Kazuhiro arrived at a bookstore not too far from the cafe. It wasn't like he was a sore loser or anything, at least he was acknowledging Kageyama's criticisms, and possibly the criticisms of previous editors before Kageyama, though he didn't want to admit it. He just wanted to see, objectively, what he was up against these days. Of course Kazuhiro read manga, what kind of author would he be if he didn't even read books? However, at this specific moment, Kazuhiro wanted to branch out of his comfort zone. He usually read the series he liked to keep up with and the work of acquaintances from his old days. Today's excursion was just research.

The shop wasn't the most spacious building, and not the most organized either. There were still a lot of books in boxes where they couldn't fit on shelves, and many of the areas frequented by youths displayed obviously misplaced the titles. Regardless of the state of the shop, Kazuhiro was still able to find the manga section right away. Scanning the spines of all sorts of genres, he managed to come across the shelf that seemed more aimed for teens. His work was dipping into the adult demographic now, but this didn't stop him from simply browsing with curiosity. He didn't expect to find anything, but as if fate wouldn't have had it any other way, he saw it.

"A Concerto of Youth" by Kazuhiro Tsuchiya.

Kazuhiro stared at it for a good while before actually picking it up, and when he did, he didn't exactly know what to make of it. Of course he had quite a few copies of his own books at home, but this was the first time in a while he'd actually come face to face with his book in public. Kazuhiro became flooded with memories of this time in his life, some heartfelt and some embarrassing. After flipping through the pages for a moment, he decided to shut the book and look at the back cover. He noticed the price was marked off a great deal...and he wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that.

“My bad, excuse me.”

A sudden, sharp moment of violation flooded Kazuhiro. A man beside him accidentally brushed past him, more than likely due to the tiny walkspace in the shop. Although the man couldn't have even had a clue Kazuhiro was the author of the book he was holding, he still felt like his privacy was being invaded.

“You're fine.” Kazuhiro slightly inched away, giving the man some room while he browsed. He didn't feel so up for looking anymore now that someone was beside him, but he couldn't help but peek at him. Kazuhiro observed a very tidy looking man with handsome features. His short haircut was well groomed and evenly cut. The man must have had horrible eyesight, though. He wore huge old-school glasses, but Kazuhiro supposed it wasn't uncommon for men his age to disregard fashion sense. After all, there was no doubt about it that he was a white collar worker, and his main concern was work, more than likely. His outfit screamed professional, and since it was so early in the morning, he was probably planning to catch the train to his workplace. It was a comical scene, really, to see a grown office worker browsing comics out of all things in a bookstore.

As Kazuhiro placed the book down on the shelf, he immediately felt the man's stare on him. He specifically told himself not to peek at the man again—but he did. The two strangers locked glances, only momentarily, and to Kazuhiro's surprise, actually wasn't that awkward. The man gave him a sheepish grin, which Kazuhiro grimly attempted to replicate. Kazuhiro turned away and decided that this was his queue to leave.

Kazuhiro wandered everywhere else but the manga section, browsing at titles he didn't care too much for, occasionally peeking to see if the other man was still lingering around. Thanks to his lovely meeting with his former editor, everything was putting him on edge. Pathetic as it was, he could barely even interact with a friendly stranger. By the time Kazuhiro decided to swing back to the manga section, the guy was nowhere in sight. As he peered back over at the selection, his energy to do his research had completely escaped him. He felt exhausted, but even more than that, he felt hungry.

Kazuhiro suddenly felt a craving for the leftover convenience meals in his fridge, though even for prepackaged food, it wasn't glorifying at all. He supposed that could be a fitting testament to his health up until now. Looking back on things, there had been a time when Kazuhiro held healthy eating habits and even managed to cook own meals. He couldn’t remember when he stopped watching his health, but he sure as hell remembered why. It all began when his career finally started picking up—ironically, when he was becoming successful. With stability also came the relentless backhand of stress, tight deadlines, and eventually editors that walked in and out like a revolving door.

He wandered over to the front of the shop and noticed the office man already at the checkout counter. Though his back was facing Kazuhiro, he could sense the man was smiling as he greeted the lady at the register.

Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he glimpsed the man placed his manga on the table. Or was it just his wishful thinking? Possibly. Kazuhiro didn't know for certain. Being at this shop was making him feel all too nostalgic, but not good nostalgia. He was being bombarded by the juxtaposition of his current self and the him that he could have been. Kazuhiro was neither successful nor had very much of a career. And technically, to make matters worse, he was currently unemployed. Regret was looming over him, and Kazuhiro didn't like that.

As he eavesdropped on the last bit of exchanges between the cashier and the man, he ventured off to browse by the magazine shelf. He'd almost forgotten to scope out any new magazines to try to get in touch with, but by the time he'd flipped through a good bit of them, it was practically useless. He'd blown his chances with every single one of them—the ones that were his target demographic, anyway.

His eyes landed on another rack of weekly classified ads. There was a stack of a magazine that specifically showcased local advertisements for apartments, cars, and jobs. Over and over again, he stared at the bold letters reading, “Over 300 local job opportunities!!!”. He stood, looming over the magazine for quite awhile, before deciding it was for the best he bought it. At the same time, he acknowledged that this meant more than just purchasing a magazine. He had to come to accept that, in his heart, he would have to give up on his career in manga, and even possibly, not ever come back.

Kazuhiro sauntered over at the register, surprising the cashier who was reading some kind of self help book. As she put the book down, she attempted to give him a smile, but it was one of those tight lipped smiles that struggled against a deadpan look. Kazuhiro graced her with a nod as he slid the single magazine on the register. The lady glanced at him and then at the magazine.

“Would this be all?”

“Yes.” Kazuhiro wanted to add on a bitter sounding “obviously”, but it was probably protocol for the cashiers to ask this question. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed by her noticeable aversion to him.

The woman immediately looked down. She tucked her hair behind her ear, then grabbed his magazine for closer inspection. She gleamed the title, and Kazuhiro bemusedly wondered what kind of classified ads she thought he was looking for. Jobs and apartments, probably. She was reacting to him like a homeless guy on the street. Well, it kind of was a possibility in his near future if he didn't act soon—which also didn't help raise his levels of self awareness. Did he look...bad or something?

Of course Kazuhiro wouldn't say he was the poster child for professionalism, but it wasn't like he looked like a punk—at least, not as much anymore. All of his clothes from his teens had recently started growing out of him, both literally and metaphorically in a sense of the word. Most of his T-shirts were band relics that he didn't care much for now, and others just looked downright tacky to be wearing on the street. At the moment, Kazuhiro was dressed in loose fitted jeans and a black and white striped shirt underneath a jean jacket. Granted, his jacket was fraying on both ends of the sleeves and the top button was in need of a little mending, but his shirt was in pretty good condition. It was a casual outfit at best, but he was pretty sure he didn't look downright repulsive.

The cashier eyeballed him in between searching for the price on the magazine, eyeballed him again, and then slowly typed in the amount on the cash register. The price flashed on the small black screen, followed by the woman's faint repetition of the amount. This alerted Kazuhiro to dig into his pockets, counting out the contents of bills and coins. After completing the exchange, the cashier handed him the bagged magazine, they said their quick goodbyes, and Kazuhiro turned away.

Kazuhiro walked out of the shop, swinging his bag and couldn't help but think about how off putting the situation was. Compared to the other guy who checked out, his exchange with the cashier seemed so strangely different. He wondered if perhaps his problem was the fault of his reserved nature. Maybe he should have smiled more prominently, or could have tried greeting her with more enthusiasm? Suddenly, the warm, amiable face of the man he met earlier in the shop flashed in his mind, and Kazuhiro grimaced. Why was he suddenly so obsessed with what one cashier thought of him? And why was he trying to meld himself to be like a complete stranger he barely met for a second? What did that financially stable every-man have that made him more approachable? Fuck that guy, Kazuhiro thought as he stomped on his way back to his apartment.