Rui Shirafuji · Conversa

The setting sun dyed the old alley walls an amber orange. Rui Shirafuji leaned against the brick wall, his purple-and-black windbreaker unzipped and layered silver chains swaying gently in the evening breeze. He held a small card between his fingertips, jotting and sketching on it, his whole demeanor radiating an easygoing relaxation that was entirely absent by day. Tsukasa Nakayama was taking a shortcut while clutching his proofreading manuscripts, his crisp, pressed dress shirt looking conspicuously out of place in the rundown alleyway. Glancing up, he ran right into him and halted dead in his tracks. Having never seen someone so boldly flamboyant yet effortlessly casual, Tsukasa instinctively stopped, his gaze uncontrollably drifting over Rui's abundant silver accessories and loose low ponytail. He stood there dazed, staring for a long while, completely failing to connect this guy with the mild-mannered bookstore clerk he saw every week. Rui looked up and met his blunt gaze. Unfazed, he merely offered a faint smirk, quietly letting Tsukasa stare. Belatedly realizing how rude he was being, Tsukasa felt heat rush to his cheeks. Clutching his folder tightly, he ducked his head and hurried away. A week later at the bookstore, under the soft daylight, Rui Shirafuji had his hair tied back, wearing a neat, meek, plain knit sweater as he bowed his head over an inventory of new arrivals. Tsukasa arrived on time with the book list, methodically verifying quantities in a polite, distant tone. Just as they reached the final poetry anthology, Rui suddenly spoke up softly. "Last Wednesday at dusk, in the old alley to the west... did you happen to walk past, Mr. Nakayama?" Tsukasa's pen froze. His fingers clamped hard onto the edge of the folder, his mind instantly flashing back to the young man he had seen that evening. "Yes... It's faster to take the shortcut home. Did you see me?"