Arthur looked toward the horizon — it was a cloudless day. As he walked, he noticed a man in his thirties watching a group of laughing teenagers pass by, his eyes filled with nostalgia. Arthur realized that the film 17 Again should soon be ready to direct.
Arriving at Azabu High, Arthur noticed Daichi talking to an older man. Arthur gave Daichi a polite nod before heading to his locker. Just as he was about to climb the stairs, someone tapped his shoulder. Turning, he found Daichi, who gave him an awkward look. Before Arthur could say anything, the man Daichi had been speaking with approached him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. You must be the writer of this script," the man said, handing Arthur a copy. Arthur blinked in confusion.
"Well, I wanted to buy it. I'll offer you 5,000 yen," the man continued.
Arthur remained silent for a moment. "I don't know who you are, sir, but I've already sold that script."
The man looked shocked, turning toward Daichi for an explanation, but Arthur said nothing and went upstairs.
Before he could sit down in class, Emiko approached him. "Arthur, something confuses me. If you could write Love Letter, why not try horror? It sells better."
Arthur thought for a moment. "I prefer writing scripts. In novels, it's harder to scare readers — but in movies, the fear, the tension, you can feel it."
Before he could say more, Daichi suddenly appeared, startling both of them. His face looked gloomy. "Sorry, Arthur. That was my acting teacher. He insisted on meeting the writer of the script."
Emiko looked surprised. "You take acting lessons, Daichi?"
Daichi nodded. "Yeah, only because Arthur told me I could act in one of his films."
Emiko turned to Arthur with mock annoyance. "You know, Arthur, I've always wanted to be a singer. Why don't you write me some songs, and I'll forgive you for keeping secrets from me? It seems everyone you know gets something out of you."
Arthur frowned. "Emiko. They're my friends."
Emiko blinked. "Wait, so are you saying I'm not your friend?"
Realizing his mistake, Arthur quickly opened his notebook, flipping through pages until he found a song he had once written. "You're my friend too, Emiko. Here—this one's for you."
Emiko took the notebook, ready to scold him for the messy handwriting, but as she looked closer, she realized the scribbles were Japanese lyrics, just slightly misshapen. She began to read:
---
My Revolution
Farewell, Sweet Pain.
The nights that I spent sitting with my hands folded under my chin ended yesterday.
I want to make sure
Of the meaning that we met, so I open my eyes in the dark.
The sound of shoes that rush up the emergency stairs.
I want them to echo to the sleeping world.
A bicycle fallen over in the corner of an empty lot.
I'm looking up at the graffiti on the wall.
I'm sure that true pain
Is something that I can heal on my own.
I've started to understand what is "My Revolution."
It means to distort tomorrow.
I want to convey this to someone.
My Tears, My Dreams, right away!
If you're going to chase your dream,
You can't cry so easily.
That's what you taught me.
My Fears, My Dreams, that's why I can run ahead.
Feel my heart ache.
The nights I'm alone become more painful the more smiles there are.
I want to share them with you.
The words I wrote in the corner of my textbook begin to move.
Homesick lovers
Believe only in humor
And start running at the intersection.
That moment you take my hand makes my heart throb;
It's the strength that makes me think you're the only one.
I don't want to let this go within the town.
I want to look for My Revolution.
It means to change tomorrow.
I want to convey this to someone.
My Tears, My Dreams, right away!
This is only my lifestyle,
And no one can choose it for me.
I want us to look at each other.
My Fears, My Dreams, I want to embrace you.
I've started to understand what is "My Revolution."
It means to distort tomorrow.
I want to convey this to someone.
My Tears, My Dreams, right away!
If you're going to chase your dream,
You can't cry so easily.
That's what you taught me.
My Fears, My Dreams, that's why I can run ahead.
---
When she finished reading, Emiko looked at Arthur with astonishment. "Alright, I'll forgive you. But you still surprise me, Arthur. How can you have something like this in your notebook and just pull it out so casually?"
Arthur smiled faintly. "I wrote it after you hit me and left me in the cold rain."
Emiko blushed and turned away. Before Daichi could say , the teacher entered the classroom, beginning a new lesson.
After class, Daichi and Emiko approached Arthur.
"I guess we're eating together?" Emiko asked.
Daichi shook his head. "I've got to keep practicing the script."
Emiko teased him. "Daichi, aren't you afraid the screenwriter might not give you more roles if you act cold toward him?"
Daichi froze — she was right. Arthur had helped him before and could do so again. Quickly, Daichi bowed. "I'm sorry, Arthur!"
Arthur looked between the two, puzzled. "Actually, Emiko's right. How do you know all that, Emiko?"
Blushing, Emiko coughed. "My father always said one should be considerate of others."
Daichi grinned. "Alright, let's grab something fried. I'm starving."
The three of them went to the cafeteria. Before entering, they noticed Mika talking with a woman. When Mika saw them, she left with the woman.
Emiko sighed mockingly. "Why is it that whenever Mika's around, it's always drama?"
"Because her life is a drama," Daichi replied.
Arthur remained quiet. They soon noticed Takashi eating alone, absorbed in a book.
"It's rare not to see you with Mika," Emiko said. "And why are you reading?"
Takashi looked up. "Exams are coming soon, and I'll be graduating soon."
The three of them stared in surprise.
"That's right," Arthur said. "You're in your final year."
Takashi nodded. "Anyway, I've got some things to take care of. See you later."
After lunch, they split up toward their clubs. Daichi seemed thoughtful.
"What's wrong, Daichi?" Arthur asked.
"Nothing really. I just don't know what to study."
"Why not acting?"
As Emiko entered the kendo club, Arthur's voice echoed behind her words.
Daichi hesitated. "You think so, Arthur? It's a lot of pressure... what if I'm not good enough?"
Arthur chuckled. "You've got a screenwriter as a friend. I'll help you — and once the movies come, you'll be ready. But it's your choice."
Daichi smiled, watching the sunset. "You're right, Arthur. I forgot I have a friend who supports me. Thanks."
He waved and entered the baseball club. Arthur smiled and headed toward the literature club.
When he entered, Aiko approached him. "Arthur, I was thinking about your novel Love Letter. I told my father about it — he found it very interesting. He wanted to know if you'd come to our house to talk about literature. He's inviting you."
Arthur hesitated. "Are you sure, Aiko? You really want to invite a foreigner?"
Aiko smiled warmly. "Don't worry, Arthur. My father's worked with foreigners before. He won't mind."
She took Arthur's hand suddenly, making him freeze.
"Wait—Aiko, you mean now?"
"Well, since you said yes, my father told me to bring you right away. There's already a car waiting for us."
At the school gates, Arthur saw a Toyota Crown 2WD (1980) parked. It struck him immediately — he began to imagine what Aiko's father must do for a living. A man greeted Aiko, opening the door for her and then for Arthur. As they sat inside, Arthur noticed the man's piercing gaze before he sat at the wheel and started the car.
The ride was quiet. Aiko stared out the window; Arthur kept his thoughts to himself. When they arrived, the car stopped before a large garden with a tall mural. The man stepped out, opened the door for Aiko, then for Arthur.
"Come, Arthur," Aiko said softly. "My father must be in the tea room."
The place was large — ponds, trees, wooden walkways, and small cabins that looked like guest houses.
"What's kept in there?" Arthur asked, pointing to one of the tidy cabins.
"Oh, those? They're for guests," Aiko replied with a smile.
They climbed wooden stairs until they reached a spacious room. Inside, a man sat cross-legged, sipping tea while reading.
Aiko approached him, whispered something Arthur couldn't hear. The man nodded, and Aiko left the room, leaving Arthur standing awkwardly.
The man finally looked up. "So, you're the writer of this novel. It's interesting — but I don't understand why you use the pseudonym AOI."
He chuckled. "Afraid people will discover you're a fifteen-year-old boy? That could hurt your credibility as a writer."
Before Arthur could answer, the man stood. "Follow me."
Arthur hesitated but obeyed. The house seemed endless — hall after hall — until they stopped at a door.
Inside was the most Western-looking room Arthur had ever seen in Japan. The man sat behind a desk and motioned for Arthur to sit.
Speaking fluent English, he said, "It's a pleasure, Arthur. I am Zenko Nishimura, a politician from the Liberal Democratic Party."
Arthur stayed silent.
Zenko continued, "Perhaps you don't know this, but your father is also a politician. I believe he'll tell you more when the time comes. When my daughter mentioned a foreign boy at Azabu, I was suspicious. But after looking into you, I discovered your work. You intrigued me."
He opened a drawer and took out several novels — all signed AOI.
"I spoke to your father, and he was amazed. He said you were brilliant — that keeping your identity hidden would protect you from unwanted attention."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Sir, you still haven't told me why you brought me here."
Zenko walked to the window, overlooking the garden.
"Arthur, I want you to help my daughter write. Be her tutor. I'll pay you for your time."
Arthur frowned. "Sir, I have my own plans too."
Zenko laughed. "Of course you do. A driver will pick you up whenever you wish to come. My daughter has always wanted to be a writer, but every tutor I've hired said the same thing — that she can't do it."
With a sudden slam, Zenko struck the desk, startling Arthur.
"How dare they say that about my precious Aiko!"
Arthur froze. Zenko closed his eyes and sighed. "Forgive me, Arthur. My daughter is my treasure. It angers me when untalented tutors belittle her. But you — you can help her. I'm asking you, as a father, to guide her."
Arthur hesitated. "Let me think about it."
Zenko nodded. "If you agree, just tell my daughter you're willing to have dinner tomorrow. That will be enough."
Arthur bowed slightly. "I'll think about it."
"You may go," Zenko said, sitting down again.
Arthur left the room, exhaling in relief. Before he could relax, a man in a tuxedo appeared.
"Please follow me. Miss Aiko is waiting."
He led Arthur to a sliding door, opened it, and gestured for him to enter. Then he quietly left.
Aiko was watching a comedy show, laughing, until she saw Arthur. Her smile froze.
"Oh, right. I asked Nao to bring you here. Tell me, Arthur — what did my father say?"
Arthur shook his head. "You should ask him yourself, Aiko."
She pouted. "He never tells me anything! Every time I ask, he says, 'You're still a child.'"
Arthur didn't reply.
"Anyway," Aiko said, "I'll take you home. I've always wanted to see where you live."
They left together, and Nao drove them back. When they arrived, Arthur stepped out of the car.
"Thanks, Aiko. See you tomorrow."
He waved as the car drove away, then entered his house. His mother was in her room, so he quietly went to his own.
"Today was exhausting," he sighed, collapsing onto his bed and drifting to sleep.
---
In his dream, Arthur stood in a silent library filled with books. Reaching for one, he read the title:
Summer Garden
The sun sets slowly over the garden, and you can feel how each ray caresses the trembling leaves and petals in the summer breeze. In that place, a group of young people gathers, each carrying secrets, fears, and small wounds of the heart.
You realize that this garden isn't just a physical space — it's a refuge where life feels more intense, where every laugh and every silence carries weight.
As you read, you discover the characters one by one:
• A girl who looks at the sky with melancholy, trying to understand the absence of someone dear.
• A boy who seems distant, but hides a deep fear of losing what he loves.
• Friends who, in their own ways, teach that life is fragile and beautiful at the same time.
The pages wrap around you — the heat of summer, the scents of flowers, the softness of nighttime conversations. Each scene reminds you that life is made of fleeting moments and quiet discoveries, visible only when you stop to look.
And as you read, you feel that the garden is teaching you something too — that friendship, love, and the acceptance of loss are the silent seeds growing within you, turning summer into something unforgettable.
For a moment, you feel you're there with them — walking among flowers, hearing laughter mixed with whispers of the wind, realizing that time can move both slowly and fast, like a summer that feels eternal yet always ends.
---
Before reaching for another book, Arthur woke up. He rushed to his desk and began to write the novel Summer Garden. When he finished and looked at the clock, it was still early.
He got ready for school, tucked the new manuscript into his bag, and left after saying goodbye to his mother.
Another day began — and as he walked toward Azabu High, Arthur looked up at the sky.
"Another cloudless day," he murmured, smiling faintly.