Morning.
October.
It was a weekend.
If spring mornings meant birdsong and flower fragrance, the leaves of parasol trees brushing softly together in the wind; if summer mornings meant sunlight and cicadas, lush green branches casting sun-dappled shade over the ground;
then autumn mornings meant fallen leaves and a light breeze, leaves spinning in the wind with a uniquely refreshing chill.
Kira Nanami got out of bed very early.
He opened the window and narrowed his eyes slightly. The sunlight was a little dazzling. Such brilliant sunshine was rare in autumn.
It looked like today would be clear.
A voice came from the radio.
Morning~ morning~ morning...
"Next, let's enjoy a beautiful song. Let this song begin our morning today."
A tranquil, unhurried melody flowed from the radio like spring water. Just listening to it made one feel as though they had returned to a sleepy countryside, where days moved slowly and roads stretched far into the distance, wheat swayed in the autumn wind, and even the breeze seemed scented with malt.
But it was already late autumn.
Farmers walked along shaded country paths with hoes and winnowing baskets over their shoulders, preparing to work. Even if tomorrow were the end of the world, even if tomorrow brought winter—that was the kind of peaceful life they lived.
Kira Nanami knew this song. It was the famous country singer Skeeter Davis's 1963 single:
The End of the World.
Why does the sun go on shining?
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Amid the soothing melody and its faint sadness, Kira Nanami took his diary out of the desk, opened it, and prepared to write down today's entry.
"Meow."
Stray Cat meowed as it climbed onto the edge of the desk. Its movements were clumsy because it was, after all, a plant. First it wrapped two broad leaves around the desk leg, then inched upward bit by bit like an athlete scaling a snowy mountain.
Meow.
It finally hauled itself up and planted itself directly in front of Kira Nanami, proudly putting its leaves on its hips. Judging by its expression, one might have thought it had just reached the summit of Mount Everest.
It waved its leaves and meowed noisily.
Stray Cat was complaining about its food.
Kira Nanami gently stroked its little head. Stray Cat narrowed its eyes in comfort. Then it suddenly sensed something was wrong. Its viewpoint seemed to be rising.
Stray Cat looked down.
It was already dangling in midair.
Kira Nanami grabbed it by the scruff of fate. Ignoring its struggles, he gave it a light toss and sent Stray Cat straight into the sofa.
He returned to his diary.
Rather than a diary, it was closer to a schedule. Kira Nanami always wrote his diary in advance, recording in the morning what would happen that evening—and somehow the final result was usually about the same. He had always taken great pride in this.
He flipped the page.
"I like Hoshino Ei."
He closed it.
Kira Nanami sighed softly.
She was asking for a beating again... Hoshino Ei had been getting more and more brazen lately. She had even threatened him yesterday.
Maybe he should just kill her?
He tore the page out. The paper crumbled into tiny scraps between his fingertips.
He checked the time. It was getting late.
The End of the World had already finished playing.
Time to make breakfast.
Breakfast was simple: two slices of bread, a cup of hot milk, and half a steak fried in the pan. Sometimes he had bacon instead. That was enough.
He had just finished making breakfast when—
"Moshi moshi~ Kira-san."
A lazy voice came from outside the door.
Kira Nanami's hand twitched.
"Open up, open up! Kira-kun, open the door!"
He ignored him.
"Open up, open up, open up, open up..."
He was as annoying as a broken record.
Kira Nanami pulled the door open with a dark expression.
"Ohayou~"
The open doorway revealed Gojo Satoru wearing a solemn expression.
Just looking at Gojo Satoru irritated Kira Nanami. Gojo showing up at his home in the morning usually meant new work. The last time he had visited, he had dumped a teacher's assignment on Kira.
And today was the weekend.
The weekend.
The sacred, inviolable weekend.
No matter how serious the mission, no one was allowed to disturb him on a weekend.
No matter how serious the mission.
Kira Nanami glared fiercely into Gojo Satoru's eyes. Cursed energy churned around his hand as he asked coldly,
"What do you want?"
He waited for Gojo Satoru to speak.
Gojo's expression was unusually serious. He looked earnestly at Kira. It was rare to see such an expression on someone normally so carefree.
"What is it?"
"Kira-kun..."
Gojo Satoru looked at Kira Nanami and fell silent for a moment, as though hesitating. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind and said gravely,
"I'm hungry."
Gojo Satoru continued in the same solemn tone,
"The food in your place smells really good."
"I heard from the principal that you're great at cooking."
"..."
The corner of Kira Nanami's mouth twitched. He sighed.
...You could never have normal expectations of Gojo Satoru.
"Come in."
Kira Nanami opened the door wider.
—
After sending off a thoroughly satisfied Gojo Satoru, who left burping contentedly, Kira Nanami received another text message.
It was from Todo.
"Same place. 1. Coming?"
Kira thought for a moment and typed a reply on his phone.
"."
He tapped Send.
Scrolling upward revealed their previous conversation history.
September 1.
Todo: Bro! Takada-chan and several other idols are holding a handshake event at Tokyo Plaza today. Three in the afternoon. Coming?
Kira Nanami: Wait until I get off work—I'll leave early today.
September 6.
Todo: Bro. Tokyo Grand Hotel. Starts at two in the morning. Coming?
Kira Nanami: Okay.
September 20.
Todo: Same place. Two in the morning. Coming?
Kira Nanami: Mm.
And now.
Todo: Same. 1. Coming?
Kira: .
The understanding between men could be that simple.
Kira Nanami tidied himself up, leaned by the window in the autumn sunlight, and trimmed his fingernails. Every nail was cut perfectly even. He placed the clippings into a bottle and labeled it with the date and time.
Finally, he straightened his clothes and put on his coat. Kira Nanami looked at the person in the mirror: azure eyes, pale blond hair, sharply defined features, thin lips, a dark coat, every single button fastened neatly.
He checked the time. It was already noon.
After casually filling his stomach, Kira Nanami went out.
He opened the front door, and bright sunlight fell over him. The clear autumn light made for a crisp, refreshing day.
Perfect weather for outdoor activity.
—
Todo had not changed much despite their not seeing each other for several days. They got straight to the point and headed directly to Tokyo Grand Hotel.
Kira Nanami and Todo were already regulars here.
Takada-chan's hands were still warm and soft, but Kira Nanami had long since grown tired of them. Hands might have been his first priority, but even the finest thing eventually became aesthetically exhausting.
Nothing stayed perfect forever. With time, everything grew looser and rougher. Even with oil, it could never retain the same beauty and smoothness as the first time.
Takada-chan's hands were a good example. Her career had been improving recently, which meant she spent more and more time working outdoors. The strain had made her hands rougher and the skin less supple. Even with hand cream, one could feel a faint texture—the lines of her palms and the calluses.
The newcomer idol Yamada Keiko was quite good. Youth was part of the job, after all, and her hands were wonderfully smooth.
The singer Sawamura was good too. She wore black silk gloves. To put it another way, for Kira Nanami, it was like seeing long legs wrapped in black stockings...
Kira Nanami felt he could write a book.
He would call it A Connoisseur's Guide to Handshake Events.
By the time they came out, dusk was approaching.
After saying goodbye to Todo, Kira Nanami walked home alone along the street.
The setting sun sank low, dyeing the entire world red.
Then he suddenly stopped.
"How many pairs?"
Hoshino Ei stood at the end of the road, head tilted as she looked at him.
"How many pairs?"
She spoke softly. Her voice was as cold as the autumn wind, and her scarlet pupils were completely empty.
Hoshino smiled, but there was not the slightest trace of amusement in it.
"How many pairs?"
"Kira-kun..."