Second Serenade: Chapter 26

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Even someone like Hayashida—an easygoing guy but not particularly sharp—seemed different when seen through Takagi-san's eyes. When she declared unabashedly, “It was love at first sight, like it was fate,” it was Kakegawa who felt embarrassed on her behalf.

At her request, he told her stories from their high school days involving Hayashida. When he brought up the time they made a film for the school festival, she said she’d actually seen that video.

“It was fun to watch. The girl playing the lead role was stunning.”

Gazing off into the distance as if lost in thought, Takagi-san suddenly murmured,

“You know, I came up with the script for this film when I heard the phrase ‘hate the mediocre.’”

“It’s a sad story,” Kakegawa said.

“It is. Completely hopeless.”

She replied with a calm nod, as if discussing the weather.

“It’ll probably make people feel pretty miserable too.”

She tilted her head, pensive, her gaze drifting to Hayashida, who was snoring away in an ungraceful sprawl.

“What do you think moves people more—sad things or happy things?”

It was a difficult question. She stared intently at Kakegawa, waiting for his answer, but he had none.

“I think it’s sadness,” she said. “Sadness has more pull. It has the stronger grip on people.”

Her profile looked lonely, and yet it gave off the sense that she rejected any comfort.

“Mediocre is such a horrible word. Everyone wants to believe they’re exceptional. But eventually you’re forced to face it, aren’t you? Just how small you really are… That’s why—”

She grinned as she spoke her next words.

“I’m going to shove it in their faces. Show them this part of themselves that hides just beneath the surface. Sometimes I really think, ‘I must truly love movies.’ Because if I’m not eating or sleeping, I’m always thinking about them. Lately, Hayashida-kun’s been crashing the party, though.”

She rolled an empty beer can with the tip of her toe.

“But enough about me. That’s no fun. I want to hear about you, Kakegawa-kun. You’re in the education department, right? Planning to become a teacher?”

“Probably.”

“That’s vague. If you end up deciding you don’t want to teach, how about becoming an actor? I’ll hire you exclusively.”

“I don’t have that kind of talent. I only thought of becoming a teacher because the person I liked was one.”

“You were in love with a teacher.”

Takagi-san leaned forward, bringing her face closer.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Did you ever confess?”

“I did. But it didn’t work out.”

“…”

“I was ready to do anything just to be with them. But they told me they already had someone, and that I’d never see them again… It really hurt.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

She gave a small, decisive nod.

“There’s someone you love now, right?”

“I have someone I’m seeing, yeah.”

“I thought so.”

When he asked how she knew, she replied with a vague certainty: “You’ve got that look. People in love have a different face.”

“They’re a nasty, dishonest, awful person.”

The face of Hashimoto floated into his mind—furious, throwing him out of the apartment.

“But you love them, right? You can’t help it. That’s how love is. It’s like a fever.”

She said it with certainty.

“It’s not love. For me, it could’ve been anyone who’d let me have them without complaint. It’s easier if they’re awful. No guilt.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized he’d gone too far. Takagi-san’s face had twisted.

“That’s so disrespectful to the other person.”

“But they really are awful.”

Just as he was about to list all of Hashimoto’s misdeeds, Takagi-san cut him off.

“That’s disgusting. Gives me goosebumps. I just… I can’t deal with that kind of thing.”

She pulled her body back toward the sleeping Hayashida.

“I’m sorry. It’s not like I’m some clean freak or anything.”

Her reaction stirred something deep within him—something usually buried, long forgotten. A solid lump called guilt.

“It might be selfish of me to say this, but... I don’t think things like that are good for you. Probably... for your heart.”

“I’m unhealthy.”

Takagi-san laughed. But it only lasted a moment. A laugh like that wasn’t nearly enough to mend the invisible crack that had already formed. In the awkward silence, when he stood up saying, “I’m going home,” Takagi-san gave a small wave on the spot.

“Get healthy soon, okay.”

A parting shot at his back. And yet, for some reason, at a time like this, he felt an overwhelming urge to see Hashimoto.

His watch said 3 a.m. By the time he’d walked from Hayashida’s apartment, it was that late. Most people would be asleep. Even if tomorrow was Sunday, a visit at this hour was thoroughly inconsiderate. If Hashimoto didn’t answer, he couldn’t complain. He was just about to press the doorbell a third time when he heard a muffled voice from inside.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Kakegawa.”

The door unlocked, and the chain was removed. Hashimoto appeared in pajamas, arms folded, letting out a deep sigh as he watched Kakegawa take off his shoes at the entrance.

“Could you try applying some common sense? You’re bothering the neighbors, and it’s a problem for me too. So, what’s the reason for visiting at this hour? Must be something very important, I assume.”

Once he stood in front of him, Hashimoto instinctively stepped back, slightly overwhelmed.

“I didn’t apologize the other day.”

“Oh, you mean when you said those extremely rude things to me?”

There was a faint sense of superiority on the man’s face.

“I didn’t think it was such a big deal, but since you were mad, I figured I should say something.”

Words like “not such a big deal” and “figured I should” seemed to strike a nerve. For someone woken up in the middle of the night, Hashimoto had been in a decent mood—but now his demeanor completely changed.

“That’s how you apologize to someone? And do you even know what time it is? It’s three in the morning. Kids like you really have no sense.”

“It’s a lie that I came to apologize. I just suddenly wanted to see your face.”

“Are you drunk?”

Maybe he caught a whiff of the alcohol on his breath—Hashimoto frowned.

“I don’t have time to deal with drunks. I hate men who smell like booze. And inconsiderate kids too. I’ll cover your taxi fare, just go home.”

Hashimoto tried to push him out, but Kakegawa deliberately resisted. No matter how much he pulled his arm or pushed his body, Kakegawa wouldn’t budge. Eventually, Hashimoto began to genuinely lose his temper.

“Don’t just grin like that—go home!”

Even being yelled at, he didn’t move. Realizing it was hopeless to throw him out, Hashimoto finally shoved him roughly against the wall and stormed back to the bedroom with heavy footsteps.

Kakegawa followed immediately. In the dark bedroom, a long, slender figure lay on the bed.

“Hashimoto-san.”

No reply. He pulled back the sheets and slipped in beside him, fully clothed. That finally provoked a reaction.

“I told you to go home. I don’t want to deal with you.”

A voice laced with irritation. Kakegawa hugged him from behind. Even through clothes, he felt warm. He unbuttoned the pajama top. He knew where Hashimoto was most sensitive. He gently traced his fingers along his side, making him jolt. He rolled him onto his back and kissed him—a long kiss that sent tingles through his brain. His thoughts dulled until the kiss felt like everything.

It was too dark to see his face clearly. But he could tell, from the breathing, the faint sounds of breath, just what kind of expression Hashimoto wore as he looked at him.

“S…”

He had whispered I love you tens of thousands of times. Yet somehow, the words wouldn’t come out, like they were stuck deep in his throat. When he suddenly went quiet and stopped moving, Hashimoto pulled him close again, as if to prompt him.

“...I’m going home after all.”

Pushing Hashimoto aside, he jumped out of bed. Clutching his head, which had finally gone off the rails, he ran out into the open. In the darkness just before dawn, he walked along a deserted sidewalk, the only sounds being the occasional car speeding past. The subway station’s shutters were down, so he couldn’t get in. With no other choice, he turned onto a side street and walked beneath the elevated tracks.

He let out a deep breath. Something in his chest trembled violently. His body kept shaking, unable to stop. Before he realized it, he had passed one station, then another—he had been walking for quite a long time. Little by little, the darkness began to fade. The sky shifted from black to a deep indigo. Soon, it would be a clear sky blue without a single cloud. The change felt so natural, so inevitable.

Suddenly, as if some sleeping beast had awakened, the first train of the morning roared down the elevated tracks overhead.

His feet stopped. He had to admit it now. He’d been confused and surprised—but he hadn’t thought it was a bad thing. He chuckled to himself. The moment he became aware of it, he couldn’t say anything, and that silence struck him as absurd and funny.

Hashimoto might change. It was a matter of possibility. Hashimoto could change. He might even be able to change him.

What did he like about him? He didn’t know. But he wanted to see him. He wanted to see him so much. Love isn’t logical. That truth hit him like a revelation.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The way you handle someone changes depending on the situation. If talking to them makes you irritated, then say it outright. Scowl if you need to. That alone might make the other person think twice. And if they still don’t back off, then talk back. Get mad. Fight if you have to.

“You’ve been acting weird lately. Showing up in the middle of the night and then leaving all of a sudden...” Hashimoto said when Kakegawa came over the next evening—this time at a perfectly normal hour, around seven.

Yeah. Weird is right. I’m practically falling for you, after all.

“And you’ve been unusually talkative. Did something happen?” Hashimoto asked, giving him a concerned look. It was kind of funny, honestly. He’d never wanted to know anything beyond what he could see of Michiya Hashimoto. But now… now he couldn’t help wanting to know more. Not just the guy standing in front of him—but everything that made him who he was.

Hashimoto must’ve gotten fed up because, after a while, he sighed and muttered, “Would you knock it off already?”

“My family has nothing to do with you. What, are you planning to become a private investigator or something?”

“That’s not it…”

Turns out Hashimoto’s dad was a civil servant and worked for the city hall, and his mom was a full-time housewife. He had one sister, five years older. Kakegawa had half expected him to come from some fancy, upper-class family, given how polished he always acted. But nope. Just a totally normal background.

Funny enough, when Hashimoto talked about his family, his tone softened a little. Looked like he had a decent amount of respect for his parents. He was especially proud of his older sister, who was apparently beautiful and kind—he practically tripped over himself listing every compliment he could think of for her.

“I’ve got a sibling too,” Kakegawa offered.

That finally got a bit of a reaction.

“Oh yeah?”

“Unlike you, I’ve got a younger brother. He’s in elementary school. Total brat... but cute.”

Hashimoto’s body, still flushed and damp from everything they’d just done, felt warm and sticky against his fingers—skin practically clinging wherever he touched. Hashimoto had mentioned wanting to shower, but Kakegawa pulled him back, holding him tight.

He studied his face—the sharp, fox-like eyes Hayashida had once commented on, the clean line of his nose, the perfectly shaped lips. He kissed him, then leaned in close to his ear. “I love you,” he whispered. Even hearing himself say it felt intoxicating.

He’s gorgeous. Head to toe, flawless. If only that personality wasn’t such a disaster. If only he could be just a little kinder. If only he could think about someone else’s feelings—just Kakegawa’s would be enough. But then again, maybe that nasty streak was a good thing. If it kept everyone else away, maybe that worked out in his favor.

But... no. That wouldn’t be good for Hashimoto himself. Kakegawa found himself seriously wondering if maybe the guy needed some... re-education.

“Hashimoto-san.”

“What?”

Still holding him close, Kakegawa called his name.

“Want me to read you the Bible or something?”

He meant it... at least half-seriously.

Hashimoto raised a brow, completely baffled. “...Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You feeling okay?”

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