Tokyo: Idol Girls have absolutely no bad intentions!

"Instead of being tormented by this young couple here, I'd rather go out and have a good meal."

Hayakawa dragged Takikawa toward the entrance, while Takikawa took the opportunity to peek out from under her arm and shout at Ito, "Ito and Asada, you two enjoy yourselves!"

She turned to look at Hayakawa, "Sis, what are we going to eat?"

"Of course it is—" Hayakawa said loudly on purpose, glancing at the two people locked in a stalemate inside the room, "Barbecue! Sizzling, oily barbecue!"

The night breeze seemed to carry the aroma of food from the downstairs rooms up to her. Ito saw Asada's hand holding chopsticks pause, and she swallowed hard without expression.

"Choose A5 grade Wagyu beef with marbling, put it on the grill—" Hayakawa continued, "Sizzle—the marbling bursts open instantly, the fat inside the meat shrinks into golden-brown fringes like snow falling into hot oil in three seconds, and even the iron plate starts bubbling and releasing its aroma..."

Listening to Hayakawa still standing in the entrance hall, endlessly describing the flavor of the barbecue, Ito felt that even the bean sprouts, which he could normally accept, had become like chewing wax.

A glistening liquid appeared in his line of sight. Ito looked in that direction and saw Asada with a string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth, stretching out in the light.

"A-Asada."

"Hmph." Sakura Asada, called out by Ito, immediately shook her head unhappily, but the drool hanging from the corner of her mouth flew out with the violent movement—

A soft "click" sounded.

A drop of water fell into the center of the bowl of cold bean sprout salad. Asada's profile, frozen in place, instantly turned red from her earlobe to her neck.

She stared at the suddenly appearing wet patch in the bowl, and then her fine downy hairs stood on end in shame.

Ito wanted to pretend he hadn't seen anything, but tonight's meal consisted only of bean sprouts and natto. The natto had already been eaten by the two rice-eating duo, so only bean sprouts were left.

He spotted a bean sprout that might not have been spit out any saliva and reached out his chopsticks to it.

"No!" Asada suddenly stood up, interrupting Ito's actions and Hayakawa's pyramid scheme.

"What's wrong?" Although Ito guessed the reason, he didn't dare to say it directly at this moment.

"Let's go...let's go eat barbecue," Asada stammered, "and...with Ms. Hayakawa."

The sudden turn of events piqued Hayakawa's interest. As she tiptoed to peek inside, she saw Asada stuffing her wallet into Ito's hand.

Her voice was weak, but then she suddenly raised it, "Otherwise I'll... I won't let you go to the maid cafe."

"What maid?" Ito had barely asked when Takikawa barged into the room and dragged him out.

"Stop asking questions and let's go!"

A loud bang severed the connection between the two sides.

Asada stared at the empty entryway, listening to the footsteps of the three people in the corridor, and poked the bean sprout with its chopsticks, which was covered in a suspicious sheen of water.

.......

The three arrived at the apartment building. The wind in the stairwell swirled fallen leaves against Ito's trouser legs. He tightened his coat and asked the two absent-minded men, "Where are we going to eat barbecue?"

"Barbecue?!" Hayakawa turned around and stared at him in disbelief. "Yu, is this how I taught you?"

"Ito, what are you thinking about?" Takikawa crossed his arms. "Is this the time to think about what to eat?"

Now is not the time for you to be clamoring for barbecue...

"so?"

“So what we should do now is—” Hayakawa suddenly leaned his whole face close, then abruptly pulled the two of them and ran toward the nearest shopping mall, “to buy something that will make Sakura happy.”

......

With a crisp click, the front door clicked open, and Ito dragged his weary body back to his apartment.

They said they were going to buy things to bring Asada happiness, but when they got to the mall, they suddenly changed their minds and each bought what they liked.

They spout nonsense like, "Asada will definitely be happy to see me buy something I like."

The living room light illuminated the empty dining table; it was already quite late, almost as late as the mall closed.

He walked carefully on the wooden floor, trying to avoid making any noise.

"Welcome home." Asada's voice suddenly rang out from behind him.

When Ito turned around, he saw her sitting by the bathroom door with her arms wrapped around her knees, a black and gold electric guitar at her feet.

She hid in the shadows, and her expression was impossible to discern.

"You're back," she repeated softly, drawing her knees closer to her chest.

The wind from the entryway slipped in through the crack in the door, ruffling the stray hairs at the ends of Asada's hair.

"Drip-drop." That's the sound of water dripping onto the floor.

Ito looked down at the sound and saw a small wet patch near Asada's curled-up ankle.

The water droplets didn't come from her hair, but from between her drooping fingers, leaving water stains as they hit the floor.

Only then did he notice Asada's profile, which was always turned away, her jawline taut, and the white knuckles of her fingers gripping her knee.

"Asada?" His squatting down startled her, making her shoulders tremble.

The warm yellow light shone through the gaps in her hair, illuminating the reddish outline of her nose and the two glistening tear tracks on her cheeks that had not yet been cleaned.

Just as I was about to say, "Did you not eat enough tonight?", I saw her suddenly bury her face in her knees, and suppressed sobs, like a leaky bellows, seeped out intermittently from the gaps in the fabric.

Because of the negative emotions caused by suddenly dieting?

As Ito guessed that this was the case, she suddenly remembered what Hayakawa had said in the mall: "Girls want attention even if they don't make a request."

There's also what Takikawa said when trying on clothes in front of a full-length mirror: "Girls sometimes want to act cute, and even if they make a mistake, it's better than doing nothing."

“Um…” Ito’s voice caught in his throat as memories of the tasting area in the mall flooded his mind.

When Hayakawa snatched the last skewer, he poked him with a bamboo stick and said, "You see, when Asada was cooking bean sprouts, he was actually trying to see if you would suddenly pull out some beef, right?"

While licking her ice cream, Takikawa mumbled, "It's like sometimes pretending to try on clothes, but actually waiting for someone to compliment her on how thin she's become."

The night breeze blew the bathroom door open wider, and Ito opened the strawberry cake she had bought. Instantly, the sweet aroma of cream mixed with the tartness of fresh strawberries filled the air.

"Want to eat cake with me? It's not from Shimokitazawa, but it looks pretty good."

The moment Asada secretly looked up, tears streamed down her face.

Chapter 129 I also want to be with you forever!

It was a familiar scene, with familiar people, but this time, the basement of the Shinno family house, which was originally empty, was now filled with musical instruments that should have been there.

The store manager, Saionji, kept his promise and returned the instrument that very night after winning the bet. Shinno also invited them to come and record a song on Sunday.

As for the band that won the selection, Manager Saionji told them the truth and wanted to exempt them from the punishment for losing the bet.

But the other side would rather accept the consequences than believe that "Our City" was created by a student who had just come of age and was given the requirements, within 30 minutes.

This is practically insulting their intelligence.

Asada's crying when he got home last night did startle him for a moment, but after sharing a strawberry cake, he seemed to have returned to his usual self.

There are always a few days like that each month; Ito knows this basic common sense.

"Ito, do you want to record the song first, or choose the instrument first?" Shinno leaned against the amplifier, his tone as relaxed as if the instruments in front of him, which cost millions of yen, were just ordinary cabbages in the market.

"Let's record the song first. There's no rush to choose instruments." Ito's gaze swept over the electric guitar and bass placed on the wall.

After all, he needs to slowly select those that maintain high value and are easy to sell.

As for the recording of "Love Sound Rain Sky", it can be handed over directly to Xinye, without his interference.

Except for the electric guitar, which Asada played independently, the instrumental accompaniment was entirely synthesized electronically.

After recording "Our City" yesterday, Asada has a clearer understanding of the process.

Therefore, Ito doesn't need to worry too much.

He couldn't take his eyes off the expensive instruments, his fingers resting on the white keys of a custom Steinway keyboard, the gold-plated model number on the ebony case gleaming coldly in the light.

Not far away, the DE Collector's series of drum kits stood silently.

The electric guitar in the Fender Custom Shop leans against the amplifier.

The Fodera Monarch Elite bass in the corner really touched Ito's heart.

The grain of the nine-piece maple neck intertwines with that of the Madagascar rosewood fingerboard, and even the titanium alloy screws connecting the body are engraved with individual numbers.

"I really want to take them all home," Ito couldn't help but exclaim.

Asada and Shinno had already gone to the recording studio, so they couldn't hear or see Ito's actions.

He took out his phone from his pocket and took detailed photos of all the instruments, recording every scratch and bruise to ensure the final valuation was accurate.

Examples include the crescent-shaped marks on a Steinway keyboard, residual colored powder on a DW drum ring, finger marks on a Fender neck, and water stains at the wood grain seams of a Fodera bass.

They also sent these photos to the Saionji store manager, asking him to provide a suitable reference price.

The store manager of Saionji can be contacted through Saionji Chizuru, and Saionji Chizuru can be contacted through Morikami Chinatsu.

Because it involved Chinatsu Morikami, Ito inevitably got teased by her.

He was met with responses like, "You actually asked your girlfriend for other girls' contact information, Yuujin, you're so awful!" and "Is it because I'm not as mature as Saionji-senpai that Yuujin doesn't like me?"—results he didn't know how to answer.

Not knowing how to answer, he simply chose not to reply after obtaining his contact information.

but......

While waiting for Saionji's reply, Ito browsed through his chat history with Morikami Chinatsu.

Mori: "Where's the compensation you promised me, senpai? (Kitten rolling around.JPG)"

Mori: "Where is everyone? Where is everyone? Where is everyone? (Cat with a question mark.JPG)"

Mori: "How cunning! You think you can avoid my date by pretending you didn't see me?! No way! (Angry cat.JPG)"

Putting aside the harassing messages mentioned above, Ito clicked on the video that the other party sent late at night.

The video was sent on Saturday night, which was last night, but he didn't click on it because of time constraints.

Of course, there was also the connection between Mori's message following the video, "I want to be with you forever," which made him feel that there might be something unhealthy in it.

After all, the string of red heart patterns, interspersed with words like secret, dating, and infidelity, makes it hard not to associate them with Japan's unique culture.

However, given Mori's personality, it's unlikely he would do something like that, which is why Itoh chose to watch it now.

The video started playing, showing a room filled with girlish style, which should be Mori's bedroom.

Ito saw several photos of him and Morigami fixed with colored thumbtacks on the wooden cutting board on the wall: a candid shot of Morigami adjusting his tie at the cultural festival, and Morigami suddenly standing on tiptoe to get closer while a shop assistant was taking a picture.