Second Serenade: Chapter 32

Previous TOC Next

“They said they’re short on staff,” the director’s manager had mentioned. So Kakegawa casually suggested, “Would you be interested in hiring some student part-timers?” and pitched Hayashida and Takagi-san for backstage help. The answer came back immediately: “Absolutely.”

Kakegawa went to Hayashida’s apartment to talk about both his acting role and the backstage work. By chance, he ran into Takagi-san right in front of the door. The two of them agreed to the part-time job without hesitation.

As soon as Hayashida heard about the lead role, he grabbed both of Kakegawa’s hands and swung them around excitedly.

“That’s amazing—amazing!”

Though it wasn’t happening to him, he was so thrilled he had tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Takagi-san gave a small shrug at Hayashida’s overreaction, then met Kakegawa’s gaze and smiled warmly.

“It’s Yamaoka Hajime directing, right? That guy makes such interesting films. I’m a fan too.”

So elated he seemed to float off the ground, Hayashida dashed outside into the rain, shouting, “We’ve gotta celebrate in advance!” as he ran off to buy alcohol.

“He’s completely carried away,” Takagi-san sighed, watching his retreating figure with a look of mild exasperation.

“But I really do think it’s incredible, what you’re doing, Kakegawa-kun. And the fact that we get to be part of that film too—it makes me really happy.”

“I agreed to it, but honestly, I’m not confident at all,” Kakegawa confessed.

“There weren’t any lines in the script you wrote… and in that film, I wasn’t really acting.”

The one who had been there wasn’t the protagonist of the screenplay—it was just him. No matter how it looked from the outside, there was no mistaking it: that had been Kakegawa Susumu himself.

“You know…” Takagi-san raised her index finger to her lips, as if to pause and choose her words with care.

“I think you are cut out for acting. Just by standing there, you have a presence that draws people in. You make them want to keep watching you. There’s something about you. That’s probably why Director Yamaoka insisted on casting you, no matter what. You should have confidence in the fact that you were chosen.”

Still, perhaps noticing the anxiety that lingered on his face, Takagi-san gave his back a somewhat forceful pat.

“But don’t worry. If you turn out to be a hopeless actor, Yamaoka won’t hesitate to cut you halfway through the shoot.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Even when he tried to force a smile, it was easy to tell. Takagi-san leaned in, peering at his face.

“Is there something else you’re worried about?”

“Well… there’s a lot going on.”

She chuckled quietly.

“Still feeling lonely? Then you should go ahead and give it a try. It’ll distract you—and I bet it’ll be fun. Just imagine: Kakegawa-kun starring in a movie, becoming a big-name actor—that would be amazing. And then, the three of us can team up again and make another film together.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That appearance, combined with his eccentric behavior, wasn’t enough for Kakegawa to understand the man called “the director.” At Takagi-san’s suggestion, he borrowed a few of the director’s past works and watched them. Neither quite comedic nor properly serious, they teetered in a strange liminal space. Occasionally, they turned bizarrely surreal, sending an odd chill down his spine.

He returned all the films after a single viewing. There might’ve been real talent there—but admitting that somehow rubbed him the wrong way.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The wind blows. A strong wind, raging through his mind. A new environment, new people. A rapidly expanding web of relationships. The love that had once occupied most of his thoughts seemed to slowly shrink, pushed to the corners of his mind.

Greetings to the staff. Shooting schedule. Script read-throughs. He barely had time to breathe, constantly being dragged around, swept up in the whirlwind of preparations. He went along with it. Even if he told himself he didn’t care, it wasn’t as though he could be completely indifferent.

“That’s the actor I fell for.”

Director Yamaoka proudly introduced Kakegawa that way wherever they went.

“Come on, anyone would fall for that face—man or woman. I didn’t pick him for his looks, though.”

“A complete amateur, huh. Honestly… I don’t know what that director’s thinking.”

Some people sneered right to Kakegawa’s face. But he ignored every jealous remark. Those kinds of jabs didn’t bother him much. When time was moving so fast, staying busy was far more bearable than doing nothing at all. The film began shooting in that pressing, hasty current of time. It was early November—just a jacket wasn’t enough anymore, and he found himself longing for a coat.

Previous TOC Next