Track 1 - The Great Gravure Photoshoot

“Renga-san, please check the photos.”

“Can we take one more from this angle?”

“We’re on a tight schedule, so let’s get a move on!”

“Renga-san, please move to the next studio. The other models have already arrived!"

That day was especially busy.

From early morning, I was surrounded by tons of staff members, restlessly chattering and bustling around as I went through the photoshoot.

Sometimes I even heard what sounded like yelling as I shuffled from studio to studio, working through the packed shooting schedule.

There was so little time that I’d sometimes have to change outfits while walking down the hallway.

Occasionally, my manager would complain about a photographer who wouldn’t stop taking pictures.

“The shots are already fixed, so why do they keep wanting to take more? We’re the ones on a tight schedule here. You’re not a rookie either, Renga-san. If you need to turn them down, then do it.”

Before I could stutter out an excuse, my manager’s phone rang, and I ended up heading to the makeup room alone.

“You snap into the role perfectly when the cameras start flashing, so I totally get why they’d want to keep shooting~.”

While my manager was away, Emanon, the hair and makeup artist who’d been with me all day, said that to me as we were finally preparing for the last shoot.

“If it means we can take better photos, I don’t mind staying longer…”

“You say that, but do you even know how many magazine covers you’ve been on just this month?”

“Your skin’s so nice you hardly need any foundation,” Emanon says while adjusting my eye makeup to match my outfit.

“...Oh yeah, I’ve been working with you for over a year now, but I only just noticed that up-close your eyes are slightly different colors.”

At that moment, Emanon peered into my eyes.

My heart thumped loudly in my chest.

From a corner of my mind, I could hear Renga’s voice from long ago.

—We look exactly alike, but I guess if there’s one thing that’s different, it’s the color of our eyes.

It was back when I was a kid and still with Kiba.

I’d never really looked in a mirror at that time, so I didn't get what he meant and tilted my head in confusion.

Kiba simply laughed, and told me one of my eyes was a little darker than his.

This was around the time we were planning on swapping places, so it made me worried.

—Won’t someone notice if my eye color is different?

—Don’t worry, you can only see if you look reaaally close.

At that moment, Kiba cupped my cheeks with both his hands and squinted.

He leaned his face in, and our bangs mingled together with a soft rustle.

All I could see were Kiba’s eyes.

—See? Like this. You have to be this close.

Was what he whispered to me.

Without thinking, my hand reached up to my long bangs, covering my darker eye.

Emanon’s eyes widened and she asked, “Is something wrong?”

I panicked when I realized I’d messed up the hairstyle she had just finished setting.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You had it done so nicely.”

“No worries, it’s supposed to be a more natural look this time anyway.”

As she quickly fixed the bangs I’d mussed, she added as a compliment, “Your eyes are really charming, as expected from someone in a different league. It’s a shame that you can’t really tell in the photos.”

I was relieved when she said that you couldn’t tell in the photos.

And yet, my heart was still pounding.

In the past, I was always scared people would realize I wasn’t actually “Renga Nishizono” because of my eye color.

The reason I always let my bangs grow out on the side with the darker eye was to hide it.

But my grandmother, father, and butler had never said anything, so I’m sure they didn’t realize.

In Liguang’s case… Well, I’ve thought it was probably obvious to him.

But no one else had ever brought it up.

Emanon’s been looking at my face up close for a year, so it makes sense as a makeup artist with an eye for color that she’d pick up on it. Probably.

It’s okay. I didn’t need to hide it anymore.

I’d already told the Nishizono family, the morning team, and the chief and Yachiyo about who I really am.

And besides, my family, including my late grandmother, had known for a long time.

I didn’t need to worry about my eye color, I was sure of it.

But still, I felt a little uneasy.

…I wondered what Kiba would think if he knew I told people my secret.

Would he be angry? Or would he just smile and say it’s okay?

A while ago, Kiba sent me a letter saying, “Ren, just be yourself.”

But is it really okay for me to stay just the way I am now?

I want to see him.

As I finished my makeup and made my way to the studio, my urge to see Kiba, to talk to him, only got stronger.

The familiar back alley was deserted, cramped, and a little dirty as usual.

My schedule had been jam-packed lately between being a celebrity and handling my duties as a ward mayor, so it’d been about a month since I last came here.

But even within all that hustle and bustle, this back alley was always on my mind.

The photoshoot studio I was at today was nearby, so I turned down my manager’s offer for a ride and told him, “I have somewhere I want to go.”

I was heavily questioned about where I was going, but—

I’m finally here.

“I wonder if Kiba’s been here.”

I pull out the old cookie tin from under the outdoor unit and open it.

I was nervous while checking it, but the piece of brick inside was flipped to show “Kiba’s sun.”

And the letter I’d left there for him was still untouched.

Oh… Kiba hadn’t come…

I felt drained. I was so disappointed.

“...Maybe he isn’t coming here anymore.”

After all, “Kiba’s sun” has been facing up for months now, and I’m the one who had turned it that way.

I’d suspected as much, but putting it into words still hurt.

When I opened the letter, all I found were my own words staring back at me, cold and empty. “Kiba, are you still yourself? As long as you’re doing okay, that’s all I need.”

I’d hoped there’d be at least a word added on to it, but there wasn’t.

I held back the urge to start crying like a kid and put the cookie tin back.

How many years has it been since I last saw Kiba?

Eleven years? Twelve? Maybe even more?

I only know the Kiba from our childhood.

—Kiba, what do you look and sound like now?

Are we still like two halves of the same being?

Someday, I want to give “Renga Nishizono” back to you.

But what if we don’t look identical anymore?

What if there’s something other than this darker eye that makes me different from you now?

“I want to see you, Kiba…”

Is that too much to wish for?

I took out the commemorative medal from my pocket—the one we’d bought together at the Landmark Tower.

The lines of the sun Kiba drew for me were faint, and looked as if they’d disappear one day.

I held it tightly as if I was praying.

…As long as you’re doing okay, that’s all I need.

That wish is definitely real. And yet.

At the same time, I want to talk to you, to feel your presence.

Am I asking for too much?

Looking up, the gap between the buildings in the back alley is the same as it was back then.

A thin strip of sky.

Within it, the twilight sky mixed with the sunlight and sparkled orange, just like the eyes of the real “Renga.”