Second Serenade: Chapter 21

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Self-loathing. What was he doing? What kind of person got pleasure from embracing the worst kind of man—a fake? What did that make him? The sense of misery wouldn't stop. It made him sad. When he was confronted with what was right, he was forced to recognize again just how wrong his own actions were. He resolved never to go see Hashimoto again.

But that resolve only lasted the night he reunited with his teacher. By the next evening, he was already slipping into a kind of resignation.

No matter how loyal he tried to be to his teacher, the thought that his teacher might be doing things with Aketo too made it all seem so stupid. He was the only one holding on, the only one still thinking about it—his teacher didn’t even know. It was completely one-sided. The feelings smoldering inside his chest were unbearable. Before they could spill over, he put on his shoes and went outside.

Past eleven at night, he pressed the intercom at Hashimoto’s apartment. Hashimoto answered with an irritable voice. He said he’d been dozing off in the living room and rubbed his reddened eyelids with his fingers. Even though he obviously knew why he had come, he still asked, “What do you want?”—pretending not to know.

He didn’t answer. He kissed him. He wanted to make it clear that all he had in his head was sex. A deep kiss, skipping over foreplay altogether.

Despite having been with who knows how many men, Hashimoto was strangely vulnerable when it came to kissing. Especially the back of his gums—one touch there and his knees went weak. Usually, he would draw it out, wear him down slowly, but tonight he didn’t plan to take that long.

Hashimoto, without shame, pressed his aroused center against Kakegawa. As he caught him in his arms, he found himself wondering if his teacher was the same. Was he weak to kissing too? What would make him feel it?

Still in his work clothes, he didn’t even bother to change before pulling down the man’s slacks and underwear. He pushed him up against the wall, lifted both legs, and thrust into the still-dry opening from below.

“It hurts, you idiot.”

Hashimoto started making a fuss. But even that slight resistance faded as Kakegawa began to move his hips slowly. Then, as if inviting him in, Hashimoto pulled Kakegawa closer.

Were those two—his teacher and Aketo—having sex too? He couldn’t imagine they weren’t, not after seeing them kiss like that. Who had made the first move? How did they go about it? Did they, like Hashimoto, gasp “It feels good” as they did it? He couldn’t picture it. He couldn’t picture that man having sex with another man at all.

“Haah... haah...”

The moans in front of him were real. But they weren’t his voice. Hashimoto looked up at Kakegawa with tear-filled eyes as he panted.

“Take me to the bed.”

Kakegawa carried the man—barely able to stand—into the bedroom. He pinned him to the bed and thrust in. Again, and again. His desire had no end.

At some point, Hashimoto stopped responding altogether. When Kakegawa finally pulled away, he was limp, sunken into the bed. Even so, he still poured the last of his lust into Hashimoto. In the dead of night, with only the ticking clock echoing, he sat naked on the bed. The fever raging through his body and mind slowly cooled, like a storm passing.

Then, suddenly, he noticed Hashimoto lying face-down beside him, completely motionless. Panic hit—had he fucked him to death? He shook him roughly, and when his eyelids quivered slightly, he let out a breath of relief.

A chill crept over him. He didn’t even feel like getting up to turn off the air conditioning. Instead, he pulled the sheet up, wrapping both himself and Hashimoto in it. The heat he felt through his fingertips was warm.

When he pulled him closer, it felt even warmer. He pressed his nose against Hashimoto’s neck—there was that smell. A distinct scent made of men’s cologne mixed with his body odor.

He licked one of those pale, well-shaped earlobes and took it into his mouth. He couldn’t count how many times he’d felt the urge to bite it clean off—it was soft and pleasant to the touch. He had played around so much, grown tired of it, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the warmth. So he held him close and fell asleep. A few tears slipped out.

He woke up near noon. It was Saturday, so that was a relief. If it had been a weekday, pulling that kind of stunt the night before wouldn’t have just earned him complaints—it would’ve been a full-on fight.

Hashimoto had woken up first. Even after waking, he stayed quiet in Kakegawa’s arms. When Kakegawa finally stirred, he felt a gaze fixed on him—and a chill ran down his spine.

“Something bothering you?” Hashimoto asked.

“How’d you know?” he replied, unable to dodge the question—the mental fog was too thick.

“Well… it was pretty rough. That’s the first time I’ve ever blacked out during sex.”

“...Sorry.”

When he apologized honestly, Hashimoto let out a lopsided smile and stroked Kakegawa's head. His short hair was gently tousled, and the feeling of those fingers was incredibly comforting. That gesture was unusually tender, and for a moment, Kakegawa wondered—Was Michiya Hashimoto always this kind of gentle man?

But the thought lasted only a second. Smiling beautifully, Hashimoto said:

“Sex like that might not be bad once in a while. Not every time, though—my body wouldn’t last. But it felt really good. Maybe next time, we should try mixing it up a little. Like using a vibrator or something. A bit of variety might actually be fun.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The first day of filming took place on the last Saturday of July.

“There are too many people who know us near the university—it’d be awkward,” Takagi-san had said, so they first searched for a bus stop in a quiet, less populated area to use as the location.

Hayashida was the one who offered to drive, saying it would be inconvenient without a car, but the vehicle he brought—a domestic red compact car he said belonged to his older sister—was incredibly cramped inside. The air conditioning barely worked, and even with the windows wide open, sweat gradually seeped into their backs where they touched the seats.

No matter how much he tried to keep his body small, Kakegawa’s arm still touched the man next to him. When the car swerved on a sharp turn, his weight leaned into him.

“It’s pretty hot, huh,” Sunahara said, stretching his arm uncomfortably and wiping his forehead with his fingers.

“Yeah, it is,” Kakegawa replied.

“Maybe I should’ve brought my car instead. Would’ve been a bit more comfortable for everyone. Come to think of it, Kakegawa, do you have a driver’s license?”

“Not yet. I prefer motorcycles anyway, and I haven’t really had any trouble without one.”

“So your ride’s still that Zephyr?”

The teacher remembered the bike he’d ridden tandem on nearly two years ago.

“Sometimes I think about getting a new one since it’s pretty old, but I’m kind of attached to it.”

“It’s a good motorcycle,” Sunahara murmured, shifting his gaze out the window.

A motorcycle passed their slow compact car and soon disappeared into the shimmering heat haze ahead.

Eventually, they made it out of the congested part of town, and the view on both sides of the road began to open up. As they passed under a hilltop industrial complex, Takagi-san, who was in the front passenger seat, suddenly shouted, “Stop here!”

Startled, Hayashida slammed on the brakes. Kakegawa hit his head on the back of the front seat, and the honk of an angry driver behind them pierced his ears.

“This spot’s perfect,” Takagi-san said.

A tall wall of concrete lined the slope of the hill. In front of it stood a sign indicating a bus stop. It was an unremarkable place—something you could find anywhere. But it must have struck a chord with Takagi-san. Hayashida pulled into an empty lot on the opposite side of the road.

Because they’d be shooting from a distance, Hayashida set up the camera on the sidewalk across the street. The teacher stood beside him, holding a reflector in one hand and smoking a cigarette.

Takagi-san wore a sailor-style school uniform—the same kind she’d worn in high school. This time, instead of her usual ponytail, her hair was divided into two loose braids. And it somehow didn’t feel odd at all. Of course not—she had only stopped wearing that uniform six months ago when she graduated.

Her profile looked pale, probably from makeup, and her lips had a soft hint of color. She pointed to the light-colored concrete wall behind the bus stop.

“Stand here. At first, just stand there. Then, when I walk by, follow me with your eyes. Once I get on the bus and disappear from sight, walk off in that direction.”

The road ahead stretched on, lined with more of the same scenery.

“My character is in love with yours, right?”

Kakegawa had hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he asked.

“That’s right,” Takagi-san answered with a bright smile.

“He’s in love with me, and he comes to this bus stop hoping to catch a glimpse of me. But once I get on the bus, there’s nothing left for him, so he goes home.”

“I’ve read the script a few times, but… it still doesn’t completely make sense to me. The guy I’m playing kind of comes across as flashy. Would someone like that really just stand around here all day just to catch a glimpse of the girl he likes? Wouldn’t he at least try to talk to her?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Even if ten guys all liked the same girl, not all ten of them would be able to tell her how they feel. One or two might not be able to say a word. Girls are the same. The more serious and timid someone is, the more they hesitate.”

Her large eyes stared straight at Kakegawa.

“Just fall in love with me for as long as Hayashida’s camera is rolling. Pretend you’re someone who’s been dying to catch a glimpse of me. Show that on your face.”

She chuckled softly.

“But I know it’s impossible to force that, right? So then… try imagining me as someone you like. Your current girlfriend, or even someone you used to love. It doesn’t matter.”

He closed his eyes. The very first person who came to mind was Sunahara —standing there now, across the road. He truly believed back then that it was a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. Talking with him was fun, being near him made him happy—he always found himself looking for him. His memories rewound just a little.

…Snapping out of it, he quickly looked forward again, realizing he’d been spacing out. When he noticed she’d been watching him that entire time, a wave of embarrassment hit him.

“What,” he mumbled, trying to cover it up. His tone came out blunt.

“Kakegawa-kun,” Takagi-san said, her smile full of delight, “you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“What’s that got to do with this movie?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought… you strike me as the type who falls in love with his whole heart. I bet I’m right, aren’t I?”

She tapped her index finger against the tip of his nose as she said it.

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