Junjou Restart

Chapter 1

Spring will Come Again

I tried to ignore it, that creeping sense of reality every time something new came my way. Yet after some time, life became routine, and it's the most vicious cycle of all—even more vicious than the pattern of writer's block and deadlines that have become my very existence.

All I can do for now is feel the carpal tunnel in my hand get worse as I keep drawing the outlines for a new chapter that I can already feel losing a sense of direction, just as I can already feel the first round of sleepless nights coming on. The routine is so ingrained into my head at this point that I see it in my dreams when I nod off mid pen stroke, ruffled hair and shaggy beard becoming more mismanaged each time I awaken.

And then just as I expect it, the other dream intrudes my day. His face enters my dreams, and I can already hear his encouraging words float around in my mind as he approaches me with his soft face and bright smile—beautiful as the day I first saw it.

"Sensei, you can do it! I'm rooting for you."

"I'm always looking forward to your work."

"I adore you!"

Once again I reach out for him to hold his body in an embrace, desiring the warmth of his skin against mine—

"Ah, Sensei! Still working as hard as ever, I see."

As usual, the dream dies when my boss, the notorious Ryuuichiro Isaka, greets me.

I could barely see him through the long strands of hair in my face, but I could hear his irritable voice in the room.

"Just wanted to check up on you and see how you're doing with that writer's block of yours," he said, getting a little too close to my desk as he glanced over the papers sprawled about.

I never appreciated when he got too close in my space, but somehow, he was the only person not afraid to talk to me when I was in my worst funks, it seemed.

Usually these visits were where he tried to encourage me, and even help me out with ideas once in a while as one of his favorite (or at least best selling) mangaka. His never wavering tone didn't give way for what he was about to tell me.

"So, I've had a discussion with some of the editors, and I think it's about time we have a little talk." Of course he chose now, when my assistants weren't with me.

I glowered at him a little, as I'm basically forced to drop my pen. "Is this about the book signing next month?"

"Well, in a way, yes—as I assume you haven't done that new character sketch we wanted to hand out at the signing, right?"

I sighed. "Go on."

"Well, we've noticed a slight decrease in…quality for the past 6 months or so," he said.

My stomach dropped a little, as I had a feeling about where he was going with this. "Isaka-san, I assure you, I'm doing my best"—

"I don't mean to tell you that you're unproductive. Far from it. In fact, this is the hardest I've seen you try to meet your deadlines," said Isaka.

"Then what exactly is the problem?" I asked.

"Well, we've kind of realized that sales have been lower than usual," he said, "I can see why, as the content feels a little more…bland? Like it doesn't seek the ambition it used to, and even the jokes feel a little stale and out of place at times."

"So what, am I cancelled now?" I asked.

"No, of course not! We're just worried about you is all, as you've always been one of our best. You just seem quite burned out as of late."

"I can assure you, I'm fine," I replied.

Isaka took a deep breath. "All we're suggesting is a short 3-day trip—something to maybe even inspire you. You're not even finished with the outline yet, right? I imagine you're struggling."

I stayed silent. There was no way to deny it any longer. After all, they were actually offering me a small break.

"…I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do a little sight-seeing," I finally admitted. "It's about time I brought out that camera again."

Isaka was beaming with pride. "Wonderful! If I may make a recommendation, if you don't feel like travelling too far to waste your little vacation, there's a new museum opened up around here—beautiful too. If I recall, it was actually an old museum redone recently."

My first thought was to tell him to get out of my work space, as he was over staying his welcome—the second actually entertained the thought of going somewhere new for inspiration.

The last time I had went on a trip was nearly a year ago at that diner in Kamakura. That was where I saw him and he finally rejected formally—the man who said he adored me and was so starry eyed in my presence, I was easily blinded into thinking we were meant to be.

"By the way, Sensei, one last thing before I take off."

My expression immediately soured. "What?"

"I know you…miss Chibi-tan, and I had decided to not bring it up as it's only been 6 months that he was given a different placement," he says with the most serious look I've ever seen him wear. "However, this is clearly interfering with your work, as well as with your well being, so I suggest you try doing something to fill the void. This isn't good for you."

A part of me wants to say something, but doesn't when he leaves me back to the empty room. Deep down, I know he's right.

I can't remember the last time I'd been in a museum—perhaps on a school field trip before my first and only year at university. I remember being fond of the polished linoleum floors and the hanging paintings that made me yearn to make my name as an artist.

Older memories of asking my father to take me to every art and history exhibit flowed through my mind. Even when I was young, I knew what I had wanted in life, thinking about being an artist as he carried my weight on his shoulders.

Now that I thought about it, this place reminded me a lot of one of the museums I had been taken to as a child. Isaka did mention that this one had been shut down for some time, and the one that came to mind was closed due to a lack of visitors. When my father told me the news, I remember I was so distraught.

Yet I looked around, and the structure had been changed in ways to be more appealing—more rooms were added for the new material, Roman columns graced the corners, and a lot had been retouched, from the glossy flooring to the ceiling, stairs, and name plates. For a Tuesday morning, it had been quite busy, and even the employees looked happy to be there—very different from when I was here years ago.

Even then, I wouldn't have recognized this place if the area surrounding the building had barely changed, and if the same ad for the long-time bear mascot and statue erected outside weren't around. I also couldn't help but see that a lot of the same pieces had been kept, despite new collections being added.

I sat in the dining area, camera by my side as I ate a red bean paste bun that had actually been made from scratch in the kitchen. If anything, the food was a lot better than I remember, although there was still barely any selection.

By this point, I had already reviewed every individual piece of art. As I shoved the last of the bun in my mouth, I prepared my camera. I figured I'd take some photos of what had piqued my interest.

As I walked around one of the newer sections, there was a group of business men dispersing in my general direction.

To my left, I noticed a bear sculpture with three salmon. It even had a little blurb below explaining the history behind it. Part of me seriously considered making a character based off this.

Once I got my camera ready, I heard a stern voice from behind.

"No photography."

Immediately, I lowered my camera to face the source reprimanding me, dark eyes level to mine, his hidden behind pristine glasses, and mine hidden behind my hair. He was clearly one of the business men in the circle I just saw, with his suit meant to be as intimidating as his authoritative aura.

I felt slightly embarrassed, as he sounded as if he was part of management. "Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't done this sort of thing in a while," I say to him, not even bothering to put on the charm with my shaggy appearance. To be fair on myself, I forgot about typical museum etiquette.

"That's understandable. This place holds a lot of importance for me, so I would hate to see anything fade," he said, then mused to himself, "Perhaps I should request the staff to put up more signs around."

"So then while you're here, I was wondering if this was the old museum that was around here?" I asked him.

He seemed surprised by my response. "Yes, that's correct."

"I thought so. I used to come here a lot before they closed down," I said.

"So did I."

"Interesting," I smiled weakly, "You've done a wonderful job bringing the museum back to life."

For a moment he actually appeared flustered, breaking eye contact with me to stare at the floor. "Well, it's not my museum. I'm only the designer."

"That's important, though. This place wouldn't have looked impressive if someone else did it."

He refused to look at me, and suddenly glanced at his wristwatch. "I must go. I have a meeting to attend to."

I wanted to ask how he could have two meetings back to back, but I decided to let him hurry away.

For someone who spoke so seriously without a hint of cracking in his voice, he didn't seem so good at masking his emotions.

Aside, I was also already planning a sketch of a bear with glasses and a salmon tie.

On my way out of the museum, I spotted someone enter, the man in my dream.

My heart raced, body tingling as I could barely hold back a big, genuine smile. Automatically, I felt myself walking over, ready to call out his name—

"Misaki!"

Behind the man of my dreams followed the bane of my existence. "Please don't rush so far ahead of me."

Misaki kept strolling forward until he was in my vicinity, as if stopping near me on purpose. "Usagi-san, it's not my fault you can't keep up. Now come on, I told you we need get out of the apartment more. It's not good for you to stay cooped up in there."

"I could be cooped up with you in bed, though."

"Don't say such things!"

I looked away and kept walking, only to imagine a possible scenario where he at least recognized my face as I rushed by. Then again, the way I looked, I imagined nobody would really recognize me.

I spent the next couple days exploring the city even further. Walking around aimlessly reminded me of the better times in college, trying to get the picture of what story I wanted to tell for the future of TheKan.

Drawing a sketch of Kuma-dono came the easiest, and was just about ready to be prepared for next month's book signing. So many ideas were flooding into my head that I managed to forget to shave my growing beard and cut my hair as I was ready to write down everything.

The drawing was carefully placed on the corner of the desk when I came back to Marukawa, anticipating the arrival of Isaka to come and check up on me as I finally found more of where I wanted to take TheKan. I was actually proud of what I had put together this time.

After some time, as predicted, Isaka came to the entrance, but had turned his head to talk to someone outside.

"If you'll excuse me one moment, I just need to walk in here for a sec." He then proceeded to shuffle inside.

"Ah, Sensei, you're back. How was your vacation, what did you—oh, I'm sorry, do you mind if an old friend of mine comes in?" He gives me the up and down look with a questionable expression. "You seem to be in a…better mood, but I'm not sure if I should take advantage."

I forced a smile. "Don't worry, you're not intruding at all," I said, holding out my sketch, "Actually, you're just in time. There was something I wanted your opinion on."

Isaka took a quick look at the sketch and nodded. "Good work. He looks quite interesting. I think the printers will be very happy." He looked outside the door. "Hey, Haruhiko, don't be shy and get in here. Check this out; he reminds me of you a little."

And just like that, the man from the other day managed to pop back into my life. He focused on Kuma-dono for a few moments, eyes looking back and forth between me and the paper.

"How funny you should say that," he finally commented after what felt like 10 long minutes.

My face flushed. Here I was, not counting on Mr. Businessman to suddenly cross paths with me once again and see what normally would be a crude drawing to anyone if they knew they were the (albeit unintentional at first) inspiration.

Isaka laughed at the response, patting his friend's shoulder.

"Oh, anyway, Ijuiin-sensei, let me introduce you. This guy right here is Usami Haruhiko."

I didn't realize things could manage to get worse.