Second Serenade: Chapter 25

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“About the movie”

That morning, when they ran into each other at the station, Kakegawa explained to Hashimoto why he’d been wearing a suit. He said he was starring in a movie a friend was shooting. Hashimoto, who had been in the middle of cooking, stopped what he was doing and looked at him in surprise.

“Of course it’s amateur. It’s just a short film, around fifteen minutes. But my friend wants to submit it to a contest, so he’s putting a lot into it.”

They’d bumped into each other in front of the apartment building around eight, when Hashimoto came back from work late because of overtime. Both of them were hungry and had been about to go out to eat when it started to rain. Neither of them wanted to get wet, so in the end, Hashimoto made pasta.

“A movie, huh.”

The initial surprise quickly faded into disinterest.

“It’s not a cheerful story, but it’s interesting. It’s all told through music and sound effects—I don’t say a single word. The story’s crafted so you can understand it just by watching.”

Hashimoto dished up the finished pasta onto plates, handed one to Kakegawa who was waiting at the counter table, and replied with a half-hearted “I see.”

“If I can get a copy made, I’ll show you.”

Still avoiding eye contact even as he sat down beside him, Hashimoto finally looked at Kakegawa and let out a dry snort through his nose.

“There was a guy like that back when I was in university, too. Said he wanted to be a movie director. He was three years older than me, but he barely attended classes, kept repeating years, and ended up graduating the same year I did. Even after that, he just drifted around without getting a job. In the end, just because we went to the same high school and university, he tried to force movie screening tickets on me for some indie film he made. It was a pain.”

Was he seriously comparing Kakegawa’s friend to that guy? That was just like Hashimoto—rude to the core.

“People who say they want to be movie directors or actors, you get a lot of that type. Social misfits, I guess—people who can’t adjust to others, so they escape into a dream world. Maybe that’s fine while they’re still students, but once you’re an adult? I don’t know…”

The way he lumped everything together and dismissed it so completely got under Kakegawa’s skin.

“Hayashida’s a decent guy. Serious. I don’t think he’s some kind of misfit. He’s really putting his heart into the movie. I don’t know if he has talent, but anyone can have potential, right?”

“‘Potential,’ huh. Convenient word.”

It was obvious Hashimoto had no intention of engaging from the start. Seeing that calm, composed profile only made Kakegawa want to make him acknowledge Hayashida even more.

“What’s wrong with having a goal? It’s not like you dreamed of working for a trading company since you were a kid, right?”

Hashimoto gave a wry smile.

“That’s a pretty extreme way to put it. I never had any specific ambitions growing up. I chose this job because the conditions happened to be good. After graduating, I couldn’t just sit around without working—it would’ve been unfair to my parents, and I wouldn’t have been able to support myself. Plus, there’s social status to consider.”

“‘Social status,’ huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Kakegawa shot back with a sharp tone. Hashimoto’s previously calm expression instantly hardened.

“What did you just say?”

His reply came sharp and irritable. Normally, they didn’t argue like this. Fights were a pain to deal with, and they always left lingering effects—especially in the more intimate parts of their relationship—so Kakegawa usually just backed down before things escalated. He knew full well that pushing any further would make Hashimoto angry. But just for today, he couldn’t stop himself.

"Just being a guy who likes men and has sex with them is enough to destroy your social standing, isn’t it?"

He said it with a touch of sarcasm. There was a dull clatter as the fork was carelessly thrown onto Hashimoto's plate.

"Then that makes you the same. Don’t get cocky with me."

"I'm not the one going around pretending my self-righteousness is some noble truth."

Hashimoto glared at Kakegawa with a hard look, then abruptly stood up from his chair.

"Would you leave? I'm not in the mood today."

Even then, there was still a flicker of effort in Hashimoto—trying to suppress his emotions.

"It's not your mood, it's your temper, isn't it?"

Kakegawa said it anyway, knowing full well what he was provoking.

"Get the hell out, you damn brat, only good for getting off."

With his face flushed red, Hashimoto roared in anger, grabbed Kakegawa’s arm roughly, dragged him to the front door, shoved him out, and locked it. There was no spare key—Hashimoto had never given him one—but Kakegawa still heard the sound of the security chain being fastened with deliberate care.

The sound of the rain pounded against his back. It was no joke how hard it was coming down.

"Hashimoto-san, lend me an umbrella, will you?"

No matter how many times he called through the intercom, there was no reply, and the door never opened.

With no other option, he walked off into the rain. Soaked and shut out like that, he should’ve been furious—but strangely enough, he wasn’t. He’d deliberately provoked Hashimoto to that point, so this was what he got.

The downpour erased even the colors of the city. The people passing by were all too preoccupied with themselves. They might glance at the drenched young man once, but none of them looked back.

In his cold-numbed mind, Kakegawa found himself thinking about the man called Hashimoto. A sarcastic man, not kind in the least. A liar. The kind of man who panicked and fled just because he ran into one of Kakegawa’s acquaintances. A coward. Kakegawa wondered—could Hashimoto ever change? It was something he'd never considered before, something he'd always dismissed as a waste of time.

"Possibility, huh."

The murmur slipped past his lips and vanished into the water. Whether Hashimoto changed or not—it didn’t really concern Kakegawa. But if he did change… would something else change too? But what, exactly?

Suddenly overcome with cold, Kakegawa broke into a run, heading for the nearest subway station.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the latter half of August, sometime after the twentieth, filming finally wrapped. Editing wasn’t finished yet, but since Takagi-san and Hayashida could handle the rest, they decided to go ahead and have a wrap party. The location was Hayashida’s apartment. When Kakegawa arrived a little after seven, the small six-tatami room was already overflowing with alcohol and snacks.

“You’re late, guest of honor.”

Hayashida, face flushed and clearly already drunk, handed Kakegawa a beer. He took the cold can, sipped it, and let out a breath. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, with her hair neatly tied up, Takagi-san looked like a boy. At some point, she had taken a seat beside Kakegawa, and when their eyes met, she smiled warmly.

From the backpack she’d carried with her throughout the shoot, she pulled out an envelope.

“Thanks for helping us out. It’s not much, but please take it. I already gave Sensei his earlier.”

Inside the envelope were beer coupons. Takagi-san stuck out her tongue and laughed.

“We didn’t have any money… I’m sorry it’s just hand-me-downs.”

The drinking party went on for quite a while, but Hayashida monopolized Sensei the whole time, so Kakegawa barely got a chance to speak with him. The two had launched into a heated debate over old Western films, and once that happened, Kakegawa couldn’t keep up with the conversation. All he could do was nod vaguely and respond with “I see” while pretending to listen.

By the time Hayashida passed out from drinking too much, Sensei was also fairly tipsy, though he still managed to leave before it got too late. When Sensei stood up, Kakegawa offered, “I’ll walk you home,” but was turned down.

“Walk the girl home instead.”

“I’ll walk you home, Takagi-san,” Kakegawa said, glancing at Hayashida snoring loudly beside them no matter how much he shook him.

Takagi-san slowly shook her head.

“I’m staying here tonight. I’ve got to come back to edit tomorrow anyway.”

Even though they were close, it still felt awkward to leave a girl alone in a guy’s apartment.

“I could stay over too.”

Maybe sensing his concern, she laughed.

“You really don’t have to worry. There were times when I crashed here for two or three days straight. Besides, even if something did happen, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

It wasn’t until she said that that he realized. When he looked surprised, she hugged her knees and laughed.

“You really didn’t realize?”

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