Family dinner.
Why did they still bother? Takumi supposed his father wanted to demonstrate that he still exerted some form of control over them.
The old man was a superb businessman and a terrible father. He should stick to his strengths.
The entire family stood up out of respect when he entered the dining room. He was a tall and imposing figure, with hard features and a perpetual frown.
He waved them to sit and the dishes were presented like clockwork.
Silence. Takumi picked at his food and snuck glances at the individuals flanking the table.
His mother was smiling serenely at nothing in particular. A new large sapphire ring on one of her bony, elegant fingers. Whatever lacking talent she had as an actress before she married his father, she made it up with her beauty. It remained intact despite her age, helped along by strategic cosmetic surgeries.
His eldest brother, Daisuke, read messages on his phone occasionally. He joined the family business a few years ago and was working his way up the food chain. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he took over the mantle. Takumi thought of him as a mini version of their father. Disarmingly intelligent with the same hard features. So serious and straitlaced although Takumi had it on good authority that the starlets lining up his bed were legion.
But Daisuke was discreet so there was no problem.
His second brother was missing. He was not expected and not to be discussed. A ghostly presence in the house.
All seemed to be in order.
"How's everything at school, Takumi?" his mother broke the silence.
"Good," he replied pleasantly.
"It will not interrupt with work, will it?" Concern clouded her voice.
"No. The agency is managing it."
"Are you planning to graduate?" Daisuke asked.
"That's the plan," Takumi replied and was amused by Daisuke's skeptical expression.
"Well, if it gets too difficult, there is no need to force yourself," his mother said.
"It's not a difficult course, mother," Daisuke commented dryly.
Now Takumi was offended but his brother was top of his class in an ivy league school. There was no point competing.
"Might as well try," he remarked with a shrug. "In case I ruin my good looks, you know."
"Takumi!" his mother admonished. Daisuke shook his head in disapproval.
"Let him be," his father said sternly and casted a severe glance at Takumi. "I don't want to hear of any problems."
"There won't be." He met his father's eyes. As usual, the old man looked away.
They returned to silence.
xxxxxxxx
Akira woke up to an odd message from Matsumoto.
'Do me a favour? Call me Takumi?'
He responded after instant coffee. 'Any reason?'
A reply popped up immediately. 'Matsumoto sounds like my dad. Or my older brother.'
The family name of the company which probably manufactured the cardboard black liquid he just drank.
'Sure.'
'Thanks! I'll call you Akira.'
Politeness dictated that Matsumoto – no, Takumi – should have at least asked. But Akira guessed that convention did not apply to stars.
He let it slip. 'Fine.'
'You are pretty mono-syllabic, aren't you?'
'Sometimes.'
'You so are. What are you doing? What time's class? I'm gonna miss everything today because of a photo shoot. They always ask me the same questions anyway. Still thinking about the painting. Oh, I shouldn't be texting you this. Ogita will kill me.'
Akira stared at the wall of text.
He dialed the number.
"You called!" Takumi sounded shocked.
"You did give me your number," Akira reminded him.
A laugh. "So I did. Akira."
"Easier to speak," Akira said and added, "Takumi."
Another laughter. "Makes me feel my age already when you call me that."
"You're hardly old."
"In my business, a couple more years, I'd be ancient."
Akira paused for a moment when it struck him again how different they were.
He listed the answers methodically, "I just had breakfast. Class is in two hours. Tell Ogita not to worry because I won't leak any of our chats."
"Photo shoot and interview," Takumi said.
"What?"
"You didn't comment on my photo shoot and interview," Takumi clarified and Akira could hear the pout.
He was confused for a split second before realization dawned upon him. A smile broke on his lips despite himself.
"What do I know about them anyway?" he said. "You're a pro."
A quiet beat and Takumi seemed pacified because his cheerful tone returned. "I'll tell you about it after I'm done. It's with Tomoe by the way."
One name because she was famous enough to justify it. Akira didn't take the bait. "Oh?"
"Not impressed? I'm shocked," Takumi mocked.
"Should I be?" Akira challenged.
"Okay, Mr. Hard-To-Impress. Wait till you see the pictures and die in envy."
"I can wait," Akira deadpanned and realized that he was enjoying this bizarre conversation.
Takumi burst into laughter. "You're unbelievable."
"And I need to get ready for class," Akira told him.
"I should let you go then. Bye!"
"Bye."
Another message came through after he showered and changed.
'You're very strange and different. In a good way.'
He shook his head.
xxxxxxxx
Takumi was used to being fussed over before a photo shoot. The make-up artist, the set designer, the handler and everyone else doing their part to make sure that it would go smoothly. Time was cash and he was a valuable commodity.
He was adept at staying exactly where he was needed. He was also experienced enough to ward off unwanted propositions.
As he sat on the chair and they slapped cosmetics on his face and hair, Takumi fixed his eyes on a general direction. The chatter was always the same.
"Your skin is so smooth, it doesn't need much!"
"Be careful with the hair. Don't damage it."
"It is such an honor to work with you."
Takumi had his own set of polite, friendly responses.
"Thank you very much."
"Ah, I am in your hands today."
All the while, his mind wandered to the conversation with Hasegawa. No, Akira, he reminder himself with pleasure.
One question which threw him off. He was almost overwhelmed by how upset he was.
Such a simple thing. Yet the blankness which met him when he tried to find an answer was telling.
When was the last time he had truly enjoyed something? Or found something which stirred a feeling within?
His encounter with Akira was the only thing that came close in recent memory.
There was also their call this morning. Nothing unusual or special.
But he had pouted. He had laughed.
He smiled to himself, startling the make-up artist who actually stopped and stared.
Takumi didn't care.