Empty plastic bottles lay scattered across the ground. Cigarette butts were wedged into the cracks between the pavent tiles, and a crumpled plastic wrapper was rolling sluggishly along the alley, dragged by the faint breeze like so dying creature.
Even though there was a trash bin not far away, garbage still littered the entire alley.
Harutaki and Chouko followed close behind each other, carefully avoiding the filth, stains of uncertain origin splattered across the concrete, likely the remnants of so drunkard’s late-night purge.
This was the filthy underside beneath Shinjuku’s bustling, dazzling surface.
Just like the youths and students who flocked here to revel every night, parading individuality, flaunting freedom and fashion, yet utterly lacking in morals, hollow inside.
What a rotten place, he thought.
Two girls staggered past him, arm in arm, their steps swaying from side to side. A foul stench trailed behind them, as if they had just crawled out of a public restroom. One had half a false eyelash barely hanging on, her lip piercing dull and colorless, heavy makeup lting down her face like a ruined popsicle, streaks of black and purple blending into sothing grotesque.
Disgust twisted across Harutaki’s face.
“Shihou-san, are you sure we’re not lost?”
“Th-th-through here… then a bit further up ahead, we should be there…”
Her tone was far from confident, but she checked her phone’s navigation and found no sign of a wrong turn.
After erging from that filthy alley, they barely walked a minute along the brighter street before turning again, this ti up a narrow stairway leading to the second floor. A neon sign hung above the entrance, flickering the words “XXX Karaoke” in alternating red and blue lights. It had that unmistakable air of a bygone decade.
High EQ: Retro and vintage.
Low EQ: Cheap, tacky, and outdated.
Since karaoke bars in Japan charged by headcount, they confird the room number at the front desk, paid the fee, and under the dim red ceiling light, followed the narrow corridor until they reached the room number shown in the Line ssage from Chouko’s middle school friends.
Knock knock.
Even here, Chouko was polite as ever, giving a gentle knock before pushing down the handle.
Not that it mattered, anyone could hear the muffled thrum of backing tracks from behind the door. No one inside would have noticed such a soft tap anyway.
The private room was maybe ten square ters, rectangular in shape. A small stage stood at the far end, a curtain draped behind it. A long table stretched down the center, red leather sofas lining both sides.
Harutaki quickly scanned the room, five people total. The one nearest the door stood up to greet them, a boy in a school uniform shirt, shaking a small rattle in his hand. One glance was enough to read his intentions.
Each of Chouko’s two classmates sat pressed against a laid-back, sleazy-looking guy, one arm slung casually over their shoulders, the other holding either a mic or a glass of so drink.
“So you’re Shihou-san, Ryoka and Rie’s friend from middle school, right? Nice to et you. I’m Yobitani Shuuichi , their senior from third year, ace striker of the Ochiai Sakuraoka High soccer team.”
The boy was shorter by a few centiters, stockier, with a jet-black crew cut. He stood from his seat and approached to greet Chouko with an amiable smile, but when his eyes flicked toward Harutaki, the disdain in them was unmasked.
Every handso normie except and my friends should just turn into slugs.
As Yobitani stretched out a hand toward Chouko, Harutaki quickly stepped in front of her with a dazzling grin, snatching the handshake before she could react.
“Ah, so you’re that ace from Sakuraoka High! Shihou-san ntioned you tons of tis. I’m Hoshikawa Harutaki, from Nichiya High’s soccer club, just an ordinary mber, nothing special. I’ve been dying to et the legendary senior who dominates the field! So, uh, who’s your favorite player?”
“Uh… Cristiano Ronaldo…”
The senior faltered, clearly caught off guard by Harutaki’s sudden enthusiasm. His right hand was gripped and shaken with such force that he could only blink as Chouko slipped past and sat on the outer edge of the sofa.
“Wow, what a coincidence. I’m a Lionel ssi fan myself.”
“…How is that a coincidence? And could you let go now?”
“How’s it not?” Harutaki grinned, releasing his hand at last. “After all, apart from ssi, Ronaldo’s the greatest player alive.”
“Oh?”
Yobitani’s smile tightened. He caught the jab instantly, and his handshake grew firr again.
Harutaki t the other boy’s contemptuous grin with amusent. These hands have survived countless “training sessions” and lifted kilos of silicone, do you really think your little soccer arms can match that?
Monts later, the rattle dropped from Yobitani’s trembling left hand and hit the floor. Harutaki released him at last, sitting down beside Chouko as if nothing had happened, neatly positioning himself like the Ural Mountains between her and the so-called ace.
He’d attended enough mixers to know how this sort of sleaze operated.
Sorry, pal. Supporting character with a side character surna, and you think you’re touching what even I haven’t touched yet? Dream on.
“Are you all right, Hoshikawa-kun?”
Chouko had noticed the tense mont at the door, though she hadn’t seen the details.
“That senior seed kinda hostile toward you…”
“I’ll live,” Harutaki muttered, shooting her a side glance. Of course he’s hostile. I just blocked his entire route to scoring points with you.
“But, um, if they offer you food or drinks later… maybe don’t take it.”
“It’s fine, they don’t look like bad people.”
Don’t look like bad people?
Harutaki stole a glance at Yobitani, decent-looking, sure, with a well-built fra from years of training, exuding so masculine confidence. But…
The loose collar, the cigarette burns on his fingers, and most of all, that hungry glint in his eyes whenever he looked at Chouko.
Smiling at the girls, scowling at the guys, his intentions couldn’t be clearer.
Back in university, Harutaki had been to his fair share of mixers, though most were ta, college kids were usually polite, backing off once they noticed soone already had company. Even the ones who didn’t know when to quit usually stopped trying after seeing what kind of car he drove away in.
If anything, it was the guys who wanted a turn riding shotgun afterward.
After belting out Hakujitsu by King Gnu, Yobitani stepped down from the stage, microphone in hand, and stood beside Harutaki with a wide grin.
“Hey, freshman, why don’t you sing us one too? Everyone’s dying to hear what the handso guy’s got, right, Shihou-san?”
Even without seeing the handshake duel earlier, Chouko could feel the hostility radiating from him now.
As Harutaki reached for the mic, she tugged gently at his sleeve and whispered, “You don’t have to respond to his provocation…”
“But since senpai insists, how could I refuse?”
He took the mic anyway, smiling as he waved for Chouko to pick a song from the touch screen by the door.
What, trying to lure off my seat now? Nice try.
In this country, refusing a senior’s request would be considered rude, especially when that senior was clearly setting him up. Probably not just to embarrass him, but to separate him from Chouko.
“‘Koi’ by Hoshino Gen, please, Shihou-san.”
“Ugh, do it yourself,” she huffed, but went to queue the song anyway.
She clearly didn’t realize that if Harutaki left his seat, there’d be nothing stopping Yobitani from closing in.
As the backing track began, Harutaki’s clear voice filled the room.
He knew the song by heart, probably because soone had made him binge the drama it ca from once upon a ti. Otherwise, he’d only know how to sing in Chinese or English.
Sure, he could’ve picked Lemon or Fireworks, but with Chouko right beside him, Koi felt like the perfect teasing choice.
♪ The streets are enlivened as the evening settles in~ ♪
“D-don’t look at while you sing, Hoshikawa-kun…”
Her flustered voice and pink cheeks were almost too precious.
This side of her… is dangerously cute, he thought.
♪ I fell in love with your laced fingers and the scent of your cheek~ ♪
♪ Go beyond two person~ ♪
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