The trek from our school to Meguro City is no quick hop—about forty minutes on the train, and that's not counting the walk and bus ride to the station. When we finally disembark in the city, there's another ten-minute walk before we reach our destination. Standing in front of us is an urban-styled coffee shop, the word "Mokachino" boldly displayed in katakana on the sign overhead.
Ayaka glances at me, her eyebrows arching up in silent inquiry, clearly wondering what the heck brought us here.
"Just follow me," I grin, giving her a gentle nudge to step inside first.
The moment we step inside, we're welcomed by a waiter who could double as a model, decked out in a crisp uniform and flashing a killer smile. Sure, it's a show-stopper, but I'd say mine's still better. And Ayaka, yeah, looks like she's just walked into a dream, her grin so wide it's like she's in heaven populated by handsome angels, giving me no option but to pull her back down to earth as we follow the waiter to our table.
He guides us to a cosy spot for two, nestled next to a glass wall that offers a clear view outside. It's nicely removed from the busier kitchen area and beverage counter—
Woah, hold up!
Ayaka's diving into the menu like there's no tomorrow, clearly plotting a feast that's gonna make my wallet weep. But hold up, let's pump the brakes on her food rampage for a second. And so, I grab her cheeks, puffing them out like a goldfish, and swivel her head towards the beverage counter.
"That guy!" I almost shout, but manage to keep it to a whisper.
Blonde hair, round glasses, and a vibe that's a tad too intense. Yup, that's definitely him—the dude I nearly crashed into at the festival. The very same guy who got tangled up in that mess with Maki, and who's had reporters on his tail for months, all of them hungry for just a peep about Horie-san's tragic end.
"That's the guy people say was the reason Horie-san committed suicide," I whisper to Ayaka, keeping my voice low but heavy with the weight of the rumour.
"Eh, you mean that blonde-haired barista?" Ayaka's question is a bit muffled—her cheeks are still puffed out like she's storing nuts for the winter. "If that's him… doesn't that mean he's Akizuki-san's son? He must be loaded, so why's he working a part-time gig here?"
Oh? That's a heck of a question, sis. I hadn't even thought of that. Akizuki-san is practically a walking gold mine, one of the top earners in Japan's celeb circuit. I mean, seriously, who doesn't know her? She's been everywhere since before I was even a twinkle in Dad's eye. And by everywhere, I don't just mean popping up on TV or floating through the radio waves—Mom can't stop yammering about how she wishes she had Akizuki-san's looks.
"Heh, is he some kind of lonely rich kid?" I toss out the guess, snagging the most cliché stereotype off the shelf. "Maybe his mom's too caught up in her celeb life to notice him, and his dad…"
Suddenly, it's like a lightbulb flicks on in my head, connecting dots I didn't even know were scattered around. I remember who Akizuki-san was married to—that guy who started Starlight Management, the big-shot talent agency.
But hang on… isn't that dude Maki's stepdad? So, doesn't that mean… the blonde-haired guy and Maki are technically step-siblings? Man, this just got a whole lot more intriguing!
"Nii-san, what's wrong? Your smile is creepy…"
Snap! I got so excited I didn't even realize my face gave it all away. But seriously, how can I help it? I mean, just look at the crazy coincidence—it's said the blonde-haired guy turned down Horie-san's love confession, so everyone blamed him for her death. Then, get this—his dad went and married Horie-san's mom not long after all that drama. Seriously, what the hell, right? Even his own mom wouldn't say a word to defend him when the blame game started. And now, Horie-san's sister is back at it, stirring up more hate… how much more screwed up can this guy's life get?
I'm lost in this messed-up story when Ayaka's voice snaps me back to reality. "Why are you suddenly bringing up Horie-san? It's been two years since she died and people probably have already forgotten about her."
Ayaka might think I'm brushing her off, like she's not on my radar, especially when I call the waiter over to take our order. But, real talk, it's better like this. I don't wanna get cut off mid-rant about something this juicy. Ideally, I'd chill till our grub shows up, but knowing myself, I'd probably forget what I wanted to say by then. So, after that perm-haired waiter with the show-stopping smile scoots off with our order, I turn my attention back to Ayaka.
"That's 'cause everyone kinda forgot about her that it all starts to make sense," I shoot back at Ayaka, noticing her sceptical look deepen. "Remember when she died? Everyone was quick to blame that dude, right? Reporters camped out in front of his school every damn day, trying to get him to spill something. But then, it all just… died down."
"Hmm… wouldn't that be better then?" Ayaka muses, still not quite seeing where I'm headed.
"Yeah, sure, if you were him," I reply, leaning in a bit. "But what if you were Maki?"