Page 180 of Faking the Goal

He looks fearless and loud and completely certain that the world is a place meant to be explored, challenged, and occasionally terrorized for entertainment.

So different from the cold, standoffish man I met months ago. The one who carried every thought behind a guarded expression and treated smiling like something that might cost him if he did it too often.

I find myself lingering on one photograph of him around ten or eleven, his head thrown back in laughter as he runs through a spray of water in the backyard. The smile on his face is so open that something inside my chest tightens.

I wonder when he stopped smiling like that.

What happened between this boy and the man who learned to keep so much of himself hidden.

Although lately, the distance between them doesn't seem quite as wide. He has been more generous with his smiles. He teases me without pretending he's annoyed afterward. Sometimes I catch him laughing before he can swallow it down, and each time, it feels like I'm watching a locked door crack open another inch.

Harumi turns the page, and I blink when I notice a familiar pattern.

In one picture, Kentaro is curled up on the couch with a manga open across his lap. In another, he is sitting beneath a tree with a different volume held inches from his face. There's one of him at the kitchen table, one hand gripping a fork while the other keeps a book propped open beside his plate.

I laugh softly. "Wow. He really has been obsessed with manga his entire life."

"Obsessed is a strong word," Kentaro says.

Harumi and I look at him.

He sighs. "Fine."

Harumi smiles down at the photographs. "He got it from me. His father used to complain that we spent too much money on books, but I always told him there were much worse things a child could become addicted to."

"Like throwing food at people," I add.

"Exactly."

Kentaro rubs a hand over his face.

Harumi closes the album halfway and angles her body toward me. "Ken-chan told me you share our love for manga."

I nod without an ounce of shame. "Absolutely. And Sakura Cafe has a pretty impressive manga collection."

"So, what's been your favorite read so far?"

"Naruto," I answer, and the word comes out softer than I expect.

Harumi's expression brightens. "Oh, that was always one of his favorites too."

"I can see why." My fingers trace absently over the edge of the album. "I didn't expect to connect with it as much as I did."

Harumi watches me patiently, giving me room to continue without pressing.

I glance down at one of the pictures of Kentaro as a boy, though I'm no longer really seeing it.

"Naruto grows up without parents. Without any family at all," I say. "Everyone in the village sees him as this loud, troublesome kid who's always pulling pranks and causing problems. They think he's annoying. A nuisance."

A quiet laugh slips out of me, but it sounds thin even to my own ears.

"He is annoying," Kentaro says, though his voice is gentle.

"He is," I agree, smiling faintly. "But I understood why."

The room feels quieter now. Even the soft Christmas music playing somewhere behind us seems to recede.

"He wasn't doing all those things because he enjoyed making everyone angry. Not really. He just wanted someone to notice him." My throat tightens, and I clear it before continuing. "Even if people were yelling at him, at least they were looking at him. At least, for those few minutes, he mattered enough for someone to pay attention."