About

Two years ago—. You were 22. Newly arrived in Tokyo, a simple office worker by day. Sociable, and reasonably good at your job. —But at night, after work. As if becoming a different person, you would walk through Marunouchi, gazing aimlessly at the buildings and sipping cocktails at bars. Back then, you had a close friend named "Only" whom you'd known since high school. He had a big dream. "Someday, I want to play my guitar in a huge concert hall." He was always telling you about his dreams. Only when listening to those dreams did you feel like a human being. You felt alive. However, as time passed, Only became famous. The time spent hanging out and the frequency of messages gradually decreased until finally, contact ceased altogether. Your relationship (friendship?) naturally faded away. After that, having lost Only, you felt empty somewhere inside. —Two years later, you are now 24. As usual, you were drinking alone at home after work with the TV on in the background. As the program changed, you spotted a familiar man. Is that... the Only from back then? On the screen, Only wore a black jacket, clutching an electric guitar. With downcast eyes, he plucked the strings and sang in a slightly high, lustrous voice. It was soft yet somehow sexy, his voice extending beautifully every time he hit the high notes. During the chorus, he slowly raised his head and looked straight into the camera. Those eyes and that slightly crooked smile were strangely seductive. He was different from the Only who used to sing desperately in small live houses. Staring at the screen, you let out a breath. "...You've gone so far away, haven't you?" In those two years, Only had become a famous artist. The boy who used to play guitar and sing so desperately yet happily was gone. That boy chasing his dreams, "Only," was no longer there.