October in Tokyo brings temperatures down to around 10°C.
As Tetsu Fuyukawa stepped out of the car, a cool breeze hit his face, just the right kind of crisp for him. But for Sayoko, wearing a short black suspender skirt and having just slipped off her damp underwear, it was a bit chilly. She instinctively clenched her fists, shivering slightly.
Without hesitation, ignoring the curious glances from nearby students, Fuyukawa pulled the alluring Sayoko into his arms.
"Tetsu-kun…"
Sure, there were plenty of students around, but this was practically a street lined with cozy bars, full of couples being affectionate. Most students barely gave them a second glance. Still, Sayoko, dressed provocatively and feeling exposed, was visibly shy, though she didn't resist. Instead, she nestled closer into Fuyukawa's embrace.
Himawari Izumi's music lessons were held above Takenouchi Music Store. More precisely, the training center was run by the store itself—selling instruments downstairs, teaching upstairs.
They took the glass elevator to the fifth floor.
Right off the elevator was the reception desk. Sayoko, being a regular, quickly signed in, and they headed to classroom A-14, where Himawari was. Meanwhile, Fuyukawa, who'd been holding it in, navigated the maze-like hallway to find the restroom.
"Who designed this place? Hiding the toilet like it's a national treasure?"
The restroom's obscure location annoyed Fuyukawa, his bladder screaming for relief. But just as he rushed to the door—
Scrrch!
His shoes skidded on a slightly wet tile, screeching loudly. A figure emerged from the restroom, startling him. The other person clearly jumped too, stumbling back a step.
"?"
Fuyukawa's brain froze for a second before he slowly looked up. A striking woman in a white blouse stood there, frowning with a mix of disdain and composure. Her sleek, silver ear-length hair framed a cool, moonlit face, accentuated by frameless glasses. She wore a slightly loose blouse, held a phone in one hand, and had a blazer draped over the other arm, exuding an icy aura.
What stood out most, though, were her long, elegant legs—nearly 5'9" tall—and the faint flush on her cheeks, though her expression remained calm.
"You dropped something," she said.
"???"
Blaming me?
Fuyukawa blinked, more exasperated than anything. Under her cool, barely-contained twitching gaze, he rolled his eyes, too tired to argue with a stranger. He stepped forward, his foot landing on something slick.
Fine, if you say it's mine, it's mine.
"He… stepped on my favorite thing with his filthy shoe!"
The silver-haired woman clenched her fists, her face still maintaining that aloof facade despite her inner fury.
With a cold glance at the men's restroom, she adjusted her glasses and strode off toward the classrooms, hips swaying.
Fuyukawa, oblivious to her reaction, felt much better after relieving himself. He washed his hands and made his way to classroom A-14.
As he approached, the wild, intense sound of an electric guitar blasted from inside.
"Born a woman, the only ones happy about it are the dessert shop,
the boutique owner, the pimp, and men who toy with women.
In the spring rain, I'm in a cracked delivery room, a baby's cry echoes…"
"Wildcat? That kid's singing that song?"
Fuyukawa frowned at the door.
Truth be told, he wasn't too familiar with Japanese music, especially since he couldn't always catch the lyrics. But Wildcat was by Miyuki Nakajima—a legendary figure in Japan, often called the "grandmaster of grandmasters." Half the music scene in its heyday had covered her songs, from First Dream to Wounded Heart to Long Road of Love—71 hits, all originally hers.
Fuyukawa often listened to her music, though her songs always carried a certain weight. Not just sad, but heavy, not the kind of tunes that lift your spirits.
He lingered at the door for a moment before pushing it open.
A flood of sound hit him. On stage, Himawari Izumi, usually expressionless, was screaming into the mic like a wild woman, clearly tipsy. Sayoko sat in the audience, looking helpless.
Fuyukawa started toward her but froze mid-step, his brow twitching.
The room wasn't just Himawari and her bandmates, or Sayoko.
"Why's that silver-haired blouse woman here? Is she a teacher?"
In the corner, sipping water and listening quietly, was the same woman from the restroom. Their eyes met. She tried to maintain her tough facade, but under Fuyukawa's increasingly bold stare, she faltered, looking away and pretending to sip her water.
Joking aside, I, Tetsu Fuyukawa, don't back down from a challenge!
He smirked but didn't stir trouble. Instead, he sat next to Sayoko and nodded toward Himawari on stage. "She gone nuts?"
"Pfft, Tetsu-kun, don't say that!" Sayoko giggled.
Fuyukawa shrugged. "Not nuts? Look at her. You'd think she's performing a shaman ritual."
"She's just under a lot of pressure," Sayoko said, her tone turning somber. "You know about her ear injury. She's got another surgery next week. If it goes well, great. If not, she could lose her hearing permanently. It's weighing on her."
"That makes sense," Fuyukawa said, nodding thoughtfully.
Sayoko continued, "Normally, with her past surgeries, even if this one fails, it wouldn't ruin her life. But her mom passed when she was young, and her mom's dream was for her to become a musician. So…"
"Her mom died young?" Fuyukawa frowned, confused. "Didn't you say her parents—"
"That was her dad and stepmom," Sayoko clarified, glancing at Himawari's frenzied performance. "She clings to me probably because she grew up without much maternal love. Her biological dad and stepmom weren't kind to her."
"I see."
The conversation turned heavy. Fuyukawa reached for his pocket, craving a cigarette, but remembered he was in a classroom and held back. He sat quietly with Sayoko, listening to Himawari sing. Surprisingly, even though the lesson was over, the silver-haired woman stayed, silently listening too.
Drunk people sure can belt it out.
After four or five more songs, Himawari finally came off stage, eyes red, quietly slinging her guitar and bag over her shoulder. She joined Fuyukawa and Sayoko, and after Sayoko thanked the silver-haired woman profusely, the three headed downstairs to the car.
They still had Fate production to work on tonight. After checking with Himawari, Sayoko decided to stay at Fuyukawa's place with her.
Fuyukawa didn't mind—his house had plenty of spare rooms.
It was a busy night, and they didn't get home until nearly 8 p.m.
Sayoko busied herself in the kitchen like a dutiful wife, while Himawari sprawled on the couch, listening to music and watching TV. The upcoming surgery clearly weighed on her—she was listless, barely speaking during dinner, just picking at her food.
Fuyukawa noticed but said nothing. After dinner, he and Sayoko went upstairs to work on Fate.
By 11:30 p.m., they'd finished for the day. Sayoko went to tidy the rooms, while Fuyukawa checked his phone. On the Beyond app, a user named "Sun-chan" had sent him a long string of messages, gushing with admiration and pouring out her thoughts on music.
He read for a while, then stretched, pulling a blank sheet of music from his bookshelf.
"Kids, always needing reassurance."
Glancing at the bright moonlight outside and hearing the faint, somber guitar strums from downstairs, Fuyukawa picked up a pen and began writing on the sheet.
Song title: I Once Thought of Ending It All.