Chapter 27: Volume 1, - 27: A Notebook, Chosen Carefully
Ren discovered that buying a birthday present was considerably harder when he actually cared whether the person liked it.
The stationery shop sat two streets away from the station, far enough from Okada Stationery that there was no chance of turning Suzune’s present into an extension of his first consulting job.
The shop smelled of fresh paper, rich leather, and the faint woody scent of pencil shavings. Narrow display tables divided the floor into sections for notebooks, pens, folders, and desk accessories. A wall near the entrance held spring-coloured cards and wrapping paper, several printed with peach blossoms for Hinamatsuri.
Ren moved slowly past them.
He had made the mistake of searching online the previous night. Within twenty minutes, every recommendation had grown more expensive than the last: leather organisers, imported fountain pens, and limited-edition sets presented inside wooden boxes as though signing a grocery list required ceremonial equipment. He had closed his browser before convincing himself that spending more money automatically meant caring more.
Now, he tried to rely on his memory instead.
Suzune’s battered notebook had appeared often enough that he could picture it without trying. The cover had softened around the corners, and a rubber band held it shut because loose papers had been pushed between too many pages. She wrote product ideas right beside supplier reminders, crossed things out, added frantic arrows, and then complained when the paper was thin enough for ink to bleed through.
Once, while they were talking, she had rubbed a page between two fingers and muttered that she hated paper that felt too light.
Ren had remembered that.
He had also remembered a muted, dark-red notebook she had picked up during another stop, turned over twice, and then returned to the shelf after checking the price tag. She had never said she wanted it, which made remembering far more useful than asking.
A clerk approached while Ren stood comparing notebook systems. "Are you looking for a gift, sir?"
Ren glanced down at the displays. "Is it that obvious?"
The clerk smiled warmly. "You have been holding the same refill for almost four minutes."
"That is unfortunate."
"For a woman?"
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Yes."
The clerk immediately became more engaged. "If it is a birthday gift, we have a fountain-pen bundle that pairs very well with a leather organiser."
Ren followed the gesture. The boxed set looked incredible, and that was precisely the problem. A dark leather portfolio sat open beneath the display lights, fitted with card slots, a pen loop, and several replaceable sections. Beside it rested a fountain pen in a polished case.
His hand drifted toward the leather. For half a second, he pictured Suzune opening something obviously impressive.
Then he pictured her battered notebook. The rubber band. The handwritten arrows. The quiet way she had put the other notebook back rather than complaining about its price.
Ren stopped with his fingers a few centimetres from the portfolio.
’Wrong reason.’
He lowered his hand. "Thank you," he said, "but I think that would be more gift than she needs."
"The pen can be purchased separately."
"I’m trying to avoid fixing the mistake in smaller pieces."
The clerk blinked, then let out a polite laugh.
Ren returned to the PLOTTER display. The system made far more sense for her. Replaceable pages meant she could move finished notes out instead of carrying years of crossed-out bakery ideas. Different inserts could separate her planning without forcing her into an elaborate system she had never asked for.
More importantly, it still looked like something meant to be used, not just displayed.
He tested the paper between his fingers. It was noticeably heavier than the cheap notebook stock she had complained about.
Good.
A few metres away, an older customer was speaking in a low but increasingly firm voice to another employee. "The sign says twenty per cent off."
"Only the marked colours, sir."
"This is the same model."
"Yes, but not the same colour."
"The notebook does not write differently because it is blue."
Ren looked away before the employee caught him smiling. Apparently, stationery disputes were universal.
He examined the available PLOTTER covers again. Black was safe. Brown was practical. One darker reddish-brown option reminded him immediately of the shade Suzune had once picked up and returned.
His fingers paused on it. There was no dramatic certainty, only quiet recognition.
"That one," he said.
The clerk returned to his side. "The leather binder?"
"Yes."
"And perhaps the pen set after all?"
"No."
"You are quite disciplined."
He selected one refill insert with thicker paper and considered adding another section before stopping himself.
At the wrapping counter, he chose plain cream paper rather than the more elaborate birthday option with metallic ribbon. The clerk folded the edges neatly and added a narrow dark-red band.
He tucked the receipt into his wallet and looked down at the wrapped package. He only hoped he had remembered correctly.
The harder problem was timing.
Suzune’s birthday fell on Hinamatsuri, which meant Akiyama Bakery had its own chaotic rhythm today. Ren had seen enough of the shop to know that dropping by whenever he felt like it would be selfish.
He checked the time while eating a quick, cheap lunch near the station. Going during the afternoon meant interrupting her mid-shift. Going immediately after closing risked walking straight into whatever her parents had planned for her evening. Too late, and he would turn a birthday visit into an inconvenience simply because he had been afraid to arrive earlier.
Ren opened LINE, stared at Suzune’s name, and almost typed a message asking when she was free.
He stopped. That would be sensible, but it would also mean making her organise his visit on one of her busiest workdays.
He already knew the bakery’s usual closing rhythm. He knew when the late customer rush normally thinned out and how long basic cleanup took because he had stood around enough times watching.
He could arrive near the end, give her the present, stay only if she wanted him to, and leave before occupying family time.
The plan sounded easy when reduced to four sentences.
By late afternoon, Ren had checked the wrapped notebook twice to make sure the paper hadn’t somehow damaged itself inside his bag. At five-thirty, he checked again.
He put it back.
The sky had begun to darken by the time he headed toward Akiyama Bakery. Friday foot traffic moved around him in small, cheerful groups: office workers heading toward the station, students talking too loudly, and parents carrying shopping bags. Several shops still had Hinamatsuri displays near their entrances, but Ren barely registered them. His attention kept returning to the weight inside his bag.
Business meetings had become easier lately. He could sit opposite Fumie Okada and admit when his analysis was wrong. He could listen while Aoi dismantled a bad financial idea. He could stand beside a Toyota Crown that shouldn’t have existed anywhere near his old life and ask Daichi to inspect it.
None of those things made walking into a bakery with a birthday present any easier.
A few minutes before closing, he reached the familiar street. Warm light spilled across the pavement from Akiyama Bakery.
Ren slowed his pace. Through the front window, he could see the last few trays behind the counter and a small shelf of hina-arare near the register. Higher up, the Akiyamas’ hina-doll display sat carefully arranged, the red fabric bright beneath the detailed figures.
The family’s evening was waiting behind that glass. So was Suzune.
Ren took the wrapped PLOTTER notebook from his bag and held it in both hands. He had chosen every part of it from memory.
Now, he just had to go inside.
Taking a quiet breath, he stood outside the glass, looked at the hina dolls, and finally worked up the nerve to open the door.