Arthur looked at Daichi waiting by his locker.
"Daichi, it's strange to see you this early," he said.
Arthur wanted to talk about the movie 17 Again.
"I think we can talk about that tomorrow," Arthur replied, "we're still missing a few actors anyway."
Daichi nodded. "Sorry if I'm rushing you, Arthur, but my Mother been pressuring me to quit my acting classes."
"I understand, Daichi. It can be confusing for parents to see their child wanting to become an actor. But don't worry — I'm sure the movie will be an absolute success. Now let's go to class; I don't want Emiko to see me."
Daichi and Arthur went to their classroom. Before they could settle down, Emiko appeared, startling Arthur.
"If I didn't know you, I'd think you were running away from me, Arthur," she teased.
"Seriously, Emiko, I was just thinking about how cold it is this morning… right, Daichi?"
Daichi just nodded and began reading the script. Emiko looked at him for a moment and then turned a cold glance toward Arthur.
"Now that I think about it, Arthur, you promised me more songs."
Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Well, Emiko, I don't recall promising that."
"Well, now you'll help me. Seeing Daichi so absorbed in that script—it's like his future depends on you."
Daichi stopped reading and looked at Emiko, confused. "You know, Emiko, this script is really good. Why don't you read it yourself?"
With that, Daichi handed her the script.
"I'm ready, Arthur. I know everything I need to," Daichi said.
Arthur sighed helplessly. "You know, acting isn't that easy. But since you're so confident, I'll let you know when we're ready to shoot."
Emiko ignored them and kept reading the script. When class started, she was still reading. When the bell rang, Emiko looked around in confusion as everyone left, some staying behind.
Arthur and Daichi were already leaving, and seeing this, Emiko grabbed her things and followed them.
The three walked toward the cafeteria. Emiko glanced suspiciously at Arthur.
"How am I supposed to believe you wrote this script?"
Arthur remained silent as they walked. "Well, Emiko, I also write novels," he said.
Emiko said nothing until they arrived at the cafeteria. "Whatever, Arthur. I'm not hungry. Eat without me."
She handed the script back to Daichi and left.
Both watched her go, confused, and then sat down to eat.
Before they could start, Mika and Takashi arrived and sat with them.
"What happened to Emiko?" Takashi asked. "I greeted her in the hallway but she just ignored me with a sad look."
Mika clung to Takashi's arm. Takashi smiled awkwardly.
"Well, Arthur, I suppose you'd know something."
Arthur looked even more confused.
Daichi stared at his soup. "Maybe she's just jealous of Arthur's talent. I mean, I'd feel envious too if someone had all those ideas—and he's a foreigner. No offense, Arthur."
Arthur chuckled.
Takashi nodded. "It's true, Arthur. Even I'm a bit envious of your talent. Maybe you could share it with others."
Arthur shook his head. "I don't really understand Emiko. She keeps everything she feels inside."
Mika smirked, eyeing Arthur's fried fish.
"You know, foreigner," she said mockingly, "my mother always told me to be careful around foreigners—you never know when they might take away something you love most."
As she said that, she grabbed Arthur's fried fish and put it on her plate.
Arthur stared in disbelief at how fast it all happened.
Embarrassed, Takashi shared some of his food with Arthur. "Forgive her, Arthur. She's frustrated because her mother wants her to study journalism, but she wants to be an actress and her parents don't support her."
"Well, Mika, I could help you," Arthur offered, "but I don't have any scripts with a female lead right now."
Mika looked at him arrogantly. "I don't need help from a foreigner. I can become famous on my own."
Arthur nodded calmly. "It's good that you have such confidence, Mika. I wish you the best."
Seeing the tension in the air, Takashi changed the subject.
"Well, Arthur, I heard your movie earned a good amount. We should collaborate sometime if there's a chance."
"I wouldn't mind that," Arthur said. "If a good script appears, I'll let you know."
Mika remained silent the entire lunch hour. Eventually, she and Takashi said goodbye and left.
"That was uncomfortable," Daichi muttered as he watched them go.
"You think so, Daichi?" Arthur said. "I think the pressure from her family makes life confusing, especially for someone like Mika. Still, I don't take it personally. If she ever needs help, I won't hesitate. After all, it's easier to make enemies than friends."
With that, Arthur stood up. "You coming, or staying?"
"I'll come," Daichi said. "I need to go to my club anyway. I also want to practice a bit more."
They walked down the halls—Daichi still reading the script, Arthur watching the students pass by. Some looked at him in awe, others mockingly.
"This is your club," Arthur said. "Stop reading for a moment—you almost bumped into five students already."
Daichi blushed. "Thanks for walking me here, Arthur. See you later."
Daichi entered his club, and Arthur continued alone toward the Literature Club.
Takashi hadn't arrived yet, so Arthur decided to read something and left his new novel on the table. Before he could sit down, Aiko quickly grabbed the manuscript and began reading.
---
Summer Garden
Summer always carries that scent of wet grass and memories that never quite fade.
You return to the village after so many years, with a light suitcase and a tired heart. Your grandmother's house is the same: sun-bleached walls, the sound of cicadas filling the silence, the garden still blooming under someone's care.
And then you see him—Ren.
He hasn't changed as much as you thought. His eyes still hold that calm that once made you feel safe, though now he seems to look at the world from farther away, as if time has made him a little sadder.
Between slow, hot days and warm nights in the garden, the conversations return, the soft laughter, the memories that open like summer flowers.
But the weight of what you never said also returns — the choices you made when you still believed love could wait.
Sometimes you think the garden remembers more than you do — that the flowers keep what you tried to forget.
And when summer begins to fade, you understand that maybe you didn't come back to relive the past, but to finally let it rest.
The garden keeps blooming.
And you, at last, do too.
---
When Aiko finished reading, she set the novel down, and another club member picked it up.
Aiko approached Arthur with a shy smile.
"Did you really write this?"
Arthur smirked. "Well, it's in my handwriting, so I suppose I did."
"No, I mean—it takes a lot of experience in love to write something like that."
Arthur nodded. "You're right, Aiko. But in the short time I've been in Azabu, I've experienced a few heartbreaks. I think I've learned a thing or two."
"My father invited you to dinner," Aiko said. "Will you come, or are you busy?"
"I'll come," Arthur replied.
She smiled warmly.
Before everyone finished reading, Takashi entered the room.
"Arthur, you didn't tell me you gave Emiko a song! She's bragging about it to Mika and wants you to give her one too."
Arthur shook his head. "It came from inspiration. I wish it were that easy."
"I tried explaining that to her," Takashi said. "But Mika's stubborn. Anyway, sorry for bothering you, Arthur."
Arthur smiled. "No need to apologize. She should be the one to ask, not you."
"You're right," Takashi said.
Aiko handed Arthur's new novel. "This is Arthur's latest work. Read it."
Takashi, curious, began reading. Aiko watched Arthur expectantly.
"I really love your novels, Arthur," she said before walking away to grab another book.
Takashi finished reading and looked at Arthur, amazed.
"Did you really write this?"
Arthur nodded.
"I'm impressed. I've tried writing novels, but no one ever accepted my work. Although one company did — I think it was called CAPCOM Literature. They're accepting unknown writers now, which made me think maybe I should pursue writing seriously."
Arthur nodded. "If it's your dream, you should follow it."
Takashi laughed. "I doubt I could ever create works like yours, Arthur. But thank you. Truly, this piece is wonderful."
Arthur took the manuscript back, and just then Aiko returned.
"All right, Arthur, we can go now."
Takashi was surprised. "Aiko, you're not… dating Arthur, right?"
"No," Aiko said quickly. "My father invited the great novelist to dinner."
With that, she left with Arthur.
Takashi watched them go, puzzled as to why Aiko's father would invite Arthur. Shaking his head, he picked up a book and began to read.
When they reached the gates of Azabu High, the chauffeur was waiting again with the same distinctive car.
Arthur and Aiko got in. This time, Aiko tried to talk about anything she could think of.
Before long, the car stopped at her house.
The garden was full of people—gardeners, servants, and men with an air of quiet danger.
Arthur followed Aiko inside.
"My father should be in the dining room," she said. "If you'd like, you can wear this, Arthur."
She showed him a men's kimono.
Arthur smiled. "It might be too formal, don't you think, Aiko?"
She paused, then put it away. "You're right, sorry for asking. Follow me."
They entered a room where a man and woman were drinking tea. Aiko bowed.
"This is my classmate, Arthur Tanaka."
Arthur bowed as well. "It's a pleasure to be here."
"Please sit," Zenko said, motioning to the table. "The chef will bring dinner soon."
Arthur and Aiko sat.
"I assume you're not used to Japanese food," Zenko said. "So I asked the chef to prepare something you'd like. By the way, the lady beside me is Aiko's mother, Yua Nishimura."
"It's a pleasure," Yua said. "My husband and daughter have told me much about you."
Arthur nodded politely.
After dinner, the dishes were cleared, and tea was served.
"Well, Arthur," Zenko began, "as Aiko's father, I hope you can truly help her. Since you came to dinner, that means you've accepted my invitation."
Aiko looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about, Father?"
"Yes, my dear," Zenko continued. "Arthur will be your tutor from now on. He'll help you write novels that will make you a renowned author."
Aiko turned to Arthur. "Why didn't you tell me? And what about my other tutors, Father?"
"They've all been dismissed," Zenko said flatly. "I don't like people without talent criticizing my daughter."
"But I liked how they taught me," Aiko said coldly.
"Enough, Aiko," Yua interjected. "Your father does this for your own good."
"It's decided," Zenko said, standing. "Arthur, come tomorrow after club hours with my daughter so you can familiarize yourself with the place."
He and Yua left the room.
Aiko stared blankly at the empty chair where her father had sat. Arthur stayed silent.
"He always wants to control everything in my life," she said bitterly.
Arthur looked at the candlelight. "Maybe he just wants the best for you, and this is how he thinks he can help."
Aiko's eyes filled with tears. "At least you understand something, Arthur—but you still have a lot to learn."
Arthur didn't know how to respond.
Aiko stood up. "Come, I'll walk you to the car."
They crossed the garden in silence.
"This time, I won't go with you, Arthur," Aiko said softly. "Nao will drive you home. I need to think about everything my father wants from me."
She turned and walked back toward the house.
Arthur watched her disappear inside.
Nao, the driver, looked at Arthur. "Miss Aiko seems sad, doesn't she?"
Arthur nodded. "It's hard not having much freedom, don't you think, Nao?"
He got into the car and fastened his seatbelt. Nao started the engine and drove off.
When they arrived at Arthur's home, the lights were off.
As he got out, Nao said, "It's comforting to have people who care enough to protect you, don't you think, Arthur?"
With that, he drove away.
Arthur watched the car's taillights vanish into the distance.
Inside, he found a note on the refrigerator:
I'm with your father, Arthur. I'll stay with him for a few days. Dinner's in the microwave.
Arthur took out the food but, having already eaten, put it back in the fridge.
He showered and went to his room.
"How sad it is to be alone again," he thought as he lay down to sleep.
---
He found himself in a forest. Then, a house.
The house seems asleep when you arrive.
The air is so still that even the dust doesn't dare move. You came with your crew to film a documentary, but something inside you — a twist in your gut, a whisper in the hallway — already knew you shouldn't have entered.
The door closes behind you. You don't hear it, but you feel it.
The smell of damp wood, rusted iron, and something that once was flesh. Flickering lights. On a wall hangs a portrait — a woman with her eyes torn out. They say her son died here, and that her spirit still searches for his body.
Then… a sigh behind you.
No one's there.
Only your reflection in a stained mirror — but when you blink, it doesn't.
You run down the hallway, stumble through an open door. Inside, a cradle. A lullaby echoes from afar, and the air grows thick, almost liquid.
The shadows move on their own.
The house knows you. It breathes you. It watches you.
One by one, your teammates disappear — screams, slamming doors, bursting lights.
And then you understand: the house isn't haunted. The house is alive.
And you, with your camera, trembling hands, eyes burning with fear — you're already part of it.
There's no way out.
Only an echo that repeats your name, over and over, until you forget it too.
Then Arthur saw a sign: Sweet Home.
He opened his eyes, drenched in sweat.
Quickly, he went to his desk and wrote down the plot of the movie Sweet Home.
When he finished, his clothes were soaked. He showered again and got ready for school.
"All right," he muttered as he stepped outside, "a nightmare I don't want to experience again."
Looking up at the cloudy sky, he walked toward class.