hols re-post; joosara take two
Title: Safe and Sound
Pairing/Group: Kamenashi/Taguchi
Rating: G
Word Count: 4.6k
Notes: Co-written with alienashi, who always comes through in the end ♥, for the je_holiday 2013 exchange. Originally posted here.
Summary: Lucky charms don't come by easy.
-
Fifteen minutes.
Ten minutes.
“Hurry,” he hisses to himself between clenched teeth. The bus rolls to a stop. He springs out of the doors with no more than a hurried ‘thank you’ thrown over his shoulder, his backpack bouncing behind him.
A quick glance down at his sport’s watch. Eight minutes. He could cross off punctuality on his list of estimable traits that would make him worthwhile to be hired. On the bright side, he doubted punctuality ranked high in the qualities they prioritized in a stunts man. Taguchi could back flip all the way home. Not many could do the same.
Still, first impression; last impression.
He glances up again, down the street, legs ready to sprint and… stops. He turns and glances in the opposite direction, pauses and turns again. He flings his head back and groans loud enough to attract odd looks from the passers-by.
Seven minutes.
Taguchi shuts his eyes and tries to visualize the map he had studied earlier.
“Need help?” Taguchi jerks around. “You look lost.”
Taguchi has to bend his neck slightly to meet his eyes. They’re kind, pretty eyes with a kind, pretty mouth that’s frozen in a waiting smile. He looks about Taguchi’s age. He has fluffy brown hair that moves with the breeze like a cloud.
“Yes,” Taguchi nearly shouts in relief. “I’m heading to an interview… I have no idea where it is.”
The man laughs as Taguchi flushes. “How late are you?”
“Not yet!” Taguchi flashes his watch. “But I will be…”
The fluffy stranger’s mouth quirks. “Not without trying. Shortcut?”
-
Taguchi whirls around, panting. Zero minutes.
There’s no sign of the studio.
He looks down the street he ran down and back at the scrap of paper the fluffy stranger had handed over with scrawled directions. Taguchi had followed them to every crooked T. He flips the paper over, thinking he missed something, but there’s nothing. It’s just a coupon. Buy a roll and get a complimentary drink for free!
Taguchi will be living off coupons if he doesn’t get this job.
Breath still short from his sprint, he approaches a man with round eyes and a grey sweater who looks like he knows things. The man shakes his head with a snort when Taguchi shows him the scribbled directions.
“That’s wrong. The first right should have been a left. The studio is on the opposite side.”
“Oh... Thanks.” There’s a sinking feeling in his gut and the sweater man gives him a pitying look before moving along.
Minus five minutes and counting.
Taguchi stuffs the coupon in the back pocket of his jeans and is ready to leave when he’s being waved and called at by another stranger. This one is a woman with a tasteful grey skirt and a flowing blouse of silk.
“You there! Yes you, tall, dark and handsome.” Taguchi groans inside; this is not the time for being hit on and there’s a polite sorry, I’m not interested ready to drop from his tongue when the woman flashes a business card at him. “You can call me Miki. I’m a recruiter from Triple Star’s Fashion Agency. We’d love to have you model our clothes!”
Taguchi accepts the card, almost dumbstruck by his luck.
-
A month of modelling and Taguchi may have just fed the vending machine all his hard earned money. He stares at the stubborn can of Ponta sitting tauntingly behind the machine’s glass. The can stares back. It’s a cool night and luckily no one is around to witness his moment of desperate craziness outside the conbini.
Taguchi shuffles his hand inside his pocket and pulls out his last coin. It falls through the slot with a mechanical ping. The can doesn’t budge. Taguchi releases a cry and launches a swift kick at the machine before hopping back with a wince, his toes aching.
“Come onnnnnn,” he whines, both hands plastered against the glass. His mouth is beginning to dry and he knows, just knows, that the artificially flavoured, cavity-causing soda will taste like heaven on his tongue.
He hears the muffled snicker before the footsteps and feels the back of his neck heat.
“It’s broken,” Taguchi explains, turning to face the amused stranger. It’s a man with a small ponytail and a hooped earring hanging in his ear. There’s a long sport’s bag hanging by his side, too narrow to be carrying tennis rackets… Baseball bats, Taguchi guesses.
“Do you happen to have any spare change by any chance?”
The man tilts his head to the side, a wry smile slanting his lips. There’s something familiar about him that itches at Taguchi’s mind. Perhaps he met him during one of his fashion shows; the man certainly looks stylish enough with his torn jeans and dozens of beaded necklaces to run in similar circles.
“It’s broken… but you’re still going to feed it money?”
“It’s worth a try.” Taguchi shrugs sheepishly. “I have a craving.”
“A Ponta craving.” The amusement softens the stranger’s features and Taguchi is convinced that the ponytail man must have modelled alongside him… although how Taguchi had managed to miss getting his name, he doesn’t know.
Taguchi nods, his own smile unfolding. “Exactly.”
The stranger drops a coin into the cup of his palm.
“I hope it hits the spot.”
A small grin and the stranger strolls away, his bag swaying at his side. Taguchi catches himself staring at his back and returns to the machine with renewed spirits. “Yosh!”
Once more, the coin drops through the slot with a mechanical ping. Taguchi holds his breath as the machine whirrs. A moment later and a can rolls out. Followed a moment later by another.
Taguchi stares.
And suddenly remembers.
Scrambling to catch the cans as they roll out from the machine, Taguchi then chases after the stranger’s steps until he catches sight of wide shoulders that taper down at the waist.
“Wait!” Taguchi calls out and the stranger pauses, turning so that Taguchi can catch the glint of his earring under the lights of the intersection. Greens and reds and yellows splash over his face like fireworks.
Taguchi’s heart is still racing when he comes to a stop, his breath escaping him in short, fast puffs.
“Thank you!” he says with a bow, offering the extra can of Ponta with an outstretched arm.
“Eh?” There’s a laugh in the stranger’s voice that’s half amusement and half confusion, which makes sense because Taguchi is being ridiculous, like his lifeblood has been replaced with soda and is fizzing under his skin.
“Not for the coin!” Taguchi explains in a rush before pausing with a smile, “but thank you for that, too.”
There’s that head tilt again and Taguchi can imagine it under a cloud of fluffy brown once the ponytail comes undone.
“For last time. You gave me directions to the studio around a month ago…?”
Taguchi watches the pretty eyes widen with the resurfaced memory, the recognition lighting up behind them. They disappear suddenly behind calloused hands and it’s Taguchi’s turn to tilt his head in bewilderment.
“I’m so sorry.” The stranger crouches down into a small ball, face still buried in his palms. “I gave you the wrong directions.”
A pause and Taguchi throws his head back in a laugh. The stranger peeks at him from between a crack in his fingers, watching him cautiously from below.
“You got the job…?”
“I got another job. A better one. Thanks to you.” Taguchi beams. “Your wrong directions lead me to just the right place at just the right time.”
Slowly, the hands fall and the stranger rises, a small, pleased curve to his lips. There’s an embarrassed pink still flushing his cheeks.
“I really am sorry, though. I only realized until you had run out of sight-you run so fast!-and I even went after you but by then you were gone…” A guilty wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Taguchi insists and shakes the Ponta can until the stranger accepts it. “A token of my thanks.”
“From me to you to me?”
“Exactly.”
Hours after their goodbye, the sound of the stranger’s laugh is still ringing in Taguchi’s ears, this time unforgettable.
-
Koyama shakes his head. “Nope, still no Real Life is Gaming, Taguchi-kun.”
When Real Life is Gaming first appeared in the GameCube magazine four issues ago, Taguchi knew that the book was fated for him. The world was a battleground, strategies transforming into communications and connections, victories transforming into fat wallets-excerpts from the book suggested that whoever the author was, he or she must have been his mind twin, because if Taguchi were to ever write a book at all it would be Real Life is Gaming.
“I must have this book,” he told Koyama that very afternoon and Koyama immediately went to the administration office to check for stocks, only to return ten minutes later with a questioning look.
“I'm sorry,” he said, eyes directed downwards and a finger circling the air, as though he was trying to think of the best way to break the disappointment, “it looks like this is a very very limited publication. It’s only in print courtesy of some gaming forum's admin, whose connections made it possible for the Japanese translation to be available.”
Giving up had always been Taguchi's least favourite thing to do, so he tried his best to come up with ways to get the book that would be the least troublesome for Koyama. His best option was to be put on a waiting list, as there might be a number of people out there who would want the book as well, and then Koyama would consolidate it with the waiting lists from the other bookstores, and then request the publisher for reprint.
But waiting was another one of Taguchi's least favourite things to do, so he suggested that perhaps Koyama could help place an order for the original copy-surely the original wouldn't be as hard to obtain-but the original book was in German and it would probably take Taguchi three years to read a chapter.
And so Taguchi was added to what felt like a never-ending waiting list, to the point that visiting Koyama's bookstore to ask about the status of Real Life is Gaming was already a routine. All the initial excitement was fading with time and Taguchi could maybe imagine himself clutching the prized book in his wrinkly hands in another two decades or so. Maybe. If he squinted.
Taguchi shrugs and turns away. “I'll just take a look at the automobile magazines then,” he says. Since he has a rare day off, he might as well get a shiny car magazine to stare at.
Two aisles down and to his left, his eyes catch on a slim figure that looks almost tiny sandwiched between the towering bookshelves. A baseball cap hides the face but the outline of the man’s body seems familiar-the height, the jawline, the crooked nose…
Taguchi beams and is about to call out when he remembers that he doesn't know his name. He’ll have to correct that.
“Excuse me,” he says, trying to speak as softly as he can since the familiar stranger seems to be having a private moment with his book; for some reason, Taguchi finds himself smiling at the tufts of hair curling around his bent neck. Cute.
Before he knows it, there’s a small gasp followed by flailing limbs that knock over a stack of books to their side. The customers nearby glare at them for the disruption and Taguchi frantically bows and apologizes before kneeling down to help his familiar stranger with the books.
“Hey,” he greets Taguchi with a smile of pleasant surprise. “We meet again. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for a book, aren't you, too?” he asks back, and the person bursts into small chuckles.
“Dumb question, huh.”
When they stand up, Taguchi realizes they’re in the Sports Section and eyes the thick book in the other’s hands. Baseball: The Pride of Japan.
Aha. So it wasn’t tennis after all. He was right.
“You like baseball?”
“Yes, but now it's also part of my job,” the familiar stranger answers as he closes the book and slips it back onto the shelf.
“You're not going to buy it?”
“Actually…” the stranger swells a bit, his chin jutting upwards, “I know everything about baseball inside out. I just wanted to brush up on a few things but I realised the book is pretty outdated. The drafting regulations have changed and the terms they use to describe pitches-”
“I don't know your name,” Taguchi blurts out before he can think. He considers himself a jack of all trades but he’s never been much into baseball despite the hype and at least this works better than pretending otherwise. Luckily for him, the stranger looks more amused than offended.
“Right,” he replies, before his eyes widen and he says again, much louder, “Right! I don't know your name either!”
The bookshop is small and cozy with sunlight pouring through the windows and Taguchi feels a burst of warmth in his belly.
“Taguchi Junnosuke,” he says as he stretches out his hand, “nice to… formally meet you, I guess?”
The grip is firm and solid, Taguchi’s fingers easily folding over the shorter ones. Taguchi can feel calluses.
The handshake lingers.
“Call me Kame.”
This time they both laugh, and Koyama has to chase them out of the store. There’s an urge to ask for more than a name, maybe a phone number or address, a favourite colour, but Taguchi knows he has to be elsewhere.
“Sorry, I have to book it,” he says with open regret and Kame huffs out a breathy laugh that he fails to tame. It only serves to make the regret deepen.
“Nice one.” Kame’s eyes are squinty in the sunshine. “And hey, knowing our luck, there will be a next time.”
-
Taguchi is wrapping up the photo shoot and changing from tight designer jeans to his comfy pair of sweats when his phone rings.
It’s Koyama.
“You won’t believe it!” comes the excited voice over the earpiece.
After almost 6 months of waiting, Real Life is Gaming will soon be his.
-
The next time they run into each other, it’s a month later and it’s Kame who finds Taguchi.
“I like the red one.”
Taguchi pauses from where he’s perusing a rack of cashmere scarves, the silky wool of a blue scarf soft against his fingertips as he eyes the red one hanging just next to it with a frown.
The frown smoothens out into delight and he swivels on his heels.
“Long time no see.”
Kame sends him a small wave and then laughs at himself because they’re only standing a few feet away. He has a shopping bag in his other hand and his hair is cropped shorter now. The hooped earring is still there but the black framed glasses are new.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, I hope?” Kame returns, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
It’s a joke. It’s obviously a joke. Taguchi suddenly finds it very difficult to joke back.
The silence stretches, making everything into something and he has to look away even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he can feel himself warming up.
When his gaze returns, he sees that Kame has gone pink too and he doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Well,” Kame says and coughs and they both stand there in their designer coats, shuffling like the floor beneath them is suddenly slippery ice.
“The red one,” Taguchi says and he still feels a bit tipsy but one of them has to say something. “You like it? More than the blue?”
Kame nods, a bit too vigorously. “It’s too cold out there for more blue.”
“Sounds like a solid reason to me,” Taguchi returns with a grin and turns to grab the blue scarf off the rack. “How did you know it was me anyway?”
“You’re tall.”
Taguchi laughs. “Lots of people are tall. Er, no offense.”
“None taken. You have a better face than most.” Pause. “It’s hard to forget.”
Taguchi blinks and turns back to face him. Kame offers a shrug.
When their shopping is done and they pass mirrors mounted near the clothing racks on the way to the check out, Taguchi notices that they’re both still pink. Standing side by side, their arms brushing, Taguchi can see the moles scattered along Kame’s profile, can smell the sweet perfume that must be his favourite because Taguchi smells it every time they meet.
A month felt like ages.
“Can I have your number?” Taguchi asks abruptly and the lady behind the register giggles before schooling her features back into polite professionalism. Taguchi looks at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I meant him.”
“I think we kind of figured that out,” Kame says with a rumbling laugh and gives Taguchi a sweet smile. “Okay. Call me whenever.”
“F-for when I need fashion advice,” Taguchi adds, feeling an absurd need to explain himself. It’s all good. Kame said yes. He wouldn’t say yes if he thought Taguchi was a creep.
“Like I said,” Kame pauses while pulling on his gloves. When he looks up again, their eyes meet straight on. “Whenever.”
They part ways before Kame disappears into the snowy parking lot of the mall and Taguchi exhales and watches his breath mist in the chilly air. He pulls up his newly purchased scarf and begins to walk towards his own car when he hears a shout and the rapid clacking of heels behind him.
He turns and nearly collides with the shop attendant who had giggled at him earlier.
“Sir, I'm sorry,” she pants, “but you’re very fast and you left this on the counter. It’s a good thing you had something bright on you or else I never could have spotted you.”
Taguchi accepts his wallet in awed relief, not daring to let his mind wander to the consequences if he had really lost it for good.
-
The day Taguchi finally manages to muster enough resolve to call Kame incidentally happens to be Kame's birthday.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”
Kame’s voice sounds husky pressed next to his ear. “Don’t apologize. I was wondering what was taking you so long to call but it turns out you have excellent timing.”
Taguchi is still wrapping that around his head-that Kame was actually waiting for him while Taguchi spent day after day staring at his phone in defeat-so all he can manage is a, “huh?”
“I’m in your neighborhood,” a pause and Taguchi can hear the doubt in his voice, “at least I think so. I’m standing right beside your nemesis.”
“My wha… Oh! The vending machine?” Taguchi laughs and probably gives Kame a headache with the sheer volume of it. “Can I meet you?” The window of silence makes Taguchi feel suddenly shy and intrusive. “Ah! I’m being silly. Of course you must have made plans. Sorry, I’ll-”
“It’s not that!” Kame’s voice rushes in. “I just… I’m not dressed up.”
“Oh,” Taguchi says like he understands even though he has no idea why that would matter. It’s not like they planned this. It’s not like it’s a date or. Or. “Can I buy you cake?”
“What?”
“Cake. Only the conbini kind though since I think the patisserie is closed now.”
Taguchi’s palms are sweaty and he wipes them on his thighs.
He hears the breath that comes before, “…Okay. You’ll meet me in ten?”
“Five,” Taguchi returns. He’s already standing up and digging an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. “Kame,” he squeezes in before the call disconnects.
“Hmm?”
“Happy Birthday.”
-
The cake has no pretty icing but Taguchi buys a pack of match sticks to serve as candles. He digs into the pocket of his jeans for any small change and pulls along a crumpled slip of paper. Taguchi smiles when he unfurls it and hands the coupon over. Good thing he kept the coupon even though he didn't end up using it. Even better, it's still valid for redemption.
“I’ll have two drinks too, please.”
The cashier waves the coupon and nudges towards the poster hanging on the wall behind him. It’s some sort of lottery.
“Want to enter? Winner gets two tickets to a resort. All expenses covered.”
“Why not?” Taguchi shrugs and signs his number on the coupon before slipping it into the draw box.
Outside, Kame’s bark of laughter when Taguchi spears the matches into the cake makes Taguchi feel like he’s hit the jackpot.
“I can only fit five,” Taguchi says and lifts the cake roll for Kame to see. It’s dark out and the small flames reflect in Kame’s eyes like fireflies.
“Five is a good age to be. Some of my happiest years were spent on the playground, flipping skirts.” Kame takes a moment to laugh and then looks at him through the row of faux candles. “This is a pretty good year too. I might even call it a favourite.”
Taguchi smiles and it feels like his face is splitting into two. “Make a wish so that the next one is even better.”
-
This time, Taguchi only waits four days before he gives into the urge and dials Kame’s number again.
The call doesn’t go through.
Maybe Kame’s busy. Maybe he's taken. A lot of maybes-Taguchi doesn’t even know what Kame does for a living.
“You’re an idiot,” Uchi tells him when Taguchi camps out on his couch days afterwards, unable to get in touch with Kame. “According to you, you’ve known him for almost a year but you still don’t really know him.”
“He’s a baseball nerd who likes the smell of vanilla. He likes to help people. He has an ear pierced and has a habit of tilting his head. He’s awkward and likes red and is useless at giving directions.” Taguchi swallows. “I know his birthday.”
Taguchi doesn’t know about Kame’s family or where he lives, but he knows all this and that has to count for something, doesn’t it?
Uchi looks him over and then heaves a dramatic sigh.
“And here I thought I’d be your one and only…”
The burp of laughter that escapes him is welcomed.
-
A week later and Taguchi receives two tickets in an envelope.
Congratulations on your lucky draw!
When yet another call to Kame doesn't go through, he considers giving them to Uchi or his sister or even selling them to the highest bidder.
In the end, he slides the envelope under his bed.
-
This is one of the rare times Uchi doesn't have a girlfriend to go the firework festival with, so he drags Taguchi instead.
“I'm not a girlfriend replacement, just so you know,” he says, taking a bite of takoyaki.
“Nope, never,” Uchi says with a tiny wink. “You're just here to be my wingman.”
Some of the girls they're looking at start giggling whenever Uchi and Taguchi look at them. When it happened at the entrance, Taguchi thought there was something wrong with his clothes, but it turned out that some of the girls recognized him from the magazines.
“It's a start to superstardom, you see. Who knows what kind of ladies you would meet here?”
Taguchi isn't even interested in meeting someone new. He just wants to know if a certain someone, who, strictly speaking, isn't really very new, has been ignoring him. It's been bugging him for ages and giggling girls are the least of his worries.
“But I thought you'd be my one and only...”
And there's a friendly slap across his arm.
“Wingman,” Uchi finishes, “I'd be your one and only wingman.”
Taguchi fakes a pout. “Cheater.” Uchi has this magical way of cheering him up, perhaps being friends for almost an entire lifetime has that effect.
-
By the time the fireworks start, Uchi has already gotten comfortable with a group of university students who are all his kouhais, offering them, generally, “how to survive the final year project with Dr. Hotta” advices. Taguchi vaguely remembers Dr Hotta as this really eccentric professor in Uchi's university; he used to drive Uchi up the wall with his erratic way of evaluating essays.
It gets crowded really quickly soon, even Uchi comes back to his side, and Taguchi keeps his head raised to the sky. When the first streak of light burst in the air with a deafening explosion, the crowd cheers loudly. Taguchi too, cheers along and claps his hands until someone knocks him over and spills something on his pants.
“I'm sorry!” the person says as he bends down to pick up a spilled packet of food Taguchi assumes to be grilled octopus from the smell.
“It's ok,” Taguchi says and reaches out to his back pocket for a handkerchief.
“Dammit, I'm sorry, I've been having the worst luck-Taguchi?”
"Kame?" Taguchi says with a dopey thrill that numbs him. “Yo.”
“Hi,” Kame says, nodding courteously.
“He's Kame?” Uchi asks. “That Kame?”
“That Kame?”
This time, it's Taguchi who nods courteously. “He's Uchi, one of my closest friends, I sort of mentioned you one time..”
“He talks about you a lot.”
Kame laughs. “Your friend is really funny, we should hang out some time.”
Taguchi leans towards Uchi and whispers, “Wingman.”
Uchi just shrugs.
-
Somehow Taguchi is left alone with Kame. Uchi went to the toilet.
“I actually called you, quite a lot,” Taguchi says, not caring if he sounds silly. “I thought you didn't want me to call.”
Kame goes slightly pink in the face. “I'm sorry, I lost my phone, and I couldn't recover most of the things...so...I didn't know how to contact you.”
“You wanted to contact me?”
“Uhm, yes, I mean, I thought it would be great to hang out with you since we seemed to see each other so often and I've been so unlucky ever since I lost my phone, you wouldn't believe it, I think I'm cursed.”
“It's ok,” Taguchi laughs. He has really been worried for nothing.
“But really though, it's weird but I think you're my lucky charm.”
Taguchi's mind darts to the two tickets under his bed.
“Not weird at all, considering you're probably my lucky charm too.”
“Oh?”
“Remember that coupon that you gave me when we met...”
Kame seems puzzled. “Coupon...was then when...”
“When I asked you for directions?”
“Ah!”
“So I sort of used it, and it turned out that I could enter a lottery with it, and then I got two tickets to a resort. Maybe you could come with me?”
Kame lets out a relieved laugh. “That's yours, go with someone.”
“No!” Taguchi says immediately, he senses that Kame might get the wrong idea. “I mean, I don't have anyone particular to go with, and since the coupon was yours to begin with...”
“Oh,” Kame says knowingly.
“I thought we could perhaps share the luck at least,” Taguchi smiles as he finishes his sentences. It's like he's growing surer as he talks.
Kame gives him a look like he's considering something, then bursts out in laughter.
“Did you just use a pickup line on me?”
Taguchi laughs along. He has to be original; after all, lucky charms don't come by easy.
- end.
Pairing/Group: Kamenashi/Taguchi
Rating: G
Word Count: 4.6k
Notes: Co-written with alienashi, who always comes through in the end ♥, for the je_holiday 2013 exchange. Originally posted here.
Summary: Lucky charms don't come by easy.
-
Fifteen minutes.
Ten minutes.
“Hurry,” he hisses to himself between clenched teeth. The bus rolls to a stop. He springs out of the doors with no more than a hurried ‘thank you’ thrown over his shoulder, his backpack bouncing behind him.
A quick glance down at his sport’s watch. Eight minutes. He could cross off punctuality on his list of estimable traits that would make him worthwhile to be hired. On the bright side, he doubted punctuality ranked high in the qualities they prioritized in a stunts man. Taguchi could back flip all the way home. Not many could do the same.
Still, first impression; last impression.
He glances up again, down the street, legs ready to sprint and… stops. He turns and glances in the opposite direction, pauses and turns again. He flings his head back and groans loud enough to attract odd looks from the passers-by.
Seven minutes.
Taguchi shuts his eyes and tries to visualize the map he had studied earlier.
“Need help?” Taguchi jerks around. “You look lost.”
Taguchi has to bend his neck slightly to meet his eyes. They’re kind, pretty eyes with a kind, pretty mouth that’s frozen in a waiting smile. He looks about Taguchi’s age. He has fluffy brown hair that moves with the breeze like a cloud.
“Yes,” Taguchi nearly shouts in relief. “I’m heading to an interview… I have no idea where it is.”
The man laughs as Taguchi flushes. “How late are you?”
“Not yet!” Taguchi flashes his watch. “But I will be…”
The fluffy stranger’s mouth quirks. “Not without trying. Shortcut?”
-
Taguchi whirls around, panting. Zero minutes.
There’s no sign of the studio.
He looks down the street he ran down and back at the scrap of paper the fluffy stranger had handed over with scrawled directions. Taguchi had followed them to every crooked T. He flips the paper over, thinking he missed something, but there’s nothing. It’s just a coupon. Buy a roll and get a complimentary drink for free!
Taguchi will be living off coupons if he doesn’t get this job.
Breath still short from his sprint, he approaches a man with round eyes and a grey sweater who looks like he knows things. The man shakes his head with a snort when Taguchi shows him the scribbled directions.
“That’s wrong. The first right should have been a left. The studio is on the opposite side.”
“Oh... Thanks.” There’s a sinking feeling in his gut and the sweater man gives him a pitying look before moving along.
Minus five minutes and counting.
Taguchi stuffs the coupon in the back pocket of his jeans and is ready to leave when he’s being waved and called at by another stranger. This one is a woman with a tasteful grey skirt and a flowing blouse of silk.
“You there! Yes you, tall, dark and handsome.” Taguchi groans inside; this is not the time for being hit on and there’s a polite sorry, I’m not interested ready to drop from his tongue when the woman flashes a business card at him. “You can call me Miki. I’m a recruiter from Triple Star’s Fashion Agency. We’d love to have you model our clothes!”
Taguchi accepts the card, almost dumbstruck by his luck.
-
A month of modelling and Taguchi may have just fed the vending machine all his hard earned money. He stares at the stubborn can of Ponta sitting tauntingly behind the machine’s glass. The can stares back. It’s a cool night and luckily no one is around to witness his moment of desperate craziness outside the conbini.
Taguchi shuffles his hand inside his pocket and pulls out his last coin. It falls through the slot with a mechanical ping. The can doesn’t budge. Taguchi releases a cry and launches a swift kick at the machine before hopping back with a wince, his toes aching.
“Come onnnnnn,” he whines, both hands plastered against the glass. His mouth is beginning to dry and he knows, just knows, that the artificially flavoured, cavity-causing soda will taste like heaven on his tongue.
He hears the muffled snicker before the footsteps and feels the back of his neck heat.
“It’s broken,” Taguchi explains, turning to face the amused stranger. It’s a man with a small ponytail and a hooped earring hanging in his ear. There’s a long sport’s bag hanging by his side, too narrow to be carrying tennis rackets… Baseball bats, Taguchi guesses.
“Do you happen to have any spare change by any chance?”
The man tilts his head to the side, a wry smile slanting his lips. There’s something familiar about him that itches at Taguchi’s mind. Perhaps he met him during one of his fashion shows; the man certainly looks stylish enough with his torn jeans and dozens of beaded necklaces to run in similar circles.
“It’s broken… but you’re still going to feed it money?”
“It’s worth a try.” Taguchi shrugs sheepishly. “I have a craving.”
“A Ponta craving.” The amusement softens the stranger’s features and Taguchi is convinced that the ponytail man must have modelled alongside him… although how Taguchi had managed to miss getting his name, he doesn’t know.
Taguchi nods, his own smile unfolding. “Exactly.”
The stranger drops a coin into the cup of his palm.
“I hope it hits the spot.”
A small grin and the stranger strolls away, his bag swaying at his side. Taguchi catches himself staring at his back and returns to the machine with renewed spirits. “Yosh!”
Once more, the coin drops through the slot with a mechanical ping. Taguchi holds his breath as the machine whirrs. A moment later and a can rolls out. Followed a moment later by another.
Taguchi stares.
And suddenly remembers.
Scrambling to catch the cans as they roll out from the machine, Taguchi then chases after the stranger’s steps until he catches sight of wide shoulders that taper down at the waist.
“Wait!” Taguchi calls out and the stranger pauses, turning so that Taguchi can catch the glint of his earring under the lights of the intersection. Greens and reds and yellows splash over his face like fireworks.
Taguchi’s heart is still racing when he comes to a stop, his breath escaping him in short, fast puffs.
“Thank you!” he says with a bow, offering the extra can of Ponta with an outstretched arm.
“Eh?” There’s a laugh in the stranger’s voice that’s half amusement and half confusion, which makes sense because Taguchi is being ridiculous, like his lifeblood has been replaced with soda and is fizzing under his skin.
“Not for the coin!” Taguchi explains in a rush before pausing with a smile, “but thank you for that, too.”
There’s that head tilt again and Taguchi can imagine it under a cloud of fluffy brown once the ponytail comes undone.
“For last time. You gave me directions to the studio around a month ago…?”
Taguchi watches the pretty eyes widen with the resurfaced memory, the recognition lighting up behind them. They disappear suddenly behind calloused hands and it’s Taguchi’s turn to tilt his head in bewilderment.
“I’m so sorry.” The stranger crouches down into a small ball, face still buried in his palms. “I gave you the wrong directions.”
A pause and Taguchi throws his head back in a laugh. The stranger peeks at him from between a crack in his fingers, watching him cautiously from below.
“You got the job…?”
“I got another job. A better one. Thanks to you.” Taguchi beams. “Your wrong directions lead me to just the right place at just the right time.”
Slowly, the hands fall and the stranger rises, a small, pleased curve to his lips. There’s an embarrassed pink still flushing his cheeks.
“I really am sorry, though. I only realized until you had run out of sight-you run so fast!-and I even went after you but by then you were gone…” A guilty wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Taguchi insists and shakes the Ponta can until the stranger accepts it. “A token of my thanks.”
“From me to you to me?”
“Exactly.”
Hours after their goodbye, the sound of the stranger’s laugh is still ringing in Taguchi’s ears, this time unforgettable.
-
Koyama shakes his head. “Nope, still no Real Life is Gaming, Taguchi-kun.”
When Real Life is Gaming first appeared in the GameCube magazine four issues ago, Taguchi knew that the book was fated for him. The world was a battleground, strategies transforming into communications and connections, victories transforming into fat wallets-excerpts from the book suggested that whoever the author was, he or she must have been his mind twin, because if Taguchi were to ever write a book at all it would be Real Life is Gaming.
“I must have this book,” he told Koyama that very afternoon and Koyama immediately went to the administration office to check for stocks, only to return ten minutes later with a questioning look.
“I'm sorry,” he said, eyes directed downwards and a finger circling the air, as though he was trying to think of the best way to break the disappointment, “it looks like this is a very very limited publication. It’s only in print courtesy of some gaming forum's admin, whose connections made it possible for the Japanese translation to be available.”
Giving up had always been Taguchi's least favourite thing to do, so he tried his best to come up with ways to get the book that would be the least troublesome for Koyama. His best option was to be put on a waiting list, as there might be a number of people out there who would want the book as well, and then Koyama would consolidate it with the waiting lists from the other bookstores, and then request the publisher for reprint.
But waiting was another one of Taguchi's least favourite things to do, so he suggested that perhaps Koyama could help place an order for the original copy-surely the original wouldn't be as hard to obtain-but the original book was in German and it would probably take Taguchi three years to read a chapter.
And so Taguchi was added to what felt like a never-ending waiting list, to the point that visiting Koyama's bookstore to ask about the status of Real Life is Gaming was already a routine. All the initial excitement was fading with time and Taguchi could maybe imagine himself clutching the prized book in his wrinkly hands in another two decades or so. Maybe. If he squinted.
Taguchi shrugs and turns away. “I'll just take a look at the automobile magazines then,” he says. Since he has a rare day off, he might as well get a shiny car magazine to stare at.
Two aisles down and to his left, his eyes catch on a slim figure that looks almost tiny sandwiched between the towering bookshelves. A baseball cap hides the face but the outline of the man’s body seems familiar-the height, the jawline, the crooked nose…
Taguchi beams and is about to call out when he remembers that he doesn't know his name. He’ll have to correct that.
“Excuse me,” he says, trying to speak as softly as he can since the familiar stranger seems to be having a private moment with his book; for some reason, Taguchi finds himself smiling at the tufts of hair curling around his bent neck. Cute.
Before he knows it, there’s a small gasp followed by flailing limbs that knock over a stack of books to their side. The customers nearby glare at them for the disruption and Taguchi frantically bows and apologizes before kneeling down to help his familiar stranger with the books.
“Hey,” he greets Taguchi with a smile of pleasant surprise. “We meet again. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for a book, aren't you, too?” he asks back, and the person bursts into small chuckles.
“Dumb question, huh.”
When they stand up, Taguchi realizes they’re in the Sports Section and eyes the thick book in the other’s hands. Baseball: The Pride of Japan.
Aha. So it wasn’t tennis after all. He was right.
“You like baseball?”
“Yes, but now it's also part of my job,” the familiar stranger answers as he closes the book and slips it back onto the shelf.
“You're not going to buy it?”
“Actually…” the stranger swells a bit, his chin jutting upwards, “I know everything about baseball inside out. I just wanted to brush up on a few things but I realised the book is pretty outdated. The drafting regulations have changed and the terms they use to describe pitches-”
“I don't know your name,” Taguchi blurts out before he can think. He considers himself a jack of all trades but he’s never been much into baseball despite the hype and at least this works better than pretending otherwise. Luckily for him, the stranger looks more amused than offended.
“Right,” he replies, before his eyes widen and he says again, much louder, “Right! I don't know your name either!”
The bookshop is small and cozy with sunlight pouring through the windows and Taguchi feels a burst of warmth in his belly.
“Taguchi Junnosuke,” he says as he stretches out his hand, “nice to… formally meet you, I guess?”
The grip is firm and solid, Taguchi’s fingers easily folding over the shorter ones. Taguchi can feel calluses.
The handshake lingers.
“Call me Kame.”
This time they both laugh, and Koyama has to chase them out of the store. There’s an urge to ask for more than a name, maybe a phone number or address, a favourite colour, but Taguchi knows he has to be elsewhere.
“Sorry, I have to book it,” he says with open regret and Kame huffs out a breathy laugh that he fails to tame. It only serves to make the regret deepen.
“Nice one.” Kame’s eyes are squinty in the sunshine. “And hey, knowing our luck, there will be a next time.”
-
Taguchi is wrapping up the photo shoot and changing from tight designer jeans to his comfy pair of sweats when his phone rings.
It’s Koyama.
“You won’t believe it!” comes the excited voice over the earpiece.
After almost 6 months of waiting, Real Life is Gaming will soon be his.
-
The next time they run into each other, it’s a month later and it’s Kame who finds Taguchi.
“I like the red one.”
Taguchi pauses from where he’s perusing a rack of cashmere scarves, the silky wool of a blue scarf soft against his fingertips as he eyes the red one hanging just next to it with a frown.
The frown smoothens out into delight and he swivels on his heels.
“Long time no see.”
Kame sends him a small wave and then laughs at himself because they’re only standing a few feet away. He has a shopping bag in his other hand and his hair is cropped shorter now. The hooped earring is still there but the black framed glasses are new.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, I hope?” Kame returns, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
It’s a joke. It’s obviously a joke. Taguchi suddenly finds it very difficult to joke back.
The silence stretches, making everything into something and he has to look away even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he can feel himself warming up.
When his gaze returns, he sees that Kame has gone pink too and he doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Well,” Kame says and coughs and they both stand there in their designer coats, shuffling like the floor beneath them is suddenly slippery ice.
“The red one,” Taguchi says and he still feels a bit tipsy but one of them has to say something. “You like it? More than the blue?”
Kame nods, a bit too vigorously. “It’s too cold out there for more blue.”
“Sounds like a solid reason to me,” Taguchi returns with a grin and turns to grab the blue scarf off the rack. “How did you know it was me anyway?”
“You’re tall.”
Taguchi laughs. “Lots of people are tall. Er, no offense.”
“None taken. You have a better face than most.” Pause. “It’s hard to forget.”
Taguchi blinks and turns back to face him. Kame offers a shrug.
When their shopping is done and they pass mirrors mounted near the clothing racks on the way to the check out, Taguchi notices that they’re both still pink. Standing side by side, their arms brushing, Taguchi can see the moles scattered along Kame’s profile, can smell the sweet perfume that must be his favourite because Taguchi smells it every time they meet.
A month felt like ages.
“Can I have your number?” Taguchi asks abruptly and the lady behind the register giggles before schooling her features back into polite professionalism. Taguchi looks at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I meant him.”
“I think we kind of figured that out,” Kame says with a rumbling laugh and gives Taguchi a sweet smile. “Okay. Call me whenever.”
“F-for when I need fashion advice,” Taguchi adds, feeling an absurd need to explain himself. It’s all good. Kame said yes. He wouldn’t say yes if he thought Taguchi was a creep.
“Like I said,” Kame pauses while pulling on his gloves. When he looks up again, their eyes meet straight on. “Whenever.”
They part ways before Kame disappears into the snowy parking lot of the mall and Taguchi exhales and watches his breath mist in the chilly air. He pulls up his newly purchased scarf and begins to walk towards his own car when he hears a shout and the rapid clacking of heels behind him.
He turns and nearly collides with the shop attendant who had giggled at him earlier.
“Sir, I'm sorry,” she pants, “but you’re very fast and you left this on the counter. It’s a good thing you had something bright on you or else I never could have spotted you.”
Taguchi accepts his wallet in awed relief, not daring to let his mind wander to the consequences if he had really lost it for good.
-
The day Taguchi finally manages to muster enough resolve to call Kame incidentally happens to be Kame's birthday.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”
Kame’s voice sounds husky pressed next to his ear. “Don’t apologize. I was wondering what was taking you so long to call but it turns out you have excellent timing.”
Taguchi is still wrapping that around his head-that Kame was actually waiting for him while Taguchi spent day after day staring at his phone in defeat-so all he can manage is a, “huh?”
“I’m in your neighborhood,” a pause and Taguchi can hear the doubt in his voice, “at least I think so. I’m standing right beside your nemesis.”
“My wha… Oh! The vending machine?” Taguchi laughs and probably gives Kame a headache with the sheer volume of it. “Can I meet you?” The window of silence makes Taguchi feel suddenly shy and intrusive. “Ah! I’m being silly. Of course you must have made plans. Sorry, I’ll-”
“It’s not that!” Kame’s voice rushes in. “I just… I’m not dressed up.”
“Oh,” Taguchi says like he understands even though he has no idea why that would matter. It’s not like they planned this. It’s not like it’s a date or. Or. “Can I buy you cake?”
“What?”
“Cake. Only the conbini kind though since I think the patisserie is closed now.”
Taguchi’s palms are sweaty and he wipes them on his thighs.
He hears the breath that comes before, “…Okay. You’ll meet me in ten?”
“Five,” Taguchi returns. He’s already standing up and digging an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. “Kame,” he squeezes in before the call disconnects.
“Hmm?”
“Happy Birthday.”
-
The cake has no pretty icing but Taguchi buys a pack of match sticks to serve as candles. He digs into the pocket of his jeans for any small change and pulls along a crumpled slip of paper. Taguchi smiles when he unfurls it and hands the coupon over. Good thing he kept the coupon even though he didn't end up using it. Even better, it's still valid for redemption.
“I’ll have two drinks too, please.”
The cashier waves the coupon and nudges towards the poster hanging on the wall behind him. It’s some sort of lottery.
“Want to enter? Winner gets two tickets to a resort. All expenses covered.”
“Why not?” Taguchi shrugs and signs his number on the coupon before slipping it into the draw box.
Outside, Kame’s bark of laughter when Taguchi spears the matches into the cake makes Taguchi feel like he’s hit the jackpot.
“I can only fit five,” Taguchi says and lifts the cake roll for Kame to see. It’s dark out and the small flames reflect in Kame’s eyes like fireflies.
“Five is a good age to be. Some of my happiest years were spent on the playground, flipping skirts.” Kame takes a moment to laugh and then looks at him through the row of faux candles. “This is a pretty good year too. I might even call it a favourite.”
Taguchi smiles and it feels like his face is splitting into two. “Make a wish so that the next one is even better.”
-
This time, Taguchi only waits four days before he gives into the urge and dials Kame’s number again.
The call doesn’t go through.
Maybe Kame’s busy. Maybe he's taken. A lot of maybes-Taguchi doesn’t even know what Kame does for a living.
“You’re an idiot,” Uchi tells him when Taguchi camps out on his couch days afterwards, unable to get in touch with Kame. “According to you, you’ve known him for almost a year but you still don’t really know him.”
“He’s a baseball nerd who likes the smell of vanilla. He likes to help people. He has an ear pierced and has a habit of tilting his head. He’s awkward and likes red and is useless at giving directions.” Taguchi swallows. “I know his birthday.”
Taguchi doesn’t know about Kame’s family or where he lives, but he knows all this and that has to count for something, doesn’t it?
Uchi looks him over and then heaves a dramatic sigh.
“And here I thought I’d be your one and only…”
The burp of laughter that escapes him is welcomed.
-
A week later and Taguchi receives two tickets in an envelope.
Congratulations on your lucky draw!
When yet another call to Kame doesn't go through, he considers giving them to Uchi or his sister or even selling them to the highest bidder.
In the end, he slides the envelope under his bed.
-
This is one of the rare times Uchi doesn't have a girlfriend to go the firework festival with, so he drags Taguchi instead.
“I'm not a girlfriend replacement, just so you know,” he says, taking a bite of takoyaki.
“Nope, never,” Uchi says with a tiny wink. “You're just here to be my wingman.”
Some of the girls they're looking at start giggling whenever Uchi and Taguchi look at them. When it happened at the entrance, Taguchi thought there was something wrong with his clothes, but it turned out that some of the girls recognized him from the magazines.
“It's a start to superstardom, you see. Who knows what kind of ladies you would meet here?”
Taguchi isn't even interested in meeting someone new. He just wants to know if a certain someone, who, strictly speaking, isn't really very new, has been ignoring him. It's been bugging him for ages and giggling girls are the least of his worries.
“But I thought you'd be my one and only...”
And there's a friendly slap across his arm.
“Wingman,” Uchi finishes, “I'd be your one and only wingman.”
Taguchi fakes a pout. “Cheater.” Uchi has this magical way of cheering him up, perhaps being friends for almost an entire lifetime has that effect.
-
By the time the fireworks start, Uchi has already gotten comfortable with a group of university students who are all his kouhais, offering them, generally, “how to survive the final year project with Dr. Hotta” advices. Taguchi vaguely remembers Dr Hotta as this really eccentric professor in Uchi's university; he used to drive Uchi up the wall with his erratic way of evaluating essays.
It gets crowded really quickly soon, even Uchi comes back to his side, and Taguchi keeps his head raised to the sky. When the first streak of light burst in the air with a deafening explosion, the crowd cheers loudly. Taguchi too, cheers along and claps his hands until someone knocks him over and spills something on his pants.
“I'm sorry!” the person says as he bends down to pick up a spilled packet of food Taguchi assumes to be grilled octopus from the smell.
“It's ok,” Taguchi says and reaches out to his back pocket for a handkerchief.
“Dammit, I'm sorry, I've been having the worst luck-Taguchi?”
"Kame?" Taguchi says with a dopey thrill that numbs him. “Yo.”
“Hi,” Kame says, nodding courteously.
“He's Kame?” Uchi asks. “That Kame?”
“That Kame?”
This time, it's Taguchi who nods courteously. “He's Uchi, one of my closest friends, I sort of mentioned you one time..”
“He talks about you a lot.”
Kame laughs. “Your friend is really funny, we should hang out some time.”
Taguchi leans towards Uchi and whispers, “Wingman.”
Uchi just shrugs.
-
Somehow Taguchi is left alone with Kame. Uchi went to the toilet.
“I actually called you, quite a lot,” Taguchi says, not caring if he sounds silly. “I thought you didn't want me to call.”
Kame goes slightly pink in the face. “I'm sorry, I lost my phone, and I couldn't recover most of the things...so...I didn't know how to contact you.”
“You wanted to contact me?”
“Uhm, yes, I mean, I thought it would be great to hang out with you since we seemed to see each other so often and I've been so unlucky ever since I lost my phone, you wouldn't believe it, I think I'm cursed.”
“It's ok,” Taguchi laughs. He has really been worried for nothing.
“But really though, it's weird but I think you're my lucky charm.”
Taguchi's mind darts to the two tickets under his bed.
“Not weird at all, considering you're probably my lucky charm too.”
“Oh?”
“Remember that coupon that you gave me when we met...”
Kame seems puzzled. “Coupon...was then when...”
“When I asked you for directions?”
“Ah!”
“So I sort of used it, and it turned out that I could enter a lottery with it, and then I got two tickets to a resort. Maybe you could come with me?”
Kame lets out a relieved laugh. “That's yours, go with someone.”
“No!” Taguchi says immediately, he senses that Kame might get the wrong idea. “I mean, I don't have anyone particular to go with, and since the coupon was yours to begin with...”
“Oh,” Kame says knowingly.
“I thought we could perhaps share the luck at least,” Taguchi smiles as he finishes his sentences. It's like he's growing surer as he talks.
Kame gives him a look like he's considering something, then bursts out in laughter.
“Did you just use a pickup line on me?”
Taguchi laughs along. He has to be original; after all, lucky charms don't come by easy.
- end.