fic for an_jung
For: an_jung
From: ltgmars
Title: Sakebe yo, Go! Go!
Pairing/Focus: Matsumiya
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: When you think about it, every event in a person's life exists as a single discrete moment, each separate from the next. It's Nino's job to string the pieces together into a story worth telling.
Notes: Hi, an_jung! I decided to go partially with your journalism prompt, so I hope you enjoy it! This is probably a little hard to follow, so my apologies in advance for that. Thanks to N for everything. <3
1.
Nino takes the indicated seat at the far end of the table, nodding his head as the receptionist bows and excuses herself from the room. He doesn't bother pulling Ohno's seat out for him; the other man remains standing, and Nino's eyes naturally follow him as he moves through the room, quiet and reverent, exploring the room in the same careful way he did the lobby on the way in. Ohno's head turns toward the ceiling, following the fluorescent beams as they highlight the angles of the framed photos on the wall.
A firm knock sounds at the door, and Nino stands as it opens. He does look familiar after all -- the warm and yet somehow so serious announcer in charge of street interviews -- but he's not sure if it's from the actual morning show or from preliminary research before their meeting.
"Matsumoto-san," Nino says with a smile. "Thank you for accepting our interview. This is our photographer, Ohno Satoshi." He looks at Ohno and nods, allowing him to introduce himself.
As always, Nino only has those first few moments to gauge Matsumoto, figure out his strategy for this round. Matsumoto seems friendly enough, says he's happy that someone has offered to feature him of all of the announcers available at the station. His suit is pressed like he still has something to prove, like he hasn't already been at this company for ten years, but his smile is soft and warm.
A quick win, Nino determines, chuckling appropriately at a quip Matsumoto makes about the decorations as they take their seats. He's open enough, easy to talk to. Nino can get through this interview with plenty of HP left.
.
あ
They become friends because they share the same birthday. Not just the same day, but the same year as well, because they're in first grade which must mean they're the same age. Nino's smart enough to know that much.
"You can call me Shunsuke. Can I call you Kazunari?"
Nino scrunches up his nose. Only his mother calls him that, when she's reprimanding him for something that probably is his fault. "Just call me Nino." He's six years old and he's already got the coolest nickname of all of the kids there.
Twenty years later, they start a blog together. Nino had always wanted to be an investigative journalist, but after a few years dealing with a renewable internship at a newspaper, where he learned that "investigation" involved being too prying and making people feel uncomfortable to Get to the Truth, he decided to go in a different direction. It wasn't something he was suited for, despite allegedly being good at talking to people and getting them to open up. Nino could only get so far sweet-talking; overstepping boundaries and making people relive traumatic experiences wasn't what Nino wanted to do with his time. It wasn't what he joined the industry for. He wanted people to respect his space when he needed it, and he was naturaly equipped to do the same for others.
Local news fluff pieces are much more his speed, he thinks. Shunsuke's finished his graduate degree in computer something-or-other, whatever it is that makes him good at building website infrastructure, and now that the dream team is back together again, they're ready to bring their endearing local fluff to the masses.
The first few years are rough, spent between establishing contacts locally and doing odd jobs to earn enough money to buy a real server. Nino's penchant for talking to strangers comes in handy. Shunsuke's being an actual good person helps as well.
They slowly build a real network around them, getting to know the town and the people from top to bottom, from the vegetable growers to the bicycle sellers to the piano instructors. They even find their way to a lost senpai from college -- Ohno Satoshi, the one whose photos at the photography club exhibition once stunned both of them when they went, the one who could truly capture solitude in a crowd, deafening noise in stillness. Ohno had disappeared from town to go soul-searching and for that reason returned permanently darker and fishier-smelling, but he's as quietly friendly as he's always been, easily agreeing to come on as their photographer, even if they can't pay him much to start.
They try to find a clever way to use their initials to spell out a name for their blog, but between Kazama Shunsuke and Ninomiya Kazunari, anything they come up with ends up sounding like various stages of the common cold. The nickname for their project sticks, and as the clock strikes midnight on a rainy mid-June night, Sneeze Press is born. A birthday for all of them.
~
2.
He often gets comments that it's a little unexpected, but Nino's phone contact list is meticulously organized. Each name in full, with the accompanying readings of characters, sorted into categories of where they fit into his life. Matsumoto Jun goes in as a business contact, of course -- even though one of the numbers he adds to his phone is a cell phone number, gingerly written on the back of a reclaimed and subsequently returned business card at the end of their meeting. True to his read of the other man, Matsumoto's handwriting is deliberate but betrays a friendliness (perhaps a playfulness) that Nino's excited to explore as what was supposed to be a one-off profile expands into an ongoing series.
Nino hasn't yet told anyone about this plan, though -- it's formed in his head just now as he's sitting at his office desk, looking over his notes, at all of the ideas and ambitions in the other man's head that are waiting to see the light of day. Without a second thought, Nino picks up his phone, scrolls to the ma section, and taps.
.
い
Nino calls it his "journalist game", though only a handful of people know about it. He has hit points that designate his remaining health, and power points for the array of attack moves at his disposal. Both depend on the strength of the person he's interviewing, and as he meets each new adversary, he formulates a strategy on how to approach their interview. It had been especially useful during that never-ending internship. Knowing whether his interviewee was happy to have someone to talk to or in a cranky mood but otherwise willing or done with life altogether -- it all helped him determine how quickly he'd run out of his own energy, what kinds of techniques he'd have to use to get the most out of the other person before they were both out for the round. The tougher interviews only lasted so long before Nino had run out of ways to make the interviewee feel genuinely relaxed, before the thought of having to retell a bruisingly personal tale, again, took too much out of the both of them. He really did hate those days.
He discovers each and every time that it's much easier with the local fluff pieces, because fluff is really all they're looking for. He can stop by a florist and talk to the owner about his new ideas for the fall to help jumpstart business, or he can feature a popular officer at the corner police box who's always there to look out for the elementary school children who pass by each morning. It's all about helping people and making them feel good, and it may not win Nino any awards for hard-hitting exposés that he has no interest in writing, but he really doesn't need them at this point.
There's nothing wrong with recalibrating his own ambitions when at the end of the day everyone has a smile on their face.
~
3.
Nino imposes, because once he's reached a certain level of friendship and trust with a person, that's what he does. In Jun's case, it's not something he can help -- he's imposed since the beginning, because Jun only gets Sundays off, and when they were setting up a regular time to meet for the column, he needed a day he could have guaranteed access. The compromise made is that Matsumoto gets to choose where they meet -- and true to his nature, it starts at the station, even though it's not a working day, and he has to meet Nino in front of the security booth to get him signed in. Nino's friendly with the security guard at this point, a sturdy-looking man named Murakami, who seems to resist smiling because doing so reveals his charmingly wonky teeth. As weeks turn into months, though, Nino breaks down his walls, too. By what will turn out to be Nino's last regular Sunday at the station, Murakami smiles as soon as he spots them, waving grandly as they approach, his fangs like an open door welcoming them in.
"It's too bad about Hina, though," Nino says, leaning back in his chair, arms stretched above his head, in what he now considers their small meeting room.
Jun is mid-sip, so he simply lifts his eyebrows inquiringly, rising like evaporated coffee from his still-steaming mug.
"Because if we're going to start having our meetings in other places, he'll be lonely on Sunday afternoons." He comes down from his stretch and meets Jun's amused eyes.
"And when was this decided?" Jun returns with a smirk.
Nino shrugs. "You keep talking about the spots you hear about. Obviously you want to go, so we should try one next time." He ignores the unconvinced noise Jun makes at him, scanning the notes about this week's goings-on that Jun had written out for him. "Here." He points at the page. "New cafe?"
Jun frowns, staring at the paper and crossing his arms over his chest. "It'll be busy on a Sunday." He too modest to say it out loud, but Nino knows what he's thinking: Jun's primary fan base is young, stylish, cafe-going women, and they'll make a fuss if they see him.
Nino bounces two fingers against his temple and back at Jun in a lofty salute, receiving a blank stare in response. Nino giggles. "Don't worry, I'll make an appointment in advance. I know how this works."
.
う
The partnership with Aiba is all Shunsuke's fault. He'd gone on and on about one of his childhood friends, an older boy he happened to become buddies with when they happened to be playing with yoyos at the train station. From the sound of it, this Aiba character was supposed to be like some angel from above, super nice and super fun and kind of lanky but like not in a way that makes you uncomfortable if you're short. And he's good at sports and he's got this infectious laugh, like you seriously can't not be happy when this guy's happy, and Nino imagines a radiant being that descends into the food court of the local mall, burps a laugh at some unsuspecting victim, and floats back into the sky as the laughter spreads like a mutant virus, guffaws exploding violently from mouth to mouth, all the way across the mall and down to the parking garage.
The reality is much more bleak, he finds, because Nino's just met the man -- certainly not-uncomfortably lanky, that much is true, if nothing else -- and he's immediately been invited to become his manga writing partner.
"Kazamapon says you're really good at writing, and I'm really good at drawing, so you can do the story and I'll make it into a manga. We'll make a fortune. Here, let me show you, I'll draw your portrait." Nino hadn't asked, and as he watches each line form, jagged and awkward, he realizes that he should have actively stopped him instead. The resulting "portrait" is the kind of thing that shows up suddenly on screen in a drama accompanied by a blood-curdling scream, one of those drawings that would probably appeal to creepy dudes on the internet leaning too close to their computer screens to read websites about suicide clubs with red text on a black background, the kind who pretend they could but really can't so they settle for living vicariously through wan-faced, wirey-eyed visages like Aiba's "Ninomiya, at the mall".
"A-Ah..."
"I know, right? And my accountant friend Sho-chan already agreed to be our manager. He can't really draw, but he says he knows talent when he sees it."
So you haven't shown him your drawings yet. "That's great. When do we start?"
Now, apparently. They sit for a little longer at their food court table, Nino half-heartedly plotting out an uncanny horror story (no other genre is possible with this art) until suddenly he realizes hours have passed and he's 100% on board with what they're doing. Aiba excuses himself to scurry to the bathroom, and Nino fishes his phone out as he takes a sip of his long-ago brewed lukewarm water-coffee.
You liar.
Shunsuke's response is immediate, and enfuriatingly smug. He's a pain in the ass, right?
Aiba comes back into view, flapping his hands in the air to dry them off, and Nino, to his chagrin, is indeed happy to see him. What have you done to me?
~
4.
Ohno only comes to their meetings occasionally. It's not that Nino doesn't want him there -- though as time passes, the business-to-personal ratio of his conversations with Jun steadily decreases, and he tingles in anticipation at the end of every meeting when they're deciding on where to meet next. It's mostly that they'd exhausted their options (and patience) for open-mouth-passionate-hands talking photos a few weeks in, and Ohno decided he'd instead sit with Nino during his review of Jun's tapes, picking out interesting shots to get publication permission for, going out to grab new photos of interesting places and things.
He's there with them now, though, because Nino does like the older man's company, and the older man does react to food with a profound joy that Nino is endlessly fond of. He groans around a mouthful of pizza at the new brick oven place, a splotch of red sauce at the corner of his mouth as he looks at Nino, brows furrowed, in what almost looks like delirious pain.
"It's too bad you're such shit at food reports," Nino says, feigning regret. "Your face is so good for them."
Jun huffs. "You don't strike me as very good at them yourself. Shouldn't that be of more concern to you? Your future as a writer is at stake."
Nino looks at him seriously, knowing that behind the strong lines of that beautiful face lies an ugly monster of playfulness and mischief. "A blog writer doesn't eat and tell."
Jun laughs. "That's not even true!"
.
え
It turns out Sakurai's friends with Ohno, because Nino's life is like a fictional alternate universe in which everyone he knows magically knows everyone else.
This is what he discovers when he and Shunsuke are over at Aiba's place one day, talking about the manga that unfortunately may actually become a thing. Aiba had called him to consult him about where to send their finalized sample chapter, and after explaining who he was with and where they worked, there were a lot of "no way"s and grand gestures and wild eyes, and suddenly Nino was questioning his life all over again.
"How do you even know each other?" They've switched to facetime, pretty-faced Sakurai looking at the three of them from Aiba's teeny phone screen.
"His mom and my mom worked together while she was part-time and raising me before she went back to teaching." He brings his free hand up to his face in a peace sign, scissoring the fingers together once. "Two boys around to the same age, kind of thing."
Out of the corner of his eye, Nino sees Aiba scissoring his fingers on both hands like a lobster obsessed with its own claws. Nino turns his attention back to Sakurai. Never has he been more grateful for a person who can answer questions like a real adult.
"Come by the office sometime," Shunsuke says, conveniently glossing over the fact that their office is about the size of a laundromat washing machine and probably just as full of hidden grime.
Sakurai chuckles. "It'd be great to see Satoshi-kun again. We lost him for a few years there."
"I can write a profile on you," Nino offers. "Need more accounting business?"
Sakurai lets a plump laugh, full without feeling uncomfortable. "I'm good, thanks. I actually moonlight as a financial consultant for some politicians, so I shouldn't stretch myself too thin. Appreciate the offer, though."
Nino gets it, finally, watching as Sakurai's eyes genuinely twinkle. Sakurai is their manager because he needs to balance out his rigid life with some innocent stupidity. Nino and his friends can certainly be of service.
~
5.
The Matsumoto column is a slow but steady success. Shunsuke's access data shows that attention trickled in from a few regular sources, building with each new update into what it is today: Sneeze Press's most popular asset.
Shunsuke says that their new marketing intern, a mousy fellow named Nakamaru, seems excited about new ideas on how to get their content noticed -- the right keywords to use, the most appropriate networks to tap. Nino hates that he can't be a part of that meeting, because business strategy is secretly high up on his list of favorite things, but he has to concentrate on writing the column (which, incidentally, is also high up on the list).
Nino puts his earbuds in and plays back the recording of his latest meeting with Jun, the one that took a good hour before they actually got to talking about work. Jun is a public figure and has always been very good about choosing his words carefully, so when Nino brought up the idea of using a recorder instead of pen and paper, Jun seemed agreeable. It could capture a moment more accurately, Nino had argued (more to himself than to anyone else), and this way they could be more mobile during their meetings, should they feel like a long stretch or a change of scenery.
If Nino has to be honest with himself -- high up on his list of least favorite things -- the recordings are mostly for his personal benefit. He likes having quick access to the low hum of Jun's thought process, a lilting adagio that works its way up into an andantino, allegro, vivace as Jun gains momentum and his excitement bursts past his wide smile and bright eyes.
He likes knowing what Jun likes (he doesn't forget just because it isn't recorded, of course, but hearing Jun talk makes even the most mundane things sound like something worth getting that passionate about). He likes listening to Jun listen to his own stories and hobbies, too -- writing the manga with Aiba (a weird cult success in its own right), and babysitting for his sister's puppy (and young child, he supposes), and the hours and hours and hours he spends in front of the TV, remote or controller in hand, something he has no problem being honest about. Jun laughs at the right time and asks the right questions -- nothing less from an up-and-coming announcer -- but he does so with such genuine care and interest that Nino catches himself feeling warm on more than one occasion. Late he'll get a message on his phone about a new game, or a vaguely snide remark about how the latest chapter of the manga features a TV announcer character who looks hideous. Nino smiles each time, happy to know that he isn't the only one enjoying himself.
He feels a tap on his shoulder, and his heart jumps in his chest like an angry Irish dancer before he can recover. He pops his earbuds out and turns wordlessly to Shunsuke.
"Nakamaru-kun says we should change the name of your column to 'How I Fell in Love with a TV Announcer'."
Nino looks past Shunsuke and narrows his eyes at the taller figure. "Nakamaru-kun," he says conversationally.
"Yes!" Nakamaru stands at attention, and Nino can almost hear his heels click together when he straightens.
"We're going to hire you just so that I can fire you."
.
お
"So what are we going to do if we actually have people over?" Nino looks around their dingy office, the venetian blinds that don't open or close properly, the suspicious stains that reach from floor to ceiling, somehow appearing to grow with each passing day.
"It's just the three of us for now," Shunsuke says, and of course Nino knows that, but he somehow never gets annoyed when Shunsuke states the obvious. "When we grow, we'll look for a better place. We just need to stay afloat now that we're actually live. Our stuff's good, so it'll get noticed in due time." Shunsuke leans back in his chair. "Maybe when we make it big, we'll have make a marketing department just to work on turning down all the advertisers knocking on our door."
Nino turns to look at Ohno, who hasn't said a word the entire meeting. Ohno is staring at him, picking his nose. Nino turns back to Shunsuke. "You know better than anyone that I believe in what we're doing, but you also know I need to be the realist here. A lot of startups go under before they're even able to get their heads above water." Shunsuke nods, earnest, and Nino's hit with profound gratitude that he's his partner in crime. "Let's figure out our long-term plan now in case things don't go the way we want them to."
"I can't say no to that. But let's grab every single opportunity we can in the meantime." Shunsuke grins. "You never know when our big break is going to come."
Nino can't say no to that either.
~
6.
It's been eight months since the column started. With TV renewal season under way, Jun has been "promoted" to appearing in the studio every morning, not just the days his street interviews air. He attributes his success to Nino's column, but Nino shakes his head. "You've just got a good face." Jun smiles sheepishly and rubs his nose.
It's Sunday, and they're having dinner at a restaurant that's unnecessarily high up, at the top of a tower that's far too tall for its own good. It's the kind of place where the menu doesn't list prices, Nino's least favorite kind of food, but Jun had insisted he'd pay, wanting to take Nino someplace nice and "fill [him] with real food".
Nino knows he's being romanced. A bottle of some unpronouncable red wine has just arrived at their table, and the waiter pours it into their glasses, sloshing gently against the sides in slow bursts until the liquid settles and the awkward bubbles disappear. All that's left is a delicate glass full of something that will defeat Nino whether he wants it to or not, going down slowly as they enjoy the rest of the meal, taking full effect when Nino's reached the bottom of his glass and realizes he's feeling it now more than ever, wants another glass, and then another, and then another, as long as it's Jun pouring it for him.
It's a little like falling in love, maybe. Nino lets it all happen.
.
あ
Ikuta is Ohno's friend from college. He's part of the sound crew at one of the big TV stations in the city, and if you ever see the boom mic on screen, that's his mic -- though you never will, because he's that good at what he does. Despite the age difference, he and Ohno spent some time together at the college station during the months Ohno made an attempt at being a broadcast cameraman. For a short while they'd even interned together at a different station. "Though basically all I remember doing is running." He grins from where he's sitting on an old folding chair at the edge of the cluster of desks in their office.
"Really?" Ohno laughs. "I think I walked everywhere. With dark purpose, you know?" For some reason this makes Ikuta laugh in response, like it's some kind of inside joke they share. Nino smiles politely and turns back to his computer, giving them space to be nostalgic.
"Anyway," Ikuta says some time later, addressing Nino as if he'd been a part of the conversation the whole time; maybe Ikuta's just that friendly. "Ohno-kun told me you're always looking for new profiles to write, so here's an idea." He hands Nino a piece of paper, and Nino looks at it, a printout of a man with impossibly strong features, an intriguing smile because it's friendly enough on the outside, but it looks like there's more to it underneath.
"Matsumoto Jun?"
"Up-and-coming announcer at the station," Ikuta explains. "He's the street interviewer on TIP! You've probably seen him?"
Nino nods, pretending he wakes up that early to watch the news. "Ahh, that guy."
"He's pretty friendly, and really ambitious. I think you'd like him, Ninomiya-kun."
Nino nods and smiles diplomatically, unconvinced, but he keeps the piece of paper on his desk because he's curious all the same.
Ikuta had said he'd like Matsumoto, but who was Ikuta to judge when he and Nino had just met that day?
Nino will just have to find out for himself.
~
*.
Nino turns 36 soon, apparently. Jun won't shut up about it, and every time he brings it up, Nino says pointedly, "Shunsuke does, too."
Jun sips aggressively at the last of his oolong tea, sliding it toward the edge of the table before glaring at Nino. "He's not the one I'm dating."
"What a bad decision that was; he's such a good guy. Who's the chump you're stuck with instead?"
Jun clicks his tongue, and Nino's giggles rise up like the bubbles in his ginger ale.
Their waitress -- Yukie-san, with her motherly voice and mysterious pigtails -- brings Nino his hamburg steak, and Jun asks for another tea politely. waiting for Yukie-san to leave before looking at Nino's plate in disdain. "I could have made that at home. I hope you're happy."
Nino's mouth is already full, and he shrugs exaggeratedly while he chews and swallows. "I guess I am." Jun rolls his eyes and turns his head to the side to hide the smile on his face.
On their refrigerator at home, they have a running list of places to go for their Sunday dates -- everything from new restaurants to game centers and hobby stores. Today is the Sunday before Nino's birthday, and Nino's choice ended up being the family restaurant down the street.
In their living room is piles upon piles of paperwork, overflowing from the Sneeze Press office even after they moved to a bigger, brighter, less concerning space to accommodate the incredible growth they've experienced since Nino's column began. They're in talks with executives at the TV station to produce a new local highlights show, combining Sneeze's specialty with the endless wonders of moving pictures. Shunsuke will be taking care of the details as a creative director and consultant, and Nino's told that he and Jun are likely candidates for the hosts, though Nino's not sure how his name came up. He's just a writer -- plus, it's already risky enough to have people publicly in a relationship as co-hosts. But that seems to be part of the show's shtick. It's supposed to add to the authenticity, Shunsuke told him.
Nino's phone pings, and Jun's buzzes. Jun picks his phone up and taps his way to the group chat, but Nino simply eyes the pop-up notification before letting his screen go black again. It's confirmed, then. Starting in October, Nino and Jun's lovey-dovey tag team will be a TV sensation.
Nino looks up to see Jun grinning excitedly at his phone as he types out his response to Shunsuke, thumbs working swiftly through what will assuredly be very many paragraphs about how great this'll be and how he'll do his best and how they'll continue to be in Shunsuke's favor.
Nino just chews, swallows, and smiles.
From: ltgmars
Title: Sakebe yo, Go! Go!
Pairing/Focus: Matsumiya
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: When you think about it, every event in a person's life exists as a single discrete moment, each separate from the next. It's Nino's job to string the pieces together into a story worth telling.
Notes: Hi, an_jung! I decided to go partially with your journalism prompt, so I hope you enjoy it! This is probably a little hard to follow, so my apologies in advance for that. Thanks to N for everything. <3
1.
Nino takes the indicated seat at the far end of the table, nodding his head as the receptionist bows and excuses herself from the room. He doesn't bother pulling Ohno's seat out for him; the other man remains standing, and Nino's eyes naturally follow him as he moves through the room, quiet and reverent, exploring the room in the same careful way he did the lobby on the way in. Ohno's head turns toward the ceiling, following the fluorescent beams as they highlight the angles of the framed photos on the wall.
A firm knock sounds at the door, and Nino stands as it opens. He does look familiar after all -- the warm and yet somehow so serious announcer in charge of street interviews -- but he's not sure if it's from the actual morning show or from preliminary research before their meeting.
"Matsumoto-san," Nino says with a smile. "Thank you for accepting our interview. This is our photographer, Ohno Satoshi." He looks at Ohno and nods, allowing him to introduce himself.
As always, Nino only has those first few moments to gauge Matsumoto, figure out his strategy for this round. Matsumoto seems friendly enough, says he's happy that someone has offered to feature him of all of the announcers available at the station. His suit is pressed like he still has something to prove, like he hasn't already been at this company for ten years, but his smile is soft and warm.
A quick win, Nino determines, chuckling appropriately at a quip Matsumoto makes about the decorations as they take their seats. He's open enough, easy to talk to. Nino can get through this interview with plenty of HP left.
.
あ
They become friends because they share the same birthday. Not just the same day, but the same year as well, because they're in first grade which must mean they're the same age. Nino's smart enough to know that much.
"You can call me Shunsuke. Can I call you Kazunari?"
Nino scrunches up his nose. Only his mother calls him that, when she's reprimanding him for something that probably is his fault. "Just call me Nino." He's six years old and he's already got the coolest nickname of all of the kids there.
Twenty years later, they start a blog together. Nino had always wanted to be an investigative journalist, but after a few years dealing with a renewable internship at a newspaper, where he learned that "investigation" involved being too prying and making people feel uncomfortable to Get to the Truth, he decided to go in a different direction. It wasn't something he was suited for, despite allegedly being good at talking to people and getting them to open up. Nino could only get so far sweet-talking; overstepping boundaries and making people relive traumatic experiences wasn't what Nino wanted to do with his time. It wasn't what he joined the industry for. He wanted people to respect his space when he needed it, and he was naturaly equipped to do the same for others.
Local news fluff pieces are much more his speed, he thinks. Shunsuke's finished his graduate degree in computer something-or-other, whatever it is that makes him good at building website infrastructure, and now that the dream team is back together again, they're ready to bring their endearing local fluff to the masses.
The first few years are rough, spent between establishing contacts locally and doing odd jobs to earn enough money to buy a real server. Nino's penchant for talking to strangers comes in handy. Shunsuke's being an actual good person helps as well.
They slowly build a real network around them, getting to know the town and the people from top to bottom, from the vegetable growers to the bicycle sellers to the piano instructors. They even find their way to a lost senpai from college -- Ohno Satoshi, the one whose photos at the photography club exhibition once stunned both of them when they went, the one who could truly capture solitude in a crowd, deafening noise in stillness. Ohno had disappeared from town to go soul-searching and for that reason returned permanently darker and fishier-smelling, but he's as quietly friendly as he's always been, easily agreeing to come on as their photographer, even if they can't pay him much to start.
They try to find a clever way to use their initials to spell out a name for their blog, but between Kazama Shunsuke and Ninomiya Kazunari, anything they come up with ends up sounding like various stages of the common cold. The nickname for their project sticks, and as the clock strikes midnight on a rainy mid-June night, Sneeze Press is born. A birthday for all of them.
~
2.
He often gets comments that it's a little unexpected, but Nino's phone contact list is meticulously organized. Each name in full, with the accompanying readings of characters, sorted into categories of where they fit into his life. Matsumoto Jun goes in as a business contact, of course -- even though one of the numbers he adds to his phone is a cell phone number, gingerly written on the back of a reclaimed and subsequently returned business card at the end of their meeting. True to his read of the other man, Matsumoto's handwriting is deliberate but betrays a friendliness (perhaps a playfulness) that Nino's excited to explore as what was supposed to be a one-off profile expands into an ongoing series.
Nino hasn't yet told anyone about this plan, though -- it's formed in his head just now as he's sitting at his office desk, looking over his notes, at all of the ideas and ambitions in the other man's head that are waiting to see the light of day. Without a second thought, Nino picks up his phone, scrolls to the ma section, and taps.
.
い
Nino calls it his "journalist game", though only a handful of people know about it. He has hit points that designate his remaining health, and power points for the array of attack moves at his disposal. Both depend on the strength of the person he's interviewing, and as he meets each new adversary, he formulates a strategy on how to approach their interview. It had been especially useful during that never-ending internship. Knowing whether his interviewee was happy to have someone to talk to or in a cranky mood but otherwise willing or done with life altogether -- it all helped him determine how quickly he'd run out of his own energy, what kinds of techniques he'd have to use to get the most out of the other person before they were both out for the round. The tougher interviews only lasted so long before Nino had run out of ways to make the interviewee feel genuinely relaxed, before the thought of having to retell a bruisingly personal tale, again, took too much out of the both of them. He really did hate those days.
He discovers each and every time that it's much easier with the local fluff pieces, because fluff is really all they're looking for. He can stop by a florist and talk to the owner about his new ideas for the fall to help jumpstart business, or he can feature a popular officer at the corner police box who's always there to look out for the elementary school children who pass by each morning. It's all about helping people and making them feel good, and it may not win Nino any awards for hard-hitting exposés that he has no interest in writing, but he really doesn't need them at this point.
There's nothing wrong with recalibrating his own ambitions when at the end of the day everyone has a smile on their face.
~
3.
Nino imposes, because once he's reached a certain level of friendship and trust with a person, that's what he does. In Jun's case, it's not something he can help -- he's imposed since the beginning, because Jun only gets Sundays off, and when they were setting up a regular time to meet for the column, he needed a day he could have guaranteed access. The compromise made is that Matsumoto gets to choose where they meet -- and true to his nature, it starts at the station, even though it's not a working day, and he has to meet Nino in front of the security booth to get him signed in. Nino's friendly with the security guard at this point, a sturdy-looking man named Murakami, who seems to resist smiling because doing so reveals his charmingly wonky teeth. As weeks turn into months, though, Nino breaks down his walls, too. By what will turn out to be Nino's last regular Sunday at the station, Murakami smiles as soon as he spots them, waving grandly as they approach, his fangs like an open door welcoming them in.
"It's too bad about Hina, though," Nino says, leaning back in his chair, arms stretched above his head, in what he now considers their small meeting room.
Jun is mid-sip, so he simply lifts his eyebrows inquiringly, rising like evaporated coffee from his still-steaming mug.
"Because if we're going to start having our meetings in other places, he'll be lonely on Sunday afternoons." He comes down from his stretch and meets Jun's amused eyes.
"And when was this decided?" Jun returns with a smirk.
Nino shrugs. "You keep talking about the spots you hear about. Obviously you want to go, so we should try one next time." He ignores the unconvinced noise Jun makes at him, scanning the notes about this week's goings-on that Jun had written out for him. "Here." He points at the page. "New cafe?"
Jun frowns, staring at the paper and crossing his arms over his chest. "It'll be busy on a Sunday." He too modest to say it out loud, but Nino knows what he's thinking: Jun's primary fan base is young, stylish, cafe-going women, and they'll make a fuss if they see him.
Nino bounces two fingers against his temple and back at Jun in a lofty salute, receiving a blank stare in response. Nino giggles. "Don't worry, I'll make an appointment in advance. I know how this works."
.
う
The partnership with Aiba is all Shunsuke's fault. He'd gone on and on about one of his childhood friends, an older boy he happened to become buddies with when they happened to be playing with yoyos at the train station. From the sound of it, this Aiba character was supposed to be like some angel from above, super nice and super fun and kind of lanky but like not in a way that makes you uncomfortable if you're short. And he's good at sports and he's got this infectious laugh, like you seriously can't not be happy when this guy's happy, and Nino imagines a radiant being that descends into the food court of the local mall, burps a laugh at some unsuspecting victim, and floats back into the sky as the laughter spreads like a mutant virus, guffaws exploding violently from mouth to mouth, all the way across the mall and down to the parking garage.
The reality is much more bleak, he finds, because Nino's just met the man -- certainly not-uncomfortably lanky, that much is true, if nothing else -- and he's immediately been invited to become his manga writing partner.
"Kazamapon says you're really good at writing, and I'm really good at drawing, so you can do the story and I'll make it into a manga. We'll make a fortune. Here, let me show you, I'll draw your portrait." Nino hadn't asked, and as he watches each line form, jagged and awkward, he realizes that he should have actively stopped him instead. The resulting "portrait" is the kind of thing that shows up suddenly on screen in a drama accompanied by a blood-curdling scream, one of those drawings that would probably appeal to creepy dudes on the internet leaning too close to their computer screens to read websites about suicide clubs with red text on a black background, the kind who pretend they could but really can't so they settle for living vicariously through wan-faced, wirey-eyed visages like Aiba's "Ninomiya, at the mall".
"A-Ah..."
"I know, right? And my accountant friend Sho-chan already agreed to be our manager. He can't really draw, but he says he knows talent when he sees it."
So you haven't shown him your drawings yet. "That's great. When do we start?"
Now, apparently. They sit for a little longer at their food court table, Nino half-heartedly plotting out an uncanny horror story (no other genre is possible with this art) until suddenly he realizes hours have passed and he's 100% on board with what they're doing. Aiba excuses himself to scurry to the bathroom, and Nino fishes his phone out as he takes a sip of his long-ago brewed lukewarm water-coffee.
You liar.
Shunsuke's response is immediate, and enfuriatingly smug. He's a pain in the ass, right?
Aiba comes back into view, flapping his hands in the air to dry them off, and Nino, to his chagrin, is indeed happy to see him. What have you done to me?
~
4.
Ohno only comes to their meetings occasionally. It's not that Nino doesn't want him there -- though as time passes, the business-to-personal ratio of his conversations with Jun steadily decreases, and he tingles in anticipation at the end of every meeting when they're deciding on where to meet next. It's mostly that they'd exhausted their options (and patience) for open-mouth-passionate-hands talking photos a few weeks in, and Ohno decided he'd instead sit with Nino during his review of Jun's tapes, picking out interesting shots to get publication permission for, going out to grab new photos of interesting places and things.
He's there with them now, though, because Nino does like the older man's company, and the older man does react to food with a profound joy that Nino is endlessly fond of. He groans around a mouthful of pizza at the new brick oven place, a splotch of red sauce at the corner of his mouth as he looks at Nino, brows furrowed, in what almost looks like delirious pain.
"It's too bad you're such shit at food reports," Nino says, feigning regret. "Your face is so good for them."
Jun huffs. "You don't strike me as very good at them yourself. Shouldn't that be of more concern to you? Your future as a writer is at stake."
Nino looks at him seriously, knowing that behind the strong lines of that beautiful face lies an ugly monster of playfulness and mischief. "A blog writer doesn't eat and tell."
Jun laughs. "That's not even true!"
.
え
It turns out Sakurai's friends with Ohno, because Nino's life is like a fictional alternate universe in which everyone he knows magically knows everyone else.
This is what he discovers when he and Shunsuke are over at Aiba's place one day, talking about the manga that unfortunately may actually become a thing. Aiba had called him to consult him about where to send their finalized sample chapter, and after explaining who he was with and where they worked, there were a lot of "no way"s and grand gestures and wild eyes, and suddenly Nino was questioning his life all over again.
"How do you even know each other?" They've switched to facetime, pretty-faced Sakurai looking at the three of them from Aiba's teeny phone screen.
"His mom and my mom worked together while she was part-time and raising me before she went back to teaching." He brings his free hand up to his face in a peace sign, scissoring the fingers together once. "Two boys around to the same age, kind of thing."
Out of the corner of his eye, Nino sees Aiba scissoring his fingers on both hands like a lobster obsessed with its own claws. Nino turns his attention back to Sakurai. Never has he been more grateful for a person who can answer questions like a real adult.
"Come by the office sometime," Shunsuke says, conveniently glossing over the fact that their office is about the size of a laundromat washing machine and probably just as full of hidden grime.
Sakurai chuckles. "It'd be great to see Satoshi-kun again. We lost him for a few years there."
"I can write a profile on you," Nino offers. "Need more accounting business?"
Sakurai lets a plump laugh, full without feeling uncomfortable. "I'm good, thanks. I actually moonlight as a financial consultant for some politicians, so I shouldn't stretch myself too thin. Appreciate the offer, though."
Nino gets it, finally, watching as Sakurai's eyes genuinely twinkle. Sakurai is their manager because he needs to balance out his rigid life with some innocent stupidity. Nino and his friends can certainly be of service.
~
5.
The Matsumoto column is a slow but steady success. Shunsuke's access data shows that attention trickled in from a few regular sources, building with each new update into what it is today: Sneeze Press's most popular asset.
Shunsuke says that their new marketing intern, a mousy fellow named Nakamaru, seems excited about new ideas on how to get their content noticed -- the right keywords to use, the most appropriate networks to tap. Nino hates that he can't be a part of that meeting, because business strategy is secretly high up on his list of favorite things, but he has to concentrate on writing the column (which, incidentally, is also high up on the list).
Nino puts his earbuds in and plays back the recording of his latest meeting with Jun, the one that took a good hour before they actually got to talking about work. Jun is a public figure and has always been very good about choosing his words carefully, so when Nino brought up the idea of using a recorder instead of pen and paper, Jun seemed agreeable. It could capture a moment more accurately, Nino had argued (more to himself than to anyone else), and this way they could be more mobile during their meetings, should they feel like a long stretch or a change of scenery.
If Nino has to be honest with himself -- high up on his list of least favorite things -- the recordings are mostly for his personal benefit. He likes having quick access to the low hum of Jun's thought process, a lilting adagio that works its way up into an andantino, allegro, vivace as Jun gains momentum and his excitement bursts past his wide smile and bright eyes.
He likes knowing what Jun likes (he doesn't forget just because it isn't recorded, of course, but hearing Jun talk makes even the most mundane things sound like something worth getting that passionate about). He likes listening to Jun listen to his own stories and hobbies, too -- writing the manga with Aiba (a weird cult success in its own right), and babysitting for his sister's puppy (and young child, he supposes), and the hours and hours and hours he spends in front of the TV, remote or controller in hand, something he has no problem being honest about. Jun laughs at the right time and asks the right questions -- nothing less from an up-and-coming announcer -- but he does so with such genuine care and interest that Nino catches himself feeling warm on more than one occasion. Late he'll get a message on his phone about a new game, or a vaguely snide remark about how the latest chapter of the manga features a TV announcer character who looks hideous. Nino smiles each time, happy to know that he isn't the only one enjoying himself.
He feels a tap on his shoulder, and his heart jumps in his chest like an angry Irish dancer before he can recover. He pops his earbuds out and turns wordlessly to Shunsuke.
"Nakamaru-kun says we should change the name of your column to 'How I Fell in Love with a TV Announcer'."
Nino looks past Shunsuke and narrows his eyes at the taller figure. "Nakamaru-kun," he says conversationally.
"Yes!" Nakamaru stands at attention, and Nino can almost hear his heels click together when he straightens.
"We're going to hire you just so that I can fire you."
.
お
"So what are we going to do if we actually have people over?" Nino looks around their dingy office, the venetian blinds that don't open or close properly, the suspicious stains that reach from floor to ceiling, somehow appearing to grow with each passing day.
"It's just the three of us for now," Shunsuke says, and of course Nino knows that, but he somehow never gets annoyed when Shunsuke states the obvious. "When we grow, we'll look for a better place. We just need to stay afloat now that we're actually live. Our stuff's good, so it'll get noticed in due time." Shunsuke leans back in his chair. "Maybe when we make it big, we'll have make a marketing department just to work on turning down all the advertisers knocking on our door."
Nino turns to look at Ohno, who hasn't said a word the entire meeting. Ohno is staring at him, picking his nose. Nino turns back to Shunsuke. "You know better than anyone that I believe in what we're doing, but you also know I need to be the realist here. A lot of startups go under before they're even able to get their heads above water." Shunsuke nods, earnest, and Nino's hit with profound gratitude that he's his partner in crime. "Let's figure out our long-term plan now in case things don't go the way we want them to."
"I can't say no to that. But let's grab every single opportunity we can in the meantime." Shunsuke grins. "You never know when our big break is going to come."
Nino can't say no to that either.
~
6.
It's been eight months since the column started. With TV renewal season under way, Jun has been "promoted" to appearing in the studio every morning, not just the days his street interviews air. He attributes his success to Nino's column, but Nino shakes his head. "You've just got a good face." Jun smiles sheepishly and rubs his nose.
It's Sunday, and they're having dinner at a restaurant that's unnecessarily high up, at the top of a tower that's far too tall for its own good. It's the kind of place where the menu doesn't list prices, Nino's least favorite kind of food, but Jun had insisted he'd pay, wanting to take Nino someplace nice and "fill [him] with real food".
Nino knows he's being romanced. A bottle of some unpronouncable red wine has just arrived at their table, and the waiter pours it into their glasses, sloshing gently against the sides in slow bursts until the liquid settles and the awkward bubbles disappear. All that's left is a delicate glass full of something that will defeat Nino whether he wants it to or not, going down slowly as they enjoy the rest of the meal, taking full effect when Nino's reached the bottom of his glass and realizes he's feeling it now more than ever, wants another glass, and then another, and then another, as long as it's Jun pouring it for him.
It's a little like falling in love, maybe. Nino lets it all happen.
.
あ
Ikuta is Ohno's friend from college. He's part of the sound crew at one of the big TV stations in the city, and if you ever see the boom mic on screen, that's his mic -- though you never will, because he's that good at what he does. Despite the age difference, he and Ohno spent some time together at the college station during the months Ohno made an attempt at being a broadcast cameraman. For a short while they'd even interned together at a different station. "Though basically all I remember doing is running." He grins from where he's sitting on an old folding chair at the edge of the cluster of desks in their office.
"Really?" Ohno laughs. "I think I walked everywhere. With dark purpose, you know?" For some reason this makes Ikuta laugh in response, like it's some kind of inside joke they share. Nino smiles politely and turns back to his computer, giving them space to be nostalgic.
"Anyway," Ikuta says some time later, addressing Nino as if he'd been a part of the conversation the whole time; maybe Ikuta's just that friendly. "Ohno-kun told me you're always looking for new profiles to write, so here's an idea." He hands Nino a piece of paper, and Nino looks at it, a printout of a man with impossibly strong features, an intriguing smile because it's friendly enough on the outside, but it looks like there's more to it underneath.
"Matsumoto Jun?"
"Up-and-coming announcer at the station," Ikuta explains. "He's the street interviewer on TIP! You've probably seen him?"
Nino nods, pretending he wakes up that early to watch the news. "Ahh, that guy."
"He's pretty friendly, and really ambitious. I think you'd like him, Ninomiya-kun."
Nino nods and smiles diplomatically, unconvinced, but he keeps the piece of paper on his desk because he's curious all the same.
Ikuta had said he'd like Matsumoto, but who was Ikuta to judge when he and Nino had just met that day?
Nino will just have to find out for himself.
~
*.
Nino turns 36 soon, apparently. Jun won't shut up about it, and every time he brings it up, Nino says pointedly, "Shunsuke does, too."
Jun sips aggressively at the last of his oolong tea, sliding it toward the edge of the table before glaring at Nino. "He's not the one I'm dating."
"What a bad decision that was; he's such a good guy. Who's the chump you're stuck with instead?"
Jun clicks his tongue, and Nino's giggles rise up like the bubbles in his ginger ale.
Their waitress -- Yukie-san, with her motherly voice and mysterious pigtails -- brings Nino his hamburg steak, and Jun asks for another tea politely. waiting for Yukie-san to leave before looking at Nino's plate in disdain. "I could have made that at home. I hope you're happy."
Nino's mouth is already full, and he shrugs exaggeratedly while he chews and swallows. "I guess I am." Jun rolls his eyes and turns his head to the side to hide the smile on his face.
On their refrigerator at home, they have a running list of places to go for their Sunday dates -- everything from new restaurants to game centers and hobby stores. Today is the Sunday before Nino's birthday, and Nino's choice ended up being the family restaurant down the street.
In their living room is piles upon piles of paperwork, overflowing from the Sneeze Press office even after they moved to a bigger, brighter, less concerning space to accommodate the incredible growth they've experienced since Nino's column began. They're in talks with executives at the TV station to produce a new local highlights show, combining Sneeze's specialty with the endless wonders of moving pictures. Shunsuke will be taking care of the details as a creative director and consultant, and Nino's told that he and Jun are likely candidates for the hosts, though Nino's not sure how his name came up. He's just a writer -- plus, it's already risky enough to have people publicly in a relationship as co-hosts. But that seems to be part of the show's shtick. It's supposed to add to the authenticity, Shunsuke told him.
Nino's phone pings, and Jun's buzzes. Jun picks his phone up and taps his way to the group chat, but Nino simply eyes the pop-up notification before letting his screen go black again. It's confirmed, then. Starting in October, Nino and Jun's lovey-dovey tag team will be a TV sensation.
Nino looks up to see Jun grinning excitedly at his phone as he types out his response to Shunsuke, thumbs working swiftly through what will assuredly be very many paragraphs about how great this'll be and how he'll do his best and how they'll continue to be in Shunsuke's favor.
Nino just chews, swallows, and smiles.