Passion connects us.

“Okay, maybe I have to put this slightly different: I’ll disinherit ya if ya don’t kick yourself into your cute little ass and ask her out for real, got that, now?”

“B-but … You’re not even related to me.” Takurō frantically waved his hands. “She’s just showing me how she made all those photographs, y’know.” He pointed at the camera lying on the empty table next to him.

Toyoshima grunted. “Use this as an excuse to spend time with her, but you don’t fool me, yah.”

He put two cups of Matcha Latte on the table in front of him. Why was his boss so eager about setting him up? He leaned closer to his employee. “There’s much more going on between her and you that no Kukida of this world would ever live up to, f’sure.”

Takurō looked down at his cup. “I …” He exhaled. “I don’t wana push her away, moving too quickly. We just enjoy each other’s company, y’know”

Toyoshima rolled his eyes. “But if you’re too slow, she’d think you’re okay to be just friends, boy …”

“If it doesn’t work out, I’d be okay to be just …”

“No!” Toyoshima snapped. “No, you’re not okay with that! Don’t even think that, yeah!”

“Not okay with what?” Akimi came back from the restroom. She walked around Toyoshima and let herself fall into the chair opposite from Takurō.

Toyoshima gave her a grin. “With not telling you what a lovely girl you are, f’sure.”

She looked slightly surprised, but caught herself quickly, looked towards Takurō. “I didn’t know you’d be such a charmer.”

Toyoshima ruffled Takurō through his hair. “He just struggles to let other people know how he feels about them, y’know. I hope he’s not giving you too many troubles, now.” He took his tray and turned around. “Enjoy your time.”

She looked back at Takurō, her eyes with a playful glint. “You seem to be very close with your boss.”

He nodded. “Yeah … he cares really much about me ever since.” Takurō took a sip from his drink. The creamy, but distinctly earthy flavor filled his mouth. “Too much sometimes …”

She laughed.

“So, you liked the movie, yeah?” he looked up at her again.

She couldn’t hide a smile. “I feel really stupid for not having found indie cinema myself. It was hella amazing, f’sure. It’s so strange … I really felt the beginning, where they sat in the bus and couldn’t do anything. It’s just so visceral.”

Visceral was a good word to describe it. Takurō nodded. “And that from the daughter of the biggest movie empire in Ōsaka.”

“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

“No! Of course not! I wouldn’t say YūKa is known for being a small indie studio, yah. It’s just natural your family focusses more on mainstream productions.”

“Yeah … guess you have a point there. They put way bigger emphasis on market analysis and truth is most people probably don’t wanna think much when watching movies, y’know.”

Akimi leaned back and pulled a leg to her chest, leaning on it with both arms. She looked through the window outside. A gentle summer rain went down across the scenery of Ōsaka. It would not cool down the air substantially enough to make it pleasant, but instead increase the humidity even more.

Takurō couldn’t keep his gaze from Akimi’s face. When seeing her in class, she had always appeared stern to him. Her piercing eyes only occasionally met his, but when they did, he always felt like she was figuring him out to use everything she could against him.

Now she looked much more at peace: Less dismissive and somehow happier. Maybe this was a side of her not many other people knew, and he was privileged to even experience this.

His gaze wandered to the rainy city outside as well. Another sip from his drink. The day was soon to end, and it filled him with a strange melancholy, he struggled to describe. They sat much longer in the café of the small cinema, and when the rain subsided, Akimi suggested a last stroll before they would bid farewell for the day.

“I really hope we can repeat this soon,” Takurō said, as they walked along the promenade of the river. Now he was carrying the backpack, while she had the camera around her neck. It had been a challenge to convince her he would be very careful, but ultimately Akimi had given in.

“I’d love to, f’sure,” she replied. “I … uh, have a lot I can still show you.”

Takurō felt at peace, looking across the water, seeing the trees and the big buildings behind them on the other side. The scent of rain still lingered in the air. But there was also this distance he couldn’t bridge.

He exhaled gently. “You’re really amazing, y’know. I still don’t understand why you didn’t wanna take credit for all these artworks.”

Akimi shook her head. “I’ve never told anyone that I like photography … except Raku … and you.”

“Yeah, but why? Your works are hella amazing!”

She chuckled, but the curve of her lips carried a hint of bitterness. “I don’t mind doing this just for myself and most people wouldn’t get it anyways. It’s easier to keep a secret than to endure empty praise from an unaffected heart.”

“You affected my heart!” He tapped on his chest. “It’s still beating like crazy, f’sure.”

Akimi gave him an unsure grin. “I think the best praise I ever received was when you asked if I could teach you.”

She stretched her arms upwards to the big metal beam of the car bridge they approached. “I had to think back to this, when Toyoshima said you struggle to let others know about your feelings. It’s just not true. Your voice is only very thin and people who are always loud won’t be able to hear what you have to say, yeah.”

“So, you figured me out completely, huh?”

Loud roaring from the cars could be heard above their heads. The tires shook the whole ground. Akimi stopped, leaned on the railing. “Would it freak you out if I said yes?”

He turned around to her. “Not anymore.”

“You sure ‘bout that, yah?” She gave him a cheeky side eye and laughed.

“Well … tell me: What am I hiding, huh?”

“Let’s see. At least right now you seem more relaxed in my presence … and less lonely, maybe.”

“Lonely?”

She turned to look at the river. It was a beautiful sight, how the water sparkled in the shadow of the bridge and the light from the cloudy sky. Akimi pulled up her camera.

They hadn’t filled the film completely, so there was still space for a few images. She adjusted the settings, this time seemingly by heart or experience, then pulled it to her face. “This twisted feeling that there is no one out there able to understand you—no one who feels the same hurt as you.”

The shutter clicked. She took the camera down and turned to Takurō again, her eyes remained low. “I still remember the sting when you said all those nice things about my artworks towards Raku. I felt how desperately you tried to return that call, but it wasn’t coming from her.”

He lowered his gaze as well. “But I still got my reply.”

They kept walking further. Akimi squinted when they left the shadow of the bridge. “When I told you that you won’t have a chance with Raku, I didn’t expect you to take it that lightly … Is that why? Because you got your reply from someone else?”

Takurō gulped down the lump in his throat. “Not just from someone. Kukai-san is a really nice girl, and I’m certain we could even be great friends, but … maybe it is the feeling you were talking about: She won’t satisfy this need in my heart. She is probably meant for a guy better than me.”

Akimi gave him a flick to the forehead. “Idiot!”

“Ow …”

“She’s meant for someone different than you, but … it certainly isn’t a guy, yeah.” Akimi breathed through. “She has a girlfriend for two months, now.”

“A girlfriend? Really?” Takurō gently shook his head. “May I know who it is?”

“Our volleyball team’s captain: Ririi Tsutsumida. Only a few other girls from the team know. They both wanted to keep it a secret until everything has settled in a bit.”

“But … won’t they be mad if they find out, you told me?”

Akimi slightly stretched her shoulders. “Raku even urged me to tell you.” She pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

Takurō nodded. “I see.”

They walked a few steps without another word.

The scene must’ve looked serene from the outside, but his heartbeat was drumming like crazy into his ears. “I appreciate her efforts, but I think it wasn’t necessary to tell me, y’know.” He moved his arms, put them into his pockets. “I’ve already set my mind on you.”

“Set your mind …?” Her breath got shaky. “So, you … actually …?”

Would this be the place? At least, they were somewhat alone, near the river. He stopped and bowed towards Akimi; his brain felt like it detached from his head. “I’ve been really enjoying the time with you, y’know. Talking to you feels so natural. You’re funny and you seem to understand me like no one else, yeah.”

He gulped another time and breathed through. “I like you a lot. I really do and I’d like to take this relationship between us to the next level. That is … if you want this as well, now.” He straightened his body again to face Akimi.

Her mouth stood slightly open; her hands held tight to her camera. It seemed like she had stopped breathing.

“Take your time to think about this,” he said. “This way or another, I don’t want to push us apart by any means, f’sure. I still wanna learn more about your photography, and I’d be glad showing you several great movies.”

Akimi gently shook her head. “And that’s the most romantic thing you came up with, huh? Something like that calls itself a screenwriter.” She giggled nervously.

Takurō replied with a surprised expression.

She noticed and frantically waved her hands. “S-sorry! My mind is …” She cleared her throat. “I’d like that as well. I mean … dating you.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and finally exhaled the bottled-up nervousness. “You do …” Takurō said and nodded. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’m certain it’ll be.”