Tokyo Puts on Fake Smiles

FIFTEENTH ACT: Only a Minute

Cold Gaze

I grew afraid of mirrors. In Osaka, every time a glass reflected my figure, I saw the shadow of a child, a worthless little girl. Social scum.

I tried to escape the memory of Makoto, losing myself in unfamiliar streets, hiding from the commotion. My emptiness created the smile that I painted, made up, and put on day after day.

I forgot the color of my real smile.

But I heard the waves and tasted the saltiness of the water. I thought I was drowning; but I was learning to breathe again.

I grew repugnant marshmallows in the hollow of my gut. Kazuhiro enjoyed the show, immersed in the adrenaline, the dopamine of the climax.

Makoto prayed.

☻☻☻

Peaceful and monotonous days followed. Kazuhiro and I would have breakfast in the dining room, chatting and discussing the news we read on our phones. After that, we would either walk around the city or visit his record label's building, where I got to read some of his early songs.

Occasionally, someone would approach him and politely ask for an autograph. It was hard to believe, but I was really living and working, day after day, with a rising star.

My life was settling into a routine that was comfortable for my physical and mental health, but even so, there was something strange about it all. Kazuhiro's attitude became much more passive. We stopped arguing, I rarely saw him smile, and he stopped coming close to me. He stopped touching me.

Even though part of me missed our old relationship, I thought maybe that was for the best, the right thing. Because, although it was boring or bland, it was what was expected of an adult: stability. But things like stability are just another one of the adult lies.

The calm before the storm was only the harbinger of what was to come. And so, on that day, a tranquil October 30th, it finally arrived.

Tired of wandering around Nakano with Kazuhiro, we returned to the noisy Shibuya. Our destination? My aunt Sumire's bar, which we hadn't been to since our show.

Upon entering, we found my friends at our usual table. To my surprise, Manami wasn't among them, and amidst the shouting, they were arguing.

Kazuhiro and I exchanged a brief look, nodded, and approached.

Miyoko, standing with her arms crossed, had a bitter expression on her face, "It's just a costume, once a year," she said to Makoto.

"Relax, we're not going to make you wear a skirt," added her brother Minato, also with his arms crossed.

Reina, resting her head on Minato's shoulder, sighed, exhausted, "I don't even know why you're bothering..."

"I don't care about that nonsense," Makoto said, agitated, "but why the hell do I have to be in costume?"

"You're so...!" Miyoko suddenly looked up, and seeing us, stopped and exclaimed with a smile, "Hey, long time no see!"

Makoto, confused, turned towards the door, and upon seeing us, also returned the smile, "Hello, Ayumi."

☻☻☻

We eventually joined their table, and my aunt treated us to two bottles of beer. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to take the free seat between Makoto and Kazuhiro, becoming the filling of their sandwich.