June 15, 2025
I collapsed onto our plush sofa, exhausted but satisfied. Marin flopped down next to me, her hair splayed across my chest.
"We did it," she mumbled into my shirt. "It's finally done."
I ran my fingers through her hair, surveying our newly decorated living room. The sleek black entertainment center housed our massive TV, flanked by floating shelves displaying Marin's favorite manga and my growing collection of scripts. Soft light from the modern floor lamp illuminated the abstract art we'd picked out together.
"Want the grand tour?" I asked, gently nudging Marin.
She perked up instantly. "Yes! Let's start with my cosplay room!"
We padded down the hallway, our socked feet silent on the hardwood floors. I pushed open the door to what was technically our second bedroom, but Marin had claimed it as her creative space.
"Ta-da!" Marin twirled, gesturing to the organized chaos around us.
Floor-to-ceiling shelving units lined two walls, packed with clear storage boxes labeled meticulously: "Wigs - Blue," "Fabric - Silk," "Props - Weapons." A large worktable dominated the center of the room, littered with sketches and half-finished costume pieces.
"Check this out," Marin said, pulling open a drawer beneath the table. It slid out smoothly, revealing an array of sewing tools. "No more hunting for the right scissors!"
I nodded appreciatively. "Smart. And is that...?"
"Yep!" Marin bounced over to a corner where a sleek sewing machine sat atop its own dedicated table. "Top of the line. I can't wait to start on my next project."
We moved to the walk-in closet, now transformed into a mini photo studio. Marin had insisted on proper lighting and a few backdrops for her cosplay shoots.
"This is incredible," I said, genuinely impressed. "You've thought of everything."
Marin beamed, then tugged on my hand. "Now show me yours!"
We crossed the hall to my recording studio. I'd spent hours researching acoustics and sound isolation, determined to create a professional-grade setup.
The walls were lined with charcoal acoustic panels, breaking up the visual monotony with their geometric patterns. A large computer desk curved around one corner, multiple monitors glowing softly.
"Whoa," Marin breathed, eyes wide as she took in the array of equipment. "What does all this do?"
I pointed to each piece in turn. "That's the audio interface, there's the MIDI controller, and over here..." I gestured to the pride of my collection: a vintage Neumann U47 microphone on a sturdy stand.
"It looks so old," Marin said, peering at it curiously.
I laughed. "It is, but it's legendary. Some of the greatest vocalists of all time have used this exact model."
Marin's eyes lit up. "Does that mean you're going to start singing?"
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Maybe. I've been working on some ideas."
"I can't wait to hear them," Marin said, squeezing my hand.
We continued our tour, showing off the spacious master bedroom with its king-sized bed and en-suite bathroom. The main bathroom gleamed with new fixtures, and Marin had insisted on a rainfall showerhead "for ultimate relaxation."
Back in the open-plan living area, I gestured to the modern kitchen. Stainless steel appliances contrasted nicely with the warm wood cabinetry.
"I still can't believe this is ours," Marin said, running her hand along the smooth quartz countertop.
"Me neither," I admitted. "Sometimes I wake up thinking I'm back in that tiny apartment."
Marin wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. "But we're not. We're here, together."
I held her close, savoring the moment. The setting sun painted the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks, visible through our floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sprawled out below us, a tapestry of lights flickering to life as darkness fell.
"Hungry?" I asked after a while.
Marin nodded against my chest. "Starving. Want to try out that fancy new oven?"
I grinned. "You read my mind."
We moved to the kitchen, working in comfortable synchronicity as we prepared a simple pasta dish. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of garlic in oil filled the air.
"So," Marin said as she stirred the sauce, "how does it feel to be a proper celebrity now? Swanky apartment, home studio, the works?"
I paused, considering her question. "Honestly? It's weird. Amazing, but weird. Sometimes I still feel like that kid from the orphanage, pretending to be someone else."
Marin turned, her expression serious. "You're not pretending, Akira. This is you. All of this" - she gestured around the apartment - "you earned it."
I nodded, not entirely convinced. "I know. It's just... a lot sometimes."
"Well," Marin said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "if it ever gets to be too much, I'll be here to bring you back down to earth. Maybe with a well-timed cosplay disaster or a spectacularly failed cooking experiment."
I laughed, the tension easing from my shoulders. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn, obviously," Marin teased, then yelped as I flicked water at her from the sink.
We finished cooking and settled at the dining table, another new addition to our home. As we ate, we chatted about upcoming projects - Marin's next cosplay idea, my recording plans, the continuing saga of the dating show.
Marin twirled her fork in the pasta, a sly grin spreading across her face. "So, spill. What's really going on with this love triangle between you, Yuki, and Nobuyuki?"
I choked on my water, coughing and spluttering. Marin patted my back, laughing.
"Jeez, warn a guy before you drop a bomb like that," I wheezed.
"Come on, I've been dying to know! The tension on screen is palpable."
I leaned in close, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Okay, but you can't tell anyone. Promise?"
Marin nodded eagerly, her eyes wide.
"Yuki and Nobuyuki are already dating."
Marin's jaw dropped. "No way!"
"Way. They've been together for weeks. The whole love triangle thing? It's just for show."
"But... but they seem so awkward around each other sometimes!"
I shrugged. "They just started dating. Plus, I think they enjoy playing it up for the cameras."
Marin sat back, processing this new information. "Huh. I guess that makes things easier for you, then?"
"Definitely. No real drama to navigate, just playing my role."
A thoughtful expression crossed Marin's face. "What about Akane? How's she handling all this?"
I sighed, pushing my plate away. "Honestly? Not great. Have you noticed how her screen time keeps shrinking?"
Marin nodded slowly. "Yeah, now that you mention it... She hasn't had many big moments lately."
"It's a shame. Akane's talented, but she's struggling to find her place in the show's dynamics. The fans are starting to notice, too."
Marin pulled out her phone, tapping and scrolling. "Oh no, you're right. Look at these comments."
She held up the screen, and I leaned in to read:
"'Why is Akane even there? She adds nothing to the show.'"
"'Akane is so boring. More Yuki and Mem-cho please!'"
"'I fast-forward through Akane's scenes. Snooze fest.'"
I winced. "That's harsh."
"It gets worse," Marin said, scrolling further. "'Akane should just quit. No one would miss her.'"
"Damn," I muttered. "I knew it was bad, but I didn't realize how vicious people were being."
Marin set her phone down, looking troubled. "Poor Akane. That must be awful to deal with."
I nodded, thinking back to our recent interactions on set. Akane had seemed more withdrawn lately, her usual intensity dimmed. "I think it's really getting to her. She puts so much effort into her craft, but it's not translating well to this format."
"Can't the producers do something? Give her better storylines or more screen time?"
I shook my head. "It's not that simple. The show's all about creating drama and keeping viewers engaged. If Akane's not bringing in the ratings..."
"That's so unfair," Marin protested. "She deserves a chance to shine."
"I agree. But showbiz can be brutal. If you don't capture the audience's attention quickly, you get left behind."
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over us. I thought about Akane's dedication, her meticulous approach to acting. How crushing it must be to see all that effort dismissed so casually by viewers.
"Maybe I could talk to her," I mused. "See if there's any way I can help."
Marin smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "That's really sweet of you. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
"I hope so," I said, standing up to clear the dishes.
We moved to the living room, settling onto the couch. Marin curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I flicked through streaming services, looking for something to watch.
"Oh, stop there!" Marin said suddenly. "Isn't that Frill?"
I paused on a thumbnail showing a familiar face. "Yeah, it is. 'Echoes of Yesterday' - must be her new drama."
"Can we watch it? I'm curious to see how she's doing."
I hit play, and the opening credits rolled. Frill appeared on screen, looking every bit the troubled teen her character was supposed to be. As the episode progressed, I was impressed by her performance.
"She's really good," I murmured.
Marin nodded against my chest. "Totally. The way she delivers those cutting remarks? Oof."
We watched in silence for a while, absorbed in the story. Frill's character, a high school outcast named Rin, navigated a complex web of social hierarchies and family drama.
"You know," I said during a commercial break, "I keep thinking about what Frill said to me that first day of school. About how there's no real difference between our characters and ourselves."
Marin shifted to look up at me. "What do you think about that?"
I frowned, trying to articulate my thoughts. "I don't know. Part of me wants to disagree. I mean, I'm not actually Kanata from 'Sweet Today'."
"But?" Marin prompted.
"But... I can't deny that playing those roles affects me. Sometimes I catch myself using Kanata's mannerisms or thinking about how he would handle a situation."
Marin hummed thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. You spend so much time in character, it's bound to bleed through a little."
"Yeah," I said, still mulling it over. "And then there's the whole public persona thing. The 'Akira Hoshino' people see in interviews or on social media - is that really me? Or just another character I've created?"
Marin sat up, turning to face me fully. "Akira, listen to me. The you I know - the one who makes terrible puns and always remembers to buy my favorite snacks - that's the real you. Everything else is just... seasoning."
I couldn't help but smile at her earnest expression. "Seasoning, huh?"
"Yep," she said, poking me in the chest. "The core of who you are doesn't change, even if you sprinkle on some extra flavors for the public."
I pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"Must've had a pretty awful past life," Marin quipped. "Karmic balance and all that."
I froze, my arm still wrapped around her shoulders. A chill ran down my spine as memories I'd tried to bury clawed their way to the surface.
"Akira?" Marin's voice sounded far away. "Hey, what's wrong?"
I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. "Nothing, I just... You reminded me of something."
Marin sat up straighter. "What is it?"
I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. How much should I tell her? How much could I tell her without risking everything we'd built?
"Remember when I told you I grew up in an orphanage?" I began slowly.
Marin nodded, her eyes never leaving my face.
"Well, that wasn't... entirely true." The words felt like sandpaper in my throat. "I did spend time in an orphanage, but not until I was older. Before that..."
I trailed off, the memories threatening to overwhelm me. Marin reached out, taking my hand in hers. Her touch anchored me, giving me the strength to continue.
"Before that, I had a father. He was... not a good man."
Marin's grip on my hand tightened. "Akira, you don't have to—"
"No, I want to tell you," I interrupted. "You deserve to know."
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "My father was abusive. Physically, emotionally... you name it. He'd get drunk and take out his frustrations on me. Said I was worthless, that I'd never amount to anything."
Marin's eyes welled up with tears, but she remained silent, letting me speak.
"One day, when I was about seven, he dragged me to meet this guy named Hidetora. Turns out, my dad owed him money. A lot of money."
I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "Hidetora took one look at me and decided I could be useful. He offered to cancel my dad's debt if he could have me instead."
"Oh, Akira," Marin whispered.
"My dad didn't even hesitate. Handed me over like I was nothing more than a bargaining chip." I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memory of my father's cold eyes as he'd walked away. "Hidetora put me to work in his clubs, singing and... other things."
I fell silent, unable to continue. The weight of my past pressed down on me, threatening to crush the life I'd built.
Marin shifted closer, wrapping her arms around me in a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry you went through that," she murmured into my chest. "Thank you for telling me."
We sat like that for a long moment, the only sound our quiet breathing and the muted noise from the TV. Finally, I pulled back slightly, meeting Marin's gaze.
"So when you mentioned karma and past lives... I guess it just hit a little too close to home. Sometimes I wonder if all this" — I gestured around our luxurious apartment — "is some kind of cosmic joke. Like I'm living on borrowed time, waiting for it all to come crashing down."
Marin cupped my face in her hands, her expression serious. "Listen to me, Akira Hoshino. You are not defined by your past. What happened to you was awful, but it doesn't determine who you are now."
I tried to look away, but Marin held firm. "You're kind, and talented, and hardworking. You've built this life for yourself through your own efforts. No one can take that away from you."
Her words washed over me, soothing the raw edges of old wounds. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against hers. "Thank you," I whispered.
Marin smiled softly. "Always."