Kiritani Shuji was a very good liar.
Even after Nobuta and Akira had taught him about real friendship, lies still came easily to his lips; to teachers, lovers and friends he would speak them, his eyes betraying nothing.
And yet he still was not prepared to meet face to face the man called Kurosaki.
Shuji was walking on a street in Tokyo one afternoon.
He was looking for a cheap place to rent; he couldn’t afford much, because he regularly sent money to his dad and to Koji, and because his new job at a small talent agency didn’t pay much.
That was when he caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of his eye, and instinctively called out, “Akira!”
But the man didn’t notice. He jogged ahead to catch the man’s arm. Eyes met his, and he stumbled away.
Kusano Akira’s face stared back but the cold gaze, the tight lips, and the way he held himself still… all belonged to a stranger.
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