Curiosity

“He’s a huge fan of yours, apparently. Isn’t that right, Mr. Atsushi?”

“Possibly the biggest one.”

The previous cockiness of the blonde-haired man was now replaced by a disgustingly fake politeness. Only Nami noticed that Mr. Nakatani didn’t seem bothered by it—or maybe this was the only version of this guy he’d had the pleasure of meeting.

“Oh, I just cannot wait to see what the two of you come up with for the concert! It will be the event of the century!” The brown-haired pianist tried to cut in, but it was impossible. Once hyped up, no one could stop him from babbling loudly. “It’ll be amazing to see this teamwork!”

“The pleasure will be all mine,” Atsushi said, putting on a fake smile, this time directing it at Nami.

That man clearly knew she wasn’t fooled by him…

“He tricked me, knowing full well we’d be working together! And here I thought he was just some fan who wanted to listen to me play the piano. Can you believe that?”

Now, in the present, Nami was sitting cozily in an armchair under a blanket, a mug half-filled with green tea warming her palms.

The whole event had happened only a day ago, yet the young woman couldn’t help but complain about it to Tsukasa for the second evening in a row.

“You sure are passionate when you talk about this Atsushi guy,” her boyfriend chuckled in response, though she sensed a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Yeah,” she huffed, “passionately annoyed!”

Maybe the pianist would be able to let it go more easily if she didn’t feel like the guy she was doomed to work with for the next half-year had been playing her for a fool. She wasn’t even sure if he was sincere when he said she was his favorite composer. Looking back on it, she had a feeling he was just messing around again.

She knew she’d have to let it go sooner or later. Talking about it constantly wouldn’t help the situation. It was a miracle Tsukasa wasn’t tired of her venting yet; if she were him, she’d be fed up with hearing about some random guy from her soulmate.

Crap.

She was being a bad girlfriend, wasn’t she?

Trying to steer the conversation away, Nami thought it would be best to change the topic to Tsukasa’s job. It’s not that she didn’t care about his work outside of using it as a distraction, but his workplace was…almost always the same. Nothing too exciting.

“What about your gig? How’s that going?”

Tsukasa immediately perked up. “Actually, it’s going pretty well,” he started. “The producers of the movie were pretty impressed with my ideas, though they mentioned something about a necessary change of environment. I still don’t know what they meant by that, but I should know by the end of the month at the latest.”

“Ooh, how mysterious of them!” Nami teased. “What’s the movie going to be about, anyway?”

The black-haired man opened his mouth, ready to answer, but stopped just in time to send his soulmate a playful glare. “Nice try, you little sneak. I’m under NDA; there’s no way I’m going to tell you anything.”

“Oh, come on, even the tiniest detail?”

“Well…” he hesitated, “I guess it’s not against the NDA to say it’s going to be a bit controversial in terms of romance,” he said, scratching his neck and looking away, unsure of how his soulmate would react.

“Oh, that’s kind of cool.”

From the look on Tsukasa’s face, he hadn’t expected that response, but Nami wasn’t sure if he was happy about it or worried. Maybe he wasn’t even sure what he’d expected.

“I mean,” Nami tried to explain, “with controversial stuff, it’s easier to get noticed—so long as it’s not extreme, of course. And if it’s a different concept of romance, not about soulmates…well, I don’t want to get you in trouble, but if that’s the case, it’s nice that there’ll be representation for different perspectives, you know?”

“You think that, even when we got so lucky with our system?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “We got lucky, but not everyone does. Maybe it’ll help others accept their situation, who knows…”

Tsukasa returned her smile, sitting on the armrest of her chair. “Anyway, speaking of co-worker troubles—remember Suzuki? She’s been acting cold toward me lately.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

This change of topic was comforting. All this time, Nami had been so sure that once she found her soulmate, everything would get easier. But for some reason, it felt like the opposite. She felt as if she was expected to always agree with her partner and never question him, so he’d do the same for her in return. It felt as though she was constantly walking on eggshells. Was that how everyone else felt but just ignored, or was it just her?

These kinds of thoughts came to her often, especially when she had too much free time at home. That’s why Nami tried to keep herself busy with work, focusing on the upcoming concert. Just like she was doing now, a week after her talk with Tsukasa about his project, sitting at the piano, gently running her fingers over the keys as she bit her lip, analyzing the sheet music in front of her.

Something was missing, but how could she—

“Still struggling with it?”

Nami jumped at the sudden interruption from none other than the oh-so-wonderful sponsor of the upcoming concert. Over the past few days, his presence had been a bit easier to tolerate, depending on how much he teased her on a given day.

“Gosh, don’t scare me like that!” she snapped. “You’re lucky I didn’t elbow you.”

“Maybe if you were a violinist with a bow to smack me, I’d be more intimidated. But I think I could survive an elbow to the stomach,” he chuckled, then quickly turned back to the matter he’d come to discuss. “Looks like you’re stuck at the same spot again.”

“I’m just lacking inspiration, that’s all,” she huffed, disappointed with herself.

“Or maybe you’re afraid to express your true feelings,” the blonde-haired man challenged her.

“What do you mean?”

“Most of this melody seems like you’re conveying your emotional journey,” he said, looking significantly at Nami’s Soullet. “One connected to romance, I assume.”

The pianist subconsciously covered the bracelet with her hand. She wasn’t sure why she did it. It wasn’t as if she were embarrassed to wear it; otherwise, she’d have taken it off. Perhaps it was because the man beside her didn’t wear one, which made her feel as if he were somehow above her, not needing reassurance for his feelings through advanced technology. Unable to find words to defend herself or disagree, she looked down at the floor, abashed.

Atsushi sighed before speaking up. “Get up. We’re going out.”

“Going out where?”

“Somewhere that might help you admit your true feelings.”