"Hey, you free right now?"
Having been partially engrossed in the computer combat-game he was playing, Haruki's attention was abruptly seized by a voice that called out to him. The day had been slow and dull, thus he'd found something to pass his time. He paused his game and turned towards the figure standing at the entrance of his room with a shrug.
"Pretty much."
Kentaro lingered outside the room, hands casually tucked into his pockets, and suggested: "Then let's head out somewhere."
"Where are we going?" Haruki's eyebrows arched with curiosity.
"You'll find out once we arrive," Ginger informed him.
"What kind of place is it?"
"Just come with me."
"Is it far—"
"Too many questions! Grab a jacket or something and let's go," Kentaro's voice carried a faint note of impatience.
Rising from his chair and making his way to the closet, Haruki grumbled, "I don't even know where we're headed. Give me a hint, at least, so I can put on something decent."
"What you're wearing is fine," Kentaro reassured him. "Why bother dressing up? I'm not even dressed up."
Upon hearing that, Haruki briefly entertained the idea of forgoing a wardrobe change. However, upon closer examination of his companion, that notion vanished entirely.
Despite donning a simple, loosely-fitted long-sleeved grey Tee and white shorts, Ginger exuded an air of someone ready to grace the pages of a spring fashion magazine. His wavy hair's distinctive hue only heightened his allure, even without any deliberate effort.
At moments like this, Haruki couldn't help but feel as though the Harada genes harbored a secret formula for physical perfection. This ginger-haired brat seemed destined to become an Adonis, possessing a physique worthy of a Greek god!
Puberty certainly wasn't messing around with this one.
Should I be grateful that the glasses make him a little nerdy, then? Haruki wondered, inadvertently touching his own face. Suddenly, he felt acutely aware of his own shortcomings.
Initially hesitant to question his friend's peculiar behavior, Kentaro couldn't ignore Haruki's intense gaze fixed upon him any longer.
"What's the hold-up?" His voice snapped Haruki out of his reverie, prompting him to mutter something under his breath while continuing his search for a suitable change of clothes.
Finally settling on a casual light blue plaid shirt over his plain white tee, and black shorts, Haruki found himself whisked away from the room by Kentaro, determined not to give him a chance to change his mind for the umpteenth time.
Poor Haru didn't even have a moment to properly comb his hair.
**
The Sunday afternoon unfolded with a soothing mildness, as fluffy white clouds leisurely floated across the expanse of the serene blue sky. The gentle cool breeze intermittently brushed against Haruki's face, creating the perfect ambiance for an outing. The anticipation of Kentaro's plans had ignited a spark of excitement within him, and though Ginger managed to hide it behind a composed expression, Haruki could still sense it.
At least that's something; he thought, finding solace in his friend's underlying enthusiasm.
Ever since Satoshi's visit three days ago, Kentaro had been visibly preoccupied. Maki and Akashi had also noticed the change and inquired about it, but even after Haruki had shared the truth with them, the couple seemed at a loss.
Haruki understood their reaction all too well, and he suspected Kentaro had a rough idea too: Maki and Akashi's silence conveyed that Ginger's situation was beyond the reach of the Fukuda family, even if they desired to intervene.
~
"Can't we do something, anything at all?" Haruki had engaged in a lengthy discussion with his parents in the kitchen about his friend.
This conversation had taken place two nights ago, long after Kentaro had retired to bed early. Haruki had practically begged his parents to help find a way to alleviate Ginger's predicament, but the outcome hadn't favored him.
Satoshi Harada was a man of immense influence, and Kentaro was his biological son. Haru's parents couldn't dispute with such a formidable force, even if they were to take the matter to court. In truth, they were mere outsiders.
"We might have some influence over his mother since she's a victim, but is that really the best course of action?" Maki had expressed her concerns. "If Ken-chan is truly going back to that place, he needs his anchor by his side. Leaving him all alone feels cruel."
"That's why we have to help them both," desperation seeped into Haruki's voice.
"This is an affair we simply cannot meddle in," Akashi delivered a harsh reality check after a while of silence. "Satoshi Harada is already a difficult man to deal with. There's no sense in making an enemy of him now."
"But we can't just—"
"We understand your feelings, but it can't be helped, Haruki," Akashi shook his head with a measured slowness. "Let it go."
Haruki knew his parents were right. Deep down, he had always acknowledged that the likelihood of fulfilling the promise he had made to Ken was slim to none. He was just a young person from a slightly more privileged background, devoid of any real power. What could he possibly do?
Yet, when the weight of his failure was thrust upon him, anger surged through him, and he snapped.
"Let it go? How can I just let it go? DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE SAYING? ARE YOU GIVING UP BECAUSE IT'S EASIER?!" Fists pounded the table in a fit of rage, startling both his parents. "IT'S CLEAR YOU'RE SAYING WHATEVER COMES TO MIND TO AVOID FUTURE TROUBLE. DO YOU EVEN 'CARE' ABOUT HELPING KEN?!"
"Haruki!" His mother's confusion was evident. Never before had her son spoken to her in such a tone, regardless of how angry or wronged he had felt in the past.
Akashi was equally taken aback but remained silent, his gaze coolly fixed on his son.
That night, Haruki would forever remember the expressions on his parents' faces—a blend of hurt, guilt and disappointment.
In his blind fury, he had failed to see that none of what had transpired was their fault and that they were, by all means, blameless. They truly lacked any power in the present circumstances.
Regardless, Haru hadn't been willing to accept those truths and stormed out of the kitchen in a fit of pique.
~
Two days had passed since then, and Haruki still hadn't reconciled with his parents. Part of the reason was his overwhelming sense of shame, but another stubborn part stemmed from the fact that he had nothing to discuss with people who showed no willingness to assist his friend.
His dazed state was abruptly shattered when Kentaro snapped his fingers three times in front of his face, signaling their arrival at their destination.
After enduring a fifteen-minute taxi ride devoid of any knowledge about their destination, Haruki eagerly stepped out of the vehicle, his curiosity piqued to behold the surroundings.
Before him stood an exquisite edifice, crafted with glass and limestone, its semi-circular design reaching a height of five stories. It exuded an aura of opulence and elegance that was unmistakable. The surrounding area matched this grandeur, with no shortage of security personnel stationed at every visible entrance and exit.
With a cluster of question marks hovering above his head, Haruki muttered, "What is this place?"
Where the heck had they ended up?
For a fleeting moment, he even suspected that Kentaro had led them to the wrong address. However, witnessing the other person confidently stride forward, issuing the directive to follow, Haruki could only timidly trail behind.
"Dude, I don't think we're supposed to be aimlessly wandering around in a fancy place like this," Haru whispered, tugging at Kentaro's sleeve as they ascended the stairs. "There's even security at the entrance!"
"Just follow me quietly. Why are you so scared?" Kentaro swatted away the bothersome hand.
But Haruki persisted, "Tell me what we're doing here first!"
"Will you please calm down..."
Soon enough, they arrived at the entrance of the building, abruptly halting their conversation as the security guard demanded to see their "passes."
Haruki barely had time to process the situation when Kentaro produced two card-shaped passes from his pocket and handed them over to the imposing figure. To Haru's astonishment, the cards were carefully inspected and deemed authentic before being returned to Ginger. The security guard then cleared the way, bidding them a pleasant stay.
If the exterior of the building appeared grand, Haru couldn't help but gape in awe as he stepped into the even more spacious interior. Dazzling white walls adorned with large framed pictures neatly lined the hallways, accompanied by peculiar sculptures placed strategically at their centers. At one end of the room, a spiral staircase, encased in translucent glass, beckoned toward the upper floors.
Haruki became so absorbed in taking in the sights, a mix of fascination and confusion, that he forgot to inquire about their purpose for being in such a place. Only upon closer inspection did he realize that these framed "pictures" were not digital photographs at all.
They bore a striking resemblance to paintings.
Haruki may not have possessed artistic talent, but he could at least distinguish between a photograph and a hand-drawn piece.
"An art gallery?" he finally asked, earning a smile from the person in front of him.
"I'm surprised you used the right term," Kentaro replied.
"I didn't even know we had one this big in Ichihara," Haruki admitted truthfully, coming to a halt before a peculiar painting that piqued his interest.
"Well, the grand opening ceremony for this place is next week," Ginger explained with a shrug, eliciting a wide-eyed stare from Haruki.
Grand opening? This place wasn't even open to the general public yet?
Noticing the bewilderment in Haruki's eyes, Kentaro proceeded to clarify. "Only those with VIP passes have access to this place for now. I managed to get my hands on some before they sold out," he said nonchalantly.
Haruki could deduce that those passes must have been scarce and ridiculously expensive. He had wondered why there were fewer people roaming around than he had anticipated, but Ginger's explanation shed light on the situation. It was also then that he realized the individuals present were dressed in an extravagant manner. The kind of attire one would expect from the wealthy, adorned with fancy jewelry and designer clothing, exuding an air of professionalism.
The more Haruki observed them, the more he felt out of place.
He marveled at how Kentaro could remain so calm and carefree in such an environment. While he was wealthy, he never flaunted his riches and appeared like an ordinary person. Nevertheless, Kentaro exuded an aura of someone who knew exactly where he was and what he was doing.
There's no use asking to leave now; Haruki sighed inwardly, letting go of his reservations.
Having little understanding of artistry, he relied on Ginger to provide brief descriptions and explanations of the artworks they encountered. Kentaro particularly emphasized paying attention to intricate details within the paintings and the various shades of color employed by the artists. He even offered brief analyses of the whimsical and peculiar sculptures that caught Haruki's eye.
However, Haruki couldn't help his mind from wandering, especially when he came across a sculpture depicting a strange human figure on all fours. Even Kentaro had no clue about some of them, as he wasn't a sculptor. It required all of Haru's self-control to stifle his laughter and avoid appearing uncultured in front of the affluent crowd.
Admittedly, most of Kentaro's words entered one ear and promptly exited the other, but Haruki made an effort to engage from time to time, even posing his own questions.
Witnessing Haruki's earnest attempts filled Kentaro with a sense of satisfaction and appreciation.
The moments when Haruki truly paid attention were when Kentaro shared his own insights about the paintings, revealing his deep understanding of the painter's intentions. It was the first time Haruki had witnessed his best friend's genuine passion for something, as if he had found his true element. There was a dazzling spark in Ginger's eyes and a subtle upward curve of his lips that made him radiate with joy.
I didn't realize he was into art to this extent; Haruki couldn't help the smile that danced on his own lips as he quietly observed Kentaro. It was like discovering a hidden part of Ginger that he had never truly known. In the past, Kentaro would go along with whatever Haru wanted. That was probably the case when he chose his after-school club back then.
But now it all made sense. Haruki recalled the few times they passed by the art studio at school on their way to judo; how Kentaro would instinctively slow his steps to observe his peers sketching and painting through the windows.
Haru understood now that art was Kentaro's true passion, and he surmised that the guy had brought him here to convey that message.
"This one looks kinda... sad," Haruki commented as he and Kentaro came across a painting depicting a barren landscape. Compared to the vibrant paintings they had seen so far, the colors in this one appeared faded, making it stand out.
"Most paintings reflect the artist's emotions," Kentaro replied, his eyes fixed on the painting as he spoke, his voice unintentionally dropping. "At least, that's how I often interpret them."
"Really?"
With a nod, Ginger continued his explanation. "The brush strokes are muted, and the colors evoke a sense of melancholy. I would guess this is one of the artist's early works, created during a period of their life when they failed to receive the recognition they deserved. It can leave a person feeling desolate and empty, especially when they have dedicated their entire life to something they love but fail to achieve the desired results. All artists go through a phase like this."
Haruki stared at Kentaro, a realization clicking in his mind. This explanation didn't feel like a random analysis from Ginger. Could it be that Kentaro truly felt this way, which explained his hesitance in pursuing what he clearly loved to do? Kentaro always seemed to prefer choosing paths that were already laid out for him.
Was there more to Ginger's story than Haruki initially assumed?
He was about to ask Kentaro about it when a sudden voice interrupted their conversation, accompanied by the sound of light, relaxed footsteps approaching them from behind.
"You understand quite a lot, young man."
Simultaneously, the two boys turned around to find an unfamiliar, neatly dressed man strolling toward them, holding a black ornate cane in his right hand.
~~~~~~