Work Text:
For Shin, a book had to get straight to the point. An instruction manual, an assembly guide, or an administrative document possessed a reassuring logic. Novels, on the other hand, seemed to him an organized waste of time: three hundred pages to tell the story of a guy who hesitates to cross a street or who contemplates the rain while sighing—that was beyond his comprehension.
But that was before Akira.
Akira loved books with a consuming passion. At home, piles of novels were heaped on the coffee table, cluttered the bedside table, and threatened to tumble down from the bookshelves. She could spend hours, a forgotten mug of tea beside her, her eyes fixed on yellowed pages, her face crossed by shadows of sadness or bursts of silent laughter.
One Friday evening, as they were sitting on the sofa, Akira sat up, her eyes sparkling after closing a thick bound volume.
“It was incredible, Shin,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with magic. “The way the author describes the main character’s loneliness… You really should read it. We could talk about it together.”
Shin nodded with a vague smile, but the idea had taken root in his mind like a challenge. He loved Akira. He loved her laughter, her spontaneity, and the way she found wonder in the smallest things. If he could impress her by sharing this world that was so dear to her, then he was ready to brave his greatest literary phobia.
The next morning, taking advantage of Akira's errand in town, Shin slipped into the local bookstore.
The place smelled of dry paper and ink. Shin had stopped in front of the bestsellers table, completely lost. Faced with the profusion of colorful covers and convoluted titles, his schoolteacher's brain—usually so methodical—had hardened.
"Can I help you?" asked a young bookseller with a kind look.
“Yes,” Shin replied, nervously adjusting his glasses. “I’m looking for a book. A good one. Not too long, but with enough… depth. It’s to impress my girlfriend. She reads a lot.”
The bookseller smiled, amused by such frankness, before rummaging through a shelf and pulling out a paperback book.
— Take this. A modern classic. Short, impactful, beautifully written. If you read this, she'll be won over.
Shin returned home as if he were carrying a sacred relic. He hid the book at the bottom of his bag and waited for the right moment.
The attack plan began on Sunday afternoon. While Akira was working on his computer, Shin took the opportunity to settle into the back of the armchair, pulled the book from his bag, and opened the first page.
"For a long time, I went to bed early."
Shin frowned. Okay. The guy went to bed early. So what? How was this the start of a great adventure?
He continued reading, clinging to each word like a drowning man to a lifebuoy. But after three pages, his mind began to wander. He checked the time. 2:15 PM. He reread the same paragraph four times because his eyes were scanning the lines without his brain registering the meaning.
After twenty minutes, an immense weight had fallen upon his eyelids. The author's voice in his head became a monotonous hum. Shin's head gently tilted back, the book slid onto his lap, and he fell into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by a slight knock to his shin.
— Shin! You're snoring!
Akira was standing in front of him, pointing at him and laughing. Shin sat bolt upright, hastily adjusting his glasses, his heart pounding.
Opposite her, seated at the kitchen table, Akira watched him, with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Nice reading session," she teased gently.
"I wasn't sleeping," Shin lied awkwardly, picking up the book. "I... I was analyzing the narrative structure with my eyes closed."
Akira glanced at the book cover and his eyes widened in astonishment.
— Do you read classical literature? How long have you been interested in that?
"Always," Shin asserted with heroic composure. "I just needed to get back into it. It's... very stimulating."
Akira stared at him for a moment, a spark of mischief in her eyes, but she didn't react.
For the next three days, Shin's life became a silent ordeal. He would take out the book as soon as Akira entered the room. He would furrow his brow to give the impression of intense philosophical concentration. He would underline passages in pencil—completely at random—to appear as a seasoned reader.
The problem was that he understood absolutely nothing. The metaphors seemed far-fetched to him, the dialogues lacked raw logic, and he spent more time counting the number of pages remaining before the end of the chapter than enjoying the story.
The breaking point occurred on Wednesday evening.
Akira had prepared some tea and snuggled up to him on the sofa.
"So, Shin?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. "Where are you in your book?"
Panic gripped the young man.
"I'm almost finished," he said, his voice slightly too high-pitched.
— Great! And what do you think of the relationship between the protagonist and his father? The letter scene in chapter five is heartbreaking, isn't it?
Shin froze.The letter scene? Chapter five?He had skipped that chapter after falling asleep on it the night before.
"Ah... yes. The letter," he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "It was... powerful. Very well written. A lot of ink... and emotion."
Akira sat up slowly and looked him in the face. Her amused expression had changed into infinite tenderness.
— Shin... There is no letter scene in chapter five. Nor in the entire book, for that matter.
A deathly silence fell over the living room. Shin looked down at the book, then at his socks, his face turning a deep red.
"I've been found out," he murmured with a sigh of resignation.
"Why are you forcing yourself to read this?" Akira asked gently, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the table. "I can see you've been suffering with every page for the past three days."
Shin rubbed the back of his neck, confused.
— I wanted... I just wanted to impress the girl I'm in love with. You're so passionate about it. I thought if I learned to enjoy novels, we'd have even more to share. But the truth is, I find it incomprehensible. I'd much rather read furniture instructions in Swedish.
Akira stared at him for a moment, mouth agape, before bursting into laughter so clear and warm that Shin's shame vanished instantly. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
— Are you telling me that you subjected yourself to two hundred pages of boring prose just for me?
"Yes," he confessed into his hair. "And I almost lost my sanity over it."
Akira stepped back, taking his face in his hands. His eyes shone with such pure affection that Shin's heart skipped a beat.
— Shin, you're the most adorable and silly guy on earth. I don't need you to read novels to be impressed. You already impress me every day with your kindness, your patience with your work, and the way you take care of me.
- Really ?
— Really. And to be perfectly honest... the sight of you desperately fighting off sleep with that book in your hands was the cutest thing I've seen this week.
Shin let out a sigh of relief and held her by the waist, pulling her against him.
— So, I can stop?
"You have my official permission to close this book forever," she laughed.
She then grabbed a small illustrated book from the coffee table — a historical comic strip with detailed maps and explanatory diagrams.
"Here," she said, handing it to him. "Read this. It contains real facts, precise drawings, and not a single metaphor about rain. And then you can tell me about it."
Shin picked up the book with a genuine smile this time. He kissed Akira on the cheek, savoring the quiet of the living room and the warmth of her presence. In the end, he didn't need to love novels to experience the most beautiful of stories.