The house was quiet.
The only sound inside the old Nitagawa house was the ticking of a clock hanging above the living room wall.
Akira remained seated on the floor.
The letter was still in his hands.
He had read it once.
Then twice.
But somehow, the words still didn’t feel real.
Nitagawa had hidden so much behind that smile of his.
Akira slowly looked down at the letter.
Akira (quietly): “Nitagawa…”
His voice was barely audible.
He closed his eyes.
And then another memory came to him.
A memory from long before Akira knew the truth.
FLASHBACK
A small countryside house stood between several fields.
The morning sun shone over the farmland.
A young boy ran across the dirt path toward his father.
“Dad!”
His father turned around.
Toru stopped in front of him, breathing heavily.
Toru: “You’re back!”
His father smiled.
Father: “Of course I am.”
Toru looked at him carefully.
Toru: “Are you tired?”
Father: “A little.”
Toru immediately grabbed his father’s hand.
Toru: “Then sit down.”
His father laughed.
Father: “Why?”
Toru: “Because you’re tired!”
He dragged his father toward the house.
Toru: “Do you want water?”
Father: “Water sounds nice.”
Toru: “And food?”
Father: “Food sounds even better.”
Toru smiled proudly.
Toru: “Mom already made dinner.”
His father laughed again.
Father: “Then what are you waiting for?”
Toru: “Come on!”
The two walked inside.
His mother was standing in the kitchen.
Mother: “There you two are.”
Toru: “Mom!
Dad is tired.”
Mother smiled.
Mother: “Then your father should eat.”
Toru nodded seriously.
Toru: “I already told him that.”
His father looked at his son.
Father: “You’ve become quite the little caretaker.”
Toru grinned.
Toru: “Someone has to take care of you.”
The three of them sat together.
For Toru, those moments were everything.
He didn’t need expensive toys.
He didn’t need a huge house.
He didn’t even care about money.
He simply wanted his family together.
Years passed.
Toru eventually entered school.
Things changed.
He was no longer the carefree child who ran through the fields every morning.
Some students began making fun of him.
Student: “Your father is a farmer, right?”
Another student laughed.
Student: “That’s why you smell like dirt.”
Toru said nothing.
He simply picked up his books.
But the comments continued.
Some days were worse than others.
Toru eventually stopped talking about it.
Whenever he returned home, he pretended everything was fine.
His mother noticed.
Mother: “Toru.”
Toru looked up.
Toru: “Yes?”
Mother: “Something happened today.”
Toru looked away.
Toru: “Nothing happened.”
His mother sat beside him.
Mother: “You don’t have to lie to me.”
Toru remained silent.
Then, slowly, he began talking.
He told her about the students.
The insults.
The laughter.
Everything he had kept inside.
His mother listened.
She didn’t interrupt.
When he finished, she placed a hand on his head.
Mother: “Toru.”
Toru looked at her.
Mother: “People can say whatever they want.”
Toru: “But it still hurts.”
Mother: “I know.”
She smiled.
Mother: “But you have something they don’t.”
Toru: “What?”
Mother: “You make people smile.”
Toru blinked.
His mother laughed softly.
Mother: “Even when you’re upset, you somehow make your father and me laugh.”
Toru smiled slightly.
Mother: “You have potential.”
Toru: “Potential for what?”
She looked at him for a moment.
Mother: “To become an actor.”
Toru stared at her.
Toru: “An actor?”
Mother: “Yes.”
Toru laughed.
Toru: “Me?”
Mother: “Why not?”
Toru: “I don’t think I’m that good.”
Mother: “Then become better.”
Toru smiled.
Mother: “One day, I hope you make millions of people smile the same way you make your father and me smile.” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Those words stayed with him.
For years.
YEARS LATER
Toru stood outside an audition building.
His hands were shaking.
He looked at the large glass doors.
Toru: “Alright…”
He took a breath.
Toru: “Let’s do this.”
He entered.
The audition was not successful.
Neither was the next one.
Or the one after that.
Some directors rejected him immediately.
Others told him he wasn’t experienced enough.
One told him he should consider something else.
Toru walked home that evening with his hands in his pockets.
He looked at the sunset.
Toru: “Maybe Mom was wrong.”
He stopped.
Then he shook his head.
Toru: “No.”
He remembered her words.
You have potential.
Toru smiled.
Toru: “I’m not giving up yet.”
He continued.
One audition became another.
One rejection became another opportunity.
Eventually, someone noticed him.
His first small role wasn’t impressive.
It wasn’t a major production.
But when he saw himself on the screen for the first time, he smiled.
He immediately called his parents.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Toru frowned.
Toru: “That’s strange.”
He tried again the following day.
Still nothing.
He eventually received a message.
The information inside left him speechless.
His parents had supposedly passed away.
Toru stared at the message for a long time.
He didn’t understand.
He couldn’t accept it.
He called the number.
No answer.
He contacted people he thought could help.
The information he received only confirmed what he had already heard.
His parents were gone.
At least, that was what he believed.
The person responsible for giving him the information had deliberately allowed Toru to believe the worst.
There had been no proper conversation.
No opportunity for Toru to confirm it himself.
Just information passed from one person to another until Toru accepted it as reality.
And the person who had caused the misunderstanding knew exactly what they were doing.
Toru never discovered the truth.
He believed his parents were dead.
And that belief stayed with him.
Toru continued acting.
But something inside him had changed.
He became quieter.
He stopped talking about his family.
Whenever someone asked about his parents, he changed the subject.
He worked harder.
He accepted more roles.
He smiled for cameras.
He smiled for fans.
He smiled for everyone.
But when the cameras stopped rolling, the smile sometimes disappeared.
Still, he remembered his mother’s words.
Make people smile.
So he continued.
Eventually, his career grew.
More people recognized him.
His name appeared on posters.
People waited outside buildings to see him.
He became the actor his mother had once believed he could become.
But he never forgot where he came from.
He never forgot the small countryside house.
He never forgot his father returning from the fields.
And he never forgot his mother’s voice.
YEARS LATER
Toru met Akira.
At first, they were simply coworkers.
Then friends.
Then something closer.
They worked together.
They argued.
They laughed.
Akira complained about things.
Toru teased him.
They talked about cars.
They talked about acting.
They talked about their dreams.
One evening, Toru showed Akira his car.
Toru: “Hey, Akira.
Look at this beauty.”
Akira looked at the car.
Akira: “Nice.
You bought a four-door.”
Toru: “Yeah, yeah.”
Akira: “Your parents must be proud.”
Toru paused.
Only for a moment.
Toru: “Y-Yeah.”
Akira didn’t notice.
Or perhaps he noticed but didn’t think much of it.
Toru smiled.
They continued talking.
That question stayed with him.
Akira had no idea how difficult it was for Toru to hear it.
Another day.
Akira noticed Toru placing something inside the cabinet of his car.
Akira: “Nitagawa, what are you putting in there?”
Toru looked toward him.
Toru: “Something for you.”
Akira blinked.
Akira: “What?”
Toru: “Not now.”
Akira: “Fine.
I’ll take a sneak peek when you’re not around.”
Toru laughed.
Toru: “Say that after you manage to steal my keys.”
Akira laughed.
Toru laughed with him.
For a moment, Toru forgot about everything else.
His parents.
His career.
His loneliness.
Everything disappeared.
All he saw was his friend laughing beside him.
THE NIGHT OF THE NOTE
Toru sat alone inside his car.
The city lights reflected against the windshield.
He looked at an envelope.
Inside it was a letter.
He had started writing it several times.
Each time, he stopped.
He didn’t know how to explain everything.
Eventually, he began again.
He wrote about his parents.
His childhood.
His mother’s dream.
His struggles.
His career.
And Akira.
Especially Akira.
When he finished, he folded the letter carefully.
He placed it inside an envelope.
Then he looked toward the cabinet.
Toru: “Maybe someday.”
He put it inside.
He didn’t know when Akira would read it.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe years later.
Maybe never.
But he wanted the words to exist.
There were too many things he had never said.
He also wrote another note.
A much shorter one.
There wasn’t enough space to explain everything.
So he simply wrote:
Akira, If you’re reading this, you can look into the paper I left inside.
Thanks for everything.
He placed that note somewhere Akira would find it.
Then he closed the cabinet.
PRESENT
Akira sat inside the abandoned house.
The letter was still in his hands.
Now he understood.
The cabinet.
The note.
The questions.
The way Toru avoided talking about his parents.
Everything connected.
Akira looked down.
Akira: “You wrote this before everything happened…”
He wiped his eyes.
Akira: “And you still wanted me to know.”
He looked toward the old photograph.
Toru stood there beside his parents.
Smiling.
Akira stared at the picture.
For the first time, he understood how much of Toru’s life had been hidden behind that smile.
He wasn’t perfect.
He had been hurt.
He had been lonely.
He had been rejected.
He had lost what he believed was his family.
And somehow, he still chose to make other people smile.
Akira slowly smiled through his tears.
Akira: “You idiot.”
His voice trembled.
Akira: “You should’ve told me.”
The house remained silent.
No answer came.
Akira looked at the photograph one last time.
Akira: “I would’ve listened.”
Outside, the wind moved through the trees surrounding the abandoned house.
The leaves brushed against the windows.
For a moment, Akira could almost imagine hearing Toru’s laughter again.
But it was only the wind.
Akira folded the letter carefully.
He placed it inside his coat.
He would keep it.
Not because it was the final thing Toru had left behind.
But because it was proof that their friendship had mattered.
Far away, in another part of Tokyo, Shiro and Kaoruko remained inside their home.
They still believed their son had been alive until recently.
They had no idea how much pain he had carried.
They had no idea that he had believed they were gone.
And they had no idea that the son they thought they had lost years ago had spent those years trying to make millions of people smile.
The truth had finally begun to surface.
But it had arrived too late.
Akira stepped outside the old house.
He looked toward the sky.
The moon was still visible above Tokyo.
Akira took a deep breath.
Nitagawa was gone.
But the questions he had left behind were not.
Akira turned toward his S13.
He opened the door and sat inside.
Before starting the engine, he looked once more at the old house.
Akira (quietly): “Goodbye, Toru.”
The engine started.
The sound echoed through the quiet street.
Akira drove away.
The old house became smaller in the rear-view mirror.
But the memory of his friend remained.
Toru Nitagawa had spent his life trying to make people smile.
And even after he was gone…
he had left one final story behind.
A story Akira would never forget.
hey!
everyone Isamu here!
so just wanted to say that the ”Nitagawa Arc” has ended here
SEE YOU IN NEXT VOLUME