"Happy birthday, Koi!"
A gentle evening breeze drifts through the bustling school gate, where cars and crowds weave in and out.
Under the curious glances of parents and students, Sayoko steps out of the car, checks for traffic, and jogs across the street with a bright smile, approaching Izumi Himawari.
For Koi's eighteenth birthday, despite their hectic schedules, Sayoko made time to touch up her makeup and dress up. She's wearing a thick Yuki coat over a light teal autumn blouse, paired with a fitted floral skirt that hugs her pear-shaped figure, exuding a refined, intellectual charm.
Ignoring the onlookers, Sayoko holds up a small cherry cake, her face beaming with pride. "After today, our Koi's officially an adult, ready to take on the world! Excited?"
The cake is a snowy white tower of layers, adorned with creamy swirls and vibrant cherries. It looks delicious, but to Sayoko's surprise, Izumi Himawari doesn't light up with joy. Her lips tremble, pulling downward before forcing a strained smile. Moments later, her usually stoic eyes soften into pools of jelly, and she dives into Sayoko's ample embrace.
"Huh?"
This isn't Sayoko's first time celebrating Koi's birthday, but she's never seen a reaction this intense. Feeling the dampness against her chest, Sayoko's gentle eyes widen. Holding the cake in one hand, she hurriedly wraps her arms around Koi. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Confused, Sayoko looks up as a few girls from the light music club step out of the school gate.
"Yume, Saki, you're here! What's going on with Koi?"
The light music club often gathered at Sayoko's place, so these girls are familiar faces. Holding the sobbing Koi, Sayoko greets them warmly, but her smile falters as the club members only offer polite nods before hurrying along the wall and leaving.
"Is she… being ostracized?"
Across the street, inside the black Volkswagen, Fuyukawa Tetsu raises an eyebrow, takes a drag of his cigarette, and chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, she got what she asked for, didn't she?"
They say university is a microcosm of society, but really, anywhere with tangled interests is its own little world.
Koi's always been a bit possessive—prickly with him, at least—so Fuyukawa rarely chats with the kid. Still, he's heard bits about the light music club from Sayoko.
The club calls itself a band, but Izumi Himawari handles vocals, lyrics, and composition. By all rights, she should have full control. But it's clear she's a lonely kid, craving connection.
"Craving connection" isn't quite right—lonely is more accurate.
Lonely people tend to show three traits:
Some are painfully shy.
Others mask their insecurity with overblown confidence.
Then there are those who seem outgoing, easily blending into groups, but if you look closely, they're always a step apart—present yet distant.
It's all a defense mechanism, a way to escape the ache of solitude.
To Fuyukawa, Izumi Himawari's story screams loneliness. She lost her mother young, got stuck with a cruel stepmother, then lost her hearing in a car accident. Passed around relatives like a hot potato, she likely saw the light music club as a second family.
Whether performing gigs or posting songs online, she always credited "Tokiwadai Light Music Club" instead of her own name.
Fuyukawa doesn't think that's wrong or naive. Life's short—decades fly by. If you're all about profit and end up with no one you can truly trust, that's a tragedy. But the problem is…
"There's nothing wrong with giving your all. The mistake is giving it to the wrong people."
"That girl's still too young."
Watching Sayoko, her face grim, lead a teary Himawari across the street, Fuyukawa shakes his head with a wry smile, flicking his cigarette butt into the roadside gutter.
---
Night falls, stars twinkling above.
The black Volkswagen cruises through Shinjuku's neon-lit streets, alive with color and noise.
Outside, the city pulses; inside, the mood is heavy.
Betrayal by friends? For adults with thick skin, it's no big deal—just something to grumble about over drinks with new buddies before moving on. But for a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl, it's a bitter pill to swallow.
Sayoko and her best friend, Yumi Kengo, fuss over Himawari, trying to cheer her up. Fuyukawa, uninterested in coddling kids, focuses on driving. Soon, the car pulls up to a music restaurant called Heavy Gunner.
The name Heavy Gunner screams bold flavors.
The owner's from Sichuan, and the menu boasts fiery hotpot, spicy crawfish, and all sorts of Sichuan dishes—done to perfection.
Of course, being in Shinjuku, Japanese cuisine is available too, depending on what customers want. But Sichuan flavors dominate.
As they step inside, the sharp, spicy aroma of hotpot hits them.
"Whoa, it smells amazing! I've lived in Tokyo for years and never knew about this place! Is this the legendary Sichuan cuisine? So cool—this food is incredible!"
The air is thick with spice and the lively vibe of a bar. Dimly lit, with heavy metal rock blaring, the place caters to a younger crowd. It's too loud for "middle-aged" folks like Fuyukawa, who avoid bars, but for young people, it's perfect.
Yumi's eyes sparkle as she takes it all in. Even Himawari, downcast all day, perks up in the vibrant atmosphere, the clouds in her expression lifting slightly.
Noticing the change, Sayoko giggles and loops her arm around Fuyukawa's, pressing her soft curves against him. She whispers with a shy smile, "I keep troubling you, Tetsu-kun. I'm almost embarrassed."
The place is great, but it's pricey. With Himawari's upcoming surgery, Sayoko's been tight on cash lately.
The dim lighting emboldens her, and Fuyukawa doesn't play the gentleman. His left hand, caught in her embrace, slides to her soft, peach-like curves, giving a light squeeze. "No need to talk like that between us."
"Eek! Tetsu-kun, there are people around~"
Sayoko blushes, squirming under his touch, glancing around nervously. Seeing no one's watching, her eyes spark with excitement. Leaning closer, she murmurs, "Wasn't this afternoon… enough?"
Her tongue flicks lightly against his neck.
"You little minx! Just wait till tonight—I'll teach you a lesson!"