Tokyo Puts on Fake Smiles

NINTH ACT: The Bear Cave

hThe Maxim of the First Time

The first time I sang in front of an audience, I trembled until the end of the song. Throughout my performance, the only thing I could think about was wanting to leave, to disappear, until, after bowing at the end, I heard applause and wanted to continue.

But the first time I swam, I drowned; the first time I rode a bike, I crashed into the pavement; and the first time I tried to do a somersault, I injured my leg. Not all first times were good; success was not so easily achieved.

In love, with my first love, I also failed.

Meanwhile, Kazuhiro, on the other hand, always seemed to succeed, to be a winner. I would have liked to have his luck.

But it wasn't that. Kazuhiro was more, much more than fortune; he was a true fighter, living with goals and achieving them through his ambition—honest, secure, and precise. I envied him, but I couldn't say I hated him.

☻☻☻

I would be tied to another person for eternity; we had bitten the apple at the same time. But instead of thinking about Miyazaki, I focused on Makoto, the person I dreamed of being united with forever, never separating from his side, but whom I couldn't approach.

The person he was laughing with wasn't me, it was Manami. Trying to convince myself that I had gotten over him was absurd, but fighting to gain his attention, his affection, or his warmth was incongruous. Because I loved him, I had to give up; I knew that.

As I turned to my right, I found the face of the owner of my candy apple, Miyazaki, and as the fireworks lit up the sky, exploding in hundreds of colors, I ran to bury my face in his chest.

"What the...?" I heard him exclaim in surprise.

Against his chest, I clenched my hands into two fists, "Just one minute, please," I murmured. One by one, my tears soaked his yukata, but he didn't push me away.

I felt his hand gently tap my head, "It's okay, you can stay as long as you need," he whispered to me, and he gently stroked my hair, "You're being very strong, Ayumi."

Maybe I didn't need a partner or to be tied to someone for the rest of my life. Perhaps I needed to discover what I really wanted. Faking a smile wouldn't make me happy, but letting it all out would.

☻☻☻

The day after the festival, a Saturday, I woke up late with a terrible headache and a slight runny nose from having fallen asleep with wet hair after showering.

Miyoko, Reina, and Minato caught me in the middle of my crying fit, and, intending to cheer me up and help me forget my sorrows, they distracted Makoto and Manami and dragged me to the alcohol stands.

It was another morning, another day, and I wanted to rest, to forget about all the mess from the day before. But it wouldn't be that easy, because as soon as I entered the living room and saw a huge poster on the dining table with the logo of some handcuffs, I remembered.

"Today..." I recognized that image; I had seen it before, long ago, in Shinjuku. "It's the concert, damn it!" I yelled, clutching my head.

"Sorry if you want to go, but I don't have any tickets left," Miyazaki replied, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.

Annoyed, I looked at him. "I have a press pass; I don't need a ticket," I clarified, sitting down at the table, face to face with him. I took the poster in my hands. "I'm going to have to take pictures of you for the stupid article."