1 - Summer and Lemon and Overlay
There are ideas that really are just stupid from start to finish. Those ideas that are stupid to propose and just as stupid to go through with. The request I took that day was, without a doubt, one of those ideas.
"I'd like to hire you to read out a note at a funeral."
"A funeral? Whose?"
"Mine."
".......Excuse me?"
Is this Instagram girl sick in the head? Frankly, I thought I was a saint for not saying that out loud in front of my dearly valued client. It would've been only natural. Instead, the muscles in my face settled for knitting my brow viciously of their own accord before I had the chance to suppress them.
Chapter 1 - The Note, The Voice Actress, and the Instagram Girl
Let's go back to maybe ten minutes before then. The early summer sun shone brilliantly on our café window seat. The ice in the glasses on the table acted like prisms, streaking the pale white cheeks in front of me with shimmering rainbow. I slurped at my iced coffee and absentmindedly watched the beautiful colors dance, as though on a thin film. Her mint lemonade clinked refreshingly. Starting at the sound, the woman seated across from me leisurely lifted her head.
"Yunimaru...san, was it?"
"Yes, that's right."
Who else do you think it could be? I thought to myself, but I nodded meekly anyway. The woman before me really was pretty. She looked for all the world like she'd walked out of a fashion magazine, a perfect exemplar of "office casual." Her hair fell a little past her shoulders, with tasteful highlights winding throughout, and her tightly-pursed lips were tinted a beigeish color. She truly was gorgeous. When I saw her, the first thing that popped into my mind was that's a woman with an Instagram account if I've ever seen one, immediately followed by, The low-carb-diet-and-yoga-on-weekends kind. Not that I intended to share that thought out loud. Her pale fingers fidgeted restlessly with the straw in her mint lemonade. Her nails matched her hair, dyed hues of gold and pearl that sparkled in the July sun. No doubt she had to go to a salon for those.
"I truly appreciate you making time for my sudden appointment. I'm sure you must be busy."
"Ah, not really..."
(Nice one.) Since when I set up shop when I was eighteen through the seven years thereafter, I hadn't been busy once. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out why. I made a vague expression and sat in silence, awaiting her "important request." From across the narrow table, I watched those curled eyelashes flutter a few times and those beige lips shift ever so slightly. She made a sudden, funny noise with her throat, as though steeling herself, and looked at me properly for the first time.
"Let me begin again. My name is Konno Sayaka."
I knew that much from our DMs. That, and that she was thirty years old. Said Konna Sayaka, with the finest tact, produced a business card case. The company name printed on the proferred card was one even I knew. So she's that kind of person, huh? Not-so-tactfully setting down the card, I responded,
"Thanks. Sorry, I didn't bring any of my own with me."
"...Is that right?"
Don't look so puzzled. Do you really think I'm such a well-to-do member of society that I'd be carrying around business cards? ...I bravely prevented myself from saying. Konno-san -- on whom I could now bestow the highly-coveted title of my client -- made a face as though she'd reconciled this unexpected turn of events.
"Of course. In your line of work, your portfolio and body of work are kind of like a business card, right, Yunimaru? -san."
"...Right."
It was a convenient excuse, but I fell silent after that anyway. I took a sip of coffee. I'd only just set it down, but already a cool sweat had begun to condense on the glass. My eyes dropped to its poor, drowning paper coaster and began with a brave Um,
"So, what kind of request do you have for me? It's... not for an ad, I take it."
If only, I thought to myself. My line of sight flit to the business card on the table. That kind of company would start contracting small-fry YouTube voice actors like me sometime after Hell froze over. Apparently noticing me staring, Konno-san joined me in looking at her card. She made an apologetic sort of face and said, weakly,
"Ah, um... no, not quite. My request is- well, I guess you'd call it a personal matter. It doesn't have anything to do with my work."
Figures. I'd already expected as much, but I was still a bit dejected. It was stupid.
"Yes, of course. ...Well, what is it then? Your request."
My voice came out blunter than I'd meant to. I didn't want to acknowledge that I was definitely bitterly disappointed. Konno-san cast those long eyelashes of hers downward and mumbled something indistinct. She set her hands on the table, interlocking her fine, pale fingers. A truly feminine gesture. She let out a faltering breath and hesitatingly opened her pale lips:
...And so we return to where we started, to read out my maybe-a-suicide-note at my funeral please and thank you.
A stereotypical café playlist played in the background over the chatter from the other tables; some ice clinked in a glass nearby. The sunlight filtering through the window onto Konno-san's pale hands was dazzling. The silence between us was deafening.
"..."
".........."
"S-so... a funeral, was it...?"
To be honest, I was seriously taken aback. No matter how you look at it, this was way too freaky -- that this thirty-something woman who looked like someone cut her out of a mass-market fashion magazine (though I had to admit she really was pretty) could be so messed up in the head. In any case, I had to turn her down. I had to think of a delicate, tactful way to decline that still got my intention--
"As compensation, I can offer you this much."
"...!!!"
In an instant, all thought abandoned me. The amount written on the note she held quietly before me was absolutely ludicrous.
"Well. That's."
"I'm really sorry if that's too low... I don't really know what the market prices are for voice actors."
"No, not at all... Erm."
I had no idea to respond, much less when Konno-san looked so unbelievably earnest. My head was spinning with self-interest and spinelessness and anticipation. (How much do I have left for this month again...?) All of a sudden, the sight of the sheer number of zeroes on that paper gave me a stinging sensation not unlike a parching thirst. I guess you could say I was excited, but I knew that this elation would only turn into misery. (Even so...)
Summer was just around the corner -- before long, I'd be worrying about paying for air conditioning, and it'd start being miserable to walk everywhere, so I'd have to factor in bus fare and late-night taxis too. Not to mention the fact my rent was going to get hiked the following month. I was already scraping by as it was, and I was starting to doubt whether I'd be able to keep up with my living expenses at all. I didn't have the resources to try and find a new place, so there was no hope of my fixed expenses shrinking any time soon. I longed for protein beyond eggs and tofu.
What a wretchedly tedious existence I lived. My gaze drifted over and over and over to those zeroes on the paper. The gap between my misery and my exaltation was paper-thin.
Konno-san made that sudden, funny sort of noise with her throat again. Her black pupils bore into mine as her long eyelashes gently drooped, then lifted again. I never knew the blink of an eye could feel so frighteningly long. (What should I do...?) The look in her eyes suddenly made me want to start running for the hills, until the memo on the table with its irresistable gravity dragged my eyes once again to the sum on its face. Five hundred thousand yen, plus a separate fee paid in advance. It was an absurd amount of money. Fitting for an absurd request.
"..."
"Excuse me..."
"........."
"Yunimaru...san...?"
"..........................I'll do it."
Before I knew it, I'd hung my head and murmured my assent, so quietly it was as though I could disappear any second. Konno-san moved her head closer; I suppose she hadn't heard me. With the last ounce of my dignity, I lifted my head.
"I'll do it! I don't care what it is, I'll read it! A job's a job!"
My voice was veering towards desperation. I was practically shouting. I knew I looked like an absolute wretch, but, frankly, in the face of five hundred thousand yen (and change!), you could forgive just about any indiscretion. As far as money's concerned, it couldn't care less about character or class.
"So you'll take it on... thank you so much!!"
On hearing my words, Konno-san's cheeks flushed a deep pink and a brilliant smile escaped from her face. Somehow, it made my chest flutter a bit. So that's what they mean by a smile like a blooming flower, huh? I couldn't help but think.
"It's just based on a template, so I can't say I'm entirely confident in it, but I've prepared a written contract. As soon as you've verified the contents, we can sign and stamp it. If you have any complaints or concerns about the terms of the agreement, please let me know and I'll adjust things to the best of my ability."
She talked with her hands, moving fluently in rhythm with her flowing words. I resignedly picked up the document placed before me. I scrutinized every word of the impossibly fine print -- people who irresponsibly sign contracts without reading them carefully are the kind of people who get exploited. Indeed, there were several points throughout with which I took issue.
"'Scuse me. About the 'additional services' section..."
(Ah, shit.) Without thinking, I'd dropped the "ex-" in my "excuse me." I was reading so closely that I got distracted and slipped back into talking casually, revealing my true nature: someone who's absolutely garbage at talking politely. It didn't look like Konno-san paid it any particular mind, though. Really? You're just gonna let me slide? I let the tension out of my shoulders as Konno-san began to speak,
"'Additional services,' was it? Those are expenses that are difficult to include in estimating the overall compensation, so they get added separately..."
"No, that part I understand...I'm talking about where it says, 'As the contents of the manuscript are not currently finalized, I would like for you to participate in a planning meeting in order to help draft it...' What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what it says. It's not quite finished yet. The manuscript, that is."
"Huh..?"
So she hasn't written her note yet, huh? Well, that aside, what the heck is this about a "planning meeting?" As far as I know, that's not usually how people go about it... Paying no heed to my contemplating and brain-wracking, Konno-san smiled sweetly.
"As things stand now, I'm planning to be dead by the end of this summer."
"'Dead'..."
There was no mistaking her words, but I couldn't help but feel like there was a fatal misunderstanding going on here.
"In the time up until then, I was hoping I might be able to ask you to assist me in putting the finishing touches on the notes I've cobbled together, Yunimaru...san."
"B-but, I-"
"I can pay you three thousand yen an hour."
"...I'll do it."
It was no good. I had been utterly crushed, by this dead woman walking who had never known life's hardships. To deliver the coup de grâce, she slid a prefilled bank transfer form for a one hundred thousand yen advance payment across the table. I obediently began to fill in my account information.
"...Hehe."
(Eh?) My pen stopped as I lifted my gaze. Konno-san was smiling bashfully, but with her whole face. The dark blush on her cheeks deepened a few shades.
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just happy."
"Ehh?"
Even though you'll be dead in just a few months? I didn't dare vocalize the question hanging in the air. Konno-san went back to fidgeting with her straw and mumbled, her gaze downcast,
"Really, I'm happy. I was really worried when I couldn't find a requests form or anything for you."
"Ah...right."
"Honestly, I thought you might not even meet with me in the first place."
"Ah.........right."
To be honest, even I was surprised I showed up. There are pretty much only two kinds of people who send unsolicited job requests through Twitter DMs: trolls and shameless beggars. Nevertheless, I was struggling so much and I had so thoroughly given up on myself that I set up the appointment anyway.
"I'm really glad I didn't come across as too rude... I'm not quite used to Twitter."
I valiantly suppressed my instinctive You don't say. Getting a message from an account with zero Tweets, with the default header and icon, and a username consisting entirely of random letters and numbers -- there's no way to interpret that other than as someone's shady throwaway account. If the message hadn't been so damn polite, I'd have blocked and reported her without a second thought. After double-checking the card information on the bank transfer form and filling out the last few fields, Kanno-san stowed it away back in her bag with an I'll take care of it!
"Since it has your personal information, once I've done the transfer, I'll return the stub to you."
"Eh?"
She really could get the job done, huh. Even I, who had never held a "regular job" in my life, could recognize the precision with which she chose her words, her witty way of chatting, the unwavering confidence in how she used her hands while she spoke. Even the way she brandished her business card and handled the documents showcased just how used she was to this kind of thing.
(Why's someone like that in such a hurry to die, anyway?) Even so, having someone read a note you wrote at your funeral... it felt like some kind of act of revenge. I didn't understand it at all. I couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on in her mind. (Well, that's natural, I guess.)
After all, this woman and I might as well have lived in parallel worlds. By way of trying to wrap things up, I grabbed my coffee. As I sucked on the straw, feeling the cool bitterness make its way down my throat, Konno-san kept playing with her straw. The ice in her glass clinked briskly. When she swirled the contents with those greige nails, its refracted sunshine scattered across the table. The light reflecting off the crisp white business card was frightfully dazzling and set off its printed navy type brilliantly.
Konno Sayaka. My client. An employee of a famous corporation. A woman who definitely has an Instagram. A beautiful woman, at that. A person who would die when summer ended. A resident of another world.
(...It would probably be best if I don't get myself in too deep.)
Maybe that'd be best for both of us. I slurped down those last dregs of coffee, a kind of determination in my heart. With a dull clink, the piled-up ice at the bottom of my glass crumbled into a heap.