, Later Higura managed to attract her one way or another.
Leading conversations with her in a way that kept her involved and got on her right side was easy. Her guess was that Higura had come across her profile on a dating app and had wanted to know her better. It was a plausible version, so Higura didn’t deny it.
After several days of animated talking, they planned to meet the next weekend. It felt like drawing a winning ticket – obviously, Higura didn’t expect this would turn out so nicely. But it also made him stall, because he had no clear plan of action. He couldn’t explain to himself what he wanted from this casual match.
He was riddled with anxious thoughts up to the meeting day, torn between the urge to stand the girl up, never contacting her again, and the certainty that this acquaintance would lead him to the thing he looked for – even if he couldn’t yet state what exactly it was.
As usual, he didn’t sleep too well, so he managed to close his eyes only by sunrise. He woke up to the sixth alarm in a row, and couldn’t afford to take his time after that. With an exhausted groan, Higura climbed out of his bed and needed no notification on the lock screen to know he would be late. Luckily, Erika gave the impression of a person who would forgive him for ten or fifteen minutes of tardiness.
Instead of taking the subway, he jumped into a taxi again. He wanted to look impressive but ended up dressing the same as usual because there was too little time. Higura still wanted to show Erika some places where he didn’t need to take his coat off. Already on the way to his date, he sent her an apology text with a cute sticker.
Higura often scheduled meetings with people he had never met, so he recognized his new friend immediately from the only selfie she sent in the chat. Allowing himself the whim of watching Erika a little from afar, he leaned his back against the wall near the subway exit, keeping his curious eyes on her. Erika wandered back and forth, waiting impatiently, and Higura was just about to approach her when a girl in flashy clothes decided to bother her first.
Did they know each other?.. Tilting his head, Higura studied the scene happening before his eyes just to doubt his suspicion. Judging from the snippets of phrases he caught, the girl intended to badger Erika, who was clearly dumbfounded, to give her something. Seeing how awkward the whole ordeal was getting made Higura chuckle with sympathy.
Talking a beggar out of begging was a hopeless pursuit. Higura knew from experience that it was best to just walk away quickly without a word, acting like you had somewhere to be. But Erika, already stuck in the situation, clearly needed audience assistance. Higura approached her from behind and softly, without touching her hand, led her away from the begging schoolgirl’s range.
As he thought, Erika didn’t resist. She immediately recognized Higura, too, and confusion mixed with fear on her face dispersed with a flustered yelp.
“Kyougo-san!”
He ignored the way she addressed him for the first time, but asked her to call him by his first name next. In person, Erika’s sincerity inspired such affection in Higura that he was almost charmed in a way. Their friendly date, which he initiated with no enthusiasm, was now about to go the way they both would remember fondly.
“I’ve never been there before, but shall we try it out?” Higura pointed at a café across the road – the one he’d actually spend a lot of time during his workdays. He internally marked an hour or so for himself to know more about his date over a cup of coffee.
✧✧✧
During the first hours of their date, Erika seemed to leave her unnecessary restraint behind, not trying to straighten herself mid-word anymore. Higura found it amusing how excited she was when she found out about his profession, which recently brought him nothing but disappointment. He reluctantly shared a couple of his works she might have liked. Maybe it was a reward for not taking his little joke close to heart.
For her age, Erika carried much more weight on her shoulders than even a more mature and experienced adult could endure. The idea that Erika had been a little childish left him as soon as he heard the details of her everyday life, immediately replaced with respect. He took a liking to the way she answered his questions eagerly, stopping only to cover her mouth with her hand and apologize for rambling too much. Higura would assure her he was alright with it; he found the sound of her voice soothing and inexplicably nostalgic.
What they had in common was a habit of taking long walks, and Higura was relieved of the duty to plan their route from then on. He was familiar enough with the city center, unlike the other areas, so their trip was a success, and Erika didn’t end up tired.
Higura had never heard of the café Erika and Kouta worked at. When Erika gave away the name, she panicked at first, but then admitted that she would love to see Higura among the customers. He was invited then; this new knowledge seemed like the purpose of their entire date.
Twilight came, and the windows of apartment buildings and shop signs lit up in multiple colors, reminding Higura about the reason he enjoyed these late hours in good company. The cold metropolis, where a lost soul got dissolved easily, seemed a little warmer beside a person as pure-hearted as Erika.
They should have probably never met at all.
“Will we see each other again?” Erika called out with hope, tugging restlessly at the hem of her skirt.
Sooner than you think. Higura didn’t say it out loud, just vaguely shrugging his shoulders, but the answer didn’t seem to leave Erika content. With an offended frown, the girl pushed him slightly with her elbow and reached out a hand.
“Promise? Just say no if you can’t.”
Surprised by a whimsical change in Erika’s attitude, Higura stared at her open palm for a moment. Such a trusting gesture didn’t fail to convince him to submit and let their hands finally touch – the thing he was intentionally avoiding the whole date.
“I think it is a promise.”
The word was so alien and unnatural to his tongue that Higura couldn’t utter another word. It was probably due to the fact that he placed a ban on it way back when he broke it for the first time.
Grinning happily, Erika squeezed his hand in hers to seal the little vow between them. She seemed reluctant to leave, even though she herself admitted that she wasn’t used to coming home this late. Letting go of Higura’s hand, she glanced at him with sincere warmth, not like any looks he usually caught.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say it, but you’re my first friend in a long time.”
Higura felt a strange pinch in his chest. He tried to force a smile in response, but his facial muscles refused to obey him again, and he instinctively raised his hand to his face.
“A friend…”
He couldn’t explain why the phrase turned so cold in his mouth. Somewhere far away from the place where they parted ways, after years of excruciating wait, a circle was closed.
Ugh... Probably shouldn't have left the house at all.
I hope I didn't ruin those girls' pictures. They choose to stand out, but I would give anything for hair like that. Well, I can try to dye it, but what do I even do with my face? It's too hot to put on a face mask.
Though even a face mask won't save me from catching dirty looks. Shouldn't have dressed up like this, would be better to wear something black... But my ginger hair would stick out too much! What do I even wear? No matter how I look at it, it's just unsolvable!
To dress similarly and style your hair the same way... it's not weird at all. In fact, I feel like it could be so nice. I would also like to be just like others.
Erika always had a hard time communicating with people.
An invisible barrier between her and her peers was already set on the playground level. Her father, neck deep in gambling debt, had little to teach her – in his daughter’s eyes, he was quite afraid of others, too. Her family constantly moved from one place to another to make the debt collectors lose track of them, but they never left their district, so Erika would always meet familiar faces here and there.
She inherited her mother’s ginger hair and European features. Nothing but those – no phone number, no home address. Father said they had a marriage of mutual convenience, and Erika was just an accidental side effect, which made her mother and father break up on bad terms. He had pleaded with her to keep the child. When Erika was reminded of that detail of her birth, she would sometimes wish she hadn’t been born at all.
Her unusual looks frankly hindered connections with other people: hāfu kids were still out of the ordinary. Another problem was what happened in her head before every conversation with a stranger. Her thoughts would become a tangled mess, words slipping out of her mind, lips glued shut from the terrifying pressure outside. Looking someone in the eye seemed impossible – just from lifting her eyes to take a glance at the person, Erika always felt like she was about to cry.
Nobody had the patience to wait for a timid, always teary-eyed girl to gather some confidence. So Erika was just left behind in favor of other potential friends. It hurt and upset her, and she’d want to run after cliques of her peers shouting, “Hey, wait for me!”. But could she ever manage to utter more than an inarticulate whimper? In the end, a useless, unwanted child would always be left alone, as she should be.
“Erika!..”
The day when a loving hand reached out to her was lost in the past long ago. Erika could never forget the elusive warmth of another’s hand in her own; it was like it happened yesterday. Her first friend, first promise, and the most soul-crushing memory bringing old sweat at nights – just like it did this time.
Exhaling a scream, Erika grabbed at the bedsheets. Her eyes were wide open in terror, eyelids fluttering. Her sight was blurry because of the tears running hastily down her cheeks. She regained breath only when she could clearly see the familiar shapes of her room.
It was six o’clock in the morning. Anxiety always made Erika wake up before the alarm. Worst days, like this one, she’d wake up exactly like this: panicked, short of breath, heart aching inside her chest.
Putting her bare feet on the floor, Erika sat for some more time with her eyes squeezed shut, taking breaths at the count of three. She was more than grateful to be able to feel oxygen in her lungs again.
She usually believed that a morning starting like this was a promise of bad luck or a reason to be cranky for the whole day ahead. But today had to be the most important day in the past few years, even if Erika, not quite awake from a nightmare, wasn’t aware of it yet.
Today, in spite of the fear that was destroying her life, Erika decided to leave her social bubble and take a step she couldn’t even imagine before.
A date with a stranger, and with no arrangements too… Gosh, was it embarrassing.
The dumb idea to try a dating app led her to one of the most impulsive decisions in all twenty years of her life. Falling for a couple of flattering profile photos, Erika answered an incoming message almost without a thought. But her curiosity was kept alive by the way the conversation went on.
A guy she had never met in person just felt… safe.
Of course, Erika had some online chats with anonymous users before. Considering how much time she was spending on Twitter, completely avoiding communication would be an impossible task. But she would always exist under a nickname and a faceless profile pic, and she never made actual friends there. She was mostly talking about her favorite media and musicians or sharing links to posts she and the other person would both be interested in.
Whenever a user showed interest in her actual personality, Erika would ban them on the spot. Why would anyone want to know what city she lived in? Why would she look at someone’s photos or share her own? The last part would usually turn up weird: the difference between the real appearance and the profile pic was too striking. It would not be repulsion – just irrational shame and an urge to run away.
It was scary. Scary to understand that her Internet acquaintance could have their thoughts and expectations. Scary to know that, behind a conversation rigidly framed by a certain topic, there was a swarm of innumerable emotions, opinions, and reactions.
Yet another issue was that this time, Erika was about to meet a guy who found her on a dating app. And she was just now starting to realize how many things could go wrong. Closing the bathroom door behind her, she stumbled upon a whole bunch of unsettling assumptions.
Well, the guy certainly wasn’t a jerk. It would have become clear during the talk, which by now ended at the fourth page of their chat. She wasn’t insane enough not to find out more about him, was she?
On the contrary, he was polite and eloquent in expressing his thoughts, sending her funny stickers once in a while to ease the tension. A jerk wouldn’t try this hard. It was easier to believe that he was seeking attention and making an impression on her by acting so chivalrous.
Was he always like that? Did it mean he was trying to get something out of it? Erika stood at the mirror and looked at her freshly washed and still sleepy face.
Erika’s father often called her beautiful, comparing her to her mother. She didn’t take his words seriously, though, snapping back at the excessive praises. People stopped her in the street a couple of times to ask for a photo, thinking she was a foreigner. One of those unlucky days, an annoying man nagged her into adding a contact of some model agency she would never apply to anyway: she just wanted to leave as soon as she could.
One thing Erika knew for sure: beauty was a subjective thing. She could name a dozen flaws in her appearance off the top of her head, but she didn’t deny she could be likable too. Maybe even to her new acquaintance…
Gosh! Where did these silly hopes even come from? Slapping her own cheeks from frustration until her skin flushed, Erika glared accusingly at the phone waiting atop the washing machine.
Naturally, no new messages. Who else would get up so early in the morning but her? But the bit of disapproval Erika aimed at the guy was quite real. He kind of had to take the lead, no? Then again, excessively forward guys scared the daylights out of her, so Erika hoped for Higura to be not like them. Fully determined to ditch him immediately if something felt off, Erika threw off her pajamas and entered the shower cabin.
✧✧✧
The street across the subway station was full of people hastily passing by. Schoolkids, college students, and others hurrying to enjoy their day free from work or study were sticking out of the stream. In contrast to the more formal wear usual for the workdays, the crowd was motley.
A group of teenagers passed near Erika, dressed in black clothes speckled with heavy silver accessories. Near the subway exit, there was a swarm of young girls dressed in jirai-kei. Erika turned away awkwardly when the noise they were making as they tried to make a group photo started to attract attention from the people around.
Unlike those girls, Erika felt out of place here. Today, for no apparent reason, she decided on a dress she had never even put on: the pink and frilly one. Before leaving her house, she believed it looked pretty, reminding her of an ongoing cherry blossom season; now her hands constantly returned to fixing every non-existent crease on it.
Studying her reflection in each shop window she passed, Erika sincerely wished she could conjure a full-length mirror right then and there. All she could do was pray to every god she knew that she didn’t look stupid.
To make things worse, her date seemed to have lost track of time completely. They had agreed to meet at noon, but just as she was reaching the spot, Erika heard an incoming message.
[Higura]: Sorry, running late!
Without stating how late he would be and why, the guy followed his apology with a sad kitty sticker. With a scoff, Erika put a heart reaction on a message and hid the phone in her pocket.
Thoughtlessly, she started to wander along the sidewalk, choosing the part with fewer people around. Erika made a few steps ahead, then back before stopping in her tracks, worried about the way she must have looked to others. She immediately felt the urge to do something with her hands, but staring at her phone could make her miss the person she was waiting for. And she intended to see him from afar, just to assess the risks.
There were no more texts. Keeping the phone in her pocket, Erika puffed her cheeks impatiently, waiting for a notification. The guy was ten minutes late already. She had heard somewhere that no date was worth waiting for more than half an hour.
Instead of the notification she expected, someone coughed nearby to attract her attention. A finger tapped on her shoulder busily. Erika turned short and almost bumped against someone looking like a high school girl, giving her a pleading look from below.
“Hey sis! Have some spare change?” The girl’s high-pitched voice proved the suggestion true.
Those people weren’t rare in the streets recently. Not being in need, they still couldn’t miss a chance to get some free money from the gullible and defenseless. The fashionable clothes and piercings in several parts of the girl’s face showed she was more than well-off.
“Sorry, I don’t have any...”
Erika’s quiet mutter got lost in the noise of the crowd. The girl put her hand to her ear and went on to bend the line.
“Oh come on! You look so kind, won’t help me out?” Keeping the same tone, she held out a hand and made a close-and-open gesture.
How pushy… Beggars like her were common in the district near Limelight. Instead of pleading pathetically, they’d use a strategy where they pretended to be your buddy that you owed money to. Back in her territory, Erika could cut off any attempt like this, but now she naturally hesitated.
“I’m waiting for someone here…”
“Huh? Ma-an, why’d you change the subject like this? Not even just five hundred yen?”
Erika glanced from side to side, shortly meeting the eyes of people passing by. Some of them saw through the situation but didn’t have enough time to intervene. Others just saw a commonplace story everyone had at least once.
Growing anxiety mixed with irritation made Erika bite her lip. With fewer prying eyes around, she would even snap at the girl. But the others’ overwhelming presence turned the ground under her feet into a stage that she had no way of escaping.
“So? No chance?” The girl blew at her nails with a bored look, already thinking of moving on to bother someone else.
Before Erika could answer, a shadow grew behind her back.
In the district boiling with life, this specific person stood out by his total absence, as if he would love to be anywhere else but here. Running a directionless eye over both girls, a guy in an unbuttoned coat reached out his hand without a word.
“Huh?!...”
This time it was Erika who made the sound. The guy’s fingers that were about to wrap around her wrist changed in the last moment to grab her sleeve instead, and he carefully but intentionally pulled her backward. Getting dragged away from the beggar girl’s range, Erika allowed him to pull her aside some more steps.
The motion was so swift she couldn’t even call it forceful. The guy who freed her from the trap was the one she was about to meet – Erika recognized him instantly by the way he looked exactly like his profile picture.
“Kyougo-san!”
The scene was so much like a romantic cliché that Erika buried her cheeks in her palms, hiding how flustered she was all of a sudden. The guy let go of her dress sleeve and frowned sympathetically, bowing his head as if to apologize.
“Oh… Sorry for being rude,” he said with an awkward smile, quite contrasting to the aura he was surrounded by just moments ago. “I didn’t want to grab your hand, so this was the next best thing.”
It was the first time Erika heard her date’s voice in person. The tenderness in his calm voice was so out of place in a talk with an almost stranger that it sounded like it came from a vinyl record.
She finally understood the way her father felt while showering her with praise. Because now she had a strong itch to point out the guy’s voice, the way he looked just like her favorite celebrity, the softly assured aura that had no danger to it.
If Erika couldn’t help herself and blurted out something like that, she’d go through the floor with shame. She had to shake her head side to side, getting the nonsense out of it.
“It’s alright! So you are actually Kyougo-san… I, um…”
Erika’s flushed face made it even harder to put her thoughts together. Relieving them both of the pressing pause, the guy gave her a courteous bow and gestured to come forward.
“It’s Higura. No need to call me by my surname. Did you have to wait for long, Erika-san?”
“What? No!...” Waving her hands frantically, Erika accepted the invitation and moved to her date’s other side, letting him shield her from the crowded part of the street. “Not at all, it was just this kid that tried to borrow money from me.”
Higura listened to Erika, then nodded and checked the time on his phone screen.
“But I was actually a bit late. How about I get you a coffee as an apology? Then we’ll decide where to go next.”
Any other coffee shop worker, Kouta, for instance, would reject an offer like this. But Erika still considered coffee her favorite drink, so she nodded eagerly.
“Yes, please!”
The guilt on Higura’s face softened quickly. He put his right hand into the coat pocket and pointed with his left to a small café with a flower-strewn signboard.
“I’ve never been there before, but shall we try it out?”
✧✧✧
All tables inside were taken, so a polite shop worker led them to the spring terrace. When Erika was running out of her apartment, she had forgotten to cover her shoulders with some overcoat, but the temperature didn’t require it. In her light dress with long sleeves, she wasn’t cold at all.
Higura though, he didn’t take off his coat inside or outside the place. While he was sipping his iced coffee through a straw, propping his head on his hand, Erika was musing about how he didn’t overheat.
Before the drinks were served, they had been talking about some abstract news like a new Korean thriller that was viral on the Internet recently or a cheap bookstore that had just opened nearby. Talking to Higura in real life was easier and nicer than Erika imagined a talk with a stranger would be. Back when they were texting, he already seemed like a person that could keep the conversation on anything, but in person, his speech made her sigh with relief and let go of the tension on her shoulders.
His emotional response to every word Erika uttered made her affection grow – and it felt kind of mutual. Her fear of saying something dumb vanished into thin air, and she stopped keeping her every movement in check.
It was almost like a normal date. They even swapped their drinks, and Erika barely kept from coughing from the flavor, too strong and too sweet at the same time, of the coffee Higura had waited for at the counter for over ten minutes, adding toppings over toppings. He saw her reaction and responded with a sincere laugh, and Erika didn’t notice how she laughed along.
“If you ordered something like this at our coffee shop, our barista would kick you out.”
Dropping this detail without thinking, Erika expected Higura to just let it pass. Instead, his eyes lit up as he put the straw out of his mouth and glanced into hers attentively.
“So you have a part-time at a coffee shop? That’s admirable.”
Oh, right. He must have thought she was just a student with a part-time job, reasonably nervous before a date with some stranger. Active social life, plans, all that. She wanted nothing less than to disappoint him with the fact that none of it was there.
“Huh? Yeah, I do…” Erika covered her mouth, trying to conceal regret showing through her smile. “It would be nice if you stopped by in your free time…”
Swallowing a bitter thought that this date could possibly be their first and last, Erika distracted herself by handing her empty glass to a waiter that was coming up to their table.
“These last months, I’ve always been free, so I’ll pay you a visit. As soon as you tell me how to find the place.”
The answer Erika wanted came too quickly, so she stirred and grabbed at the hem of her skirt. If only she had something to stare at… Intentionally looking into the distance, at a vacant table at the far end of the terrace, she took a deep breath to say something next.
“How come do you have all this free time?” she frowned doubtfully, giving in to her habit of questioning everything happening to her.
“Let’s just say the work has been slow recently.”
Higura dodged the answer smoothly, yet his voice sounded somehow exhausted. Left with no proper explanation, Erika huffed with disappointment, in spite of her promise to keep her emotions in check. Her incessant curiosity sparkled anew, faced with a new mystery. Putting her chin on her open palms, she kept glowering at her date.
Her memory immediately offered every darkest plot from the books and shady manga she had read before. Scared of the suggestions that flooded her mind, Erika opened her eyes in shock, expressing how deeply astonished she was.
“Is it something you’re not supposed to disclose?”
With an offended squint, Higura waved off every guess she hadn’t voiced and anxiously pulled the mask to his chin.
“Don’t know what ideas you got; I only write music under my customers’ names,” Higura admitted unwillingly, rubbing the fabric of the mask between his thumb and index finger. “And I’m just out of inspiration these days, that’s all.”
Oh, right! Frustrated by the improper fruit of her wild imagination, Erika lightly slapped her cheeks. And yet the new information only kindled her curiosity even more, and awkwardness turned to admiration.
He was a composer! Higura being just like her Internet idols impressed Erika so much that an excited gasp caused a pinch between her ribs just as she was about to bombard Higura with questions.
“Music?! What genre? Is it just melodies or actual songs?” She put a palm against her chest, eyes glowing madly. “Maybe lyrics, too?”
Higura nodded to all of her questions at once.
“It’s anything depending on the request. It’s as much of a routine job as any,” he finished the phrase with a condescending smile, impressed by her attention. “And I’m not that much of an expert yet; I still have a lot to learn.”
Erika curbed her enthusiasm and sat back in the chair she had unintentionally sprung from. She’d have another chance to hear a more detailed story about her friend’s job, but she just had to ask something immediately.
“Can I listen to something? Anything.”
If he actually worked in any genre there was, he could just pick whatever he’d like. Erika was assured that even the most commercially driven art held an echo of its creator’s soul. It was what piqued her interest the most.
Higura put his finger to his chin, as if carefully considering this decision.
“Right here?”
“Yes! Wait a minute, I had my earbuds somewhere…”
Pleased with the positive answer, Erika started to dig through her pockets. The earbud case was nowhere to be found for half a minute of pointless searching. As she finally realized it probably stayed in the depths of her coat that she left at home, Erika put her hands together in a hopeless gesture.
“… can I borrow yours?”
This meeting could still be their last. She knew she’d be sorry that she pushed too far, but would there be a better moment to let her persistence win over her insecurity?
“As you wish.”
Higura was clearly flattered by her enthusiasm. He stood up and brushed off his coat, reaching into its dimensionless blackness for an oval case. When the earbuds were in his palm, he paused before handing them over to Erika, who was waiting anxiously.
Just like the moment they’d met, Erika felt a shadow towering over her. The movement of Higura’s hand was soundless and invisible, as though there was no real touch at all – just a wind sweeping over her skin. Higura brushed off a strand of hair covering her ear and held the earbud near the earlobe, waiting for Erika to put the device in place.
Their palms touched for just a split second, but Erika pointed out in the back of her mind how cold Higura’s hand was. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she fixed the earbud and nodded, looking him in the eyes. He touched the screen with the tip of his finger, opening an untitled audio file.
Beep.
Instead of a song intro, Erika heard a familiar low-charge signal from the earbud. When she raised her eyes at Higura in disappointment, the meaning of the whole scene dawned upon her as he saw his satisfied grin.
“That’s not fair!” Erika pulled the now-useless earbud out and played with it in her fingers, searching for a reset button or just anything to reanimate the device.
The anticipation of getting to know something so profound and personal was mercilessly extinguished, and it would be quickly replaced with frustration if not for a row of notifications from her own phone. Four, then five. Five untitled audio files popped up in their dialog feed on the locked screen.
Erika pushed down the urge to put the phone receiver against her ear and listen to at least one track. Sinking back in the chair across the table, Higura winked at her and hid the earbud case in his sleeve.
“What did you expect? No insecure artist can handle someone being introduced to their art right before their eyes.”
Erika didn’t want to admit it, but she could see his point. Feeling a twinge of guilt from being too insistent with him, she went back to twisting the fabric of her dress in her fingers.
“That joke was still very dumb,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact. “But thanks.”
“Well, I still have all evening to make it up to you.”
If, after a short while that she spent with her first date partner, someone asked Erika to describe him, she would never have enough words or eloquence. If she could, she’d write a few pages about her impression – never to show it to anybody after.
But when she was following Higura to the exit to spend the rest of her day with him, Erika had no doubt that she’d never forget him anymore.
It’s been a year since Limelight opened, and yet we’ve made it quite cosy. Needless to say, Erika is the one who cares about its appearance the most; sometimes I feel like she’s just happy to keep herself busy with all the cleaning, even though there’s plenty of other stuff to do. She buys a new plant every month and scolds me every time I forget to water them. Well, I brought my speaker from home.
A lot of things unintentionally became a part of the interior. Erika put some stickers on a counter, and they stood out at first, but now I can’t imagine our workspace without them. I had a task of writing our menu on the wall, so there was no room for a mistake... and yet it turned out a little curvy. Still, it’s not hard to read it.
I like how much sun this place draws. Hope it will keep doing it forever.
The sun had risen just hours ago, but it was already warm outside. Crowds on the subway and traffic jams hundreds of meters long made the air hot and stuffy. Giving a displeased wince to the orb of fire peeking between cluttered apartment blocks, Kouta hurried to hide in the shadow.
Spring was the time of sudden temperature changes, the need to memorize another limited item list, and idiots. Those same idiots who use spring fever as an excuse and then probably try to hurl themselves under cars, too.
Spring was also the time when vacations were out of the question. Kouta wouldn’t want to miss the lush overtime bonuses and the tips from chatty high school girls that, for some reason, seemed to have a thing for him.
When Kouta came to Limelight for a job interview a year ago, his employer, Yuuto Oujiro, immediately pointed out his ever-gloomy face. An unthinkable trait for a customer service worker – he’d be just asking for a random customer to post a negative review after one wrong glance.
So Kouta didn’t get his hopes up when he applied. Though he could never understand why he was worse than others if he was not straining his facial muscles to force a smile all the time.
“You know, it could work in our favor!”
That was what Yuuto-san had said back then, and for a moment, Kouta thought he might have been crazy – and he could be insubordinate enough to show it. But the old man took a liking to it, the work conditions were acceptable, and the paycheck was more than enough for a college dropout to cover all his moderate expenses.
Kouta earnestly handled his job duties and barely caused any problems. He could break a mug or a plate once in a while when frustrated at an insufferable customer, but didn’t it happen to everyone? Especially given that for each plate he broke, Erika, with her clumsiness, destroyed ten more.
Erika was in a bad mood today. She had been forced to work the cash desk the whole shift after her coworker hadn’t shown up without warning. Kota didn’t stay long at the police station, so he could have called off his leave and returned to work. However, his mother’s evening antics just doubled the stress, forcing him to sleep soundly for almost twelve hours. So he needed that day off, but was it worth it? Kouta texted her that he was on his way about half an hour ago, and her only response was a thumbs-up emoji.
The same Erika who would usually flood their chat with stickers for any reason – or for no reason at all. Angry, isn’t she. But Kouta couldn’t keep it in his head for long – he never had it in him to act sorry if he felt no remorse for his actions.
The colorful store rooftops greeted him when he entered the good old shopping district. His Limelight was snuggled between a flower store and a streetwear showroom. Kouta would drop by both places when he was bored stiff during breaks.
A sharp ray of pale light bounced whimsically off the coffee shop’s glass door and shot into his eyes. It blinded Kouta for a couple of seconds. When he could see clearly again, the first thing he met was his coworker – and his manager all in one.
“There he is. Not hanging out with lunatics today?”
Erika greeted Kouta with a snarky tone to her voice when opening the door for him. A cloth was peeking out of her pocket, the one she was just diligently wiping the reflecting surface with.
“Hey,” with barely any courtesy, Kouta moved the girl aside by the shoulder to head to the counter.
His apron, his nametag. His T-shirt was probably in the storage room – clean and not even too crumpled. It was pretty hot today, so he’d better get changed as soon as possible, and then…
Bam! Kouta involuntarily reached for the back of his head to touch the suddenly stinging spot. He looked up first, guessing if something from the ceiling had fallen on his head. Only after that did it cross his mind to turn to Erika, who was huffing angrily behind his back.
“Did you just hit me?” Kouta asked casually – and immediately got another slap.
“Serves you right!”
“Didn’t even get to ask why…”
Erika folded her arms, still holding onto that same ill-fated cloth. So this was her weapon, then. Kouta sighed, easily prying the wet rag from the girl’s fist, and gave her forehead a flick.
“Serves you right,” he echoed with a chuckle.
They had a long history of bantering over nothing. The whole business left to the care of two kids fresh out of their teens sounded like living hell, but they made it work. Mostly due to the fact that they didn’t feign any formality between them.
“I was covering up for you the whole day, and there you go!” defeated, Erika only kicked him in the knee.
The kick was so feeble Kouta didn’t even care to counter it. His tiny coworker had neither strength nor decent height to her. Instead of keeping on with their mock-fight, Kouta landed his palm on her ginger head and gave her hair a good ruffle.
“You have my gratitude, Erika-san. Now let me get changed, ok?”
He needed to get behind the counter before the first drowsy clerks started to gather at the door. It would also be good to make some gross drink for himself, just to gain some alertness. With these thoughts in mind, Kouta slammed the storage room door shut, cutting off all the unnecessary noise.
The several minutes of refreshing quiet before his shift were an irreplaceable value. Soon, the customer area would overflow with music and polyphony of voices accompanied by the rattle of the coffee grinder and clanking of the dishes. Erika would hide in her office till lunch break. The smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries will stick to his clean clothes, persistent even after washing. Tried and true.
Instead of a routine location, Limelight was a living thing to Kouta, a creature whose vital processes he had to meticulously upkeep every day. Just as you can’t love everything even about your special someone, Kouta could get exhausted or frustrated at his workplace, but despite everything, he still gave up some part of his soul to it.
Pulling his hoodie over his head, Kouta tossed it onto the back of a chair and shook up his T-shirt to straighten up the crumples. The tall mirror at the entrance showed a glimpse of his ribs, sticking out more than usual. His eating habits this month were a mess, and he completely lost his appetite, too.
He wondered how that guy from yesterday was doing. The police officer who took him away down the corridor hadn’t looked very friendly. Erika probably still had Higura’s number after the call Kouta made to her, so they might even have a chat.
Catching himself on this unusual thought, Kouta scoffed and pulled the T-shirt down in one go. He still had work to do.
When he was back at the counter, Erika had already turned the door sign to the side that said Open. Kouta plugged his phone into a speaker, then turned on the first playlist that caught his eye. The speakers immediately filled the customer area with a calm, uplifting melody.
And so yet another day started, completely the same as all the others.
✧✧✧
Limelight was open till eight. It took another hour or so to pick up dishes from each table and wash them in the kitchen. Paper takeout cups might be bad for the environment, but they sure were good for a coffee shop worker – one less cup to wash.
Then, the glass displays needed to be cleaned of the desserts and pastries that were no longer considered fresh. Some part of those went back into the fridge, another – straight into the trash, and yet another would become a tired barista’s late supper.
“Be careful with those, alright? You might end up on the toilet till the next shift.”
Kouta, who had already stabbed a fork into his cold cheesecake, looked up at Erika. However much time passed, she couldn’t help being horrified by his eating habits. Her snide remarks usually hid nothing more than worry.
“Well, that would be great, I’ll save myself a subway trip,” Kouta shrugged and indifferently tossed the piece of cheesecake he had on the fork into his mouth.
Working overtime was never a problem for him. He’d stay here for days on end if he could. Coming back home always swept over him with a soul-crushing sense of sorrow, building up deep in his stomach and bothering him way more than any hunger. He’d rather be falling off his feet and suffer occasional stomach aches from surviving on coffee and pastries than live with the things that awaited him back home right at the doorstep.
“Older than me yet still so dumb,” Erika scoffed and landed across from Kouta, staring him down judgmentally.
Now that she had taken off her apron and changed into her everyday clothes, she looked totally out of place here. Kouta believed Erika would be better off spending her days with friends at a college or university, building her network, and securing a job in a proper company. Despite knowing her for a full year, he never asked her why she didn’t bother applying anywhere after school.
They were close, not like best friends, more like siblings – having different interests and not overstepping boundaries. And they could lend each other a shoulder anytime.
Noticing that Erika stopped talking and grabbed her phone, Kouta finished his supper in silence and washed it down with a drink he made for himself. It was an espresso, diluted with no-longer-freshly-squeezed orange juice and boiling water. Kouta disliked all coffee-based drinks equally, so he didn’t pay much attention to whatever liquid now streamed down his throat.
“What are you doing there? It’s late already,” he darted his eyes towards his coworker, who was typing intensely, then raised his eyebrow. “Anything wrong?”
Sometimes, Kouta could forget how many responsibilities Erika dealt with as a coffee shop manager, and how many things could actually go wrong. Controlling supplies, preparing financial reports, managing social media, communicating with customers – all of it laid on her shoulders, and there was only so much Kouta could help with. At best, he was good at kicking someone out the door.
Erika was so absorbed in something on her screen that she didn’t respond right away. Kouta propped his cheek on his fist and waited for about a minute before calling out again.
“Erika.”
“Huh?!” she started, almost dropping her phone and turning it off at once.
The clumsy gesture made Kouta stifle a yawn and stare at Erika curiously. He had a few guesses about the reason to be so secretive, so he spoke out a random one.
“That dating app thing again?”
“W-what?!”
This time the phone slipped out of Erika’s hand and almost fell on the floor, risking to crash into the floor tiles, but Kouta swiftly caught it and turned the screen up.
And yes, he was right. The familiar interface of a popular dating app, ridden with pop-up ads, confirmed his suspicions. Why would he be suspicious, though? It was none of his business to defend his coworker from others’ attention unless she’d ask for it herself.
“Huh. Hiding it like you’re doing something sketchy,” Kouta returned the phone to blushing Erika with a bored yawn, then got up from the table, tossing empty single-use tableware in the trash.
“Like I would!” Puffing her cheeks, Erika quickly hid the phone in her purse and hurried to get up along with Kouta. “What’s so weird about it?”
“Nothing. Just don’t get involved with jerks.”
“You’re better at it than me anyway…”
With lazy banter, Limelight's staff of only two people packed their things and checked the place for one last time before closing for the night.
✧✧✧
Erika left Kouta at the passage between subway lines. Jumping into a train car and making sure the places around her were empty so that nobody could peek at her, she went back to scrolling through the dating app.
It was a new and fun thing for her. She hadn’t even figured out all the functions yet, and her profile photo was not too flattering, but she didn’t feel her usual crippling fear of social interactions.
It was probably because Erika didn’t really intend to go on any actual dates. She only hoped to chat with a nice person about her interests, and that was about it. She didn’t put in any personal information – just her name.
The idea was most likely to fall through, though. For the whole day, she got nothing but some creepy men with no profile pic and an off-putting manner of starting a conversation. Erika didn’t feel disappointed, but the sense of challenge hiding deep under her insecurity was forcing her to keep the app on her phone for another day or two.
“Hm?”
Above the page of another pushy guy with a weird list of requirements for a chat, a text popped up. For some reason, it was straight to her LINE messenger, not in the dating app. Suppressing the brief urge to swipe the message away as spam, Erika opened the unfamiliar chat, and her eyes widened with surprise.
“Hello, Erika-san. Want to meet for a chat?”
What shocked her wasn’t the boldness of this person she had never said a word with before. There was something else that caught her eye in a flash – and caught it for long.
Looking through the profile photos of the sender, which would be enough to make sure they were a real person, Erika bit her lip anxiously and squeezed the phone tight in her hand.
Damn it. Could it actually be true?..
Forgetting her promise not to take this harmless fun seriously, Erika quickly began to type an answer.
I don't like being overly polite or insincere for the sake of others. Also, not being a bother is one of my main principles. Today, however, I totally blew it all.
「 Chapter 2: Point of No Return 」
≛ Read on AO3 ≛ Read on Tumblr ≛
Can't risk losing such a convenient job, either. I feel awful for Erika helping me, though she probably won't blame me or anything... Should I cover a few of her shifts as a 'thank you'? Or maybe give her some sweets?
Pretending to be a friendly fellow towards that crazy guy was totally unnecessary, but now I can't stop thinking about what he said before they took him. Did he really have to make such a pained expression? It seems he really has some problems with the law, huh? It's none of my business, but I can't help seeing him as some sort of homeless cat in a box or a sad street beggar. I really have to forget about this mess as soon as possible.
...God, my thoughts are racing. Been a long time since I’ve felt this anxious.
The metal door clanged shut. Before Kouta could spring to his feet, the key had already turned in the lock twice.
It had been about half an hour since they were detained. The patrol officer had insistently led them to a room that looked like a conference hall. He hadn’t bothered to give Kouta any explanations on their detainment. All questions would meet the same answer: “Don’t worry, you’re not in any danger.” Kouta didn’t feel reassured by that at all.
The room had a couple of long tables – he thought they resembled school desks put together – and two rows of chairs. Although Kouta had never been to a police office before, it was not what he had expected. This place was more similar to a waiting area.
Either way, the situation promised to put him in trouble. Even if Kouta managed to prove himself innocent, a police visit would still remain on the record. There was a reason they took all of his belongings; now his phone and the ID card with his details were also out of reach.
A person’s ID card, which contained all information about the holder, also tracked their interactions with law enforcement authorities. If deemed unreliable, one could lose their job. Kouta just couldn’t afford that.
There was also his work shift tomorrow. Shuddering at the thought of staying here until the next day or even longer, Kouta decided to stop stalling. He got to his feet and gave the door a couple of knocks with his fist – not too hard, without trying to damage it, just to be heard on the other side.
“Hey! Can you hear me? It’s all a mistake!”
The attempt to reach out to someone outside brought no result. Kouta’s bracelet gave a warning red flash and started to heat up. Frantically waving his hand, Kouta made a few steps back until the burn was replaced with the familiar cold of the metal.
“Come on, that’s enough! – pulling the bracelet back from his skin, Kouta glared accusingly at the door. – Damn it, a simple warning would do.”
The thin silvery band fixed at his wrist could give no answer; the restrainers didn’t have that function. It was a while since Kouta had such aggressive feedback from the thing. He hadn’t allowed himself to do anything risky since the time he was a teen, anyway.
He could’ve already been home if he didn’t get involved in this mess. Rubbing his knuckles, which were sore from the collision with the door, Kouta finally turned to the person who ruined his whole day.
The guy ignored him completely, staring at the wall deep in thought. Kouta never had anything to do with authorities, but he could tell this fellow was not quite alright. The only reason for their detainment seemed to be the stranger’s urge to end his life in the middle of a crowded street. Kouta was just dragged along after grabbing the suicidal guy’s hand. Unfortunately, the retainers didn’t always work as intended.
“Could you please stop staring at me? Thank you.”
At first, Kouta couldn’t figure out whether the words were just in his head or the source of his problems actually deigned to talk to him. The second ended up being true: without lifting his cloudy eyes from the phone that had appeared in his hand, the guy rebuffed Kouta for being curious.
The whole time they were locked here, the person responsible for the incident kept a calm, composed face. His indifference irritated Kouta for no apparent reason. The question was stuck in his head on repeat: is that all the gratitude I get for saving you? With an offended huff, Kouta left the rude phrase with no answer and placed himself in a chair near the exit.
“Stopping already. By the way, I was the one who caught you almost getting hit by a car, – he muttered, restlessly tapping his elbow with his index finger. – And you’re the reason I’m here anyway.”
There was no response. Throwing a glance at his unwilling companion, Kouta tilted his head slightly. It took him a lot of effort not to get personal.
“All you people do is cause trouble for others.”
Kouta couldn’t refrain from a bitter remark. By addressing some indefinite people, he was pointing at the main issue their healthcare policy was facing: suicides, which the authorities had been trying to stop for about twenty years.
How could you try to die while being so desperately kept alive? Kouta could never wrap his head around it.
His comment seemed to hit where it hurt. The stranger winced with displeasure; the phone in his hand trembled and almost fell. It didn’t satisfy Kouta the way he expected, though. He stopped, propping his cheek on his hand, angrily tapping his foot on the floor.
He wanted to land a better blow, but couldn’t find the words. Kouta caught himself staring at the guy again out of boredom.
His face, with its proper, almost artificial features, could easily belong to some niche celebrity. The manager at Kouta’s job would certainly describe this guy as her type – this kind of amiable but reserved persona. But a more attentive eye could point out a hint of exhaustion on his face and a slight disheveled touch in his look.
Kouta already noticed the phone in the stranger’s hands, which had evaded the law enforcer’s attentive eye. The guy was nonchalantly typing a message to someone.
“They didn’t take your phone? Why?” Kouta rose from his seat, walked around the table between the two, and stared, perplexed, at the other’s boldness from above.
“Why? Did you just hand it over when they told you to? – the guy scoffed, toying with the gadget in his hands. – I know my rights, and I never give my personal stuff to just whoever.”
Grinding his teeth, Kouta sighed, keeping himself from doing something he’d regret. The guy wasn’t just acting nasty – he was actively trying to provoke him. But he had something Kouta needed to use, which meant it was time to show his customer service skills.
“Aisuke Kouta. That’s my name. – He forced a smile and reached out for a handshake. – You?”
The guy didn’t accept his hand; instead, he pulled an ID card from another pocket and flipped it face forward.
“Can you read this?”
His reply was condescending, as if he was addressing someone below his level. Kouta frowned, offended by this comment – he might not have known every kanji by heart, but it wasn’t such a rare thing nowadays.
Kyougo Higura. Kouta repeated the name in his head a few times and was surprised to discover that two kanji were the same as in his own name. A detail he would never know just by hearing it.
“Now that we know each other, I have something to ask of you. I need to make a call.”
Kouta closed his eyes, mentally preparing for his patience to be tested again. But Higura just shrugged and put his phone on the table with the contact list already opened.
“Your parents must be worried sick, right?” His lips twisted up in a little smile – either an ironic or a sympathetic one.
“My manager. If I don’t clock in tomorrow…”
Higura gave an understanding nod and placed his chin on his locked palms. Still distrusting, Kouta took the phone, dialed the number, and put the speaker to his ear. The call was picked up three dial tones later.
“Erika-san.”
Kouta addressed the speaker before she could say anything. There was a short moment of silence on the other end of the line. Maybe the manager didn’t recognize his voice and was trying to guess who could be bothering her?
“Kouta? What happened?” she asked perplexedly after a short pause. “Whose number is this?”
With a sigh of relief, Kouta squeezed the phone in his hand.
“Erika-san, I’m… in an awkward situation here.”
The silence continued for a couple more seconds. The girl sighed into the speaker and changed her tone to one of disappointment.
“Alright, how bad is it? On a scale from one to ten.”
Kouta’s eyes, fidgeting around the room, stopped on the door handle slowly twisting downward, pushed down by someone’s hand from the outside.
“Ten, – Kouta muttered with a confused smile. – I’m taking a day off tomorrow, Erika-san.”
“What… Kouta!”
Ending the call, Kouta quickly shoved the phone into stunned Higura’s pocket. They had to keep hold of the last means of communication, whatever it would take.
The door opened, but no one entered. A shadow of a silhouette in the hall spread over the floor, distorting, appearing times larger than any human shadow. Kouta felt his mouth go dry. It was a totally childlike fear – like someone kept tenaciously pushing the doorbell, and there was no way for him to run to his mom’s room. Alone and left to tremble helplessly in the face of a perceived danger, staring wide-eyed in terror at the door lock.
“Kyougo-san, please follow me.”
Kouta squinted, trying to get a better look at the man in the doorway. Standing up compliantly from his chair, Higura looked over his shoulder and carelessly waved his hand to Kouta.
“Take care, Kouta-san, – he whispered, giving him a final faint smile. – Don’t do such stupid things again.”
The words made something in Kouta’s chest clench. Why? He had not the slightest idea. But the scene felt familiar, so excruciatingly familiar that he almost jumped to his feet to grab the other’s hand once more, just like he did back then, before the stoplight.
Digging his nails into the chair seat, he suppressed the urge and forced himself to swallow the lump swelling in his throat.
Not now. He couldn’t afford another mistake.
✧✧✧
After Higura was taken out of the waiting room with no explanations, Kouta was bracing himself for the worst. But the worst didn’t happen. Half an hour later, he was invited into a cozily decorated office next door and checked his ID card data while with an apology for wrongful detention – probably so that he wouldn’t start filing claims to the superiors right then and there. Luckily, he had no desire to do that.
“We have no questions for you, Aisuke-san. – The junior official, with a smile not quite fitting her strict face, folded her hands on the table, staring at Kouta intensely. – But I took a look at your vitals…”
“What about them?”
Kouta tried to answer calmly, but couldn’t keep the hostile undertones from his voice. He hoped to avoid the troublesome topic of his well-being, which always knocked him off balance. Unfortunately, it seemed that he couldn’t avoid the question.
The restrainer and the ID card worked as a system. The bracelet included a heart rate measuring device and a needle for blood sampling – everything necessary to have access to immediate health state analysis. The gadget also had the function to squeeze the owner’s wrist tightly or heat up as a warning, which was what Kouta experienced today for the first time in ages.
That way, the bracelet could “predict” and prevent life-threatening factors. In addition to that, every four months, every citizen had to pass a mandatory health check-up, during which the data collected by the bracelet were recorded on the ID card.
After that, the person was put into one of the zones: green, orange, or red. For the last several years, Kouta had been balancing between the orange and the red zones, barely managing to sort out his sleep schedule and eating habits by the day of the check-up.
The process was already routine to him. To be honest, Kouta couldn’t care less about his health. But he didn’t want to end up in the red zone and get sent to compulsory recovery, just to come back to his job gone and his social status dropped way lower.
It was probably quite normal for someone like Higura. But Kouta spent way too much effort to set his life straight to risk losing it all at once.
“Just wanted to wish you the best of luck,” the official answered after a short pause.
Right. What else could she say? It wasn’t like the girl’s position obliged her to do anything other than express slight concern. Kouta’s well-being was an issue for the doctors at the next check-up.
“What happens to the guy who was detained with me?”
The office fell silent. Kouta had no idea why he would ask that. Being too curious about a delinquent didn’t promise him any good.
“Do you know each other?” The official looked up at him again, much colder now than before.
“No, we don't. Never seen the guy before, – Kouta gave up on the idea to keep blabbering, gave a curt bow, and prepared to head home. – Hope he won’t cause any trouble.”
“That’s the way our job is.”
The last words sounded tired, but Kouta couldn’t feel any sympathy towards the girl. He said goodbye and hurried to the hall to leave the building, accompanied by another official. The large crosswalk that acted as a stage for today’s incident appeared just across the way. Kouta had been here before, but his impression of this place would now certainly be replaced with new ones.
With a sigh, Kouta dug through his pockets, checking for his keys and ID card. He could try to compensate for the frustration of wasting several hours of his life with a tapioca tea on his way to the subway. If it weren’t for the pre-planned schedule, Kouta would love to rush to work right now instead of going home.
Turning to face the police office, he aimlessly stood in place for some more time, until he started to attract the attention of the people walking by. This evening better not end with more trouble. Kouta brushed off the anxiety growing out of nowhere and dragged his feet somewhere away from the place.
✧✧✧
The subway ride took him about an hour, but Kouta’s sense of time had been different for a long while already. In a subway train, he would always get awfully dopey, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He’d nap all the way to his station quietly if it weren’t for the evening rush that made him stand up almost the whole ride.
The train only had some vacant seats in the last fifteen minutes. Slouching into a seat, Kouta didn’t even find it in himself to take the phone out of his pocket and check texts in the messenger. The aftermath of the stress buildup caught up to him in double measure, making his whole body heavy. He had to keep pinching his own arm to keep himself from passing out and sleeping through his station.
The world around him seemed unusually foggy and blurry. Kouta couldn’t point at the reason for his worry. Was it that his life was so dull that an “adventure” such as this was a shock? But that was over, and he got away with little trouble, though the anxious pulse in his ears wouldn’t fade away. He kept anticipating going to bed tonight with an uneasy mind.
The walk home from the subway exit was unusually quick. Kouta’s feet carried him in the boring old direction without requiring any extra effort. He came across a nondescript street with a neat row of beige three-story buildings – the ones that were the majority in his district. Kouta grew up in one of these, and he couldn’t really imagine living anywhere else.
Walking up the external staircase to the third and last floor, Kouta pulled at the doorknob before reaching for his keys. Locked. This meant nobody else left today. In their flat, Kouta was the only one locking the door behind him. The only consolation was that the Aisuke family had known their neighbors for a decade now and didn’t doubt their reliability.
The sound of the door locking caused no reaction in the household. Taking his shoes off, Kouta pulled the doorknob again. Just for good measure, and walked halfway through the entrance hall.
“I’m home,” he announced quietly, expecting no answer.
The immutable quiet of the flat was interrupted only by the humming of the worn-out fridge in the kitchen. The floorboards added a creaking sound to each step inside the place Kouta would never bring himself to call comfortable. As he moved forward, the sounds started adding up. The fridge humming was mixed with irregular drops ringing against the bathtub and the muffled mumbling of the TV set in the farthest room.
These sounds were so predictable and natural, though, unlike the crack of fabric torn apart.
Kouta pressed his eyes shut, concentrating on his hearing. It forced him to pick up the pace, almost barging into the living room, which was coincidentally acting as his bedroom. He would love the opportunity to lock it with a separate key to prevent things like this from happening. But it was faster and easier to just accept the reality he existed in for many days now.
The woman sitting on the floor among shreds of paper didn’t pay attention to the knock of the doorknob against the wall. Her fingers, white with tension, kept torturing the now unrecognizable pieces.
“Mo—”
There was a pang of pain in his lungs, stopping him from finishing the phrase. However much time had passed, Kouta could never force himself to call this person a parent again. The woman snapped her head up, peered at Kouta with a blurred stare, then scrabbled about on the floor even more frantically, trying to rake the torn pieces together.
“What on earth are you doing?” Kouta overpowered his shock and irritation yet still asked the useless question, looking at the shreds for the slightest hint at what they had been before.
The woman got even more agitated, scattering around handfuls of crumpled paper. Her eyes darted around the room before stopping at Kouta with a faint glimpse of consciousness. A glimpse that hit ten times more painfully than the mess she had caused.
“Welcome home, Kouta…”
This person… His mother, who lost all interest in torturing the paper waste, clamped her hands tightly behind his back. Kouta allowed the woman to burrow her face into his shoulder, not hugging her back. He made an attempt to reach out for one of the shreds to take a better look at it.
“Why?”
His chest hurt so bad that he could only manage one word. A surge of emotion made him want to push his mother away, yell at her, call her insane, or even worse. Maybe even grab her shoulders and shake, demanding explanations, demanding that she fixes everything again.
In the modern world, all important data about a person was stored in their ID card. There was no use in any papers. Even if some adult or old-age citizens kept their hard-copy certificates, those could easily be digitalized if they were deemed significant.
The only papers in the Aisuke household were photographs. The pieces of those photographs were exactly what Kouta was looking at over his mother’s shoulder, understanding that there would be no chance to fix the damage. More than half of the pages in the photo album thrown on the floor pages down were mercilessly torn out and ruined.
Drawing back from the embrace of the only other resident in this flat, Kouta sighed through his teeth and put both his palms on her shoulders. He couldn’t just smile like it was nothing to reassure his mother and not put the blame on her for what happened. But it wasn’t even needed – as if waking up, the woman blinked and rubbed her temples.
“Right… I forgot you’d be coming back around this time, – she muttered, like she was searching for words before legible speech returned to her. – Good, I’m almost done with dinner.”
“Great. I’ll come help you soon, so can you wait in the kitchen?”
The woman’s eyes brushed distractedly over the mess in the room, as if it had nothing to do with her. She rose to her feet, propping herself up on her son’s arm, and disappeared in the kitchen with a grateful smile. Kouta gently got on his knees, picking up the maimed photograph pieces and inspecting them one by one.
In every photo, alone or with his family, there was one and the same bright-eyed man. Just by looking at him, one could easily tell who this person was to Kouta.
It was good that he didn’t bear witness to his own family coming undone. Who would be happy seeing their spouse like this? Who wouldn’t despair knowing how depressing their child’s younger years would be?
Unlike several years ago, his mother didn’t need constant medical supervision anymore. She could move around the apartment and even leave it to run errands, which consisted mostly of walking to a store and back. But some days, when one accident or another made her remember her loss, she could get impulsive.
Kouta had no idea how far this woman could go. He couldn’t predict the probability of her suddenly deciding to choke him with a pillow or set the whole flat on fire. Some of these thoughts were just paranoia, but no one could promise him that or support him – except for the nice lady next door who stopped by to check on them.
The cost of a mental facility was beyond Kouta’s means. If he worked a little longer, he’d finally have enough money to hire a caregiver. Let her pretend to be a neighbor and make friends with his mother to keep her company. Recently, he couldn’t bear even being around her.
“Kouta, are you coming?”
The woman he no longer recognized as his close one emerged in the doorway again. The restrainer on her thin wrist looked like it could slide off her hand just by itself.
“I am, just another minute.” Making sure no one was looking at him anymore, Kouta put the remains of the photographs back into the album and hid it on a shelf among some books.
How long would it last? Another night of restless sleep and a morning when he wouldn’t be grateful he woke up. Unclenching his hand, Kouta stared at a shred of a photo with his father’s smiling face, as if waiting for a piece of advice.
Tell me, what do you think I should do now?
However much love and joy this person brought to him once, Kouta knew he’d never be able to forgive him completely.
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