[02/02] Sakumoto Fic Meme - Day 12: Boys
Summary
“Day 12: Song Fic.”
It is the late 90s. Ninomiya is assigned prescription glasses after having ruined his eyesight from over-gaming, Ohno is two years older than the rest of his senior class, and Aiba discovers he can’t fulfill his life goal of competing in an Olympic marathon. Meanwhile, Sakurai is fretting about ‘what happens now’ and Matsumoto resolves that he has to, has to, HAS TO finally get over his boyhood crush. But then Sakurai finds out.
Notes
This is inspired by a Parokya ni Edgar cover of the Bee Gees’ Boys Do Fall in Love. I’m not sure if this is what is meant by a song fic, but I hope this will do. I particularly like the chorus.
This is the 12th part of a Sakumoto Fic meme. It was beta-ed by N and Zi. Many thanks.
DisclaimerThe mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning/Rating
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
Please don't choke on the cheese.
Words 4,884
Boys
Sakurai rose to his feet and grimly stared at the small crowd of teenage boys gathered in front of him. They were all dressed in identical pale blazers with their school’s logo patched over their hearts, arms crossed over their chests as they looked up at him expectantly. He felt his mouth go dry. “This is it then. Today is the last meeting of the incumbent student council.”
Instinctively he caught Matsumoto’s eye. The younger boy was sitting to his right, holding on to the final documents the outgoing council had reported on that afternoon. They had been careful not to look at each other during the length of the final meeting. They had not spoken to each other in private either since the evening of the karaoke party, and while their friends had noticed the silent war that had been going on, everyone had left them to their own devices. All their exchanges had been civil and polite, but cold.
Sakurai clenched his fists and fought for calm.
“Firstly, let me thank each of you for actively contributing to the student council. I personally appreciate all your help throughout the school year, and I speak for the student body when I say all your individual efforts are appreciated. Thank you very much for your hard work.” He bowed low, as the small room burst into cheers.
Sakurai emerged from his bow, hesitating. He had rehearsed this speech last night, but the lines were running all over his head. “Secondly, I’d like to remind the incoming council never to forget to feed Holmes sausages at least once a week. He gets cranky when you forget. But seriously,” he licked his lip nervously as the others laughed and several heads turned to locate their unofficial pet cat. “You know how things work around here. Smoking and drinking are against the law - if you’re caught. Don’t be dumb enough to get caught. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he laughed, the weight on his shoulders lifted as his comrades cheered him on. “Keep on the Disciplinary Prefect’s good side. He likes scotch. Try to keep him happy.”
“And lastly,” he found his eyes wandering over to where Matsumoto was seated, staring at the table in front of him. “We leave you this student council with full confidence, knowing that you are more than capable of leading this school. You’re the chosen ones - think like it, act like it, but never abuse your power. You’re not special. But you’re not just ordinary students either. Live up to the name of the Kitagawa Institute.”
He allowed himself to trail off, the other students nodding seriously to his words. “And about your incoming President, Matsumoto Jun-” He sensed a few stares turning towards Matsumoto’s direction, sensed Ikuta elbowing Matsumoto playfully. “I’ve known him for a very long time. I know how stubborn he can be. He’s hard-headed as hell, but he’s not a bad person. He’s one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime.”
Sakurai paused. “I hope you can give him a chance to lead you. Be kind to him, as you have been to me.”
This statement, this request, it had not been in his original plan. But he felt himself bow, felt himself beg, and knew it was what he wanted to do. “Please look upon him kindly.”
When he had raised his head again, he realized his comrades had been cheering, but all that had been lost to his ears. Matsumoto was frowning and pushing Ikuta’s hand away, but he was visibly happier. After many years, Sakurai could tell.
Pulling his book bag towards him haphazardly, Sakurai said, “Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really-”
“Not so fast, Mr. President,” Ikuta stood up as some other officers rounded up behind him, effectively creating a human wall. “We prepared something for you old geezers. Hey, Kazama - pull the other officers to the front, won’t you?”
Sakurai suddenly found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with his Vice-President Shingo Murakami. They stared at each other, faces identical masks of confusion.
“Maybe they hired strippers,” Murakami muttered in an undertone.
But then Kato Shigeaki - the tiny and waif-like freshman boy wonder - suddenly carried a cake topped with red candles through the small door of the council room. He looked ready to disappear under it, even with some of his fellow freshmen supporting him at each side of the tray. Slowly their small group headed towards the center of the room where the seniors stood, tiptoeing to see over each other’s heads. Through his disbelieving laughter Sakurai vaguely sensed Matsumoto getting to his feet.
In the next instant they found themselves standing in front of each other, their faces lit by the orange glow of the candles between them.
“Thank you for working hard, Sho-kun,” Matsumoto told him in a whisper. For a second Sakurai felt his lungs constrict, their eyes meeting and his reflection shone brightly in Matsumoto’s gaze. But just as quickly, the strange setting crumbled. Matsumoto turned to the others beside him. “Thank you for working hard, Hina-kun and Subaru-kun. Yoko, you, too.”
The rest of the evening felt to Sakurai like a succession of hellos and goodbyes. He had not anticipated that so many of the younger students would be in attendance, most of them interested in making the student council their official extra-curricular organization. For his part, Matsumoto seemed to be making his rounds around the room as well, saying his final words to his departing seniors, welcoming the new blood he would be working with. Sakurai smiled faintly into the drink he had been handed. Perhaps his last days of high school had always been meant to be spent like this.
At seven Sakurai drained the last of his root beer and got to his feet, the juniors bowing to him respectfully as he made his way to the office door with his book bags in hand. Instinctively, he scanned the room for Matsumoto, with whom he had always walked home after council meetings. But his protégé was in one corner of the room, ruffling Kato Shigeaki’s hair playfully and making the people around him laugh.
Despite the vague feeling of loss that was burgeoning in his chest, Sakurai smiled. He had never been the type of leader people could feel comfortable with. Now it was up to Matsumoto to change things.
He had already been putting his outdoor shoes on, mentally rehearsing the representative’s speech he would have to deliver on graduation day, when he heard the sound of footsteps running along the empty halls. Sakurai looked up, one hand on his left shoe, to find Matsumoto standing on one end of the cabinets, a hand raised to support his panting form. He had a hand clutching his side. “You didn’t say goodbye. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you left campus.”
Sakurai blinked. “If you want to talk to me about something, you can always drop by the house. Or send me an email instead, if you’re busy.”
“This isn’t something I can say at home.” Matsumoto shook his head vigorously, the fluffy mass of his short, dark hair bouncing with each movement. In the dim light of the room, he looked strangely older - still the same lanky boy Sakurai had grown up with, but with a fresh sense of purpose. “There’s something I want to say to you personally.”
Sakurai rested his hands on his knees, still seated with his shoe locker opened wide before him. He had expected Matsumoto to apologize to him for the karaoke incident much sooner than this and had prepared a satisfactory response that both granted Matsumoto forgiveness and pleaded for understanding. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”
Matsumoto opened his mouth to speak, but for a second no words would come out. Sakurai stared. The silence dragged on.
Sakurai scratched his nose. “About the karaoke thing-”
“I like you,” Matsumoto blurted out. “I like you, Sho-kun. I always have.”
He stared at Matsumoto, whose hand was falling slowly to his side, whose eyes never left him. The younger boy’s fists clenched. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, and you just don’t want to admit it because it would make things awkward between us, but everything I’ve done so far I did because I wanted to be close so you.” He ran a hand under his hair. “Because I was just happy that I got to be around you, I never planned on saying it but - I didn’t want you to misunderstand what happened last weekend. You’re a very strict leader, but-”
Matsumoto took a deep breath. “That’s not why I ran out that night. It wasn’t your fault. I just wanted you to know.” He stared at Sakurai for a few more seconds before he, realizing the older boy was not going to say anything, bowed and simply added, “I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”
After which, he raised his head and, without one last look at Sakurai, ran out of the room. His footsteps rang noisily in the quiet corridors. Stunned, Sakurai stared at the shoe locker in front of him, shoulders falling slowly. All thoughts of graduation day flew out of his mind. All lines of his representative’s speech were forgotten.
In the dimness of his surroundings, Sakurai wondered if he had truly never noticed it before.
__
“Ah, isn’t that Jun-kun over there?” his mother innocently pointed out. Sakurai’s head snapped up, his gaze flying across the blossom-strewn school yard filled with attendees of the seniors’ graduation. Sure enough, in the distance, Matsumoto was bowing to the Sakurai family on their way to the parking lot. He clutched a clipboard to his chest, the Disciplinary Prefect and some members of the student council standing next to him, collectively thanking the departing guests. Sakurai averted his eyes. His mother had her hand raised in a cheerful wave.
“Did you and Jun-kun have a fight?” his sister Mai asked quietly from where she stood beside him. “I saw him in front of the house yesterday. He just stared at your bedroom window and left without ringing the doorbell. Did you guys break up?” she added in a playful tone, elbowing her catatonic older brother.
Sakurai sighed. “Dad, I’ll meet you in the car. I just need to talk to Macchan.”
His father turned around distractedly. In his arms, their youngest brother Shu was fiddling with the buttons of his miniature formal suit. “Well, all right. I hope you patch things up-”
“I just need to tell him something. For the student council,” he raised a hand and waved his family’s curiosity away. “I won’t take long, I promise.”
Meeting Matsumoto’s eyes, he gestured for the two of them to talk in the middle of the bustling courtyard. With a cautious gaze, his junior muttered something to the Disciplinary Prefect before passing his clipboard to Ikuta. As Matsumoto walked towards him, standing smack in the middle of the hundreds-strong crowd of guests, Sakurai felt the chatter around him unite into a single, calming wall of sound. He watched Matsumoto walk towards him -tall and gangly Matsumoto Jun - wearing the same pale blue blazer with their school logo embroidered over the heart.
Before he knew it they were standing in front of each other.
Sakurai bit his lip and promptly held out his hand. Matsumoto, lips parted in surprise, stared at it for a few seconds before his face broke into a small, melancholic smile and he held out his hand as well. Their fingers felt cool upon contact, in contrast to the heat of the day.
“I wish you’d consider Keio,” Sakurai admitted as soon as the physical connection broke. “I know you’re aiming for Waseda, but I still think there’s hope. You’d get into Keio easily - no problem.”
“I think Waseda has the better linguistics program,” Matsumoto admitted seriously. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I honestly don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
Sakurai simply scoffed. “I don’t think I can bear the thought of you as my rival. I’ve gotten too used to having you around that I don’t think I can stand being without you.”
Matsumoto ground his heel against the concrete of the courtyard. His gaze ran over the graduates and their parents, chatting, laughing, weeping under the blossoms of the school yard. “I hope what I said that night doesn’t change anything between us. I don’t expect you to go out with me, Sho-kun. You’re too high up there to be with someone like me, anyway-”
“I’ve told you again and again that I hate it when you think of me that way. Don’t put me on a pedestal - it isn’t right.” He took a quick peek at Matsumoto. He was still letting his gaze wander, looking at nothing in particular. “I don’t know what to feel about you yet. I don’t really think much about things like this.”
Matsumoto turned to him slowly.
“But I’m not closing my doors on anything,” Sakurai grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets, too. “In the first place, I do like you. No matter what may happen in the future from now on, I hope you can become a permanent part of my life.”
In comparison to how Sakurai was feeling - flustered and warm and jittery all over - Matsumoto was stock still, his expression unbearably calm. For a moment Sakurai wondered if Matsumoto had completely frozen over, had stopped breathing - he had a glassy look in his eyes - until the younger boy suddenly exhaled. “I understand.”
He bowed very slowly, the movement as formal as could be. “Please wait for me to grow up, Sho-kun.”
Sakurai blinked. Then he chuckled to himself. “We’ll have to work on that. I won’t have you treating me like a god every blasted time.”
“I’m sorry,” Matsumoto re-emerged, looking chagrined. “It’s just-” Running out of words to say, he simply settled for a smile. “I’ll work on it, I promise.”
Sakurai couldn’t help it. His face broke into a small smile as well. “I don’t know when I started thinking this, but at one point I realized I want us to grow old together.”
He ran a finger under his nose. “I’ll wait for you in Keio.”
In one swift movement, Sakurai turned around and walked on.
__
Spring 2014
Dressed in black tuxedos, Sakurai Sho and Matsumoto Jun settled into their seats around one of the few tables in the first row. Before them, on the funny little stage that the wedding coordinators had decorated with pink rosettes that matched the bride’s wedding dress, Ninomiya Kazunari was leading his young wife to the center of a long table lined with crystal goblets and fine china. All around them the other guests were trying to place their locations on the floor plan as well. Sakurai took out his mobile phone and surreptitiously checked his inbox.
It was as Matsumoto was reaching for his water glass that his gaze landed on the person seated across the two of them. “Shige-chan? Kato Shigeaki, is that you?”
The man had been frowning into the program for the after-wedding reception. Upon hearing Matsumoto’s voice, he looked up from his reading. It was undeniably Kato Shigeaki, the freshman prodigy of the Kitagawa Institute of Chiyoda. He was fifteen full years older, although his eyes were still clear. “Mattsun. I don’t believe it. Matsumoto Jun?”
Sakurai looked up from his phone just in time to see the two men rising to their feet to embrace each other in the middle of the crowded ballroom. He paused, eyes wide, and checked to see what was happening. But Matsumoto was already seated next to the stranger, arms on the backrest of his chair. “How have you been? I haven’t heard from you since high school!”
“I know - it’s exactly the same for me. I tried to go on one of those alumni gatherings but it was mostly the older graduates who attended. Seniors from the seventies and stuff. You guys never came,” Kato lamented, eyeing Matsumoto suspiciously. “You promised we’d meet after you graduated but you never gave me your number.”
“Yeah, a lot of things happened,” Matsumoto answered nervously. Looking away from Kato, his gaze met Sakurai’s across the table. “Sho. Surely you remember Kato Shigeaki. He volunteered for the student council the year you were president.”
“Of course I do,” Sakurai confirmed warmly, sitting on Kato’s other side. Smiling at his junior, Sakurai couldn’t help patting Kato on the head. “You clean up pretty well, Kid. I was worried you’d stick to the science prodigy look forever, but this look becomes you much more. Are you married now?”
“Why is that the first thing everyone asks?” Kato chuckled. “I don’t even have a girlfriend. I’m too busy as it is.”
“What is it you do again?” Matsumoto’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to remember. “Someone told me you were studying physics at Todai, but that was so long ago I can’t even be sure of it.”
“I’ve become a writer. Reporter, really,” Kato informed them nonchalantly. “I work for the Tokyo Daily. Covering mostly local news - love suicides in Kagurazaka, that sort of thing.”
Sakurai blinked. “Wow. To be honest my impression of you was more on the science side. The type who finds new galaxies and names them after their favorite professor and stuff. I didn’t even know you were studying physics-” He looked at Matsumoto hesitantly.
“I told you - I’m sure I did,” Matsumoto responded with the slightest hint of irritation. “But really, it’s my fault for failing to contact you. I’m sorry, Shige-chan. I really should have given you my number - we’ve put you in an awkward spot.”
“No, really, it’s nothing,” Kato said, waving the apology aside. “I used to get scolded a lot when I quit Todai to pursue writing. But I’ve always wanted to publish my own book, and this newspaper stint gets me the right connections,” he added pleasantly. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you!”
He met Sakurai’s gaze warmly. “Sakurai-san, I see your name on television all the time. I even caught an interview once. It was on the evening news. You were talking about the standardization of mobile phone disposal.”
“Oh please, let’s not talk about his job,” Matsumoto whined openly. “He tends to go on about info-tech for hours even when you try to stop him. Really, it’s not fun, even if it does have a fancy title. He doesn’t have a life outside civil service, you know?”
“You exaggerate. I spend most of my free time with you,” Sakurai pulled a face. “Jun here teaches literature at Seihoukan High near Kanda. I’ve been trying to get him to transfer to Kitagawa but he’s still scared of the Disciplinary Prefect.”
“What?” Kato’s jaw fell. “Ogura-san still hasn’t retired?”
Matsumoto could only nod empathically.
Out of the blue, another man in a tuxedo joined them at their table, looking distinctly ruffled. Frowning, he turned to Sakurai. “They’re starting the program with the best man’s speech and Aiba-chan’s rehearsing one last time.”
“But we’ve gone through his lines a million times before,” Matsumoto said, frowning. Sakurai quickly looked over to the head table and met Ninomiya’s gaze. The latter shook his head in amusement. “It’s not his wedding. Why is he more anxious than the groom?”
“Who knows?” Ohno said grimly. Suddenly, he set his standard blank gaze on Kato.
Sakurai followed his eyes. “Oh yes. Captain, this is Kato Shigeaki. He was freshman when we were seniors. Kato-kun, this is Ohno Satoshi. We were classmates with Aiba-chan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kato said formally. Ohno responded with a small smile and a bow. “Isn’t it funny that we’ve vaguely known about each other for fifteen years but we’ve never been properly introduced before now?”
“That’s true,” Ohno admitted with a small chuckle. “But I really was a bum in high school so it can’t be helped-”
Kato looked taken aback. “I’m sure that’s not true-”
“Oh, it is,” Sakurai smirked as he put his phone back in his pocket. “But whatever. Captain’s successful now anyway. Who cares why he had to repeat two years of high school?”
Ohno smiled. “Very funny, Sho-”
The lights abruptly dimmed as the host took her spot on the podium and the chatter around the room fell into a hush. In a suave motion, Aiba appeared from a side entrance and took his seat to the left of the groom. Ninomiya stared at him quizzically. He merely replied with a shake of his head.
The host flashed her suspiciously brilliant white teeth. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting. Today we celebrate the union of Ninomiya Kazunari-san and Machida Reina-san. Please join me in congratulating the couple with a warm round of applause.”
Ninomiya and his bride got to their feet and bowed slowly. There was a small smile on the groom’s face.
“Now,” the host continued as the two returned to their seats amidst warm applause, “to wish the new couple well, we would like to call on Aiba Masaki-san. He is the groom’s best man and his best friend, and to honor this occasion he will be introducing a short video presentation. Please give him a warm round of applause.”
Surprised, Matsumoto, Sakurai and Ohno exchanged looks full of meaning as Aiba took the podium, clutching a handful of index cards. Exhaling audibly into the microphone, Aiba licked his lips nervously before his face broke into a warm smile. “Good day, everyone. I am Aiba Masaki. I am a rehabilitation counselor at Kawabata Medical City, where I have been privileged to work for the past fifteen years.”
He paused for a moment and took a quick glance at Ninomiya. “For almost the same period of time, I have known Ninomiya Kazunari. We met on his first day in high school, when I was in the junior class. He was standing in the middle of the baseball pitch in Kitagawa Institute, and he had been standing there for almost five minutes when I decided to walk up to him to ask what he was doing. He said he found it such a waste that no one used the pitch when it was such a good one. The rest of the afternoon we spent playing catch. And we’ve been playing catch ever since.”
The crowd laughed politely.
“Eventually,” Aiba continued, “we became friends with Ohno Satoshi, Sakurai Sho and Matsumoto Jun. Those guys over there-” He added, pointing to the table where his friends sat. “Captain Ohno and Sho-chan were the first friends I’d made when I was still a freshman. MatsuJun was Sakurai’s friend from way back. They may look pretty unreliable, these people-”
Sakurai snorted.
“-but we’ve always been there for each other.” Aiba anxiously pushed his hair back before continuing to speak. “Over the next few years, we faced a lot of problems together. I got sick and the four of them were always there for me. Nino here even had the mad idea of having a group date to cheer me up. Personally, I think he just wanted to meet some girls and he was just using me as an excuse.”
The room erupted in laughter as Ninomiya put his hands together and bowed profusely to his wife.
Aiba laughed at the sight. Then he turned somber once more. It was the most serious anyone had ever seen him in recent memory. “I was so scared that we were separating after high school. Sho-chan and MatsuJun went on to university. Captain started an apprenticeship at a museum. Nino went to animation school, and I started training as a rehabilitation counselor. I remember being so worried. The first few months were tough.”
Sakurai was hanging onto Aiba’s every word. Even Ohno seemed less sleepy.
“But now, fifteen years later, we’re still together. Still crazy,” he laughed, as did his friends. “Still immature in many ways - but still friends. Together we got through my illness and Captain’s many girlfriends. There was also Nino’s workaholic phase and Sho’s graduate school stint in London. And then there’s always MatsuJun’s general drama.”
Sakurai laughed so loudly the people from the next table turned to look.
“To be honest, I’m surprised Nino is the first to get married among the five of us,” Aiba admitted. “You’re going to leave us now. You’re going to make your own family now, but we’re all very happy for you.”
To one who was unacquainted with how Aiba Masaki’s mind worked, he would have seemed at that moment like a perfectly calm best man delivering an ordinary speech to his best friend. But to his friends, who had all known him for fifteen years, it was plain to see that he was crumbling. The tears would come very, very soon. “To commemorate this moment, I’ve made a short video presentation for Nino. It’s actually from all of us, but the others don’t know about it, so-”
And there it was - the first tear. Sakurai clapped his hands over his mouth and called out, “Just play the video already.”
And then the most familiar tune in matrimonial history, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, began to play from the speakers. Against the background of a plain white board, Aiba’s video presentation began to show. From the very first slide it was obviously very rudimentary.
To Nino, the opening credits said. And then the pictures began to slip out, one by one.
Sakurai’s eyebrows quirked at seeing his thin, seventeen year old self in his junior year, dressed stiffly in his high school uniform, standing next to the other four during the first baseball match of Season ‘98-‘99. Ohno still looked sleepy in old photos, Aiba still cheerful, and Ninomiya still, inexplicably, unchanged. Matsumoto grinned back at them from under his baseball cap, bad teeth on full display. From Kato’s other side, Sakurai heard the present Matsumoto groan. Sakurai grinned.
Next came a picture of Ninomiya and Matsumoto’s high school graduation, the other three dressed in fancy clothes that were undeniably quiet large for their thin bodies. This was followed by the picture of the five of them together in Kyoto, a souvenir of that disastrously memorable road trip that began with Ohno saying he wanted to date a geisha. A picture of them fishing in Shimanto followed, and then a picture of them eating yakiniku together in Seoul. A lot of the photos featured them seeming slightly drunk and/or high. They became visibly fatter through the years.
Matsumoto quietly started crying into his table napkin. Sakurai tore his eyes away from the screen, where the photo of them wearing crazy see-through outfits was being flashed, and reached for Matsumoto’s shoulder behind Kato’s chair. As the rest of the audience laughed loudly at their naked-not-so-naked bodies, Matsumoto looked up and smiled at Sakurai. He reached for the hand that was extended towards him and squeezed back. Their intertwined hands rested on the back of Kato’s chair. Kato himself was wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.
There was a picture of everyone and Sakurai’s mother in London, standing next to the guards at Buckingham Palace. There was a picture of everyone standing next to Ohno’s artistic rendition of the five of them, showcased at his first solo exhibit at a museum in Shibuya. There were more pictures, more smiles. The last one, the fifteenth one, showed the five of them resting leisurely over a picnic blanket under a cloud of vibrant cherry blossoms. Ninomiya’s head was thrown back in a full laugh. Aiba was hysterical on Ohno’s shoulder. Sakurai was staring at Matsumoto, who was staring back, laughing at a completely different joke, one only the two of them understood.
From behind Kato’s chair, Matsumoto squeezed Sakurai’s hand one more time. Sakurai smiled.
Happy Wedding, the ending credits of the video presentation declared. Kindly name one of your children after all of us. We highly recommend the name Sashomajun.
All the way from the high table, they heard Ninomiya laugh.
When the lights turned back on, Sakurai was surprised to find all his friends in tears, and some of the other people around them, too. Matsumoto was now openly sobbing into his table napkin, Ohno was stubbornly flicking tears from his eyes, someone had handed Aiba a now-soggy wad of tissue, and Ninomiya had his face hidden, his wife’s hand on his shoulder. Even Kato had his head bowed gracefully, a hand over his face.
Aiba cleared his throat as he regained control of the podium, the sodden tissue in his hand. His eyes were unabashedly red. When he spoke he sounded like he had a bad cold. “Nino, on behalf of everyone, I wish you and Reina-chan a happy new life and bon voyage.”
As their hands unlinked, Matsumoto smiled at Sakurai. He winked in return. From the high table, Ninomiya gave Aiba and the others at the table salutes. Ohno laughed as he reached for his glass of water.
Sniffing, Aiba stuffed the tissue in his pocket. “Ahm. But that’s actually just the introduction to my speech.”
He took out his handful of index cards. From the high table, the groom simply laughed.
Previous
“Day 12: Song Fic.”
It is the late 90s. Ninomiya is assigned prescription glasses after having ruined his eyesight from over-gaming, Ohno is two years older than the rest of his senior class, and Aiba discovers he can’t fulfill his life goal of competing in an Olympic marathon. Meanwhile, Sakurai is fretting about ‘what happens now’ and Matsumoto resolves that he has to, has to, HAS TO finally get over his boyhood crush. But then Sakurai finds out.
Notes
This is inspired by a Parokya ni Edgar cover of the Bee Gees’ Boys Do Fall in Love. I’m not sure if this is what is meant by a song fic, but I hope this will do. I particularly like the chorus.
This is the 12th part of a Sakumoto Fic meme. It was beta-ed by N and Zi. Many thanks.
DisclaimerThe mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning/Rating
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
Please don't choke on the cheese.
Words 4,884
Boys
Sakurai rose to his feet and grimly stared at the small crowd of teenage boys gathered in front of him. They were all dressed in identical pale blazers with their school’s logo patched over their hearts, arms crossed over their chests as they looked up at him expectantly. He felt his mouth go dry. “This is it then. Today is the last meeting of the incumbent student council.”
Instinctively he caught Matsumoto’s eye. The younger boy was sitting to his right, holding on to the final documents the outgoing council had reported on that afternoon. They had been careful not to look at each other during the length of the final meeting. They had not spoken to each other in private either since the evening of the karaoke party, and while their friends had noticed the silent war that had been going on, everyone had left them to their own devices. All their exchanges had been civil and polite, but cold.
Sakurai clenched his fists and fought for calm.
“Firstly, let me thank each of you for actively contributing to the student council. I personally appreciate all your help throughout the school year, and I speak for the student body when I say all your individual efforts are appreciated. Thank you very much for your hard work.” He bowed low, as the small room burst into cheers.
Sakurai emerged from his bow, hesitating. He had rehearsed this speech last night, but the lines were running all over his head. “Secondly, I’d like to remind the incoming council never to forget to feed Holmes sausages at least once a week. He gets cranky when you forget. But seriously,” he licked his lip nervously as the others laughed and several heads turned to locate their unofficial pet cat. “You know how things work around here. Smoking and drinking are against the law - if you’re caught. Don’t be dumb enough to get caught. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he laughed, the weight on his shoulders lifted as his comrades cheered him on. “Keep on the Disciplinary Prefect’s good side. He likes scotch. Try to keep him happy.”
“And lastly,” he found his eyes wandering over to where Matsumoto was seated, staring at the table in front of him. “We leave you this student council with full confidence, knowing that you are more than capable of leading this school. You’re the chosen ones - think like it, act like it, but never abuse your power. You’re not special. But you’re not just ordinary students either. Live up to the name of the Kitagawa Institute.”
He allowed himself to trail off, the other students nodding seriously to his words. “And about your incoming President, Matsumoto Jun-” He sensed a few stares turning towards Matsumoto’s direction, sensed Ikuta elbowing Matsumoto playfully. “I’ve known him for a very long time. I know how stubborn he can be. He’s hard-headed as hell, but he’s not a bad person. He’s one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime.”
Sakurai paused. “I hope you can give him a chance to lead you. Be kind to him, as you have been to me.”
This statement, this request, it had not been in his original plan. But he felt himself bow, felt himself beg, and knew it was what he wanted to do. “Please look upon him kindly.”
When he had raised his head again, he realized his comrades had been cheering, but all that had been lost to his ears. Matsumoto was frowning and pushing Ikuta’s hand away, but he was visibly happier. After many years, Sakurai could tell.
Pulling his book bag towards him haphazardly, Sakurai said, “Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really-”
“Not so fast, Mr. President,” Ikuta stood up as some other officers rounded up behind him, effectively creating a human wall. “We prepared something for you old geezers. Hey, Kazama - pull the other officers to the front, won’t you?”
Sakurai suddenly found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with his Vice-President Shingo Murakami. They stared at each other, faces identical masks of confusion.
“Maybe they hired strippers,” Murakami muttered in an undertone.
But then Kato Shigeaki - the tiny and waif-like freshman boy wonder - suddenly carried a cake topped with red candles through the small door of the council room. He looked ready to disappear under it, even with some of his fellow freshmen supporting him at each side of the tray. Slowly their small group headed towards the center of the room where the seniors stood, tiptoeing to see over each other’s heads. Through his disbelieving laughter Sakurai vaguely sensed Matsumoto getting to his feet.
In the next instant they found themselves standing in front of each other, their faces lit by the orange glow of the candles between them.
“Thank you for working hard, Sho-kun,” Matsumoto told him in a whisper. For a second Sakurai felt his lungs constrict, their eyes meeting and his reflection shone brightly in Matsumoto’s gaze. But just as quickly, the strange setting crumbled. Matsumoto turned to the others beside him. “Thank you for working hard, Hina-kun and Subaru-kun. Yoko, you, too.”
The rest of the evening felt to Sakurai like a succession of hellos and goodbyes. He had not anticipated that so many of the younger students would be in attendance, most of them interested in making the student council their official extra-curricular organization. For his part, Matsumoto seemed to be making his rounds around the room as well, saying his final words to his departing seniors, welcoming the new blood he would be working with. Sakurai smiled faintly into the drink he had been handed. Perhaps his last days of high school had always been meant to be spent like this.
At seven Sakurai drained the last of his root beer and got to his feet, the juniors bowing to him respectfully as he made his way to the office door with his book bags in hand. Instinctively, he scanned the room for Matsumoto, with whom he had always walked home after council meetings. But his protégé was in one corner of the room, ruffling Kato Shigeaki’s hair playfully and making the people around him laugh.
Despite the vague feeling of loss that was burgeoning in his chest, Sakurai smiled. He had never been the type of leader people could feel comfortable with. Now it was up to Matsumoto to change things.
He had already been putting his outdoor shoes on, mentally rehearsing the representative’s speech he would have to deliver on graduation day, when he heard the sound of footsteps running along the empty halls. Sakurai looked up, one hand on his left shoe, to find Matsumoto standing on one end of the cabinets, a hand raised to support his panting form. He had a hand clutching his side. “You didn’t say goodbye. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you left campus.”
Sakurai blinked. “If you want to talk to me about something, you can always drop by the house. Or send me an email instead, if you’re busy.”
“This isn’t something I can say at home.” Matsumoto shook his head vigorously, the fluffy mass of his short, dark hair bouncing with each movement. In the dim light of the room, he looked strangely older - still the same lanky boy Sakurai had grown up with, but with a fresh sense of purpose. “There’s something I want to say to you personally.”
Sakurai rested his hands on his knees, still seated with his shoe locker opened wide before him. He had expected Matsumoto to apologize to him for the karaoke incident much sooner than this and had prepared a satisfactory response that both granted Matsumoto forgiveness and pleaded for understanding. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”
Matsumoto opened his mouth to speak, but for a second no words would come out. Sakurai stared. The silence dragged on.
Sakurai scratched his nose. “About the karaoke thing-”
“I like you,” Matsumoto blurted out. “I like you, Sho-kun. I always have.”
He stared at Matsumoto, whose hand was falling slowly to his side, whose eyes never left him. The younger boy’s fists clenched. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, and you just don’t want to admit it because it would make things awkward between us, but everything I’ve done so far I did because I wanted to be close so you.” He ran a hand under his hair. “Because I was just happy that I got to be around you, I never planned on saying it but - I didn’t want you to misunderstand what happened last weekend. You’re a very strict leader, but-”
Matsumoto took a deep breath. “That’s not why I ran out that night. It wasn’t your fault. I just wanted you to know.” He stared at Sakurai for a few more seconds before he, realizing the older boy was not going to say anything, bowed and simply added, “I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”
After which, he raised his head and, without one last look at Sakurai, ran out of the room. His footsteps rang noisily in the quiet corridors. Stunned, Sakurai stared at the shoe locker in front of him, shoulders falling slowly. All thoughts of graduation day flew out of his mind. All lines of his representative’s speech were forgotten.
In the dimness of his surroundings, Sakurai wondered if he had truly never noticed it before.
__
“Ah, isn’t that Jun-kun over there?” his mother innocently pointed out. Sakurai’s head snapped up, his gaze flying across the blossom-strewn school yard filled with attendees of the seniors’ graduation. Sure enough, in the distance, Matsumoto was bowing to the Sakurai family on their way to the parking lot. He clutched a clipboard to his chest, the Disciplinary Prefect and some members of the student council standing next to him, collectively thanking the departing guests. Sakurai averted his eyes. His mother had her hand raised in a cheerful wave.
“Did you and Jun-kun have a fight?” his sister Mai asked quietly from where she stood beside him. “I saw him in front of the house yesterday. He just stared at your bedroom window and left without ringing the doorbell. Did you guys break up?” she added in a playful tone, elbowing her catatonic older brother.
Sakurai sighed. “Dad, I’ll meet you in the car. I just need to talk to Macchan.”
His father turned around distractedly. In his arms, their youngest brother Shu was fiddling with the buttons of his miniature formal suit. “Well, all right. I hope you patch things up-”
“I just need to tell him something. For the student council,” he raised a hand and waved his family’s curiosity away. “I won’t take long, I promise.”
Meeting Matsumoto’s eyes, he gestured for the two of them to talk in the middle of the bustling courtyard. With a cautious gaze, his junior muttered something to the Disciplinary Prefect before passing his clipboard to Ikuta. As Matsumoto walked towards him, standing smack in the middle of the hundreds-strong crowd of guests, Sakurai felt the chatter around him unite into a single, calming wall of sound. He watched Matsumoto walk towards him -tall and gangly Matsumoto Jun - wearing the same pale blue blazer with their school logo embroidered over the heart.
Before he knew it they were standing in front of each other.
Sakurai bit his lip and promptly held out his hand. Matsumoto, lips parted in surprise, stared at it for a few seconds before his face broke into a small, melancholic smile and he held out his hand as well. Their fingers felt cool upon contact, in contrast to the heat of the day.
“I wish you’d consider Keio,” Sakurai admitted as soon as the physical connection broke. “I know you’re aiming for Waseda, but I still think there’s hope. You’d get into Keio easily - no problem.”
“I think Waseda has the better linguistics program,” Matsumoto admitted seriously. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I honestly don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
Sakurai simply scoffed. “I don’t think I can bear the thought of you as my rival. I’ve gotten too used to having you around that I don’t think I can stand being without you.”
Matsumoto ground his heel against the concrete of the courtyard. His gaze ran over the graduates and their parents, chatting, laughing, weeping under the blossoms of the school yard. “I hope what I said that night doesn’t change anything between us. I don’t expect you to go out with me, Sho-kun. You’re too high up there to be with someone like me, anyway-”
“I’ve told you again and again that I hate it when you think of me that way. Don’t put me on a pedestal - it isn’t right.” He took a quick peek at Matsumoto. He was still letting his gaze wander, looking at nothing in particular. “I don’t know what to feel about you yet. I don’t really think much about things like this.”
Matsumoto turned to him slowly.
“But I’m not closing my doors on anything,” Sakurai grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets, too. “In the first place, I do like you. No matter what may happen in the future from now on, I hope you can become a permanent part of my life.”
In comparison to how Sakurai was feeling - flustered and warm and jittery all over - Matsumoto was stock still, his expression unbearably calm. For a moment Sakurai wondered if Matsumoto had completely frozen over, had stopped breathing - he had a glassy look in his eyes - until the younger boy suddenly exhaled. “I understand.”
He bowed very slowly, the movement as formal as could be. “Please wait for me to grow up, Sho-kun.”
Sakurai blinked. Then he chuckled to himself. “We’ll have to work on that. I won’t have you treating me like a god every blasted time.”
“I’m sorry,” Matsumoto re-emerged, looking chagrined. “It’s just-” Running out of words to say, he simply settled for a smile. “I’ll work on it, I promise.”
Sakurai couldn’t help it. His face broke into a small smile as well. “I don’t know when I started thinking this, but at one point I realized I want us to grow old together.”
He ran a finger under his nose. “I’ll wait for you in Keio.”
In one swift movement, Sakurai turned around and walked on.
__
Spring 2014
Dressed in black tuxedos, Sakurai Sho and Matsumoto Jun settled into their seats around one of the few tables in the first row. Before them, on the funny little stage that the wedding coordinators had decorated with pink rosettes that matched the bride’s wedding dress, Ninomiya Kazunari was leading his young wife to the center of a long table lined with crystal goblets and fine china. All around them the other guests were trying to place their locations on the floor plan as well. Sakurai took out his mobile phone and surreptitiously checked his inbox.
It was as Matsumoto was reaching for his water glass that his gaze landed on the person seated across the two of them. “Shige-chan? Kato Shigeaki, is that you?”
The man had been frowning into the program for the after-wedding reception. Upon hearing Matsumoto’s voice, he looked up from his reading. It was undeniably Kato Shigeaki, the freshman prodigy of the Kitagawa Institute of Chiyoda. He was fifteen full years older, although his eyes were still clear. “Mattsun. I don’t believe it. Matsumoto Jun?”
Sakurai looked up from his phone just in time to see the two men rising to their feet to embrace each other in the middle of the crowded ballroom. He paused, eyes wide, and checked to see what was happening. But Matsumoto was already seated next to the stranger, arms on the backrest of his chair. “How have you been? I haven’t heard from you since high school!”
“I know - it’s exactly the same for me. I tried to go on one of those alumni gatherings but it was mostly the older graduates who attended. Seniors from the seventies and stuff. You guys never came,” Kato lamented, eyeing Matsumoto suspiciously. “You promised we’d meet after you graduated but you never gave me your number.”
“Yeah, a lot of things happened,” Matsumoto answered nervously. Looking away from Kato, his gaze met Sakurai’s across the table. “Sho. Surely you remember Kato Shigeaki. He volunteered for the student council the year you were president.”
“Of course I do,” Sakurai confirmed warmly, sitting on Kato’s other side. Smiling at his junior, Sakurai couldn’t help patting Kato on the head. “You clean up pretty well, Kid. I was worried you’d stick to the science prodigy look forever, but this look becomes you much more. Are you married now?”
“Why is that the first thing everyone asks?” Kato chuckled. “I don’t even have a girlfriend. I’m too busy as it is.”
“What is it you do again?” Matsumoto’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to remember. “Someone told me you were studying physics at Todai, but that was so long ago I can’t even be sure of it.”
“I’ve become a writer. Reporter, really,” Kato informed them nonchalantly. “I work for the Tokyo Daily. Covering mostly local news - love suicides in Kagurazaka, that sort of thing.”
Sakurai blinked. “Wow. To be honest my impression of you was more on the science side. The type who finds new galaxies and names them after their favorite professor and stuff. I didn’t even know you were studying physics-” He looked at Matsumoto hesitantly.
“I told you - I’m sure I did,” Matsumoto responded with the slightest hint of irritation. “But really, it’s my fault for failing to contact you. I’m sorry, Shige-chan. I really should have given you my number - we’ve put you in an awkward spot.”
“No, really, it’s nothing,” Kato said, waving the apology aside. “I used to get scolded a lot when I quit Todai to pursue writing. But I’ve always wanted to publish my own book, and this newspaper stint gets me the right connections,” he added pleasantly. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you!”
He met Sakurai’s gaze warmly. “Sakurai-san, I see your name on television all the time. I even caught an interview once. It was on the evening news. You were talking about the standardization of mobile phone disposal.”
“Oh please, let’s not talk about his job,” Matsumoto whined openly. “He tends to go on about info-tech for hours even when you try to stop him. Really, it’s not fun, even if it does have a fancy title. He doesn’t have a life outside civil service, you know?”
“You exaggerate. I spend most of my free time with you,” Sakurai pulled a face. “Jun here teaches literature at Seihoukan High near Kanda. I’ve been trying to get him to transfer to Kitagawa but he’s still scared of the Disciplinary Prefect.”
“What?” Kato’s jaw fell. “Ogura-san still hasn’t retired?”
Matsumoto could only nod empathically.
Out of the blue, another man in a tuxedo joined them at their table, looking distinctly ruffled. Frowning, he turned to Sakurai. “They’re starting the program with the best man’s speech and Aiba-chan’s rehearsing one last time.”
“But we’ve gone through his lines a million times before,” Matsumoto said, frowning. Sakurai quickly looked over to the head table and met Ninomiya’s gaze. The latter shook his head in amusement. “It’s not his wedding. Why is he more anxious than the groom?”
“Who knows?” Ohno said grimly. Suddenly, he set his standard blank gaze on Kato.
Sakurai followed his eyes. “Oh yes. Captain, this is Kato Shigeaki. He was freshman when we were seniors. Kato-kun, this is Ohno Satoshi. We were classmates with Aiba-chan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kato said formally. Ohno responded with a small smile and a bow. “Isn’t it funny that we’ve vaguely known about each other for fifteen years but we’ve never been properly introduced before now?”
“That’s true,” Ohno admitted with a small chuckle. “But I really was a bum in high school so it can’t be helped-”
Kato looked taken aback. “I’m sure that’s not true-”
“Oh, it is,” Sakurai smirked as he put his phone back in his pocket. “But whatever. Captain’s successful now anyway. Who cares why he had to repeat two years of high school?”
Ohno smiled. “Very funny, Sho-”
The lights abruptly dimmed as the host took her spot on the podium and the chatter around the room fell into a hush. In a suave motion, Aiba appeared from a side entrance and took his seat to the left of the groom. Ninomiya stared at him quizzically. He merely replied with a shake of his head.
The host flashed her suspiciously brilliant white teeth. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting. Today we celebrate the union of Ninomiya Kazunari-san and Machida Reina-san. Please join me in congratulating the couple with a warm round of applause.”
Ninomiya and his bride got to their feet and bowed slowly. There was a small smile on the groom’s face.
“Now,” the host continued as the two returned to their seats amidst warm applause, “to wish the new couple well, we would like to call on Aiba Masaki-san. He is the groom’s best man and his best friend, and to honor this occasion he will be introducing a short video presentation. Please give him a warm round of applause.”
Surprised, Matsumoto, Sakurai and Ohno exchanged looks full of meaning as Aiba took the podium, clutching a handful of index cards. Exhaling audibly into the microphone, Aiba licked his lips nervously before his face broke into a warm smile. “Good day, everyone. I am Aiba Masaki. I am a rehabilitation counselor at Kawabata Medical City, where I have been privileged to work for the past fifteen years.”
He paused for a moment and took a quick glance at Ninomiya. “For almost the same period of time, I have known Ninomiya Kazunari. We met on his first day in high school, when I was in the junior class. He was standing in the middle of the baseball pitch in Kitagawa Institute, and he had been standing there for almost five minutes when I decided to walk up to him to ask what he was doing. He said he found it such a waste that no one used the pitch when it was such a good one. The rest of the afternoon we spent playing catch. And we’ve been playing catch ever since.”
The crowd laughed politely.
“Eventually,” Aiba continued, “we became friends with Ohno Satoshi, Sakurai Sho and Matsumoto Jun. Those guys over there-” He added, pointing to the table where his friends sat. “Captain Ohno and Sho-chan were the first friends I’d made when I was still a freshman. MatsuJun was Sakurai’s friend from way back. They may look pretty unreliable, these people-”
Sakurai snorted.
“-but we’ve always been there for each other.” Aiba anxiously pushed his hair back before continuing to speak. “Over the next few years, we faced a lot of problems together. I got sick and the four of them were always there for me. Nino here even had the mad idea of having a group date to cheer me up. Personally, I think he just wanted to meet some girls and he was just using me as an excuse.”
The room erupted in laughter as Ninomiya put his hands together and bowed profusely to his wife.
Aiba laughed at the sight. Then he turned somber once more. It was the most serious anyone had ever seen him in recent memory. “I was so scared that we were separating after high school. Sho-chan and MatsuJun went on to university. Captain started an apprenticeship at a museum. Nino went to animation school, and I started training as a rehabilitation counselor. I remember being so worried. The first few months were tough.”
Sakurai was hanging onto Aiba’s every word. Even Ohno seemed less sleepy.
“But now, fifteen years later, we’re still together. Still crazy,” he laughed, as did his friends. “Still immature in many ways - but still friends. Together we got through my illness and Captain’s many girlfriends. There was also Nino’s workaholic phase and Sho’s graduate school stint in London. And then there’s always MatsuJun’s general drama.”
Sakurai laughed so loudly the people from the next table turned to look.
“To be honest, I’m surprised Nino is the first to get married among the five of us,” Aiba admitted. “You’re going to leave us now. You’re going to make your own family now, but we’re all very happy for you.”
To one who was unacquainted with how Aiba Masaki’s mind worked, he would have seemed at that moment like a perfectly calm best man delivering an ordinary speech to his best friend. But to his friends, who had all known him for fifteen years, it was plain to see that he was crumbling. The tears would come very, very soon. “To commemorate this moment, I’ve made a short video presentation for Nino. It’s actually from all of us, but the others don’t know about it, so-”
And there it was - the first tear. Sakurai clapped his hands over his mouth and called out, “Just play the video already.”
And then the most familiar tune in matrimonial history, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, began to play from the speakers. Against the background of a plain white board, Aiba’s video presentation began to show. From the very first slide it was obviously very rudimentary.
To Nino, the opening credits said. And then the pictures began to slip out, one by one.
Sakurai’s eyebrows quirked at seeing his thin, seventeen year old self in his junior year, dressed stiffly in his high school uniform, standing next to the other four during the first baseball match of Season ‘98-‘99. Ohno still looked sleepy in old photos, Aiba still cheerful, and Ninomiya still, inexplicably, unchanged. Matsumoto grinned back at them from under his baseball cap, bad teeth on full display. From Kato’s other side, Sakurai heard the present Matsumoto groan. Sakurai grinned.
Next came a picture of Ninomiya and Matsumoto’s high school graduation, the other three dressed in fancy clothes that were undeniably quiet large for their thin bodies. This was followed by the picture of the five of them together in Kyoto, a souvenir of that disastrously memorable road trip that began with Ohno saying he wanted to date a geisha. A picture of them fishing in Shimanto followed, and then a picture of them eating yakiniku together in Seoul. A lot of the photos featured them seeming slightly drunk and/or high. They became visibly fatter through the years.
Matsumoto quietly started crying into his table napkin. Sakurai tore his eyes away from the screen, where the photo of them wearing crazy see-through outfits was being flashed, and reached for Matsumoto’s shoulder behind Kato’s chair. As the rest of the audience laughed loudly at their naked-not-so-naked bodies, Matsumoto looked up and smiled at Sakurai. He reached for the hand that was extended towards him and squeezed back. Their intertwined hands rested on the back of Kato’s chair. Kato himself was wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.
There was a picture of everyone and Sakurai’s mother in London, standing next to the guards at Buckingham Palace. There was a picture of everyone standing next to Ohno’s artistic rendition of the five of them, showcased at his first solo exhibit at a museum in Shibuya. There were more pictures, more smiles. The last one, the fifteenth one, showed the five of them resting leisurely over a picnic blanket under a cloud of vibrant cherry blossoms. Ninomiya’s head was thrown back in a full laugh. Aiba was hysterical on Ohno’s shoulder. Sakurai was staring at Matsumoto, who was staring back, laughing at a completely different joke, one only the two of them understood.
From behind Kato’s chair, Matsumoto squeezed Sakurai’s hand one more time. Sakurai smiled.
Happy Wedding, the ending credits of the video presentation declared. Kindly name one of your children after all of us. We highly recommend the name Sashomajun.
All the way from the high table, they heard Ninomiya laugh.
When the lights turned back on, Sakurai was surprised to find all his friends in tears, and some of the other people around them, too. Matsumoto was now openly sobbing into his table napkin, Ohno was stubbornly flicking tears from his eyes, someone had handed Aiba a now-soggy wad of tissue, and Ninomiya had his face hidden, his wife’s hand on his shoulder. Even Kato had his head bowed gracefully, a hand over his face.
Aiba cleared his throat as he regained control of the podium, the sodden tissue in his hand. His eyes were unabashedly red. When he spoke he sounded like he had a bad cold. “Nino, on behalf of everyone, I wish you and Reina-chan a happy new life and bon voyage.”
As their hands unlinked, Matsumoto smiled at Sakurai. He winked in return. From the high table, Ninomiya gave Aiba and the others at the table salutes. Ohno laughed as he reached for his glass of water.
Sniffing, Aiba stuffed the tissue in his pocket. “Ahm. But that’s actually just the introduction to my speech.”
He took out his handful of index cards. From the high table, the groom simply laughed.
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