“Oh, interesting. So you film it all on your cell phone? You don’t need any fancy equipment or anything?”
“Obviously there are limitations involved, but I usually find a way around them…or sometimes I just make the most of what I’ve got, y’know? There were definitely times in my life where my heart was set on buying all the latest tech, so I’d work whatever part-time job in order to save up for it. But these days, I’m like, meh.”
“So there you have it, folks—an insider look at the world of stop-motion animation. Tune in tomorrow, when Tsuzuki-san will be giving us a crash course in Animation 101, and find out how you can start your very own weekend project! We’ll see you then.”
“Cut! That’s a wrap!”
Once I made sure the cameras were off, I excused myself, covered my mouth, and sneezed softly.
“You sick?” asked Tsuzuki, and I suppressed the urge to slap him silly.
It’s your fault I stood out in the cold winter streets for ten-plus minutes, zoning out! Well, okay…no, it isn’t. But still. “No, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
As the film crew reviewed their freshly taken footage, Tsuzuki muttered, “Sorry.”
“Huh?” I didn’t say any of that aloud, did I? My “camera smile” froze stiffly on my face.
“About what happened last time,” he clarified.
Oh, right. Next time start with that part, genius.
“I had a crappy attitude for reasons that had nothing to do with you. You didn’t deserve that. So yeah…I’m sorry.”
As Tsuzuki solemnly bowed to me, I bit back a laugh of a different stripe. In my mind, I was thinking, I can’t believe you actually went through with it. Don’t take everything so seriously, you dumbass. But contrary to my internal monologue, out of my mouth came, “What? No, don’t be,” tinged with just the right amount of hesitation.
Honestly, sometimes I impressed myself with how automatic my responses felt. Like an RPG battle on auto mode. Or maybe my brain was running KuniedaKei.exe in the background.
“You haven’t offended me in the least, so I see no reason for you to apologize,” I assured him.
“You mean it?”
“Of course.”
“Cool.”
In Tsuzuki’s relief, an unguarded smile spread across his face. For a moment, the sight of it made my chest ache, as though a tiny crack had formed on the surface of my heart—so small, not even a thread could fit through it. Fortunately, that moment was fleeting, and I summarily ignored it.
“A friend of mine encouraged me to apologize to you, actually,” he said.
“Did they now?” What friend? You mean me? Because I’m sure as hell not your friend, chief.
“Yeah. I only just met him the other day, but he’s a total riot.”
“Interesting.”
“He’s an oddball, and he swears like a sailor. Yeah… He’s the total opposite of you, now that I think about it.”
Not sure if I should take that as a compliment. But naturally Tsuzuki had no inkling of precisely who he was talking to, and so he grinned like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Did you bring your intonation dictionary today?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s in my briefcase. I don’t really need it for this interview, but I like to carry it around as a sort of good-luck charm. There’s just something reassuring about having it on hand. Sometimes, right before a broadcast, or whenever I’m especially nervous, I like to flip through it at random. After all, they say the more stressed you are, the more important it is that you carry on like normal.”
“I gotta admit, your voice is pretty enjoyable to listen to.” Tsuzuki nodded. “It’s super mellow, with this sort of silky quality to it? But you always enunciate clearly, and your pacing is perfect. You must have put a lot of practice into it.”
Damn right I have. You don’t even know the half of it. “You flatter me, but honestly, I’m still a novice.”
“If you’re a ‘novice,’ then so am I.”
“Don’t be silly!” I stared at him, my eyes wide. All an act, of course. “A novice wouldn’t have seen half the success you have!”
“Honestly, I regret everything I’ve ever made. Every time I think I’ve created something special, I immediately start to see its flaws. But when you create for a living, the only way to get over your mistakes is to make something new, y’know?”
“That’s the sort of thing you should save for when the cameras are rolling…”
“What? No way.” He grimaced, possibly in embarrassment.
Just as I had shown Tsuzuki two sides of myself, so too did he act remarkably different around each of those sides. But then again, maybe any normal person—
That was the point at which I stopped myself to ask: Am I really that different from a “normal” person? Well… Yeah, I guess I am. But at the same time, I still lead a “normal” life.
I always hated phrases like “the real you” or “one’s true self.” To me, it was borderline insanity to believe that other people would see any sort of value in your ugliest, most imperfect self. Hence I channeled all my energy into creating a likeable persona until it came so naturally to me that I could respond on autopilot without even thinking.
And unlike Tsuzuki, I was perfectly satisfied with what I had created.
✦ ✦ ✦
That night, “Owari” turned up on Tsuzuki’s doorstep yet again. As soon as Tsuzuki opened the door, the first thing out of his mouth was, “I apologized!”
Thanks for the status update, champ, but I was there. Dumbass. “Oh yeah?”
“He said he wasn’t offended,” he continued cheerfully, and my chest ached again—more sharply than it had that afternoon.
Must be because I’m so frustrated with him, I decided. Here I am, putting up with his busywork to the point that I caught a cold, and he’s dancing around on cloud nine. Of course it pisses me off.
Or so I told myself.