mijobooks Chapter 124 A Date with Izumi in Osaka
Chapter 124 A Date with Izumi in Osaka
Chapter 124 A Date with Izumi in Osaka
The Hankyu Railway's limited express train sped along the tracks, and the scenery outside the window gradually changed from the ancient landscape of Kyoto to the dense, even somewhat chaotic, concrete jungle of Osaka.
Kitahara Shin pulled down the brim of his hat and looked out the window through his sunglasses.
Rest day.
This was a day he squeezed out of the hellish filming schedule of the "Triad Wife" crew.
Iwashita Shima went to a TV appearance, and Matsukata Hiroki went out for a hangover, so the entire crew was unusually relaxed.
The tram arrived at Umeda Station.
As soon as I got out of the car, a huge roar hit me.
Unlike the aloof and soft-spoken atmosphere of Kyoto, Osaka's air is full of vibrant "noise".
People weren't standing very orderly on the escalator, and the air was filled with the sweet and overpowering smell of takoyaki sauce. An older woman wearing a leopard-print top was loudly discussing with her companion the discounted eggs she had just bought at the supermarket.
Kitahara Shin followed the flow of people out of the ticket gate and arrived in front of the famous "Big Man" screen.
This is Osaka's most famous waiting spot, always packed with people.
He raised his wrist to check his watch; it wasn't time yet.
My eyes searched through the crowd.
Based on his understanding of Izumi Sakai, that somewhat shy girl would most likely be hiding in some inconspicuous corner.
really.
Beneath the giant GG sign at Pizza Hut, in the shadow of the pillar, stood a familiar figure.
She wore a loose-fitting dark blue denim jacket over a simple white T-shirt, faded straight-leg jeans, and slightly worn Converse sneakers.
Her hair wasn't styled in any complicated way; it was simply tied into a low ponytail at the back of her head. She wore a dark baseball cap and a large white face mask that covered most of her face.
She was carrying a black canvas bag and holding a book of unknown origin, quietly reading it with her head down, as if the noisy crowd and the loud noise of the surrounding crowd had nothing to do with her.
Like a white cosmos growing in a bustling city, it is quiet and aloof, yet possesses a unique resilience.
This is Izumi Sakai.
Even when she's not in the spotlight, her unique "literary girl" aura makes her stand out from the crowd.
Kitahara Shin looked at her, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up.
He didn't play any pranks; he simply slowed down and walked over.
As if sensing something, the girl looked up from the pages of the book.
Those eyes, which were originally calm as still water, seemed to light up the moment they saw Kitahara Shin, instantly curving into two crescent moons.
She closed the book, somewhat awkwardly stuffed it into her bag, and then straightened up.
"Kitahara-kun."
Even through the mask, you could hear the softness and surprise in her voice.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Kitahara Shin walked up to her and naturally took the canvas bag from her shoulder. "This outfit suits you very well, you look great."
"?"
Izumi Sakai paused for a moment, then subconsciously tugged at her denim jacket, lowering her head somewhat embarrassedly. "I—I was afraid of being recognized, so I chose the most ordinary clothes—don't you think it looks too casual?"
"Won't."
Kitahara Shin looked into her clear, bright eyes peeking out from behind her mask. "That's ZARD's style. Simple, yet powerful."
Upon hearing this, Quan Shui's ears turned slightly red.
She didn't say anything, but silently moved closer to Kitahara Shin.
"Let's go, I'll take you to eat something delicious."
"Um."
The two did not hold hands like ordinary couples, after all, there were many people around.
But as the two walked side by side into the crowd, Kitahara Shin's large hand, clad in a trench coat, naturally protected her from the surrounding throng.
Quanshui felt the warmth behind her, stole a glance at the man beside her, and then pulled her baseball cap down even lower to hide the overflowing joy in her eyes.
A bench along the moat in Osaka Castle Park.
Away from the bustling shopping street, it's much quieter here.
The two of them each held a steaming box of takoyaki.
Quanshui took off her mask, revealing her clean yet delicate face. She carefully picked up a takoyaki, blew on it gently, and then took a small bite.
"It's so hot—"
She frowned slightly from the heat, and licked her lips gently with the tip of her tongue. Her cat-like fear of being burned was completely different from her usual serious and focused demeanor in the recording studio.
Eat slowly.
Kitahara Shin handed her a tissue. "Nobody's going to take it from you."
Quanshui took the tissue and smiled a little sheepishly: "It's been so long since I've had this kind of street food—"
The company is very strict now; even President Nagato asks what kind of bento I eat, saying it's to protect my voice.
As she said this, her eyes dimmed for a moment, but quickly brightened again.
"However, as long as I can sing, none of this matters."
She turned her head and looked at the sunset reflected in the moat, her eyes becoming somewhat unfocused.
"Kitahara-kun, do you think I'll keep singing forever?"
"certainly."
Kitahara Shin looked at her profile. The setting sun gilded her features, making her appear both sacred and fragile.
"Why are you suddenly asking this?"
"because----"
Quanshui hesitated for a moment, then took out the small notebook she always carried with her from her bag.
It was an ordinary kraft paper notebook, the cover of which was already worn out.
She turned to a page, which was covered with dense writing. Some of the handwriting was neat, while others were very messy, some even written on napkins and then pasted on.
"Sometimes I get very scared."
Her fingers gently traced the words, her voice soft, "I'm afraid all of this is just a dream."
I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and become nothing again, like Sachiko Kamachi.
"So I wrote and wrote as hard as I could. I wrote down every word you said, every scene I saw, and even my current feelings."
She raised her head, her clear eyes looking straight at Kitahara Shin.
"Because I want to turn these moments into songs."
"If it were a song, it wouldn't have disappeared, right?"
Kitahara Shin's heart skipped a beat.
He looked at the girl in front of him.
She doesn't have the domineering attitude of Akina, who wants to announce her love to the world, nor does she have the ambition to prove herself to anyone.
She carefully hid all her love, which she dared not even express aloud, in the lyrics.
"It won't disappear."
Kitahara Shin reached out and gently rubbed the top of her cap, tilting the baseball cap slightly. "As long as you write them down, they will always exist."
"and----"
He smiled. "Even if you forget, I will remember. I will remember Osaka today, I will remember the taste of this takoyaki, and I will remember what you look like now."
The spring water stared at him blankly.
After several seconds, she suddenly lowered her head, hurriedly turned to a new page in her notebook, picked up a pen, and began to write something.
"What's wrong?" Kitahara Shin asked.
"N-nothing!"
Quan Shui didn't even look up, her pen flying across the paper, her ears already bright red. "But—"
Suddenly a few lyrics came to mind, and I'm afraid I'll forget them—
Kitahara Shin did not expose her.
He sat there quietly, watching her write.
In the setting sun, the girl bowed her head, her expression focused and devout. The ordinary ballpoint pen in her hand seemed like a device recording her heartbeat.
What is she writing?
Perhaps it's about writing about the sunset, or perhaps it's about writing about these slightly hot takoyaki.
Or perhaps, it is writing about a love that dares not be spoken aloud, but can only be expressed in melody.
As dusk fell.
At the station, it was time to say goodbye.
Quanshui put on her mask and hat again, making herself blend back into the unremarkable passerby.
-
"Well—I'm leaving."
She stood at the ticket gate, her hands gripping the straps of her canvas bag tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"Okay, be careful on the road." Kitahara Shin nodded. "Let me know when you get to Tokyo."
"it is good."
The spring responded, but did not turn around.
She stood there, head down, toes lightly shuffling on the ground. People hurried past, but she seemed like a frozen sculpture.
"Is there anything else?" Kitahara Shin asked gently.
The spring took a deep breath.
She suddenly looked up, and a glint of courage flashed in her eyes, which were visible outside her mask.
She took a step forward.
The polite distance between the two, which was originally half a meter, has now shrunk to just a few centimeters.
Kitahara Shin could smell a faint, pleasant fragrance emanating from her, a mixture of shampoo and paper.
"that----"
Her voice trembled slightly.
Before Kitahara Shin could react, she suddenly stood on tiptoe.
Through the white mask, her lips lightly and very quickly touched his cheek.
That couldn't even be considered a kiss.
It was more like a butterfly that bumped into a petal in a panic.
"This, this is a thank-you gift!"
After doing this, Quanshui seemed to have exhausted all her strength, her face turning so red it was almost steaming.
She explained incoherently, "Thank you—thank you for spending time with me today—and for the takoyaki—"
After saying that, she didn't dare to look at Kitahara Shin's expression at all, and turned around and rushed into the ticket gate like a frightened rabbit.
Even his back view exuded a sense of panic as he fled in disarray.
Kitahara Shin stood there, stunned for a few seconds.
He raised his hand and touched the spot on his cheek where the mask had rubbed against his face.
There was no dampness left, only a slight itch from the fabric rubbing against the skin.
But that cautious, clumsy yet fervent feeling, through that point of contact, burned all the way to the bottom of my heart.
"A thank-you gift—"
Kitahara Shin watched the figure disappear into the crowd, and a gentle smile involuntarily curved his lips.
He turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
The pager in my pocket vibrated.
It was a short message.
There was no signature, only a short sentence:
Thank you. The wind is so gentle today.
This is Izumi Sakai.
She is reserved and understated, yet her deep affection is heartbreaking.
Kitahara Shin closed his phone and strode into the Kyoto night.
The next scene is about to be filmed.
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