Chapter 6: Control.

Ren wrapped his right hand with a bandage and left the bathroom. His breathing was calm, and his mind tried to regain control.

He opened the fridge looking for something to eat. Only a few empty energy drink cans remained. He took the last one and sat on the couch.

The silence of the apartment was only broken by the constant pounding of the wind and snow against the window. Completely strange for him, used to the tireless sound of his mechanical keyboard.

He looked at every corner of the place as if it were the first time he had stepped in it. And, in a way, it was. He was never there.

He turned on the TV to distract himself. His computer was broken and his phone had no battery.

"This week, the snowstorm will intensify with the arrival…"

Click.

"In other news, San Antonio reached the finals…"

Click. 

"Narita International Airport receives every year…"

Click. Click. Click.

"So boring…"

He turned off the TV and drank the beverage in a single gulp. Then he grabbed the empty can and aimed toward the trash bin.

"In a masterful play, Takahashi throws and…"

The can fell inside the bin, producing a metallic sound as it hit the others.

"He scores! Japan moves on to the next round."

He looked at the watch on his wrist. 14:30.

"So what am I supposed to do now?" he murmured.

Being there, locked with his own thoughts, was something he didn’t want.

He looked at the calendar and a smile formed on his face.

"That’s right… on Thursdays there are discounts on computer items at that second-hand store. And then I can go to the konbini to stock up…"

"Takahashi, you’re a total genius."

He put his suit and scarf back on, quickly leaving that monotonous apartment.

The cold and the noise of the city greeted him instantly.

He walked several blocks under the heavy snow until he reached the second-hand store he used to visit on weekends, when he wasn’t working. A ten-story building that covered everything from computers to manga books.

Ren went straight up to the computer floor. He knew exactly what he came for.

He looked at the notebooks on sale one by one, searching for one that was the same as the one he had… or better.

Only that way could he make sure his work had not been tampered with by others.

He stopped a few seconds longer than necessary. It seemed he had found his holy grail.

"64 GB of RAM, one terabyte SSD drive, latest generation processor…" he murmured. "What is a beauty like you doing all alone here?"

He placed it in his basket and went straight to the register, where they checked that everything was correct and working.

Before heading to the elevator, he looked at the building map. He already knew it by heart, but he always liked to check if something had changed.

“It would be a shame to go back so quickly…”

“Better take a walk through the other floors. Maybe I’ll buy a figure for the desk.”

“I hadn’t noticed, but next to Mary’s desk, mine looks pretty bland.”

That was how his descent from the tenth floor began, passing through home goods, bicycles, fishing, video games, manga, books, and clothes.

When he reached the second floor, he noticed that the entire level was dedicated to music.

Vinyl records, players, speakers, radios… and, in the back, the instruments.

Electric guitars, basses, trumpets, saxophones. There was everything.

While he looked at the guitars, perfectly polished, he thought about all those who once dreamed of becoming stars. Each one represented a withered dream. Unlike other instruments, guitars were always sold together with false promises.

"This is the one the best guitarist in the world uses."
"With this one, that artist reached fame."
"It has a unique sound; only a few were ever made."

Lies repeated again and again to teenagers eager to stand out.

"If perfection could be bought," he murmured, "the world would be full of talented people."

He kept walking until he reached the electric piano section. There, partially hidden under a pile of old records, he saw a grand piano. They had probably placed it there so they wouldn’t waste space. At first glance, it had seen better days.

"Can I help you with something, sir?"

A young salesman approached him after noticing his fixed gaze on the instrument.

"No, thank you. I’m just looking."

"It’s on sale," the salesman commented. "You could take it for only one hundred thousand yen."

Ren looked at him, incredulous.

"I’m not interested, thanks. Besides, I live in a small apartment."

"Maybe if you tried it…" he insisted. "It’s a high-quality Russian piano."

He lifted the lid of the keys.

For a moment, Ren brought his hands closer. Just a few centimeters.

His fingers tensed.

A sharp impulse ran through his arms and, without thinking, he pulled them back immediately.

"I know what you’re trying to do," he said, in a sharper tone than he expected. "I don’t like people trying to sell me things I don’t need."

He turned around.

"I don’t know how to play piano, I don’t have time to learn, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it."

Before the salesman could respond, he added, without looking at him:

"And by the way, that piano isn’t Russian. It’s German. I recognized it by the design."

Ren walked away without waiting for any reaction.

He wasn’t upset by the insistence.

He was uncomfortable with himself, without knowing why.

When night fell, he arrived at his apartment with all the purchases of the day.

He emptied the fridge and filled it again with cans of his favorite energy drink, placing them one by one, perfectly aligned.

Once in bed, he stared at the ceiling.

The silence was absolute.

He let out one last long sigh before closing his eyes.

"Tomorrow will be a good day. I hope so."