"Male character? Isn't it just Action Kamen's victory poses?"
"Y-Yes…" Shouko could feel her face heating up. "I've never drawn those poses before, so… could you help me?"
"..."
"Alright."
Akira hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. After all, it was just a few of Action Kamen's entrance and victory moves—nothing embarrassing.
It would only be the two of them in the room, no one else would ever know…
"Really!?" Shouko's eyes widened in disbelief that he'd agreed so easily.
"Should I have hesitated a little longer?"
"No, no, no! You already agreed!" Shouko quickly stood up, afraid he'd change his mind, and dashed out of his room before he could say another word.
Click.
The door closed. Akira blinked, then shrugged, turning back to the content on his computer. Whatever Shouko was planning could wait.
Back home, Shouko greeted Yaeko Nishimiya, who was watching TV in the living room.
"Good night, Mom."
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried to her room and collapsed onto her bed, face first.
"I've accepted the commission," she murmured, pulling out her phone.
She quickly messaged the client from that afternoon. The reply came almost instantly.
"As expected of Ms. Nishimiya! I'll transfer the deposit right now."
"By the way, Ms. Nishimiya, how long will it take for the three illustrations?"
Shouko stared at the screen for a moment before typing back thoughtfully.
"Within a month and a half. Or a month, if it goes quickly."
She could probably finish them within a week—especially since summer vacation was coming—but she remembered what Akira once told her: if you deliver too fast, clients sometimes think they've overpaid.
So she added some extra time for good measure.
"Do I need to prepare the outfits?"
"No need. I'll buy them with him later."
"(OK.jpg)"
They chatted for a bit longer, mostly about the poses she needed, before saying goodnight. Shouko then sent Akira a simple "Good night" message and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
At 5:50 a.m., the sky in the east was already pale gray. The lights from the convenience store still glowed faintly over the empty street, and the faint buzzing of cicadas echoed here and there.
Akira woke up naturally, changed into his sportswear, and went for his usual morning run. After returning and showering, he began packing his clothes.
"Take good care of Shouko when you're out," said Shizuka Miyamura, leaning against the doorframe, watching her son fold his things.
"Mom, you can come too, you know."
Shizuka smiled faintly. "We'll go together next time—when your dad finally takes a day off."
"Got it."
As she went downstairs, Akira zipped up his bag just as Shouko arrived at the door, looking more excited than usual.
"Akira, ready?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
At the station, Shizuka saw them off. After meeting up with the rest of their group, they all squeezed into the crowded morning train. Two hours later, they finally arrived at Toyama Station.
The salty sea breeze hit them immediately, mingled with the faint scent of fish.
"Ahhhh, the sea! I'm here!" Ayumi shouted dramatically, throwing her arms up.
The others nearly pretended not to know her.
But then—
"Oh, sea! I'm here too!" another voice echoed from behind.
"Huh?"
Ayumi turned toward the voice—and froze.
Under Akira's surprised gaze, Togashi Yuta smiled politely and nodded in greeting before nudging Takanashi Rikka, who was muttering something about "the Dark Flame." Alongside them were Nibutani Shinka and four others from the same group.
Nibutani even offered a small, polite smile in Akira's direction before they all left.
"..."
"I swear I've seen those people somewhere before…" Ayumi squinted suspiciously.
"Ayumi-chan, those are our upperclassmen," Shouko said, lowering her hand from a small wave. She recognized them instantly.
"It's not important!" Ayumi waved off the thought. "Let's go—my uncle's waiting for us nearby."
Akira patted Nishikata on the shoulder, snapping him out of his daze, and followed the three girls ahead.
Soon, they spotted a dark-skinned man leaning casually against a minivan, waving as they approached.
"Let's go," he said cheerfully, helping them with their luggage before starting the engine.
The ride was pleasant and full of small talk. The man—Ayumi's uncle—asked about her school life, laughing heartily as she talked. The group soon learned that his deep tan came from constant work under the sun.
After a while, he parked the car in front of a small seaside house.
"We're here," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I've got some errands to run, so you kids go ahead. I'll drop by later."
Akira and the others thanked him and stepped out.
The house looked old but cozy. Its mosaic-tiled walls were chipped and worn by the salty sea breeze. A thin clothesline hung limply from the second-floor window, and a few foam seafood boxes sat near the faded iron gate.
A single seashell was wedged in the crack of the concrete steps.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
"Coming! Coming! Is that Ayumi?"
The gate creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with silver-white hair and a kind face.
"Grandma!" Ayumi cried, rushing forward to hug her.
"Good, good, good," the old woman laughed, gently patting her granddaughter's head. "It's been a year already. You've gotten thinner! Are you not eating well at home?"
"No, I eat a lot!" Ayumi shook her head quickly and flexed her arm to prove it.
The old woman chuckled, squeezing Ayumi's soft arm. Then she turned to the others at the door.
"These must be your friends?"
"Yes, Grandma!" they chorused together.
Her gaze landed on Akira, and she smiled knowingly. "And this young man—he must be Ayumi's boyfriend?"
"Eh!?"
Ayumi's face turned crimson as she waved her hands wildly. "No, no, no! I don't even have a boyfriend yet!"
She shot a quick glance at Shouko, who only smiled quietly. Seeing no reaction, Ayumi let out a subtle sigh of relief.
"Oh, what a pity," the old woman chuckled.
Akira blinked, unsure why she sounded disappointed, but wisely stayed silent.
"Come in, come in! You all must be tired. Have some water and rest first."
As they stepped inside, Akira immediately caught the faint, nostalgic scent of tatami mixed with sea salt. A faded green refrigerator hummed softly beside a worn wooden altar.
There were tea stains on the low table, and beneath the staircase sat a pair of old rain boots crusted with dried salt—and a stack of Aquatic Products Monthly magazines.
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