Second Serenade: Chapter 04
When Aketo came to, the night was
already giving way to the pale light of dawn. A weak glow filtered through the
gap in the curtains. He felt unusually comfortable, only to realize he was
still fully clothed, tucked into a narrow bed. Rubbing his sleep-clouded head,
he slowly pieced together his hazy memories from the night before. Right…
they’d been watching a movie. He’d only meant to close his eyes for a second,
just to rest them, but then...
Gripping the edge of the sheet,
Aketo cursed under his breath. Damn it, he got me again. Once more, he’d
shown Sunahara a side of himself he wished he hadn’t. Grinding his teeth, he
slipped out of the small, six-mat room, moving cautiously to avoid any further
embarrassment.
Next to the makeshift bedroom was
the roughly eight-mat room where they’d watched the movies. Hayashida and
Kakegawa were sprawled across the tatami like beached sea lions, snoring
softly. Sunahara, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Tiptoeing around his unconscious
friends, Aketo headed toward the small kitchen beyond. He spotted a pair of
slippers by the doorway and, after a moment’s hesitation, slipped them on. His
throat felt parched, an intense craving for water hitting him out of nowhere.
“You’re up?”
Aketo froze. Sunahara emerged from
the adjoining washroom, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes as he shuffled over to the
fridge. He pulled out a carton of milk, poured himself a glass, and turned to
Aketo.
“Want some?”
Aketo had meant to decline, to
refuse anything this man offered, but his head betrayed him, nodding on reflex.
Sunahara handed over the glass in his hand, then retrieved a second one from a
small cupboard for himself.
“Thanks,” Aketo mumbled, trying to
sound polite. Sunahara shot him a sideways glance before letting out a deep,
jaw-cracking yawn.
“You guys are hopeless. Not a single
one of you managed to stay awake till the end. Hayashida crashed at the start
of the third film, Kakegawa was out halfway through the second, and you? You
were a lost cause from the very beginning. When I was a student, I once pulled
a full 24-hour marathon, you know. I don’t have that kind of stamina anymore,
though.”
Normally, Aketo would have rolled
his eyes and scoffed, Twenty-four hours straight? What kind of idiot does
that? What’s the point? But this was a battle — a silent, unspoken war
between him and Sunahara.
“Haha… I’ll try not to fall asleep
next time,” he forced a laugh, vowing internally to drown himself in a hundred
cups of coffee if that’s what it took to stay awake and wipe that smug look off
Sunahara’s face.
“Glad to hear it. Gotta appreciate
the positive attitude,” Sunahara replied, leaning against the counter. “By the
way, you hungry?”
Now that he mentioned it, Aketo
realized he was.
“Want some ramen?”
No, thank you. That’s what he meant
to say, but his stomach clearly had other plans, betraying him with a nod.
“There’s some instant ramen in the
cupboard over there. Boil some water, and I’ll give you one. Make mine while
you’re at it.”
“Got it.”
Aketo managed to keep the smile on
his face until Sunahara disappeared from the kitchen. The moment he was gone,
Aketo’s expression twisted into a scowl. He spotted a small, azuki bean-sized
bug scuttling across the floor and crushed it beneath his slipper, grinding it
to a fine, unrecognizable paste. Somehow, that small act of destruction made
him feel just a bit better.
That bastard, he fumed. Of all the people in
the world, he asks me to make his ramen? What the hell is he thinking?
As he set a battered, grimy pot on
the stove and filled it with water, Aketo briefly considered dumping an ungodly
amount of salt into Sunahara’s ramen, just to teach him a lesson.
A few minutes later, ramen cups in
hand, he wandered through the apartment in search of his tormentor. He called
out to Sunahara in a hushed voice, mindful not to wake Hayashida and Kakegawa,
but got no response. He ducked back into the small bedroom where he’d slept,
and sure enough, there was Sunahara, curled up in the same bed Aketo had just
vacated, snoring softly.
The nerve of this guy! Aketo felt his irritation flare up
again, the slow simmer of his earlier anger bubbling back to the surface.
"Wake up, dumbass."
There was no way he was going to
keep playing nice and have a proper conversation. Sunahara rolled over with a
groggy "Mmm". It had only been a few minutes while the ramen
cooked, but the guy was already out cold—unbelievably fast sleeper.
"Hey, shorty."
Aketo kicked the edge of the bed
with his foot. Sunahara rolled to the other side again and murmured a name
softly in his sleep.
"Honami."
Aketo froze mid-kick. A girl’s name.
He strained to hear more, but Sunahara didn’t say anything else. A girl’s name,
from Sunahara. Maybe he was dating someone? Who the hell would date a runt like
him? Must be one hell of a weirdo.
"Honami."
The name came again, and Aketo
paused. It caught his attention for a moment—but he left the room.
The tatami room was, as always, a
damn zoo. How long are these idiots planning to sleep!? Aketo aimed a
few kicks at Kakegawa and Hayashida’s guts and legs as he pretended to step
over them. Kakegawa winced and sat up, but Hayashida—apparently born without a
pain response—kept sleeping through it like a rock.
"Ah, sorry. Did I kick
you?"
Aketo gave a grin to the
half-dead-looking Kakegawa. Then, right in front of that grumpy face, he held
out the ramen cup—Sunahara’s portion.
"Here. Peace offering."
Whether it was because he was
starving or still half-asleep, Kakegawa wordlessly took the cup noodles and the
chopsticks handed to him and popped the lid. His mouth turned down into a
frown.
Just as Aketo had predicted, the
noodles inside had fully absorbed the soup and swelled into a soggy, wavy mess.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
The last Sunday in August was
oppressively hot from the start. It felt like the sun had doubled in size,
radiating a heat so intense that it seemed to defy the passing of summer.
Though the peak heat had passed and there was a faint hint of autumn in the
evening breeze, the midday sun still burned with a fierce, unrelenting energy,
as if insisting that summer wasn't over yet.
Aketo felt beads of sweat forming on
his forehead and the back of his neck, and the discomfort was becoming
unbearable. He had a hat on, but it did little to help in this stifling heat.
For the first time, he regretted agreeing to be the cameraman. Sure, it was
nice being able to watch Otomo-san through the camera lens, but beyond that,
the role offered no perks. He barely had any time to rest, just like the cast
members, and he had to stand out in the blazing sun without any shade. He
hadn't expected it to be this brutal.
Sweat trickled down his back, making
his T-shirt cling uncomfortably to his skin. He longed for the shade of a tree,
just a brief respite, but if the cameraman took a break, the entire shoot would
have to pause. Yet the makeshift director seemed utterly oblivious to the
concept of compromise, refusing to call a single take "good enough"
despite the relentless heat.
The park was crowded with afternoon
strollers, and curious passersby kept glancing their way, making Aketo even
more self-conscious. It only made him sweat more.
"Alright, let's try that one
more time," Hayashida called out, his voice cutting through the sweltering
air.
Aketo bit back a retort, swallowing
down the words that threatened to escape his dry throat: "Don't start
acting like you're some kind of Hitchcock or Fellini, you hack!" The
only thing keeping his frustration in check was his determination to maintain
his reputation as a diligent class representative — a model student who kept
his cool even under pressure. Plus, he didn't want to lose his temper in front
of Minako Otomo.
Just as the strain of repeated takes
was pushing him to the edge, a sudden, cool sensation brushed against his
cheek. Aketo looked up, startled. It was Sunahara, grinning as he handed him a
chilled juice can. Without waiting for a reply, Sunahara called over to
Hayashida.
"Everyone looks pretty wiped.
How about a fifteen-minute break?"
Hayashida, perched in his makeshift
director's chair, gave a reluctant nod. The actors and crew all scattered for
shade, and Aketo, too, made a beeline for the base of a large tree, sinking
down with a grateful sigh. Sunahara dropped down beside him. Aketo grimaced but
lacked the energy to move away. He cracked open the can of "enemy-sent
provisions," letting the cold carbonation spread through his system.
Glancing around, he noticed that everyone else also had drinks in hand, meaning
Sunahara hadn't singled him out.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Aketo, who had been slumped like a
beached fish, immediately straightened. A white dress cast a slender shadow
over him, and long hair swayed gently in the thick, humid air. Otomo-san was
standing over him, her expression a mixture of nervousness and a forced smile.
"Take my spot," Sunahara
said abruptly, standing up and strolling over to the opposite tree shade where
Hayashida had settled.
Otomo-san's eyes followed him in a
brief, uncertain glance before she let out a small, resigned sigh and,
hesitantly, sat down beside Aketo.
Aketo's heart raced. He was happy to
be this close to her, but the circumstances stung his pride. It felt like a
handout, and he hated it. He glanced at the juice can clutched tightly in her
hands — unopened, her fingers curled protectively around it as if afraid to let
go.
"Otomo-san, do you like
Sunahara-sensei?"
Otomo whipped around, her eyes wide
with shock as she looked at Aketo.
"N-no, that's not..."
She averted her gaze, her face
turning a deep shade of red. But she didn't deny it. That was all the
confirmation Aketo needed. A dull, throbbing pain pounded through his head,
like the blare of a giant speaker, the heat and the shock merging into a physical
ache.
"So, you really do like him,
huh? But you have your work cut out for you. Sensei's pretty dense, you know.
Are you planning to confess?"
Once he started speaking, the words
came out effortlessly, surprising even himself.
Otomo raised both hands to her
flushed cheeks, a gesture so innocently shy that it only made her seem even
more endearing.
"Is it... that obvious?"
Aketo forced a smile, hating the
hollow way it felt. Even in a moment like this, he could still put on a good
front.
"I think you should be a little
more direct, you know? Make your feelings clearer."
"It's... embarrassing,"
she replied, her voice barely a whisper. There was a modesty to her, a quiet
grace that felt almost out of place in this era, making Aketo even more
reluctant to let Sunahara have her without a fight.
"Want me to help you out?"
She looked up, her clear, earnest
eyes locking onto his. Aketo let his expression soften into a friendly,
encouraging smile, carefully crafting the impression of a supportive confidant.
"I talk with Sensei a lot. I
could drop a hint for you, you know, subtly work it into the
conversation."
For a brief moment, Otomo's eyes
sparkled, but then she quickly lowered her gaze again.
"But... what if he already
likes someone else? If I confess, I might just end up bothering him..."
Who on earth would consider a
confession from Otomo-san a bother?! Aketo wanted to shout, but he held his tongue.
"I could try to feel him out
for you. But honestly, I doubt he has anyone like that. He's never mentioned
anything like it to me."
Seizing the moment, Aketo gently
placed his hand on her shoulder. It was small and delicate, and he could feel
the slight warmth through her thin summer dress. He swallowed hard, his pulse
quickening. Just holding her like this made him feel that he could die without
regrets — a dangerous, intoxicating thought.
Oblivious to the storm of emotions
brewing within him, Otomo lightly grasped his hand with her slender, soft
fingers. She looked up, her eyes fixed on his.
"Thank you."
Those simple, heartfelt words of
gratitude filled him with a sudden pang of guilt. But no matter what anyone
said, no matter how harshly he might be criticized later, Aketo had no
intention of losing to Sunahara when it came to Minako Otomo.
He had his foot in the door now. All
that remained was to find a way to make her give up on Sunahara entirely. A
slight crease formed between his brows as he began to plot his next move.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
Sunahara sat on the tatami mat,
knees drawn up to his chest, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It
looked completely out of place, as if a kid had decided to start smoking. He
seemed like he’d be more at home sipping milk from a carton.
"Sensei, if you keep hanging
around your students every single day, isn’t your girlfriend going to get mad
at you?"
Kakegawa teased, his tone light.
Sunahara just gave a wry smile.
"I don’t have a
girlfriend."
It didn’t seem like a lie. Sunahara
wasn’t the type to hide something like that, and there wasn’t much reason for
him to lie about it anyway. It was probably true. With a face and height like
his, finding a girlfriend would be a challenge. Aketo found himself reluctantly
agreeing with this assessment, but that just wouldn’t do. Even someone like
Sunahara must have a girl who likes him.
Even after the day’s shoot ended and
the others had gone home, Aketo kept hanging around Sunahara’s cramped
apartment, calling it "studying film" as a convenient excuse to
gather intel. It wasn’t just him, either. Kakegawa and Hayashida had somehow
also become regulars at the apartment. They’d watch movies together, trading
idle chatter that Aketo sifted through for anything he could use. Kakegawa, in
particular, was a useful source, unafraid to ask the direct, sometimes awkward
questions that Aketo himself hesitated to voice.
"So, Sensei, have you never
dated a woman before?"
Kakegawa leaned in, his curiosity
plain. Sunahara choked on a lungful of cigarette smoke, breaking into a fit of
rough coughing.
"It’s not like... I never
have..."
"What kind of person was she?
I’m curious too," Aketo chimed in, pushing the question a step further. He
needed to know what kind of woman Sunahara had liked before, partly to prepare Otomo
for the reality of her chances, but also to secure her trust.
They were watching Casablanca
tonight, the black-and-white classic flickering on the old TV. On the screen, a
melancholy heroine cast her gaze downward, her expression steeped in quiet
sorrow. Sunahara forced a small, uncomfortable grin in response to Aketo’s
question.
"I’ve only ever had one real
relationship. She dumped me. It messed me up so bad I swore I’d never go
through that again."
The room fell silent, the only sound
the low hum of the TV.
"Sorry if I hit a nerve
there," Aketo said quickly, trying to smooth things over.
Sunahara let out a short laugh and
gave Aketo a firm slap on the back.
"It’s a story from five years
ago. Ancient history. She was the one who asked me out, but in the end, she’s
the one who got tired of me."
As Time Goes By drifted softly from the TV’s
speakers, the notes of an old piano filling the small room.
"While I was busy dragging my
feet, my best friend swooped in and stole her away. She was a really amazing
woman, though. Strong-willed, but honest..."
"Honami..."
The name slipped from Aketo’s lips
without him even realizing it.
Both Kakegawa and Hayashida let the
word wash past them, but Sunahara froze, his body tensing like a struck chord.
His head whipped around, eyes locking onto Aketo with a sharp, probing stare.
Aketo quickly averted his gaze, his mind racing.
Honami. That must be the name of the girl his best
friend stole from him. The name he still muttered without realizing it.
Sunahara hadn’t forgotten her.
On the screen, Casablanca
drew closer to its iconic ending. Bogart was sending off the woman he loved.
"Casablanca really is a
great film," Aketo murmured, trying to sound like a connoisseur, even
though he hadn’t really been watching it. And despite never having seen the
movie before, he could tell — Sunahara fit the role of the heartbroken lead all
too well.
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