Part Two: Then
More parts of All Roads aka The Fic That Laughs in My Face :(
Back to Part One: Cairo
Word Count: 4572 (out of ?)
Part Two: Then
Jin went to Thailand for the first time when he was 17 - old enough to know the magic of travel though young enough to believe that, after five years as an idol, he was inured to such things. With Johnny’s Juniors, Jin had toured Okinawa, Taiwan, Hawaii, and Los Angeles, city of angels. He’d been the first in his class to leave the country, the first to appear on television, the first to know what it felt like to hold Kame’s hand on the streets of Chinatown while old women tried to sell them strips of dried eel.
He could count on one hand the number of firsts that had nothing to do with Johnny’s. Thailand - exotic, mysterious Thailand - wasn’t included.
On the plane, Jin sat with Kame in the second row. Nobody wanted the seat behind the adults and Jin knew, with a startling clarity kids possessed, that nobody wanted to sit beside Kame. Kame spoke fast and shrill and was prone to moments of depressive silence. When he did speak, his words were laced with conviction like he judged and found everyone wanting. It was the same high standard Kame held for himself and the entire reason he threw a faster curveball than his teammates and got screams despite his unfortunate genetic predisposition for small eyes and large eyebrows. Jin liked that about Kame; Kame knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of doing what it took to get it.
He thought Johnny had seen it too the morning of their audition.
That day, Jin had worn a jersey and red trackpants in the spitting image of Akita Yutaka. The Kashima Antlers had just won the Emperor’s Cup and were going on to conquer the world. Jin had seen a commercial about it the other day: Akita played soccer, got the prettiest girls, and drank Japan’s number one beer. The 2 on his jersey symbolized Jin’s intent to follow after his footsteps.
He hadn’t expected everyone else to wear the same jersey. Even though Reio had been the most excited about Jin’s audition (possibly because he got to play in the game Jin was missing), Jin had still had certain expectations, hopes he’d kept secret. Not much about the audition was like anything Jin expected.
The panel of judges sat along a long table - one that gave off the impression of being made of cheap plastic beneath the white linen cloth - and clasped their hands gravely in front of themselves, peering above the rims of imaginary horn-rimmed glasses. Half of them were as young, if not younger, than him and took their job so seriously it seemed like they were playing pretend.
Jin went first (“Akanishi Jin from Tokyo. Fourteen years old. B blood-type. I want to join Johnny’s because I want to be in show business. I can sing and dance, but I don’t know how to do a back flip.”). The good thing about being number one was that he got to stand in the front row. The ones who weren’t so lucky had to walk up from the back of the gym, trying not to make their shoes squeak too much.
He looked up when Kame spoke only because Kame’s voice reminded him of an odd combination of Donald Duck on helium. He was startled by the reflection he saw in the floor-length mirror: the little kid with spiked hair and a broken nose. Everybody else who’d gone after Jin had followed his format, and there were only so many kinds of blood types a person could have. Kame, however, said, “Kamenashi Kazuya. I like baseball. I played in the Junior World Championship, and I’m going to play in the Olympics one day.”
A wave of nervous amusement rippled through the boys. Kame remained composed like he didn’t know two hundred boys in Akita jerseys were laughing at him. “So uncool,” the boy next to Jin snickered.
Jin disagreed. Looking at the set of Kame’s jaw, Jin believed Kame. Kame had a quiet confidence that made Jin believe he could be whatever he wanted. It drew Jin’s attention.
So, like a moth to a flame, Jin sought him out later in the hallway of the NHK building. Jin was there alone. His parents had dropped him off earlier with the promise to come back in the evening after Reio’s game. He tried hard not to look at the other kids with their Kashima Antler’s sweats, Nike shoes, and mothers who tried to wipe invisible dirt off their noses as they waited for the results. Kame, in his outdated baseball jersey, seemed as awkward as Jin felt.
“I thought I was going to practice,” Kame confessed. His eyebrows did an odd inward crawl that reminded Jin of caterpillars on tattered leaves. “This Johnny’s thing…” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even sign up.”
“Don’t you want to be an idol?” Jin wanted to know. He had talked about nothing else for an entire week before his parents, after looking at another one of Jin‘s test scores, decided that he had the right way of things. They‘d sent in his application some time after that as Jin filled his time with soccer. Reio‘s soccer game was supposed to be his. It was, Jin realized, not entirely fair. Still, he forged on. “Smap and Kinki Kids. You’ve seen them on TV, right? You think they’re cool, right?”
“Masahiro’s cooler.”
Jin didn’t know any Masahiros.
Kame stood up straighter. His hair went leaner and taller, the entire length of him stretching toward the ceiling. It made it all the more apparent that Kame only came up to Jin’s chin. “Masahiro Abe. Third baseman for the Giants. Named rookie of the year. Forty-two defensive plays. Thirty-one homeruns. I’m going to be just like him.”
Jin thought about it for a minute then pointed to his shirt. “This is Akita Yutaka’s jersey.”
“I know that.”
“He’s with the Kashima Antlers. They took the Emperor’s cup this year.”
Kame nodded, looking down the wide hallway. It bisected the building, branching off into studios, conference rooms, and auditoriums like the one they’d just left. Signs pasted on the doors marked each important and official. Windows made up the entire west side. The sun, barely visible when Jin entered, shone low through the glass, outlining the clusters of waiting families in light.
Kame’s features rearranged when he looked at them, turning almost soft. Unguarded. Jin didn’t what it meant. Suddenly gripped with the need to make Kame look at him, he blurted out, “I beat Takuma last week.”
Kame blinked, turning back almost unwillingly from the families.
“In soccer,” Jin explained. “I played Takuma last week in soccer, and I beat him. By two whole points.”
“Does Takuma play for Tokyo?”
“Takume’s my neighbor. But,” Jin added, unwilling to lose Kame’s interest now that he had it. “He’s as tall as the ceiling and twice as wide. He has bull’s blood in him.”
In reality, Jin didn‘t believe that rumor. Takume was bigger than two kids combined and wasn’t afraid of making sure everybody knew that too. He’d been there for as long as anybody could remember, a fixture in the tiny courtyard outside the complex. Nobody knew which apartment he lived in. Certainly, nobody had ever seen his parents. Sometimes at night, the apartment would tremble slightly and Jin would imagine it was the adult Takumes rearranging their weight somewhere above him - laborious like walruses, causing earthquakes with each step.
Still, Takume had cried when Jin kicked him in the shin. It was evidence Takume wasn’t a bull but Kame didn’t need to know that. Not when Kame was looking at Jin with wide shocked eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You should be working to become Japan’s best soccer player, and I‘ll become the world‘s best baseball player. People will be impressed we know each other.”
Jin liked the idea. Soccer players didn’t have to take tests either, and nobody cared whether or not they knew how to multiply in their head. Then he frowned. “Why do you get to be the world’s best player?”
“Because I’m Kazuya,” Kame said like it was obvious. “My parents named me after the character from Touch. It’s my destiny.”
“Didn’t one of them die?” Jin asked. He realized what he’d said. “Not that I’m trying to say anything. I’m sure Kazuya’s the brother who -”
“Kazuya died.”
“Oh,” Jin said. Down the hall, a man was posting something on a bulletin board, drawing a growing crowd. Jin could see the top of his head bobbing as he bent down, reached up, then repeated the action.
Kame scuffed the tip of his shoe on the floor, fidgeting with the number plate affixed to his shirt, making the numbers almost indiscernible. His nails were blunt and cut to the quick, bits of dirt still present despite somebody’s best efforts to clean them.
“Dad should have made Yuya audition instead. I’m supposed to be the pitcher of the family, not the celebrity.”
“Your parents -”
“They’re here,” Kame said quickly. “They just went to get something.”
So did mine, Jin thought. It did not mean they would be back anytime soon. Out loud, he said, “I think they’re posting the results.”
Kame released his number plate though not before sparing a glance down at Jin’s pinned to the bottom of his shirt. “One. That’s a lucky number.”
“Of course,” Jin said. “It means I’m going to be famous for sure.”
~
Jin stumbled back when he opened the door, hit by a solid wave of humidity and the austere brightness of their room. His suitcase bumped painfully against his shin. Two beds lay side-by-side before a sliding door that had been left open to stifling Thailand summer. Beyond the lime green curtains, palm trees swayed. Their trunks extended down to white concrete and the chlorine blue pool they’d passed entering the hotel.
Kame and Jin’s room stood at the end of the hallway. By the time they reached it, they’d seen off - in pairs of twos - everybody else in their group. Johnny’s Juniors had an entire section of the hotel reserved to themselves - a practice Jin did not start thinking of as troublesome until years later. Then, he felt flush with the thrill of anticipation, the warmth of being a part of something great, something special.
He was happy he’d gotten to bunk with Kame. Koki tended to tear KAT-TUN’s name up every chance he got, and Ueda claimed to drink blood. The worst Kame ever did on a trip was turn nocturnal.
(And Jin hadn’t minded much when Kame dragged him out of bed to go explore the streets of New York, city nightlights reflected in Kame’s eyes wide with awe. Jin had been unable to look away despite the cold and people who tried to stop them along the streets. Kame had woken Jin up with a hand on his wrist, and the first thing Jin had seen were Kame’s eyes, bright in the darkness of their room. It was funny how captivating Jin found Kame’s eyes even though they were small, narrow, and not at all pretty. Back then, not much about Kame had been pretty.)
“Leave it,” Kame said, waving Jin away from the balcony. “I’m sick of air conditioning. I’d rather melt.”
He lay on the innermost bed. The heat wouldn’t reach him as easily, Jin thought sullenly, not as easily as it would Jin. Still, he left the door untouched and focused on trying to sink into the sheets.
The blanket was scratchy beneath his fingers and smelled vaguely of dust. Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend it was the soft fur of a tiger he was touching. They would be going to the zoo tomorrow where they’d been promised baby tigers and monkeys. Jin smiled, imagining Kame cradling a baby monkey. Then he thought about Kame cradling his hand that morning and something within Jin’s stomach lurched.
Indigestion, Jin concluded. Plane food never mixed well with jetlag. He closed his eyes.
~
Kame was rummaging through his duffel bag when Jin woke some time later. It was the noise that had woken him up, Kame’s low key muttering that put him at ease even as he struggled to remember why his hair was sweat soaked against a foreign pillow. The clock said four fifteen. Jin couldn’t have been asleep for two hours; he felt like he’d barely closed his eyes for two minutes.
“Here,” Kame said.
Jin grunted when something landed on him. He nearly dropped the pack of cigarettes when he saw what it was.
Kame laughed. “You should see the look on your face.” He plucked it from Jin’s hand, managing to avoid touching Jin even as he rolled from the bed down to the floor, all but a tuft of Kame’s dyed brown hair disappearing from view. “My brother made me go buy him a pack a week ago. The vending machine gave me two so I kept one for a special occasion.”
“This is a special occasion?” Jin asked.
“Isn’t it?” Kame grinned up at him, waggled his eyebrows. “It’s going to be.”
Jin felt a smile work its way across his lips despite himself. He slid down to sit beside Kame, leaving a sweat trail behind on rumpled sheets. “What brand is it?”
“Virginia Slim.” Kame pronounced it “ba-ji-ni-ah su-li-mu”, stumbling over every other syllable.
“That’s not how you say it!”
Kame blushed then threw the pack at Jin who caught and turned it over, tracing his fingers over the embossed label, twisting his tongue up in knots trying to work out the sounds. He’d practiced the alphabet that very week, working on getting his r’s and hard d’s right. Jimmy Mackey still laughed whenever Jin tried to speak to him in English but Jimmy Mackey laughed most of the time like he was privy to some joke nobody else got. Mothers disliked that about Jimmy though that just made him all the more popular at sleepovers.
“The boy is odd,” Jin’s mother had said after one before realizing Jin was still in the room. His mother tended to be worse at hiding her feelings than most other adults Jin knew. His father said that it was because she was young when she had Jin and young at heart still.
So Jin knew he was getting better at English because she said so. She also asked him to sing Western songs more often. When he’d been younger, she’d put on Jimmy Hendrix, Michael Jackson, The Police, U2, Sting, even some Elvis and dance with him around the living room. It was only natural, Jin thought, for him to be better at English than Kame.
Kame wrinkled his nose at Jin’s attempt. “That’s the same,” he complained, taking the pack back.
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t!”
“It -” Kame looked up. He’d peeled away the plastic wrap and teased open the box. A thin white cylinder lay between his fingers - “Alright, it isn’t,” he conceded.
Mollified, Jin scooted forward, rough carpet scratching the back of his thighs, until their knees bumped together. They both hunched forward over the one stick as Kame took out a lighter. It took three tries for the flame to burst into life and waver violently against stifling Thailand humidity. Jin held his breath as Kame brought the flame closer to the cigarette.
Kame hesitated. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Yes.” Jin lied.
“I haven’t,” Kame confessed, and immediately, Jin wished he’d said the same.
“Give it here then,” he said.
The cigarette slid out from its box easily and perched between Jin’s middle and forefinger just like in the movies, long elegant white wrapped top sticking out expectantly. The lighter too didn’t give him any problems. All the boys learned by grade school how to start one.
Jin hesitated bringing the two together, mind skipping suddenly to the bar on his way to practice that evoked the sense of smoke: a dark passageway that led to anywhere. If work ran late, Jin could catch the occasional snatches of jazz and something huskier emanating from its cavernous depths like a forlorn lover. He had seen enough cigarettes in movies, TV ads, and drafty street bars that he knew what to do with the stick he held in his hand.
It felt somehow wrong to do it in broad daylight, shadows of palm trees dancing across Kame’s face. The air clean and blue. Jin wished, at least, for some jazz.
He let the flame die out. “We should put on some music.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Kame asked and snatched the lighter from him.
Jin turned on the radio as Kame lit the cigarette. It was on some news channel. The sharp jabber of a foreign language, alien and mysterious, washed over him in waves. It felt like a code waiting to be deciphered. Jin wanted to travel the world with a fedora cocked sideways on his head and two women at his arms, cracking codes everywhere he went. There would be nothing he couldn’t understand. Nothing he couldn’t do.
Kame waved him over. Quickly, Jin switched the channel over to some light rock before sitting back down. Kame offered him the cigarette. It was warm from Kame’s fingers and quite possibly the fire. Kame had already worked through a good inch of it, leaving soft gray ash at the tip.
It occurred to Jin briefly that this was an indirect kiss.
“Here,” Kame said, nudging a hotel magazine at him.
Jin tipped the ash onto it. “Is this a smoking room?”
“I don’t think so. I couldn’t find any ash trays.” Kame smudged the ash with his fingers, drawing smokey lines over the magazine’s blue. “Think we’ll get in trouble?”
“Maybe.” The cigarette tasted vaguely of pinewood and a yakiniku grill left to sizzle for too long. Jin didn’t inhale. “What do you care? You have baseball.”
Kame shrugged. The gray line grew thicker. The pads of his fingers were nearly black with soot. He left fingerprints everywhere he touched. “I haven’t been able to play for a while.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the best pitcher in Johnny’s.”
Kame looked pleased then vaguely worried. “I think I upset some of the seniors at the Sports Day. Like Koichi. He didn’t seem happy.”
“Forget him. He’s just jealous he’s not the world’s best baseball player. Or a good dancer. ‘Dance in synch! What do you think you’re here for?’”
Kame hushed him though the corners of his eyes crinkled from the effort of not laughing out loud. Satisfied, Jin took another long drag from the cigarette, this time holding the smoke in his mouth for a second before exhaling. It shot up in the air before disappearing.
“Do you like it?” Kame asked, eyes trained on Jin’s mouth.
Jin pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe,” he said finally. He held the cigarette out to Kame. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Kame said too quickly and flushed, eyes finally leaving Jin’s mouth.
Jin blinked. “Do you really?”
“No. It’s boring.”
“Here,” Jin said and leaned forward. Kame squeaked when their lips met.
Surprise made Kame’s lips hard. That close, Jin could smell the apricot of Kame’s shampoo, and it reminded him of his mother.
It was a chaste kiss. Their mouths stayed closed, and Kame’s wind-chapped lips caught on Jin’s, tugging it down. The dry rasp sent sparks through Jin’s nerves. The kiss ended as quickly as it began. Jin brought the cigarette up to his lips to hide the trembling of his hands and looked away, focusing on curling his tongue around the smoke.
He hadn’t meant it to be that way. If anything, kisses were fun in Jin’s experience: the quick kisses beneath the stairwell, the shy ones after hearing a classmate’s confession that were more fun talking about later than during. But he’d never kissed another boy before. Maybe it was different - why the girls his year giggled about it - or maybe it was Kame that made it scary - forbidden and thrilling.
Kame was still staring when he turned back.
“I thought it would be fun,” Jin said truthfully.
Kame’s brows shot up. He had not gotten used to plucking them yet and there was a blank spot where pale skin quivered.
Jin couldn’t help laughing.
Kame threw the pack of cigarettes at him, scowling. “Idiot. Give some warning next time.”
“Next time?”
Jin lit another stick while Kame sputtered. It lit quickly this time and Jin only inhaled a tiny bit of smoke the wrong way. The cigarette was starting to feel more familiar between his fingers. He gestured for Kame to take a drag with him. Kame did so with his left so they were mirror images of one another.
“I can get used to this,” Jin said though he didn’t feel a thing.
“I guess.” Kame brightened. “Hey. Tomorrow we should sit together at lunch. There’ll be cameras in there. You could eat my tomatoes or we can share dessert. Or -”
Jin leaned forward. He wasn’t that keen on sharing dessert. “Or?”
Kame kissed him. Jin flinched in surprise and Kame ended up grazing the side of his mouth. Kame’s hands, small and strong, on Jin’s shoulders left more of an impression.
Jin fell back. “You just - You said -”
Kame only smirked back at him and puffed on his cigarette out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like a seasoned smoker. Jin stared, wondering how he managed to pull it off.
“Is that the way your dad smokes?” Jin remembered the man standing in the hallway of NHK. He could still see his hands - one heavy on Kame’s head, the other near his mouth, steadying a cigarette. “That’s the way your dad smokes.”
“It’s the way I smoke.”
Jin couldn’t argue with that.
Kame put his hands behind his head and exhaled straight up like a chimney. Jin snickered, imagining Kame as a house. He would be the long, skinny kind without any food inside.
“I’ve decided. I’m going to take over the world.”
Jin laughed again. “Is that some kind of evil confession?”
Kame kicked him. “No.” He turned over and propped himself up on his elbows, eyes wide. He gestured with one hand as he spoke. “I’ve decided I’m going to take this as far as I can. I’m going to be the best idol Japan’s ever seen. After Japan’s mine, I’ll expand into other countries like -”
“Hollywood,” Jin supplied.
“Like Hollywood. Then England and France and -”
“ - Bollywood.”
Kame nodded. “Right. And, before you know it, the entire world will have to listen to what I say. Then they’ll have to let me play as much baseball as I want. I’ll play in the Major Leagues and the Olympics. I’ll get to assemble a team of the best players. I’ll make them give you your own soccer team too,” he added possibly because Jin was starting to drowse, lulled by the cadence of Kame’s voice and the warmth of their room.
Jin sat up straighter, affronted that Kame thought he needed to be babied. He was, after all, older than Kame by two years. “I don’t need it. I’m going to be the ruler of the universe.”
“The universe?”
“Oh.” A thought came suddenly to Jin. “Don’t worry. The first thing I’ll do as ruler is give Earth independence. That way, I won’t be your boss. We’ll be equals, see?”
“The universe?” Kame repeated. His mouth worked, and Jin wondered if it was a sign for him to kiss Kame again.
Kame burst out laughing before he could. He pitched sideways, overcome by full-body spasms. “You can’t be ruler of the universe! There’s no such thing!”
Jin pouted. “Yes there is. If you’re going to be the ruler of the world, I’m going to be the ruler of the universe.”
Kame let Jin turn him over onto his back, following the nudge of Jin’s hand with surprising agreeableness even when Jin pinned him down by the shoulders and clambered on top. He was still grinning widely. His eyes were narrowed so much they seemed closed. A sliver of black, glittering wet, peeked through. Jin wanted to touch them. He settled for brushing his fingers against Kame’s forehead then nose and finally across to eyelids that trembled closed, lashes fluttering against Jin’s skin. Kame had stopped laughing.
“Kame,” Jin said.
“Hmm?”
“Would you really give me my own team?”
Kame grinned. Jin felt it brush against the inside of his wrist, tentative like a newborn moth. He would have followed that slow upward tilt of lips if his hand wasn’t already holding Kame’s eyes closed.
“Don’t need to if you rule the universe.”
“If I didn’t?” Jin pressed.
“Maybe. You have to be nice to me.” Kame brushed Jin’s hand away. He looked up at Jin seriously. “And you have to be my friend.”
“Aren’t we already?”
“Yes.” Kame blinked like the answer surprised him. He repeated with more confidence, “Yes, we are.”
Jin hid his answering smile in Kame’s shoulder.
~
They forgot about the cigarettes until the smell of burning paper reminded them, chasing them out to the balcony and clean, crisp air. Jin’s feet were wet from when he tried to stomp out the fire just as Kame emptied the contents of a vase over it. His pants were wet too. Bits of bright blue pebbles clung to his heels and the arch of his ankles.
Kame pulled him into the sunlight. The sun loved him, changing his hair into the finest gold. His smile grew deeper, eyes disappearing in an upward curve.
Sun child, Jin thought irrationally. Kame was a child of the sun, small and spry, skin baked an earthy bronze. He’d been hardy and solid, every inch refreshingly upfront. There had been no mystery, no prettiness that threatened his baseball scabbed knees. Jin wasn’t sure he liked the way Kame was changing.
Someone called Kame’s name before Jin could tell him. He looked down. A handful of girls stood outside the hotel grounds, half straddling the gate. They had uchiwas painted ‘Akakame’ in neon pink and greens. Jin flushed, remembering the kiss. He forced his mind away. That had been something different. Unrelated.
“Lets go back inside.”
“In a minute,” Kame said. His eyes were on the girls. They screamed in response. In the daylight, surrounded by stark white concrete and the smell of car exhaust, it felt wrong. Intrusive, almost. Jin turned away.
“Are you coming?”
“In a minute,” Kame repeated. Despite his words, he swung a leg over the railing and hauled himself up, startling Jin and the girls beneath who started screaming louder. Jin felt the same way. He lunged forward to pull Kame back, thinking illogically that he was going to jump, wanting to shout, “There aren’t enough of them down there to break your fall!”, before he realized Kame had stopped with one leg over the bars, balanced on them.
The girls shrieked in delight. Kame waved back, laughing.
Jin stopped with one arm outstretched. The fading sunlight formed a halo around Kame, putting gold in his hair and sparkles on the tips of his lashes. He looked like a star. Jin knew then that Kame would be famous, and felt, for the first time, alone.
Onward to Part Three(a): Tokyo
Back to Part One: Cairo
Word Count: 4572 (out of ?)
Part Two: Then
Jin went to Thailand for the first time when he was 17 - old enough to know the magic of travel though young enough to believe that, after five years as an idol, he was inured to such things. With Johnny’s Juniors, Jin had toured Okinawa, Taiwan, Hawaii, and Los Angeles, city of angels. He’d been the first in his class to leave the country, the first to appear on television, the first to know what it felt like to hold Kame’s hand on the streets of Chinatown while old women tried to sell them strips of dried eel.
He could count on one hand the number of firsts that had nothing to do with Johnny’s. Thailand - exotic, mysterious Thailand - wasn’t included.
On the plane, Jin sat with Kame in the second row. Nobody wanted the seat behind the adults and Jin knew, with a startling clarity kids possessed, that nobody wanted to sit beside Kame. Kame spoke fast and shrill and was prone to moments of depressive silence. When he did speak, his words were laced with conviction like he judged and found everyone wanting. It was the same high standard Kame held for himself and the entire reason he threw a faster curveball than his teammates and got screams despite his unfortunate genetic predisposition for small eyes and large eyebrows. Jin liked that about Kame; Kame knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of doing what it took to get it.
He thought Johnny had seen it too the morning of their audition.
That day, Jin had worn a jersey and red trackpants in the spitting image of Akita Yutaka. The Kashima Antlers had just won the Emperor’s Cup and were going on to conquer the world. Jin had seen a commercial about it the other day: Akita played soccer, got the prettiest girls, and drank Japan’s number one beer. The 2 on his jersey symbolized Jin’s intent to follow after his footsteps.
He hadn’t expected everyone else to wear the same jersey. Even though Reio had been the most excited about Jin’s audition (possibly because he got to play in the game Jin was missing), Jin had still had certain expectations, hopes he’d kept secret. Not much about the audition was like anything Jin expected.
The panel of judges sat along a long table - one that gave off the impression of being made of cheap plastic beneath the white linen cloth - and clasped their hands gravely in front of themselves, peering above the rims of imaginary horn-rimmed glasses. Half of them were as young, if not younger, than him and took their job so seriously it seemed like they were playing pretend.
Jin went first (“Akanishi Jin from Tokyo. Fourteen years old. B blood-type. I want to join Johnny’s because I want to be in show business. I can sing and dance, but I don’t know how to do a back flip.”). The good thing about being number one was that he got to stand in the front row. The ones who weren’t so lucky had to walk up from the back of the gym, trying not to make their shoes squeak too much.
He looked up when Kame spoke only because Kame’s voice reminded him of an odd combination of Donald Duck on helium. He was startled by the reflection he saw in the floor-length mirror: the little kid with spiked hair and a broken nose. Everybody else who’d gone after Jin had followed his format, and there were only so many kinds of blood types a person could have. Kame, however, said, “Kamenashi Kazuya. I like baseball. I played in the Junior World Championship, and I’m going to play in the Olympics one day.”
A wave of nervous amusement rippled through the boys. Kame remained composed like he didn’t know two hundred boys in Akita jerseys were laughing at him. “So uncool,” the boy next to Jin snickered.
Jin disagreed. Looking at the set of Kame’s jaw, Jin believed Kame. Kame had a quiet confidence that made Jin believe he could be whatever he wanted. It drew Jin’s attention.
So, like a moth to a flame, Jin sought him out later in the hallway of the NHK building. Jin was there alone. His parents had dropped him off earlier with the promise to come back in the evening after Reio’s game. He tried hard not to look at the other kids with their Kashima Antler’s sweats, Nike shoes, and mothers who tried to wipe invisible dirt off their noses as they waited for the results. Kame, in his outdated baseball jersey, seemed as awkward as Jin felt.
“I thought I was going to practice,” Kame confessed. His eyebrows did an odd inward crawl that reminded Jin of caterpillars on tattered leaves. “This Johnny’s thing…” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even sign up.”
“Don’t you want to be an idol?” Jin wanted to know. He had talked about nothing else for an entire week before his parents, after looking at another one of Jin‘s test scores, decided that he had the right way of things. They‘d sent in his application some time after that as Jin filled his time with soccer. Reio‘s soccer game was supposed to be his. It was, Jin realized, not entirely fair. Still, he forged on. “Smap and Kinki Kids. You’ve seen them on TV, right? You think they’re cool, right?”
“Masahiro’s cooler.”
Jin didn’t know any Masahiros.
Kame stood up straighter. His hair went leaner and taller, the entire length of him stretching toward the ceiling. It made it all the more apparent that Kame only came up to Jin’s chin. “Masahiro Abe. Third baseman for the Giants. Named rookie of the year. Forty-two defensive plays. Thirty-one homeruns. I’m going to be just like him.”
Jin thought about it for a minute then pointed to his shirt. “This is Akita Yutaka’s jersey.”
“I know that.”
“He’s with the Kashima Antlers. They took the Emperor’s cup this year.”
Kame nodded, looking down the wide hallway. It bisected the building, branching off into studios, conference rooms, and auditoriums like the one they’d just left. Signs pasted on the doors marked each important and official. Windows made up the entire west side. The sun, barely visible when Jin entered, shone low through the glass, outlining the clusters of waiting families in light.
Kame’s features rearranged when he looked at them, turning almost soft. Unguarded. Jin didn’t what it meant. Suddenly gripped with the need to make Kame look at him, he blurted out, “I beat Takuma last week.”
Kame blinked, turning back almost unwillingly from the families.
“In soccer,” Jin explained. “I played Takuma last week in soccer, and I beat him. By two whole points.”
“Does Takuma play for Tokyo?”
“Takume’s my neighbor. But,” Jin added, unwilling to lose Kame’s interest now that he had it. “He’s as tall as the ceiling and twice as wide. He has bull’s blood in him.”
In reality, Jin didn‘t believe that rumor. Takume was bigger than two kids combined and wasn’t afraid of making sure everybody knew that too. He’d been there for as long as anybody could remember, a fixture in the tiny courtyard outside the complex. Nobody knew which apartment he lived in. Certainly, nobody had ever seen his parents. Sometimes at night, the apartment would tremble slightly and Jin would imagine it was the adult Takumes rearranging their weight somewhere above him - laborious like walruses, causing earthquakes with each step.
Still, Takume had cried when Jin kicked him in the shin. It was evidence Takume wasn’t a bull but Kame didn’t need to know that. Not when Kame was looking at Jin with wide shocked eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You should be working to become Japan’s best soccer player, and I‘ll become the world‘s best baseball player. People will be impressed we know each other.”
Jin liked the idea. Soccer players didn’t have to take tests either, and nobody cared whether or not they knew how to multiply in their head. Then he frowned. “Why do you get to be the world’s best player?”
“Because I’m Kazuya,” Kame said like it was obvious. “My parents named me after the character from Touch. It’s my destiny.”
“Didn’t one of them die?” Jin asked. He realized what he’d said. “Not that I’m trying to say anything. I’m sure Kazuya’s the brother who -”
“Kazuya died.”
“Oh,” Jin said. Down the hall, a man was posting something on a bulletin board, drawing a growing crowd. Jin could see the top of his head bobbing as he bent down, reached up, then repeated the action.
Kame scuffed the tip of his shoe on the floor, fidgeting with the number plate affixed to his shirt, making the numbers almost indiscernible. His nails were blunt and cut to the quick, bits of dirt still present despite somebody’s best efforts to clean them.
“Dad should have made Yuya audition instead. I’m supposed to be the pitcher of the family, not the celebrity.”
“Your parents -”
“They’re here,” Kame said quickly. “They just went to get something.”
So did mine, Jin thought. It did not mean they would be back anytime soon. Out loud, he said, “I think they’re posting the results.”
Kame released his number plate though not before sparing a glance down at Jin’s pinned to the bottom of his shirt. “One. That’s a lucky number.”
“Of course,” Jin said. “It means I’m going to be famous for sure.”
~
Jin stumbled back when he opened the door, hit by a solid wave of humidity and the austere brightness of their room. His suitcase bumped painfully against his shin. Two beds lay side-by-side before a sliding door that had been left open to stifling Thailand summer. Beyond the lime green curtains, palm trees swayed. Their trunks extended down to white concrete and the chlorine blue pool they’d passed entering the hotel.
Kame and Jin’s room stood at the end of the hallway. By the time they reached it, they’d seen off - in pairs of twos - everybody else in their group. Johnny’s Juniors had an entire section of the hotel reserved to themselves - a practice Jin did not start thinking of as troublesome until years later. Then, he felt flush with the thrill of anticipation, the warmth of being a part of something great, something special.
He was happy he’d gotten to bunk with Kame. Koki tended to tear KAT-TUN’s name up every chance he got, and Ueda claimed to drink blood. The worst Kame ever did on a trip was turn nocturnal.
(And Jin hadn’t minded much when Kame dragged him out of bed to go explore the streets of New York, city nightlights reflected in Kame’s eyes wide with awe. Jin had been unable to look away despite the cold and people who tried to stop them along the streets. Kame had woken Jin up with a hand on his wrist, and the first thing Jin had seen were Kame’s eyes, bright in the darkness of their room. It was funny how captivating Jin found Kame’s eyes even though they were small, narrow, and not at all pretty. Back then, not much about Kame had been pretty.)
“Leave it,” Kame said, waving Jin away from the balcony. “I’m sick of air conditioning. I’d rather melt.”
He lay on the innermost bed. The heat wouldn’t reach him as easily, Jin thought sullenly, not as easily as it would Jin. Still, he left the door untouched and focused on trying to sink into the sheets.
The blanket was scratchy beneath his fingers and smelled vaguely of dust. Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend it was the soft fur of a tiger he was touching. They would be going to the zoo tomorrow where they’d been promised baby tigers and monkeys. Jin smiled, imagining Kame cradling a baby monkey. Then he thought about Kame cradling his hand that morning and something within Jin’s stomach lurched.
Indigestion, Jin concluded. Plane food never mixed well with jetlag. He closed his eyes.
~
Kame was rummaging through his duffel bag when Jin woke some time later. It was the noise that had woken him up, Kame’s low key muttering that put him at ease even as he struggled to remember why his hair was sweat soaked against a foreign pillow. The clock said four fifteen. Jin couldn’t have been asleep for two hours; he felt like he’d barely closed his eyes for two minutes.
“Here,” Kame said.
Jin grunted when something landed on him. He nearly dropped the pack of cigarettes when he saw what it was.
Kame laughed. “You should see the look on your face.” He plucked it from Jin’s hand, managing to avoid touching Jin even as he rolled from the bed down to the floor, all but a tuft of Kame’s dyed brown hair disappearing from view. “My brother made me go buy him a pack a week ago. The vending machine gave me two so I kept one for a special occasion.”
“This is a special occasion?” Jin asked.
“Isn’t it?” Kame grinned up at him, waggled his eyebrows. “It’s going to be.”
Jin felt a smile work its way across his lips despite himself. He slid down to sit beside Kame, leaving a sweat trail behind on rumpled sheets. “What brand is it?”
“Virginia Slim.” Kame pronounced it “ba-ji-ni-ah su-li-mu”, stumbling over every other syllable.
“That’s not how you say it!”
Kame blushed then threw the pack at Jin who caught and turned it over, tracing his fingers over the embossed label, twisting his tongue up in knots trying to work out the sounds. He’d practiced the alphabet that very week, working on getting his r’s and hard d’s right. Jimmy Mackey still laughed whenever Jin tried to speak to him in English but Jimmy Mackey laughed most of the time like he was privy to some joke nobody else got. Mothers disliked that about Jimmy though that just made him all the more popular at sleepovers.
“The boy is odd,” Jin’s mother had said after one before realizing Jin was still in the room. His mother tended to be worse at hiding her feelings than most other adults Jin knew. His father said that it was because she was young when she had Jin and young at heart still.
So Jin knew he was getting better at English because she said so. She also asked him to sing Western songs more often. When he’d been younger, she’d put on Jimmy Hendrix, Michael Jackson, The Police, U2, Sting, even some Elvis and dance with him around the living room. It was only natural, Jin thought, for him to be better at English than Kame.
Kame wrinkled his nose at Jin’s attempt. “That’s the same,” he complained, taking the pack back.
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t!”
“It -” Kame looked up. He’d peeled away the plastic wrap and teased open the box. A thin white cylinder lay between his fingers - “Alright, it isn’t,” he conceded.
Mollified, Jin scooted forward, rough carpet scratching the back of his thighs, until their knees bumped together. They both hunched forward over the one stick as Kame took out a lighter. It took three tries for the flame to burst into life and waver violently against stifling Thailand humidity. Jin held his breath as Kame brought the flame closer to the cigarette.
Kame hesitated. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Yes.” Jin lied.
“I haven’t,” Kame confessed, and immediately, Jin wished he’d said the same.
“Give it here then,” he said.
The cigarette slid out from its box easily and perched between Jin’s middle and forefinger just like in the movies, long elegant white wrapped top sticking out expectantly. The lighter too didn’t give him any problems. All the boys learned by grade school how to start one.
Jin hesitated bringing the two together, mind skipping suddenly to the bar on his way to practice that evoked the sense of smoke: a dark passageway that led to anywhere. If work ran late, Jin could catch the occasional snatches of jazz and something huskier emanating from its cavernous depths like a forlorn lover. He had seen enough cigarettes in movies, TV ads, and drafty street bars that he knew what to do with the stick he held in his hand.
It felt somehow wrong to do it in broad daylight, shadows of palm trees dancing across Kame’s face. The air clean and blue. Jin wished, at least, for some jazz.
He let the flame die out. “We should put on some music.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Kame asked and snatched the lighter from him.
Jin turned on the radio as Kame lit the cigarette. It was on some news channel. The sharp jabber of a foreign language, alien and mysterious, washed over him in waves. It felt like a code waiting to be deciphered. Jin wanted to travel the world with a fedora cocked sideways on his head and two women at his arms, cracking codes everywhere he went. There would be nothing he couldn’t understand. Nothing he couldn’t do.
Kame waved him over. Quickly, Jin switched the channel over to some light rock before sitting back down. Kame offered him the cigarette. It was warm from Kame’s fingers and quite possibly the fire. Kame had already worked through a good inch of it, leaving soft gray ash at the tip.
It occurred to Jin briefly that this was an indirect kiss.
“Here,” Kame said, nudging a hotel magazine at him.
Jin tipped the ash onto it. “Is this a smoking room?”
“I don’t think so. I couldn’t find any ash trays.” Kame smudged the ash with his fingers, drawing smokey lines over the magazine’s blue. “Think we’ll get in trouble?”
“Maybe.” The cigarette tasted vaguely of pinewood and a yakiniku grill left to sizzle for too long. Jin didn’t inhale. “What do you care? You have baseball.”
Kame shrugged. The gray line grew thicker. The pads of his fingers were nearly black with soot. He left fingerprints everywhere he touched. “I haven’t been able to play for a while.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the best pitcher in Johnny’s.”
Kame looked pleased then vaguely worried. “I think I upset some of the seniors at the Sports Day. Like Koichi. He didn’t seem happy.”
“Forget him. He’s just jealous he’s not the world’s best baseball player. Or a good dancer. ‘Dance in synch! What do you think you’re here for?’”
Kame hushed him though the corners of his eyes crinkled from the effort of not laughing out loud. Satisfied, Jin took another long drag from the cigarette, this time holding the smoke in his mouth for a second before exhaling. It shot up in the air before disappearing.
“Do you like it?” Kame asked, eyes trained on Jin’s mouth.
Jin pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe,” he said finally. He held the cigarette out to Kame. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Kame said too quickly and flushed, eyes finally leaving Jin’s mouth.
Jin blinked. “Do you really?”
“No. It’s boring.”
“Here,” Jin said and leaned forward. Kame squeaked when their lips met.
Surprise made Kame’s lips hard. That close, Jin could smell the apricot of Kame’s shampoo, and it reminded him of his mother.
It was a chaste kiss. Their mouths stayed closed, and Kame’s wind-chapped lips caught on Jin’s, tugging it down. The dry rasp sent sparks through Jin’s nerves. The kiss ended as quickly as it began. Jin brought the cigarette up to his lips to hide the trembling of his hands and looked away, focusing on curling his tongue around the smoke.
He hadn’t meant it to be that way. If anything, kisses were fun in Jin’s experience: the quick kisses beneath the stairwell, the shy ones after hearing a classmate’s confession that were more fun talking about later than during. But he’d never kissed another boy before. Maybe it was different - why the girls his year giggled about it - or maybe it was Kame that made it scary - forbidden and thrilling.
Kame was still staring when he turned back.
“I thought it would be fun,” Jin said truthfully.
Kame’s brows shot up. He had not gotten used to plucking them yet and there was a blank spot where pale skin quivered.
Jin couldn’t help laughing.
Kame threw the pack of cigarettes at him, scowling. “Idiot. Give some warning next time.”
“Next time?”
Jin lit another stick while Kame sputtered. It lit quickly this time and Jin only inhaled a tiny bit of smoke the wrong way. The cigarette was starting to feel more familiar between his fingers. He gestured for Kame to take a drag with him. Kame did so with his left so they were mirror images of one another.
“I can get used to this,” Jin said though he didn’t feel a thing.
“I guess.” Kame brightened. “Hey. Tomorrow we should sit together at lunch. There’ll be cameras in there. You could eat my tomatoes or we can share dessert. Or -”
Jin leaned forward. He wasn’t that keen on sharing dessert. “Or?”
Kame kissed him. Jin flinched in surprise and Kame ended up grazing the side of his mouth. Kame’s hands, small and strong, on Jin’s shoulders left more of an impression.
Jin fell back. “You just - You said -”
Kame only smirked back at him and puffed on his cigarette out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like a seasoned smoker. Jin stared, wondering how he managed to pull it off.
“Is that the way your dad smokes?” Jin remembered the man standing in the hallway of NHK. He could still see his hands - one heavy on Kame’s head, the other near his mouth, steadying a cigarette. “That’s the way your dad smokes.”
“It’s the way I smoke.”
Jin couldn’t argue with that.
Kame put his hands behind his head and exhaled straight up like a chimney. Jin snickered, imagining Kame as a house. He would be the long, skinny kind without any food inside.
“I’ve decided. I’m going to take over the world.”
Jin laughed again. “Is that some kind of evil confession?”
Kame kicked him. “No.” He turned over and propped himself up on his elbows, eyes wide. He gestured with one hand as he spoke. “I’ve decided I’m going to take this as far as I can. I’m going to be the best idol Japan’s ever seen. After Japan’s mine, I’ll expand into other countries like -”
“Hollywood,” Jin supplied.
“Like Hollywood. Then England and France and -”
“ - Bollywood.”
Kame nodded. “Right. And, before you know it, the entire world will have to listen to what I say. Then they’ll have to let me play as much baseball as I want. I’ll play in the Major Leagues and the Olympics. I’ll get to assemble a team of the best players. I’ll make them give you your own soccer team too,” he added possibly because Jin was starting to drowse, lulled by the cadence of Kame’s voice and the warmth of their room.
Jin sat up straighter, affronted that Kame thought he needed to be babied. He was, after all, older than Kame by two years. “I don’t need it. I’m going to be the ruler of the universe.”
“The universe?”
“Oh.” A thought came suddenly to Jin. “Don’t worry. The first thing I’ll do as ruler is give Earth independence. That way, I won’t be your boss. We’ll be equals, see?”
“The universe?” Kame repeated. His mouth worked, and Jin wondered if it was a sign for him to kiss Kame again.
Kame burst out laughing before he could. He pitched sideways, overcome by full-body spasms. “You can’t be ruler of the universe! There’s no such thing!”
Jin pouted. “Yes there is. If you’re going to be the ruler of the world, I’m going to be the ruler of the universe.”
Kame let Jin turn him over onto his back, following the nudge of Jin’s hand with surprising agreeableness even when Jin pinned him down by the shoulders and clambered on top. He was still grinning widely. His eyes were narrowed so much they seemed closed. A sliver of black, glittering wet, peeked through. Jin wanted to touch them. He settled for brushing his fingers against Kame’s forehead then nose and finally across to eyelids that trembled closed, lashes fluttering against Jin’s skin. Kame had stopped laughing.
“Kame,” Jin said.
“Hmm?”
“Would you really give me my own team?”
Kame grinned. Jin felt it brush against the inside of his wrist, tentative like a newborn moth. He would have followed that slow upward tilt of lips if his hand wasn’t already holding Kame’s eyes closed.
“Don’t need to if you rule the universe.”
“If I didn’t?” Jin pressed.
“Maybe. You have to be nice to me.” Kame brushed Jin’s hand away. He looked up at Jin seriously. “And you have to be my friend.”
“Aren’t we already?”
“Yes.” Kame blinked like the answer surprised him. He repeated with more confidence, “Yes, we are.”
Jin hid his answering smile in Kame’s shoulder.
~
They forgot about the cigarettes until the smell of burning paper reminded them, chasing them out to the balcony and clean, crisp air. Jin’s feet were wet from when he tried to stomp out the fire just as Kame emptied the contents of a vase over it. His pants were wet too. Bits of bright blue pebbles clung to his heels and the arch of his ankles.
Kame pulled him into the sunlight. The sun loved him, changing his hair into the finest gold. His smile grew deeper, eyes disappearing in an upward curve.
Sun child, Jin thought irrationally. Kame was a child of the sun, small and spry, skin baked an earthy bronze. He’d been hardy and solid, every inch refreshingly upfront. There had been no mystery, no prettiness that threatened his baseball scabbed knees. Jin wasn’t sure he liked the way Kame was changing.
Someone called Kame’s name before Jin could tell him. He looked down. A handful of girls stood outside the hotel grounds, half straddling the gate. They had uchiwas painted ‘Akakame’ in neon pink and greens. Jin flushed, remembering the kiss. He forced his mind away. That had been something different. Unrelated.
“Lets go back inside.”
“In a minute,” Kame said. His eyes were on the girls. They screamed in response. In the daylight, surrounded by stark white concrete and the smell of car exhaust, it felt wrong. Intrusive, almost. Jin turned away.
“Are you coming?”
“In a minute,” Kame repeated. Despite his words, he swung a leg over the railing and hauled himself up, startling Jin and the girls beneath who started screaming louder. Jin felt the same way. He lunged forward to pull Kame back, thinking illogically that he was going to jump, wanting to shout, “There aren’t enough of them down there to break your fall!”, before he realized Kame had stopped with one leg over the bars, balanced on them.
The girls shrieked in delight. Kame waved back, laughing.
Jin stopped with one arm outstretched. The fading sunlight formed a halo around Kame, putting gold in his hair and sparkles on the tips of his lashes. He looked like a star. Jin knew then that Kame would be famous, and felt, for the first time, alone.
Onward to Part Three(a): Tokyo