Different Perspective

“I don’t know why I’m even following you,” Nami muttered.

“Oh, I know why.” The blond-haired man leading the way turned around, still walking backward as he grinned at her. “You, my fair lady, are curious. That’s all.”

“You sure like to assume things about me.”

“You would too if you weren’t so afraid to say what’s on your mind.”

“What do you mean?” the pianist asked, a bit offended but, more than anything, intrigued.

“You often have this look when you’re deep in thought. Like when you look at my wrist, for example—and you do that quite often, I’ve noticed—I just know you’re wondering about my Soullet or, well, the lack of it.”

Nami blushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t even realized she’d looked at his wrist so many times, and now he’d caught her doing it. It couldn’t get any worse. But it seemed Atsushi didn’t mind her reaction as he kept talking.

“And right now, you’re using me to excuse your curiosity. It’s easier for you to think something like, ‘Oh, I’m only going there because he forced me to; it’s not like I was intrigued about the place or anything.’” He mimicked her inner voice in a higher pitch. “Aren’t you tired of that? Wouldn’t it be easier to just admit what you want?”

The question might have sounded mocking if not for the serious tone in which the freckled man delivered it.

“Is that why you mock me so often?” Nami scoffed. “Because I’m not enough of an individualist?”

“Now don’t be like that.” He put his hands up in defense. “I see it more as testing the waters.”

“In what way exactly?”

“I just have a feeling that you’re more of a free spirit than you let yourself be. So I admit, I am pushing your buttons a bit. But I’m still not sure, so I test, here and there, to see how you’ll react, what you’ll say.”

“That’s…” Nami began, while Atsushi immediately perked up, probably hoping for one of the reactions he was looking for. “Kinda creepy how much thought you put into observing me.”

The blond-haired man stopped walking backward, momentarily dumbfounded, only to burst into laughter seconds later.

“That—” he kept chuckling, unable to form a complete sentence, “That is exactly what I’m talking about! You just know when to catch me off guard. Ha ha ha!”

“Well, I’m glad I’m so amusing to you. I’d hate to lose the title of your favorite composer,” she replied sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I doubt anyone could take that title from you.”

“Why do you like my music so much, anyway?” After working with the peculiar man for over a week, she’d finally found the confidence to ask the question that had been bothering her for a while. The timing was perfect, too, as it felt like a smooth transition in their conversation.

“Do you remember the competition two years ago in the Sakura Gardens?”

“No…” the pianist groaned. “Are you for real? Out of all the concerts and competitions I’ve performed at, you bring up the one where I messed up? Was it that amusing to you?”

“Oh, not at all. I was actually pretty upset that day.”

“Huh?”

That took her by surprise.

“Your performance wasn’t anything special—until you messed up and forgot the notes.” Seeing that Nami was about to protest, he quickly clarified, “But you didn’t stop. You kept going, even though the notes you played were no longer Chopin’s. What you played was yours; it was unique.”

It was the first time anyone had seen her mistake that way. Even Tsukasa had cheered her up and reassured her that everyone messes up sometimes. But Atsushi saw it differently. He thought it was… unique. He saw potential where others saw imperfection.

“It was nice that they still gave you third place, but it pissed me off,” he added, his eye twitching slightly as he clenched his fists. “Of course, no one had the guts to reward your uniqueness. Just a bunch of idiots who cage creativity and applaud boring, repetitive perfection.”

“Thank you.”

It was the first time the dynamic had shifted between the sponsor and the musician. This time, Atsushi was the one caught off guard.

“Huh? For what?”

“For appreciating what I did back then.” She looked up at him. “You know, I never told anyone this, but… I was proud of what I did at that competition. But then… everyone just tried to cheer me up instead of being impressed, so I thought I was wrong to… feel that way.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Atsushi combed his blond hair back from his forehead. “People really disappoint me. They’re getting more and more boring as the years go by.” The young man sighed and started walking again. “Doesn’t matter. Now I’m sure you’re going to love where we’re headed! Come on!”

Nami wasn’t sure why Atsushi was suddenly so confident about that. When they finally arrived, she was not impressed. They’d walked through narrow streets and descended into a dark cellar. She started to wonder if she was about to become a cultist or witness a secret fight club. It should have been scary, but the brown-haired woman found it more exciting than anything.

“You’ll need to take off your Soullet to get in. Is that okay?”

Nami looked down at her wrist, suddenly feeling uncertain.

It wasn’t like it meant anything; it was just a gadget. Her bond with Tsukasa was already confirmed, and taking it off wouldn’t be a betrayal.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, newfound confidence in her voice as she removed it and tucked it safely into her bag.

The place turned out to be neither a fight club nor a cult meeting spot. It was a cozy club, filled with people just like any other café or bar. The interior was dark, but pinkish decorations kept it from feeling too edgy.

One thing stood out immediately: no one wore a Soullet.

“So, what is this place about?” Unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, she asked as they both sat comfortably on a couch and were handed menus. Nami could tell they were in an exclusive area—their spot was on a balcony above most of the patrons.

“It’s a Soullet-free zone. One of the few that exists,” Atsushi began explaining. “I come here often to restore my faith in humanity,” he admitted, half-jokingly. “I watch people interact, laugh, cry, show their love for each other. Makes me feel a bit jealous of those who lived before the Soullet era.”

“You know, you’re not exactly helping yourself with that.” Nami couldn’t resist teasing him. “It’s hard to shake off the stalker vibes with info like that.”

“Ha ha, I guess I am in trouble.”

“I’ll let that one slide. It’d be a shame to lose a sponsor for my concert,” she joked. “Just as long as you don’t start lurking outside my apartment, I’ll pretend I know nothing.”

“We have a deal, then.” Atsushi held out his hand for a shake, and they sealed the promise.

It was surprising how much Nami’s perspective on the man with angelic hair had shifted that day. She hadn’t known him long, so misjudging him wasn’t entirely unexpected. But the fact that he saw potential in her when no one else did, and was now showing her a side of society she hadn’t known existed—it felt validating. She’d felt guilty about her feelings for so long, and now, at last, she didn’t have to.

Looking at the people below, she understood why Atsushi liked coming here. They looked free and much happier than any Soullet-matched couple she’d ever met.