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“That’s really not necessary!” Light tones, Light tones. You really can’t kick all these people out of the café just because I forgot to brew my morning coffee. “These lovely people are just here to enjoy a coffee. We should allow them to stay, dear Naoki! It’s really no pain to me.”
“You know the agency’s rules. We can’t let you out of our sight, and it’s easiest to do that if we clear out most stores.” Naoki at last had the decency to sound sorry, though his expressionless body just kept ushering fans and salarymen out. Gen once again cursed his parents for allowing him to sign that contract.
“Well, can I at least sit down to drink this time? We have hours until my next signing.” Turn up the drama. Make them sing for you.
“Fine. But make it quick. I don’t want the police questioning our shutting down an entire restaurant without notifying the owner.”
“Without notifying me of what?” The thin barista smoothing his white apron looked almost too awake for six thirty. “That you drove away my business for a half-rate pop psychologist?”
“Ah, read my books, have you?” Gen held out his hand smiling. “I’d just hate for my fans to overwhelm your adorable business.”
The owner perfunctorily shook it. “Pssht. I could make ten billion pumpkin spice matcha lattes in my sleep. Couldn’t afford a big enough space for your ego though.”
“Ouch.” Smile through it. “So, what’s good here?”
“I wouldn’t know—I don’t drink coffee anymore.” Ooo, and there was a microexpression of a story there. “But I’m partial to barley tea with matcha bread. We bake it fresh in each morning.”
“Sounds delicious.” Gen held out the s salaciously. “I’ll take it. Naoki there will have black coffee with a shot of blueberry syrup. And the others…” He exaggeratedly looked around before whispering. “Can you pump out that many pumpkin spice matcha lattes in ten minutes?”
The owner smiled slightly. “Alright. But there’s an extra charge for rushing me.”
“Sweetheart, I can afford it.” Easy prey.
He hadn’t remembered to brew his morning coffee again. Thank God his security team was comfortable going back to the Coffee Lab.
“Best cheese Danish I ever had. And the coffee—ooh, you should have tasted it, Gen. It was perfectly roasted and packed.” The barley tea had also been good, and the matcha bread perfectly moist without being undercooked or crumbly. But it didn’t pay to get too attached to---
“Oh, and Gen, did you see that baker? She was so cute! I wish I hadn’t been at work.” It wasn’t safe for his younger security guards to lose focus. Well, it was good for him, but fans could be… overwhelming. But an opening in security… well…
“Perhaps you should ask for her number. I’m sure she’d be willing to give it to you.” It’s unlikely, but you never know.
As they walked in, the security guards once again asked customers to leave.
“No really, I’m sorry! My agency requires them to do this, but I would rather have a lovely breakfast with you! Please accept my deepest apologies.” Stay upbeat, don’t offer them anything in return. Deflect the blame. Smile harder. Not that hard.
“Good performance. I still needed those customers.” The barista led him back to the counter.
“Again, I deeply apologize…”
“Senku. Ishigami Senku.” He held Gen’s eye contact just a little too long before glancing back at his departing customers.
“Mr. Ishigami. My deepest apologies for driving your customers away twice now. I’m not lying though—my agency won’t let me go out in public. At least, not without heavy regulation.”
He chuffed out a quick laugh. “I can tell you’re not lying for once, mentalist. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you come back. But tell your bodyguards that we’re less busy around ten.” He looked at Gen directly again. “Oh, and that should also give you enough time to stop promoting misinformation on television too.”
Gen laughed naturally. “As if I’d ever do such a thing, Mr. Ishigami! I only tell people real psychology—how people interpret it, or my agent chooses to market it is not my problem.” Those books were utter bullshit though. I never should have allowed them to sign my name to them.
“Okay, Mr. Asagiri. What will it be then?”
They did come back around ten. Word was spreading around the agency of Mr. Ishigami’s delicious fruit dainties and strong coffee, so Gen’s team had to return a week later to confirm that a spot would be available.
“I told you they’d be back.” The baker quipped, carrying a bag of flour toward the kitchen. “Senku, customers!”
“Jesus, I could hear your screaming down the street. Hello again. As predicted, my shop is empty. So now that you aren’t disturbing anyone besides me and Kohaku, what can I get you?” His messy white hair seemed to stick up in every direction at once as a lazy smile spread over his face. Gen would almost say he was performing relaxation.
“Well, let’s see… my staff here says that your coffee is particularly excellent. I’d like to give you a little challenge, Mr. Ishigami.”
“Pssht. Like I said, it’s Senku.”
“Okay, Senku, can you make a cappuccino without much milk?”
“So, a macchiato? Easy.” His flat tone betrayed no disappointment at Gen not knowing the technical term. “Do you want it with regular milk or almond?”
“I’d actually like it with oat milk.”
Senku glanced at him and then paused. “I don’t have a barista’s blend. I’d have to heat the milk first and then drop it into the cappuccino.”
“Oh, well, if it’s too much effort—”
“No, just give me a minute…” Senku walked to the kitchen and began moving pans. He returned a few minutes later and set a small saucepan on the counter. As he carefully flattened the fine grounds into the press and began to gently whisk them, Gen realized he hadn’t ordered for anyone else. As the coffee began to slowly drip from the machine, he tried to break the other man’s concentration.
“Oh, and my staff would like some coffee too.” His smiling mask never failed.
“What kind?” Senku whispered, never taking his eyes off the expresso machine.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Gen glanced back at the joking bodyguards. “I guess… regular coffee?”
Senku stopped leaning on the back counter. “Okay, a couple of coffees with one cream and one sugar. And don’t worry, I’ll put them on the side since you aren’t sure. Yours should be ready by the time they’re done.” Don’t even think about it. Don’t even—your contract expressly forbids you from even seeming unavailable for five more years. “Oh, and if you’re really that tired that you can’t remember three guy’s orders with that eidetic memory, you should be ordering a red eye, not a macchiato.”
Gen laughed artificially. “Oh, you know me! So silly, I just never thought to ask. I’ll keep that in mind though.” He watched Senku carefully pour the contents of the saucepan into the small cup and add a touch of chocolate dust.
It was, unfortunately, the best cup of coffee he’d had in years.
“So, Ishigami Senku, you must know a lot about me, being an idol and all.”
“Not more than I have to. You’re a magician, though all your ‘magic’ can be explained through basic psychology. You do a lot of cold reading, though you’re not above hot reading a target when possible. Your books are bullshit. And you want me to make you more coffee.”
“Well, that is what I pay you for.” Really… you must know something else. “But surely you must know my age, favorite color, blood type?”
“No. Though you are always wearing purple. Now, would you like some coffee or are you just going to stop me from making money?” Ooh, that tone was flat, but there was a slightly teasing microexpression.
“Well, I happen to know that you went to the International Mathematics Olympiad twice, once as an observer and once as a contestant. I also happen to know that you worked with Hudson Hui’s group on Euler tilings of hyperbolic geometries[1]. So…”
“So? What can I get you?”
“Well, you could answer why you own a coffee shop instead of working at a university or JAXA or something. But I guess a hot chocolate will do.”
Now, Senku’s past was technically public knowledge to anyone with a computer and his full name. But…
Fingers down his throat, wave after wave of nausea. Long tracts on his skin where he had been scratching, hidden by the lab coat he refused to separate from. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ishigami. Your son is brilliant, but he just doesn’t have what it takes to make it in our program.”
Calm. Calm. This is work. This is now.
I should have known better. “I’m so sorry, dear Senku! Please forgive me. All I seem to do is make your life harder. Please, come sit at one of your wonderful tables. I’m sure that Kohaku can mind the counter for a minute.”
He laughed grimly. “She can’t make coffee. I’m fine, just a little burned out from all that time in the spotlight. So, I left. Now I apply science to make the best coffee you’ve ever tasted. So, what can I get you?”
Gen left a bill under his mug just in case. There was a moment in that eyes-dilated, fast-breathing state where Senku had seemed afraid.
Late that afternoon, Gen slipped his minders for the first time in months and headed back to the Coffee Lab in disguise. Apparently not good enough of one, though. “Hi, mentalist. Still craving Kohaku’s cake? This is the last slice.”
“No thanks. I was just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Not your fault.” Senku continued cleaning the machines. “Not like you knew. Still, I thought a ‘brilliant mentalist’ could read the signs.”
They laughed lifelessly. “No, I’m not psychic like I pretend to be. I’m just a guy with a good memory, just like you. But where you burned out and started a coffee shop, I signed a contract and became world-famous.”
“I’m not completely burned out, you know. I still keep up with ArXiv and Dr. Hui. He wants me to come back to graduate school and work with him directly. I’ve been putting it off.”
Still. It sounds like you aren’t ready. “Why not?”
“It’s hard to be an older student. To admit you already failed once. Especially when you were supposed to be one of the most brilliant mathematicians in the country. Plus, I just don’t want to.”
“Then don’t do it.” I wish I could just not do stuff.
“Well, that’s the thing. I want to work with Dr. Hui. I just don’t want to have to go through all those courses again, just to fail again. It’s…” He trailed off while rinsing out some machine Gen couldn’t pretend to understand the function of. “It’s weird. I both want to and don’t.”
“So, you want to be successful, but you don’t want to fail to achieve it? That seems reasonable to me.” Impossible, but reasonable. How did this guy end up with a functional café? “ What do your friends say?”
“My dad says he doesn’t care. He’s mushy like that, always saying he’s proud of me no matter what. My friends Kohaku and Taiju think I should do it. But I… I just don’t think so.”
“How about this? I’ll say that you should go for it, and you’ll pretend to ignore me. Then you’ll make your own decision.” But you’ll definitely do it. I can hear you pleading with yourself already.
“Or… you could tell me why you’re here, and we could finish up my last transaction of the day before I clean all the equipment.”
Gen laughed artificially. “Geez, can’t a guy sneak off to visit his only friend? Fine, I’ll have that last slice of cake you mentioned and a black tea. But for the record, I think someone that represented our country at the International Mathematics Olympiad can handle graduate school, even if it takes him a few tries.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Gen was called onto an overseas tour. But no matter how often he changed clothes or its location, the tissue with “Your Only Friend-- 70-6038-5275” burned a hole in his pockets. He’d been exaggerating, but… it was hard to make friends. All his friends from before were salarymen, and all his celebrity friends were, well, idols too, bound to their contracts and conditions. Even the other magicians and celebrities he hung out with outside of Japan were caught up in their own lives and didn’t have time for someone who had to constantly be escorted by an entourage he didn’t even want.
He finally texted a picture of the moon from London. “See, sometimes it doesn’t rain in Great Britain.”
Sometime around 1 AM, he felt it vibrate. “Ah yes. All the better to see the drab stonework. Still, that’s a nice image of the Seas of Tranquility and Serenity.”
“I always thought the moon looked like an overinflated seal.”
“Well, I was going to tell you that was where NASA landed on the moon, but now I think I’ll be stuck with that image for the rest of my life instead. Thanks”
“lol :p”
“lol” “When are you getting back?”
“Two weeks. I have to do Paris and the United States.”
The café was still in its late morning slump, but Senku felt himself glancing up and down between his secretive phone conversation and the dining room. He finally just sat under the back counter, confident that any customers would probably ring the bell. “Have you been to the Louvre yet? I would ten billion percent recommend it. Versailles would probably be too much up your alley though. All those mirrors.” Of course, he has. Even if he hasn’t, they can’t close—
“You’re so mean! But no, I haven’t. I’ve been pleading with my agent to let me go, even on a celebrity-only tour. Maybe once I age out.”
“So, wait, you’re like, a real idol? You can’t leave your house or anything?” I knew he wasn’t lying, but I thought he was exaggerating. What the fuuuuuck.
“I’m afraid not. Everything I do has to be planned, even my tabloid ‘oopsies.’ Even my trip to your shop was planned, though I’m sure my team didn’t expect me to manipulate them into continuing to take me back to the same coffee shop over and over.”
“So, this is just a publicity stunt for you.” Despite years of therapy, Senku couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling right now. Anger? Sadness? Sheer frustration and betrayal? Whatever it was, he didn’t need this.
“No, not at all! I just… I needed a friend.” Gen was frustrated to notice that all his messages for the next two weeks were left on seen. But he is opening them. One of his foreign bodyguards even went to bat for him, pleading to allow Gen to go on an early-morning Louvre tour with the likes of Baby Metal and Cyril Takayama. But no dice. It was just a trip of frustration after frustration.
That same guard even pled with him not to sneak off when they were in the US. “I know it seems tempting to get some fresh air. But there are just so many guns here. You just never know.”
“I get it, Uyko. And I know you know I’ve been texting someone. But I just need you to let me do something, anything by myself for a couple hours.”
Uyko chuckled. “We had submariners like you. People who would hull themselves up in the library or the bathroom or the bunks, just to get a little space after months underwater together. Pacing. Scrubbing everything with a toothbrush. Just trying to take back control in even the tiniest way. So, I get it. But I don’t think it’s safe.”
“I respect you a lot, Uyko. I’m going to recommend that the agency hire you. But I can’t stay here any longer. I just… I need a minute.”
“Fine. But be back in the next hour or two if you do leave. And be careful.”
Thankfully, they were in Los Angeles, a city chock full of distracting sights and sounds for the worried mind. Gen initially called an Uber to the La Brea Tar Pits—maybe seeing thousands of fossilized animals would make him feel better. But the third time his shoes were sucked off by the deep mud, he realized he didn’t want to be taking pictures with his phone—he wanted to share this experience with someone who could tell him more. Someone whom he could be alone together with.
Sighing, he called another Uber to a local coffee shop. It wasn’t as good, but he used the time to email Dr. Hui from his phone.
Hi Dr. Hui:
I doubt you’ve heard of me, but you know my friend Ishigami Senku. He’s running a coffee shop in Tokyo, Japan now, but still very interested in mathematics and physics. I’ve learned more about the subject from our discussions than I’d ever care to know. He’s even kept up with your work over the years since he left university. If you could reach out to him one more time, I’d really appreciate it.
-Ashigiri Gen
P.S. Thank you for publishing a book on probability theory—I’m planning to use it in my next act.
He left a $50 bill in the tip jar before returning to the hotel. Best not to arouse too much suspicion. [2]
Senku wasn’t surprised when the text messages slowed to a crawl. He wasn’t going to let others tell him how to feel and act anymore. What he was mildly surprised by was an email from Dr. Hui.
Hi Senku:
I just had the most interesting email from Ashigiri Gen of all people, claiming to be your friend. He says I should reach out to you one more time, to encourage you to come and work with me. As you know, my offer still stands. You’d have to leave that coffee shop of yours, but I assume that someone else could run it for you.
I’m not going to lie, Senku. Until you failed out of graduate school, you were one of the most brilliant students I ever mentored. And that hasn’t changed just because you had a setback. So please consider this before I have to fill your spot.
-Hudson Hui, Ph.D.
What the absolute fuck. What the hell did Gen say? And more importantly, what made him think this was okay? I don’t want to go! And I especially don’t want to go if that’s what he wants me to do! Calm. Calm. He manually took a deep breath. Okay. It’s a good offer. And he probably didn’t mean any harm. I’ll just say no.
But try as he might, Senku just found himself staring at a blank email.
The next week, Gen’s security team begged to go to the Coffee Lab, even though they’d already had two cups of coffee each (he’d counted).
“C’mon, man, I think I’m finally getting through to Kohaku!” Not a chance.
“Those mini matcha breads are to die for! And we all know he brews that coffee with some kind of witchcraft!” It’s literally just science. He grinds the beans to the perfect size, then steeps and filters them for the perfect amount of time.
“Oh, c’mon, Gen, don’t pretend you don’t have a crush on the guy! He even gave you his number!”
That was taking it too far. He turned on the ball of his foot, smiling poisonously. “You know that I’m contractually prohibited from dating, dear Souma. So, let’s make one thing clear—I do not like Ishigami Senku. We are not even friends. He is a man who sells us coffee and nothing more. And if you are so infatuated with his wares that you must take me with you, then I will be happy to order from him.”
“That sounds suspiciously like something someone who had a crush would say.” Someone whispered harshly. Goddamnit. Alright then, let’s play. Today’s game: Don’t Violate the Contract. Current score: Contract: one crore, Me: zero
Senku was absent-mindedly wiping down the counter when the team entered, chattering about… whatever it was that celebrities talked about. He still hadn’t found a good answer to Hudson’s email.
“One matcha tea latte, one macchiato, one black coffee, one cappuccino, and one hot chocolate.” Senku wasn’t looking at him—wasn’t looking at anything. But there was a mechanical movement to make the drinks. They were set on the counter in silence before Senku made brief eye contact.
“One thousand, six hundred and forty-six yen,” came the soft request.
“That’s not enough.”
“What?”
“I said, that’s not enough. Each of those drinks should be at least 523 yen, plus tax. You haven’t been sleeping.” Gen sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me if you weren’t okay, would you?” There was a brief silence. “Okay, let me have a piece of paper, and I’ll work out the total myself. It’s okay. They let me finish high school, at least.” It was so long ago. Why couldn’t he have taken normal university courses, instead of being secluded to online classes, writing under a pseudonym?
Senku pressed a few buttons on the cash register, which displayed “2840.” Gen slid the money across the counter. “Thank you. And… get some sleep. I can’t stop them from visiting, but… I still think you can do this. No matter what you choose.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Probably something. Senku took a deep breath as he blurrily watched the entourage interact. Gen was once again telling the truth—the others had brought him along and begun to socialize, leaving him a corner of the table to simply observe and drink. It might have been a cozy scene if he didn’t look so lonely and small.
Idols are recruited as teenagers and children and thrust into the spotlight. Like he said, he was lucky to finish high school. I was recruited to math teams as a child, pushed to finish high school and college and graduate school and go much further than even my professor father. He shook his head. I own a coffee shop. I’ve already succeeded on my own path.
They continued to reappear each week, sometimes ordering so many cakes that Senku had to ask his semi-retired friend Kaseki to come in and make more for the afternoon rush.
“You know, Senku, I know you’d prefer to be studying,” he mentioned casually as they were kneading rainbow bagels. “It’s kind of nice that you stay here and keep my old tea shop open.”
“It’s not your shop, old man. I’ve completely redesigned it, renamed it. It’s mine now.” A bubble popped in the dough after a hard knead.
“That may be true, but I still think you should go back to school. You’ll never be happy here, doing the same thing day after day. You need to innovate and push others to their limits.”
“Sure thing, old man.” Senku laughed. “I think you’re right. Everyone’s been telling me the same thing for months. Even that customer with the striped hair, the one I keep telling you about.”
Kaseki paused. “Look, I may just be an old man, but I think he really does want to be your friend.”
“Oh, ten billion percent. No one doesn’t want to be my friend.”
“No, I mean, I think he really wants to be your friend. I mean, he shouldn’t have written to Dr. Hui, but… that’s how things work in his world. Through introductions and recommendations.”
“I know. And I want to be his friend too. But there’s just something off about him, deeper than just being an idol. Anyway, I’ll text him. Don’t worry about it.”
Senku had sent him a picture of his graduate application to UCLA along with a meme about if NASA had the budget of the US military.
“Congratulations! Also, very funny. I wouldn’t want to be that astronaut.”
“I always hear you complaining about not even being able to go to the bathroom alone. Wouldn’t you pay to be alone, even if it was for years at a time?”
“Haha. You know that isolation is very bad for the human psyche. I’d probably die of boredom. I’m very impatient, you know.” He sent a picture of a dead wizard taking 1d4 boredom damage.
“You say that, but you never seem to bore of listening to other people talk.” Senku sent a picture of Gen watching the others drink coffee and talk, his drink untouched on the table.
“Ooh, naughty! Have you been stalking me, Senku-Chan?”
“You’re in /my/ shop. If anyone’s being stalked, it’s me.”
“Sure ;)”
Senku sent an emoji of someone rolling their eyes before he put his phone into sleep mode.
That’s how Senku found out that celebrities did, in fact, play Dungeons and Dragons, video games, and the like, though it was still an isolating experience.
“I have to play with my security team,” Gen confirmed. “And you have not felt pain until you play Smash with Uyko. The man has immaculate reflexes and loves to bait you until you just kill yourself on accident. It isn’t fair.”
“Sounds like you should just Git Gud.”
Gen had to admit he laughed quietly backstage between shows. “It’s a little hard to git gud when I’m also doing signings, learning new tricks, studying psychology, and texting my barista every free moment. But I’ll try my best. Wouldn’t want to bring shame to your coffee.”
“You know, you’re not going to be able to hide this forever.” Uyko’s gentle chiding was starting to get on Gen’s nerves. But he smiled anyway.
“What’s there to hide? Senku-Chan is just my dear friend and barista. All our communication will show that and nothing more. I’m pretty sure his other friends are barely aware of my existence.”
“All I’m saying is, he’s about to go to graduate school on a different continent. If you can just make it a few more months, this will all become a moot point. No one will question it then.”
“Thank you for your input, truly. But nothing was ever going to happen. I’m as committed to my contract as you are to yours. We have bills to pay and an audience to entertain. So, let’s just go to the next event.”
Gen couldn’t miss the doubtful and sad look on Uyko’s face. Don’t pity me. I’m living a full life! Traveling the entire world! I’ll have my fun later.
It was a lovely spring day, with cherry blossoms gently spinning into Gen’s hair, when the dreaded letter arrived. Senku was of course accepted into UCLA, and Dr. Hui would be honored if he might consider him as a potential advisor. He’s brilliant, it’s no surprise. Still... He put on his best blank smile.
“That’s great, Senku-Chan! I knew they’d see the light. I don’t suppose you’re going to leave someone else here to supply us with our caffeine fix?”
“I hope it’s Kohak-oof!” Someone in the security team hadn’t whispered quietly enough.
“No, I’m going to leave my friend Suika in charge. She’s graduating from the University of Tokyo in May[3], and I trust she knows what she’s doing. After all, I trained her.”
Gen nodded, face faltering just slightly. So, I’ll have to keep visiting. Even after he’s gone. And I’ll have to hide our communications. Senku looked curious for a moment before launching into an explanation of what, exactly, algebraic topology was and how it related to physics.
Gen quickly got a text after they left. “I hope you liked that cherry blossom white tea blend. I’ll still text you once I’m gone, you know that?”
“Of course, Senku-Chan.”
He wasn’t allowed to help pack up Senku’s things, of course. He couldn’t help him move like a normal friend, either. He lay on the (thankfully clean) floor, staring at the ceiling.
“Uyko, theoretically, what if it was already too late, and I was friends with Senku?”
“Mmm?” Uyko had heard him, the bat-eared bastard. He was just pretending to nap on the tatami.
“I mean, what if I didn’t want Senku to leave? Or more accurately, what if I wanted to go with him?”
Uyko shifted so they were both staring at the ceiling, a sign of solidarity but also emotional distance. “Well, then I guess you’d remember that you’re bound to your contract. To your audience and their desires. Just like I’m bound to the impossible task of stopping you from doing anything stupid.” He laughed lifelessly. “But you know that wouldn’t change how you feel.”
“Powerless. Pointless. Like I made one bad decision that determined my whole life.”
“Hey, that’s how everyone feels at some point. But most people aren’t contracted to an agency that deals in their very lives and personalities.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, you have a mountain of fan mail in there. Maybe we should sort through some of it and see who can find the most embarrassing letter.”
“I told you, Naoki already won either for the used period underwear or the watercolor portrait made entirely from my bathwater, none of which I sold. But sure, let’s take a stab.”
By the time the maple leaves crunched underfoot, Senku was moved into the Los Angeles dorms. He still occasionally texted pictures—funny, beautiful, or just confusing—and never seemed to judge late replies.
“I saw Saturn on my way back from class tonight.” There was a slightly shaky image of a vaguely yellow circle on a navy field.
“Wow,” Why text me instead of one of his science friends? Surely there are other math Ph.D. students interested in space. “I just saw a salaryman passed out in a bush on my way home.” Gen snapped a quick photo.
“Looks just like a Renaissance painting: The Rebirth of the Lager.” Gen had to laugh at that. He wished he felt this light more often. “Are you going on tour this year?”
“No. My agency wants me to focus more on domestic sales right now.” You’re getting older, Gen. We’re going to have to start planning your graduation soon. Do you see a future for yourself in the industry? “But maybe next year I’ll be allowed to fly out.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
Uyko and Gen were playing cards across the kotatsu. A particularly vicious fan had pulled his hair today, and he still had a migraine despite copious amounts of ibuprofen.
“Check.”
“Check. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better, Ukyo.” He smiled reassuringly despite the unpromising flop. “I raise five.”
“Alright. But if people were tearing at my clothes and selling my bathwater, maybe I’d be looking into getting out of the contract. I raise ten.”
“Hmm… call.” The turn was just another ace. “Well, idols are a pretty big deal here. Plus, it’s pretty hard to get out of a contract, even one with a minor. I’ll raise another five.”
“Make it ten. But… well, I guess if you can’t get out of it, you can’t get out of it. But it seems weird.”
“Welcome to Japan, Uyko. We keep our celebrities in the spotlight until the day they age out. Now, I’ll match your raise and river.” A third ace. “Well, I guess I’ll stick to raising five.”
“I’ll check. But I dunno man, it just seems like you should talk to a lawyer.”
Gen just smiled as he laid out his cards. “Full house.”
“Four of a kind.” Gen couldn’t deny that Uyko was smirking slightly as he shuffled the cards and began to deal iron cross.
Senku had difficulty paying attention to his phone lately, but it felt like he had fewer messages to open after he finished his Geometry and Physics[4] homework. And when he tried to explain how group theory could help Gen develop interesting new tricks, (solving a Rubik’s cube in seconds blindfolded interesting) it felt like days before he got a laugh in return and a demonstration that he’d already mastered the trick. Impressive. But Algebraic Geometry’s manifold mysteries[5] called to him.
“As far as I can tell, Mr. Asagiri, this contract is airtight. Even if your parents signed it for you, you countersigned it.”
“I see. Oh well,” he chimed cheerily over the disposable phone.
“Hold on. With that said, you could age out prematurely. I notice that you’ve been dropping in the polls lately.”
Oh. “So, if I’m not popular anymore, they can’t charge me with violating my contract?”
“Right. But I don’t think you have much control over that. If you stopped doing your signings and performances, they could sue you for breach of contract. And honestly…” he heard the sound of hair being rubbed on the other side of the phone. “I think there’s a part of you that still likes doing tricks. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have shown me that thing your friend taught you with the Rubik’s cube. It’s not even in your show.”
Gen laughed merrily. “Oh, you know me. Just a natural showman! Well, don’t worry about it.”
“I mean, look, let me give you some advice. I’ll back you up if you push back against this contract. But it would probably be better if you just hung back a little—stopped performing so much and just coasted. People would lose interest.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But my audience needs me, just like I need them! And don’t worry about your fee—it’s already paid.”
“Wait, Gen. I—” Gen snapped the phone shut before he could hear another person say they felt sorry for him. Uyko could dispose of it later.
Suika’s coffee just never tasted the same as Senku’s. His security team still raved about it when Gen brought it to the table, but he tasted a little something missing. He watched her making a macchiato. No light dusting of chocolate.
“Hey, does this macchiato taste different than it used to?”
“No, not at all! It might even taste better being served by—” He had to do something about that guy. His distractibility was probably what caused that fan to be able to pull a chunk of his hair out in the first place.
“Hey, Senku” he texted slowly underneath the table, “Did you only add chocolate to my macchiatos or what?”
A few minutes passed. “Factually, no. But yes, I did add it to yours. You watched me.”
“Why?”
“I noticed you had a sweet tooth. It made business sense at the time.”
Sure. Business sense. Gen smirked slightly before showing the others a meme to cover his tracks.
Senku had passed his qualifying exams. He had been gone for almost two years, only speaking to Gen in secret text conversations. But finally, Gen was allowed to go on tour once again, and he was headed to LA.
“Sadly, I couldn’t go to the Louvre this time either. They took me to Amsterdam instead.” He sent a picture of a cat piloting a gondola in a funny hat.
“Well, did you at least get to visit the red-light district? I hear it’s very popular.”
“hahahahahahaha”
Senku sent a gif of a cat running around under a blanket. “This could’ve been you, but the agency said no.”
“Hey, I know where things are, thank you. I had to take human anatomy for my psychology courses.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the same as being there. You’ll understand when you’re older :)”
“I am older! Whatever. I’ll be there in a week. So be prepared to show me your textbooks or whatever if I can sneak away from these overprotective freaks.”
“I’m telling you, Gen, it’s a terrible idea. You have one, maybe two years left in your contract. The agency is actively planning your graduation. Just stay here at the hotel. That way, they can’t sue you if you get caught. LA is like TMZ’s city de jure.”
“And I’m telling you that I can’t get out of my contract, I can’t get out of this hotel, and I can’t get out of your sight. So, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He smiled innocently.
Uyko looked unconvinced. “Look, at least take me as a lookout. I can make sure no one bothers you—I won’t even spy. But please, don’t sneak off alone like you usually do.”
Gen held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m telling you; I’m locked in this hotel room with you all night, and there’s two more bodyguards in the next room. I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to. So why don’t we just play Cascadia like we always do?” He sighed when Uyko’s back was turned. They both knew he was lying. But it was infuriating to be controlled like this.
Senku was startled by a 2 AM knock at his door. “Gen?” He shuffled back inside to the kitchen. He mechanically pulled out a pot to gently heat two cups of barista oat milk, before getting the dark hot chocolate off the upper shelf. “I suppose this was the earliest you could sneak out, huh?”
“Those uardsgay have earinghay like atsbay.” Gen was tired too then.
“No problem. So, what did you want to talk about?” Senku always started to perk up after a little caffeine, even if coffee made his heart clench and race and hurt. He slid the other mug over to Gen and walked over to the shabby couch.
“Well, I’d like to visit more. But my contract says I can’t. And my lawyer says I can’t get out of my contract.”
“Mmmm. Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“And obviously, you can’t visit me either. It would interrupt your studies. But…”
“But?”
“But I really wish you could.” Senku gently guided him over to the couch.
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” They sat in silence for a while, their hot chocolate slowly cooling. “Are things different now?”
“I don’t know. I think they were already kind of… in-between. Like we were a little bit too close for friends.”
“Yeah.”
Senku took a deep drink from his now lukewarm chocolate. “Could I kiss you?”
“I’m not allowed to.”
“Forget what you’re allowed and not allowed right now. Is this what you want?”
“More than anything.” It was awkward, Senku having to quickly take full control to guide Gen on how a kiss was done. But he got the hang of it quickly, and Senku had to gasp for breath when it was over. “We can’t do any more.”
“Of course not. I have class tomorrow.” Senku pulled him in for another kiss anyway.
Uyko glared at him when he slid back into the other queen. But at least in the morning, he didn’t have to say anything—there was no coverage on TMZ, no story in the tabloids, and no burgeoning social media firestorm. See, I can be careful. I don’t need to be protected.
“As you know, Gen, it’s agency policy to release male idols on their thirty-fifth birthday. But we’re going to make a special exception for you, seeing as your popularity has fallen so much in the face of all these new K-pop bands. So, we’ve scheduled your graduation for when you return to Japan.” That soon? Why?
“Well, I’d hate to disappoint any loyal fans! But I understand—you salarymen can’t make the big bucks without making these hard decisions.”
“Of course. Do you have any idea what you want to do after graduation? As I said, we have a few openings in our recruitment division.” Not on your life, you manipulative— “But I know you took some college courses against my express wishes. Maybe you could use those?”
“I’m honestly not sure yet! But I’ll be sure to let you know. Buh-bye now.” Gen let the smile fall from his face. There was no way in hell he would ever let any of these people know what happened to him after he left entertainment. He doubted he had a lot of money saved, considering what he had to pay his agent, security, food, his apartment… but, he did always have the option to go into psychology. Or start a coffee shop.
Senku found that it was a lot easier to afford an apartment with two people, even if they were both graduate students. Gen’s psychology had been a bit rusty at first, but a year working at a boutique had quickly fixed that (he had quite the eye for color). And though Senku spent more time working on his thesis than taking courses now, it was sweet how Gen would still sometimes bring him onto the roof and ask him to explain the universe to him again.
He walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Gen. “Mmmm.”
“Hey, I have a conference on computational group theory in Paris in January. Do you want to come?”
“Well, Mr. Backpack, I’d need funding.”
“Your backpack has funding. More importantly, we could finally see the Louvre. Caravaggio’s Death of the Virgin. Liberty Leading the People. The Raft of the Medusa. You’d love it.” His exaggerated tiredness almost made Gen laugh.
“Alright. But you’re going to help me find a psychology conference nearby. And a good one!” He turned around and allowed Senku to kiss him against the counter. “Here’s your barley tea. Now get to class.”
“I could say the same to you.” Senku smirked before kissing him again.
[1] I don’t know what’s worse—that I know this topic, (and the guy I based this on) that this is so close to my thesis in mathematical physics on crystalline group theory, or that this topic is completely real (though adjacent what the real guy works on).
[2] this, of course, piqued a lot of people's curiosity. All the bill-testing markers showed the 50 to be real, but no store in the area accepted 50s. And banks didn't just give them away.
[3] For all you wondering at home, that implies that everyone is aged up 11-12 years.
[4] Thank God for open course catalogs.
[5] A manifold is… well, you probably haven’t taken Real Analysis. Simplifying it as much as possible, in a small neighborhood, it’s a surface that is approximately smooth. How those words are defined is the concept of a bunch of undergraduate and graduate-level courses I don’t want to remember.