[03/03] Plans
Plans
April to May 2013
Summary
Fact A: A steady relationship was not yet in her schedule.
Fact B: He was not programmed to be serious anyway.
Assumption: They had to be good for each other.
Problem: They were too good for each other, in all the wrong ways.
A/N
[19.12, 26 May 2013] I try to understand Marina Shimazaki, the OC in this thing, and I find I don’t understand her at all. If I were her boyfriend, I’d have given up on her long ago.
Disclaimer
The mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
In the Philippines, the Narra tree is a popular choice for making furniture that last generations.
Words 4,594
Timetables
For Arashi
Part 2
July 2014
Monday
I ran my fork over the mango cheesecake we shared. “So what are you going to tell your mother? What did we do tonight?”
“Let’s see.” He took the edges of the slice, leaving the mango topping for me. I thought that very nice of him. “We had dinner at my favorite soba restaurant, where the owner actually came out of the kitchen and chatted with us for a while. And then we went around on our eleventh attempt at finding the best mango cheesecake in Tokyo. I’ll tell her we found another good recipe in Daikanyama, but we still both think the best one we’ve tasted so far is the one Akihabara.”
Doubtful, I shook my head.
“Doesn’t it sound suspicious? You didn’t even get me flowers. Don’t guys usually get their girlfriends flowers?” Licking the icing on my fork, I tried to find loopholes in his story. Then I frowned disapprovingly at him. “You didn’t even bother to get me roses - not even in the Script.”
“The Script sounds find to me,” Sho said. He calmly put his fork down, apparently savoring the aftertaste of the mango cheesecake. “Yep. I was right. I told you the one in Akihabara would still be better.”
“It’s improper to criticize the food you’re served in the restaurant that’s serving it,” I pointed out, nervously checking behind me to see if any of the staff was standing close. But there was only the cashier who stood behind the counter of the tiny store, wiping what seemed to be a jar of gummy bears. There weren’t even any other customers. “Besides, it’s not so bad. Just too much fluff.”
Sho pulled a face. “I’ve eaten enough mango cheesecakes in the past year than I’ll ever want to for the rest of my life. Can’t you find a new obsession to meddle with? The Search for the Perfect Soba, or something-”
“That wouldn’t be very exciting as I’m sure you’ve already tried that decades ago.”
“Marina.” Sho peered at me. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”
“Old.” I took another bite of my cake.
Suddenly, the lights in the cafe went out. I gasped - more dramatically than I would have wished to - and looked up to find Sho’s face looking perfectly tranquil under the glow of the outdoor street lamp. The yellow chairs of the empty shop weirdly reflected the minor sources of light from all over, and I could hear the air conditioner humming in the silence. I felt a chill creeping up my arms.
Sho suddenly blinked. “Why do you look so scared?”
Then the staff, in their pale yellow uniform, walked out of the kitchens bearing a covered flat package, the ones not holding yellow balloons bearing yellow candles instead. Beside the guys carrying the cake, a girl walked towards us with a bouquet of calla lilies. I looked at Sho with wide eyes. He smiled awkwardly and shrugged.
“It feels awkward putting stuff in the Script that didn’t happen in reality,” he whispered. “So while we’re at it, why not?” He cleared his throat. “Besides, their mango torte’s supposed to be really good.”
Dazedly, I gazed into the flat package. There was a mango torte in there, with a word formed in whipped cream over it. Daisuki. I blushed furiously just as the lights in the restaurant went back on, and hid behind my hand to conceal my subsequent embarrassment. He was really good at surprises, this man.
When I came to, the staff had shuffled back into their original positions, and Sho was fumbling with the box of the mango torte, one hand holding the bouquet of lilies. Realizing I had regained my senses, he pushed the flowers into my arms. He seemed remarkably embarrassed as well. “Now the Script will do, won’t it?”
“It will,” I agreed weakly, reaching over to smell the lilies. It was a good thing we had exchanged information on our favorites long ago. Knowing Sho, if he hadn’t known that I loved lilies, he would have argued with a dozen flower shops before settling on the right bouquet to give. “Thank you. It’s very thoughtful.”
Sho snorted. “Oh. This, too-”
He pushed a blue velvet box with a small ribbon across the table. Curious, the embarrassment on my face returning to full force, I reached over and pulled the box close. Sho was unnaturally quiet as I pulled the ribbon loose.
Sitting on a pillow of lavender silk was a small pendant with a single lily. It wasn’t a calla lily - it was the blooming, full-petal kind. Sho assessed my reaction stiffly. “Sorry - I couldn’t find a calla lily I liked, and it was too late to have one customized. And then I thought I’d get you a mango instead, but then that seemed too cheeky-”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I said sincerely. Somehow, I felt chagrined. “I didn’t get you anything.”
He stared at me, expression softening. “You don’t have to get me anything.”
Eyes bright, he suddenly smiled. “Happy first anniversary.”
I smiled back, closing the box. Sho wordlessly watched.
After a moment, he smiled, too.
__
January 2016
Saturday
When my mother called me forward, I realized I was playing with the pendant Sho had given me. “What do you think of this one, Marina? Do you think Sho will like this?” I stuffed my hand in the pocket of my coat and walked farther into the furniture shop.
My mother was standing by a blue lampshade with a wide brim, frowning. A sales attendant stood patiently behind her, smiling serenely as though watching customers dawdle over light fixtures made her day. I stared at the young woman, who looked my age, and realized I would be willing to give anything to be as contented as she.
I wished I could stop wanting so many things, at the cost of so much.
“I don’t think he likes plastic ware. Too flashy.” I passed my judgment with a calm tone. “Besides, most of his furniture is brown.”
My mother waggled her eyebrows naughtily. “You’ve been to his house then? What does it look like?”
“Mother,” I sighed in exasperation. “Why do you insist on buying him furniture anyway? He’s 34. If you want to make him happy, send him a pair of airplane tickets for open use-”
“Was that what you got him?”
I held my tongue. “I didn’t get him anything. I don’t have to.”
“So cold of you,” my mother pouted in disapproval. I felt like telling her it was unbecoming for a fifty-something woman in a respectable kimono to make faces in public. “You know, darling, you were never a cheerful child, but you’ve been downright miserable since you returned from Tokyo.”
Answering back was pointless, I knew. My mother - and Professor Sakurai, it appeared - were convinced their children were depressed from our much-discussed fake breakup. Apparently, Sho had fed his mother the same farce he had given mine. My own family had tricked me into a dinner throughout which they attempted to convince me I had to go back Tokyo and beg for Sho’s forgiveness. This, despite my having told them I had done nothing wrong.
At least I believed I had done nothing wrong.
“It’s all right to admit that you miss him, honey,” my mother said softly, smiling as she led me by the hand towards the couch section. “It isn’t healthy to keep hiding your feelings. If you want him, go back to him and tell him. Do your best to make it work again.”
“It won’t work out,” I told my mother. “My place is here. My job is here. I’ve been working so hard all these years so I could get this position, and you’re telling me to just throw it all away-”
“What is it with you two and plans?” She let go of me and wandered off to inspect the couches. “Yuuko tells me Sho isn’t trying to get you back because he thinks he’ll get in the way of your future - do you realize you’ve reopened a wound that’s taken very many years to heal?”
“What do you mean?” I stopped and stared at my mother. “What are you talking about?”
She looked furious with herself.
“It’s an exaggeration, of course, but-” She waved a careless hand. Peering at me, my mother winced, “Apparently Sho was almost engaged once. The girl was one of his school friends - she made him choose between her and his career. This was during the peak of Arashi’s popularity, you understand-”
“He chose his career.” I nodded. I had never heard of this story before. It had never occurred to me to put a question about such things in our Getting to Know You papers. “I understand. But what does it have to do with me?”
My mother tilted her head. “Why, you’re perfect for him, Marina. You would never force him to make such a difficult choice. You don’t want to get tied down yet, do you?”
I ogled the little woman who stood before me looking benevolent. “What do you mean by that, Mother?”
“Riko told me everything, darling. I know about your little arrangement.” She smiled thinly. “Naturally, I’ve told Yuuko as well.”
Keeping my lips sealed tightly, I closed my eyes for a second and ran a hand over my cheek. If Riko hadn’t given birth just a month ago, I would run over to her house and shake her to death. I lowered myself into the nearest available couch on display. No sitting on the showcase furniture be damned. “Does Sho know that you and Professor Sakurai know?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” My mother sat beside me on the couch and placed a hand on my knee. “Yuuko is not as gossipy as I am. It’s possible she hasn’t told him.”
The saleslady who had carefully followed us since we entered the shop left politely to give us some privacy. There was just my mother and I, a long line of chandeliers over our heads, and more couches around us than I cared to see at that time. I hated how we were having such a public moment. “Are you angry at me? Disappointed?”
She shook her head. “Amused. I would say I’m amused. I’m afraid I might have given you a very bad impression about how relationships should be. Romance is never high-handed, dear. You don’t go to the other person and demand things - you have to be patient.”
“Really?” I intoned dully. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. All of that’s over. He’s there. I’m here. We’re never going to see each other again.”
All of a sudden, I felt tired. Bone-dry and exhausted-
“But you love Sho, don’t you?” My mother whispered. “You really love Sho, don’t you?”
“Love is a very strong word,” I answered curtly. “It promises too many responsibilities-”
For some reason, my mother was crying. I had never made her cry, ever. She had sobbed over my sister’s teenage pregnancy scares, wept over my older brother’s gambling tendencies, and lamented over the younger one’s dreadful school grades, but I never made her cry. I felt angry that she was crying over me now, over something so stupid. “Mother, stop crying.”
“Oh, I’m being silly.” She ran a handkerchief over her moist eyes. “But don’t you see? You love him so much. And you have everything in your power to get him back. You just have to go to Tokyo and talk to him and-”
“And give up all my plans?” I whispered. “Leave my job here, gamble on a relationship with very little chance of working out - Mother, do you realize how unnatural our life with each other would be? He’s-”
What was he anyway?
“He’s Sho Sakurai.” I said his name as though it was an explanation in itself. And I knew, somehow, it was. “He’s Superman. He’s Japan’s Most Eligible Bachelor, and he’ll never be happy with me. He can’t afford to be with someone who’s still trying to build a life.”
I got to my feet and paced the floor of the shop. “He needs someone who can support him. He needs someone to cook for him, and keep him happy, and watch over his pretty babies. I need someone who’ll just let me be, and I can’t just - build a career - while I keep worrying that some goddess with an enhanced nose is out to get my boyfriend-”
But my mother was staring at me too patiently for comfort. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Marina. Are you telling me you’re scared?” She blinked. “Are you scared of not going according to plan? Or are you scared of Sho?”
Against my better judgment, I tried to find an answer to her question. Logically speaking - objectively speaking - there was only one sensible answer. “I don’t know, Mother.”
I lied. I knew I was scared of Sho.
But it seemed I was transparent. My mother looked at me pityingly. “Sho is still only human, Marina. You do him a great disservice by thinking he doesn’t have the same emotional makeup as everyone else.”
My nails dug so deeply into my palms it hurt.
Unable to find the right words, I turned on my heel and walked out of the shop. My mother didn’t stop me. I wouldn’t know what she sent Sho as a birthday gift, or if she ever did. That night, I packed my bags and left my parents’ house. Perhaps I’d always wanted to for a very long time.
__
February 2016
Sunday
The little mango specialty shop that Sho had bought off its previous owner had not changed one bit since the last time we ate there. Naturally, that meant their mango cheesecake recipe was still lackluster, despite my having told them they needed to do something about it. Thankfully, however, it meant the pastry chef I had bullied into finding better ways to bake my favorite dessert was still under Sho’s employ. With his help - and the promise that I would lay off his back for a while - I managed to convince the manager to call their boss and inform him of a supposed emergency in the shop he had neglected for months.
I had checked with Sho’s handlers earlier to confirm he had no professional engagements that day.
At half past one, the whole shop had been cleared, and I was standing alone in front of the sparkling silver sinks, plates of various mango cheesecake recipes set in a line in front of me. I had spent the whole morning baking, borrowing the staff’s spare apron, and convincing the kitchen crew that no, they would not lose their jobs just because they had acquiesced to the mad request of their boss’ mad ex-girlfriend. I was confident, for some reason, that Sho still had an ounce of fairness - maybe even forgiveness - in his heart.
At a quarter past one thirty, I heard Sho walk into the shop, and shortly after, make his way into the kitchen.
He stared at me with a blank expression, and I smiled back hesitantly. I was amused to see he was dressed at his utter laziest - a white T-shirt and a dark jacket, with plain jeans and a knitted hat. No button-down shirts that day, I noted. So he had, to some extent, tried to dress up whenever he met me. The thought cheered me up considerably. “What time is your next appointment?”
With Sho, life was an endless string of appointments. He inclined his head, thinking. “I’m going to have dinner with my college buddies at eight.”
“Good,” I confirmed, nodding as I took my apron off. “You have a few hours to taste test my recipes.”
Cautiously, Sho walked closer to the table where the cakes were laid out. Frowning slightly as he inspected each of them, he pointlessly asked, “What are these?”
“Mango cheesecakes.”
“Yes, yes, I can see that,” he said, exasperated. “Why do you have so many? Why are you here - in my kitchen?”
“I had my students search for these as extra credit, you know.” I frowned. “Most of the submissions I’d already heard of - but these five caught my eye, so I tried them out.”
I pointed at the plates between us.
Sho ogled me. “You teach Literature. Surely you realize what you’ve asked them to do is beyond your curriculum?”
“Stop whining and sit.”
Still confused, Sho pulled up a stool and sat opposite me. Grinning, I passed him a fork and a wad of tissues, pointing at a small saucer with blue trim. “Start with this one.”
Unusually quiet, he did as he was told. Peering up at Sho, I took a fork and helped myself to the same slice he was eating. He pushed the plate closer to me so we could share. Even as he kept quiet though, I could see he was ridiculously tired. His eyes were rimmed red, and even at midday he looked half-asleep.
Biting his lower lip softly, Sho sighed. “Can I ask you something?”
I started, swallowing a piece of my cheesecake. It was too salty. “All right.”
“Well.” Sho pulled his knitted hat off. His hair was flat under it.
“You said you wanted to get married at the age of 30. That in your twenties you’d concentrate on your job, and travelling, and - other stuff. And dating didn’t seem to be part of those… other stuff.” He ran his fingers under the dark strands of his hair, trying to put some life into them. “According to your plan, how were you supposed to find your husband - if you concentrated on nothing but your job?”
“Omiai? I don’t know.” We moved to the second plate. “I don’t really hate the thought of dating.”
“You didn’t seem that happy about dating me,” he muttered sullenly. Pointing to the first plate, he said, “That one’s a disaster. There’s something wrong with it, I just can’t tell what.”
“It’s got too much salt.” I pondered over his question. “I’ve imagined my boyfriend in my head before, you see-”
“Your boyfriend - just the one?”
“In my head, yes, there’s just one. I marry him right after we meet each others’ parents.” I frowned. “And this man - you’re not like him. Even if you weren’t in Johnny’s you’d still be too much for me. I wanted a light relationship, someone who was all right with long, quiet moments. Someone who wouldn’t demand too much-”
“Why did you come all the way to Tokyo then? You could have emailed me a list of why I couldn’t make you happy, if this is all you came to talk to me about.” He pushed the second plate away with an expression of disgust. “This isn’t right either-”
“Too sweet,” I agreed. “Too much whipped cream - and maybe it’s not cold enough?”
Sho was already on the third plate by the time I finished my judgment. More than angry, however, he appeared even more worn out. The exhaustion didn’t seem purely physical either. “I don’t really care.”
I smiled bitterly. “What I miss most about you is when you’re horrible to me. I don’t know why. I wish I knew.”
Looking up with blank, round eyes, Sho slowly ate his way through the third cheesecake recipe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I couldn’t even tell what he thought of the cake. Pensive, he moved on yet again, reaching for the fourth plate. “I understand why you’re scared.”
“Really?” I put my fork down, and ran a hand under my hair. He was still eating. “So explain everything, if you understand so much.”
Sho tilted his head, not meeting my eyes. “You like me so much, but I’m not the guy you envisioned ‘The One’ to be. They all realize that in the end. I’m too popular, too restless, too ambitious. But I’d really rather be not just that, you know?” He glanced up and smiled miserably. “Still if you were to risk being with me, it would mean adjusting your dreams completely, not to mention accommodating an entirely different world that isn’t easy to understand in the first place.”
I paused thoughtfully, resting my chin on my raised arms. “I’m probably not the first girl who’s felt this way about you then?”
“No,” Sho said simply. “I was hoping you’d come to your senses though.”
By this time he was already on the fifth plate. “I never hope.”
“Are you seeing anyone right now?”
He glanced up, visibly surprised, and frowned. “You’re supposed to find out about things like that even before you confess.”
“Was that a confession? I’m not sure that was a confession-”
“I don’t have the time to play with you, Marina,” Sho interrupted, shaking his head. “You either want me, or you don’t. There are a lot of other women who wouldn’t hesitate about getting into a relationship with me. I don’t even mind picking the most decent one among them just to get things over with.”
He gestured irritably with his free hand. “But here I am, waiting like an idiot for you decide if I happen to fit in your life plan or not.”
“Is this your version of waiting then?” I stared. “Why?”
Sho sighed, impatient. “Because as hard as I tried to find someone to take your place, I’ve realized it’s highly improbable anyone else can be as right for me as you were.” He put his fork down and pushed the plates away, but still kept his eyes averted. He was staring so hard at the table I wouldn’t have been shocked if a hole materialized there. “As much as I can settle with a half-assed version of happiness, the blissful kind is still more preferable.”
There was very pregnant pause in which he looked up from the table, pursing his lips.
I stared at the fork in his hands. “I like you, too, Sho.”
He grinned. And although his eyes were red and his cheeks were too pale, his face seemed to brighten. “There! Thank you! It’s nice to get the truth out of you at last-”
“You’re not even going to tell me you like me back?”
But he shook his head, smirking. “I tried and failed too many times because you wouldn’t listen to me.”
Blinking, playing with the lily pendant of my necklace, I asked again, “So are you dating anyone right now?”
He shrugged, sniffing as he wiped his fingers on the tissues I had given. “That can be arranged. Besides, she’s not my girlfriend.”
“You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Oh yes, I’ve been told.” Something seemed to bother him suddenly, and he frowned in contemplative recall. “What about that precious job of yours though? The one you chose over me so easily.”
I squared my shoulders and attempted an impersonation of him. “That can be arranged.” I got a laugh out of him, and some of the tension in the room dissipated. “I actually applied at Professor Sakurai’s department. I’m in Tokyo because they asked me to do a teaching demo. They told me I would get a call sometime next week.”
“You’ll get the job.”
I smiled weakly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’ve prepared a back-up plan in case I don’t. When I was an undergraduate, Google asked me to be one of their translators. I think my father had something to do with that, but anyway - beggars can’t be choosers.” I shrugged. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll swallow my pride and take that. It should be fun. I’ve always wanted to translate professionally.”
“You’re going back to your old apartment then?”
I shook my head no. “Someone’s renting it now, so I might have to stay at a hotel for some weeks. I can start looking for a better place as soon as this semester ends.”
Sho watched me, eyes wide and innocent. “My offer for a slumber party still stands.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
“You’re never going to give up on that, are you?” Running my hand over my cold forehead, I sighed. “I don’t know a thing about that, Sho. You might not want to be with me after - things.”
He smirked. “Somehow I find that highly improbable.”
Blushing, I tore my gaze away from his dark eyes. Something strange was forming behind his stare, and it unsettled me. I abruptly pointed at the last recipe he had tasted. “I’ve always liked this one best. What do you think of it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he agreed offhandedly. “Now why don’t we test my theory, so I can prove you wrong?”
I closed my eyes. “The paparazzi know where you live, don’t they?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I moved.” He inclined his head so his hair, still unnaturally flat, fell into his forehead. “I have an actual house now. It cost me a fortune, but there are perks-”
“This would be considered cheating, as you’re seeing someone else right now.”
“And what makes you think I’m the only one she’s seeing right now? Like I told you, she’s not my girlfriend.”
I crossed my arms, fully aware I was flushing like a human tomato. “I’m not mentally prepared for this! Do you realize how unnerving this is for me?”
But to him the arrangement was final.
“I’m going to park by the service entrance.” He stood and took his car keys out. “You’ll be there in five minutes.”
“You are so bossy! Are you going to be like this from now on?”
“I would never force you into something you don’t want - that’s why I’m giving you the power to walk away,” Sho explained patiently. “Besides, if you really didn’t like this plan, you’d have run out of the kitchen a long time ago. But you’re still here, aren’t you?” He half-smiled, half-smirked. “Why is that?”
I sat across him, staring up into his face, as he gazed down at me with barely disguised amusement.
“I’ll give you ten minutes.”
In the duration of that countdown, my body moved on its own. I drained all the cake down the silver sinks, and distractedly washed the borrowed dishes. Based on my standards, whatever my decision would be it would be completely spontaneous, completely unplanned, and completely life-altering. I had imagined this moment, very many times before, and the background had always been a honeymoon, some place far away, some place very far away from Tokyo.
In a way, maybe Sho had been right. I would always be one for romance.
I heard a car engine hum outside the service door, before it came to a stop and all became still. The electricity in the kitchen had been properly turned off, and my only light was the afternoon sunshine peeking through a small window. I stood in front of the side exit and stared at it thoughtfully, clutching my overnight bag. I had planned to stay in Tokyo just one night, the previous night, and planned to go home right after I spoke with him.
But maybe, in a way, this moment had been carefully planned as well. By something much older, much wiser, and much more powerful than Sho and I.
I stepped forward and went to open the door. To my surprise, he was standing on the other side, a hand extended towards it, too. His eyes were wide as we stared at each other, and he stood flabbergasted for a moment as though shocked to see me there. I rolled my eyes at him.
Recovering slowly, he let his hand fall. Then he smirked.
In exchange for changing my original life plan, Sho Sakurai cancelled his plans that night.
__
Plans End.
__
A/N
UGH. SO MUCH CHEESE. This gives me goosebumps. Please note that as the warning to all my messed-up stories go, “I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.” Now if I only could, maybe I could step up from writing unabashed cheese like this. Still, thank you so much for reading! [14.34, 30 May 2013]
PS Horikita Maki's real name is Hara Marina. Just saying.
April to May 2013
Summary
Fact A: A steady relationship was not yet in her schedule.
Fact B: He was not programmed to be serious anyway.
Assumption: They had to be good for each other.
Problem: They were too good for each other, in all the wrong ways.
A/N
[19.12, 26 May 2013] I try to understand Marina Shimazaki, the OC in this thing, and I find I don’t understand her at all. If I were her boyfriend, I’d have given up on her long ago.
Disclaimer
The mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
In the Philippines, the Narra tree is a popular choice for making furniture that last generations.
Words 4,594
Timetables
For Arashi
Part 2
July 2014
Monday
I ran my fork over the mango cheesecake we shared. “So what are you going to tell your mother? What did we do tonight?”
“Let’s see.” He took the edges of the slice, leaving the mango topping for me. I thought that very nice of him. “We had dinner at my favorite soba restaurant, where the owner actually came out of the kitchen and chatted with us for a while. And then we went around on our eleventh attempt at finding the best mango cheesecake in Tokyo. I’ll tell her we found another good recipe in Daikanyama, but we still both think the best one we’ve tasted so far is the one Akihabara.”
Doubtful, I shook my head.
“Doesn’t it sound suspicious? You didn’t even get me flowers. Don’t guys usually get their girlfriends flowers?” Licking the icing on my fork, I tried to find loopholes in his story. Then I frowned disapprovingly at him. “You didn’t even bother to get me roses - not even in the Script.”
“The Script sounds find to me,” Sho said. He calmly put his fork down, apparently savoring the aftertaste of the mango cheesecake. “Yep. I was right. I told you the one in Akihabara would still be better.”
“It’s improper to criticize the food you’re served in the restaurant that’s serving it,” I pointed out, nervously checking behind me to see if any of the staff was standing close. But there was only the cashier who stood behind the counter of the tiny store, wiping what seemed to be a jar of gummy bears. There weren’t even any other customers. “Besides, it’s not so bad. Just too much fluff.”
Sho pulled a face. “I’ve eaten enough mango cheesecakes in the past year than I’ll ever want to for the rest of my life. Can’t you find a new obsession to meddle with? The Search for the Perfect Soba, or something-”
“That wouldn’t be very exciting as I’m sure you’ve already tried that decades ago.”
“Marina.” Sho peered at me. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”
“Old.” I took another bite of my cake.
Suddenly, the lights in the cafe went out. I gasped - more dramatically than I would have wished to - and looked up to find Sho’s face looking perfectly tranquil under the glow of the outdoor street lamp. The yellow chairs of the empty shop weirdly reflected the minor sources of light from all over, and I could hear the air conditioner humming in the silence. I felt a chill creeping up my arms.
Sho suddenly blinked. “Why do you look so scared?”
Then the staff, in their pale yellow uniform, walked out of the kitchens bearing a covered flat package, the ones not holding yellow balloons bearing yellow candles instead. Beside the guys carrying the cake, a girl walked towards us with a bouquet of calla lilies. I looked at Sho with wide eyes. He smiled awkwardly and shrugged.
“It feels awkward putting stuff in the Script that didn’t happen in reality,” he whispered. “So while we’re at it, why not?” He cleared his throat. “Besides, their mango torte’s supposed to be really good.”
Dazedly, I gazed into the flat package. There was a mango torte in there, with a word formed in whipped cream over it. Daisuki. I blushed furiously just as the lights in the restaurant went back on, and hid behind my hand to conceal my subsequent embarrassment. He was really good at surprises, this man.
When I came to, the staff had shuffled back into their original positions, and Sho was fumbling with the box of the mango torte, one hand holding the bouquet of lilies. Realizing I had regained my senses, he pushed the flowers into my arms. He seemed remarkably embarrassed as well. “Now the Script will do, won’t it?”
“It will,” I agreed weakly, reaching over to smell the lilies. It was a good thing we had exchanged information on our favorites long ago. Knowing Sho, if he hadn’t known that I loved lilies, he would have argued with a dozen flower shops before settling on the right bouquet to give. “Thank you. It’s very thoughtful.”
Sho snorted. “Oh. This, too-”
He pushed a blue velvet box with a small ribbon across the table. Curious, the embarrassment on my face returning to full force, I reached over and pulled the box close. Sho was unnaturally quiet as I pulled the ribbon loose.
Sitting on a pillow of lavender silk was a small pendant with a single lily. It wasn’t a calla lily - it was the blooming, full-petal kind. Sho assessed my reaction stiffly. “Sorry - I couldn’t find a calla lily I liked, and it was too late to have one customized. And then I thought I’d get you a mango instead, but then that seemed too cheeky-”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I said sincerely. Somehow, I felt chagrined. “I didn’t get you anything.”
He stared at me, expression softening. “You don’t have to get me anything.”
Eyes bright, he suddenly smiled. “Happy first anniversary.”
I smiled back, closing the box. Sho wordlessly watched.
After a moment, he smiled, too.
__
January 2016
Saturday
When my mother called me forward, I realized I was playing with the pendant Sho had given me. “What do you think of this one, Marina? Do you think Sho will like this?” I stuffed my hand in the pocket of my coat and walked farther into the furniture shop.
My mother was standing by a blue lampshade with a wide brim, frowning. A sales attendant stood patiently behind her, smiling serenely as though watching customers dawdle over light fixtures made her day. I stared at the young woman, who looked my age, and realized I would be willing to give anything to be as contented as she.
I wished I could stop wanting so many things, at the cost of so much.
“I don’t think he likes plastic ware. Too flashy.” I passed my judgment with a calm tone. “Besides, most of his furniture is brown.”
My mother waggled her eyebrows naughtily. “You’ve been to his house then? What does it look like?”
“Mother,” I sighed in exasperation. “Why do you insist on buying him furniture anyway? He’s 34. If you want to make him happy, send him a pair of airplane tickets for open use-”
“Was that what you got him?”
I held my tongue. “I didn’t get him anything. I don’t have to.”
“So cold of you,” my mother pouted in disapproval. I felt like telling her it was unbecoming for a fifty-something woman in a respectable kimono to make faces in public. “You know, darling, you were never a cheerful child, but you’ve been downright miserable since you returned from Tokyo.”
Answering back was pointless, I knew. My mother - and Professor Sakurai, it appeared - were convinced their children were depressed from our much-discussed fake breakup. Apparently, Sho had fed his mother the same farce he had given mine. My own family had tricked me into a dinner throughout which they attempted to convince me I had to go back Tokyo and beg for Sho’s forgiveness. This, despite my having told them I had done nothing wrong.
At least I believed I had done nothing wrong.
“It’s all right to admit that you miss him, honey,” my mother said softly, smiling as she led me by the hand towards the couch section. “It isn’t healthy to keep hiding your feelings. If you want him, go back to him and tell him. Do your best to make it work again.”
“It won’t work out,” I told my mother. “My place is here. My job is here. I’ve been working so hard all these years so I could get this position, and you’re telling me to just throw it all away-”
“What is it with you two and plans?” She let go of me and wandered off to inspect the couches. “Yuuko tells me Sho isn’t trying to get you back because he thinks he’ll get in the way of your future - do you realize you’ve reopened a wound that’s taken very many years to heal?”
“What do you mean?” I stopped and stared at my mother. “What are you talking about?”
She looked furious with herself.
“It’s an exaggeration, of course, but-” She waved a careless hand. Peering at me, my mother winced, “Apparently Sho was almost engaged once. The girl was one of his school friends - she made him choose between her and his career. This was during the peak of Arashi’s popularity, you understand-”
“He chose his career.” I nodded. I had never heard of this story before. It had never occurred to me to put a question about such things in our Getting to Know You papers. “I understand. But what does it have to do with me?”
My mother tilted her head. “Why, you’re perfect for him, Marina. You would never force him to make such a difficult choice. You don’t want to get tied down yet, do you?”
I ogled the little woman who stood before me looking benevolent. “What do you mean by that, Mother?”
“Riko told me everything, darling. I know about your little arrangement.” She smiled thinly. “Naturally, I’ve told Yuuko as well.”
Keeping my lips sealed tightly, I closed my eyes for a second and ran a hand over my cheek. If Riko hadn’t given birth just a month ago, I would run over to her house and shake her to death. I lowered myself into the nearest available couch on display. No sitting on the showcase furniture be damned. “Does Sho know that you and Professor Sakurai know?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” My mother sat beside me on the couch and placed a hand on my knee. “Yuuko is not as gossipy as I am. It’s possible she hasn’t told him.”
The saleslady who had carefully followed us since we entered the shop left politely to give us some privacy. There was just my mother and I, a long line of chandeliers over our heads, and more couches around us than I cared to see at that time. I hated how we were having such a public moment. “Are you angry at me? Disappointed?”
She shook her head. “Amused. I would say I’m amused. I’m afraid I might have given you a very bad impression about how relationships should be. Romance is never high-handed, dear. You don’t go to the other person and demand things - you have to be patient.”
“Really?” I intoned dully. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. All of that’s over. He’s there. I’m here. We’re never going to see each other again.”
All of a sudden, I felt tired. Bone-dry and exhausted-
“But you love Sho, don’t you?” My mother whispered. “You really love Sho, don’t you?”
“Love is a very strong word,” I answered curtly. “It promises too many responsibilities-”
For some reason, my mother was crying. I had never made her cry, ever. She had sobbed over my sister’s teenage pregnancy scares, wept over my older brother’s gambling tendencies, and lamented over the younger one’s dreadful school grades, but I never made her cry. I felt angry that she was crying over me now, over something so stupid. “Mother, stop crying.”
“Oh, I’m being silly.” She ran a handkerchief over her moist eyes. “But don’t you see? You love him so much. And you have everything in your power to get him back. You just have to go to Tokyo and talk to him and-”
“And give up all my plans?” I whispered. “Leave my job here, gamble on a relationship with very little chance of working out - Mother, do you realize how unnatural our life with each other would be? He’s-”
What was he anyway?
“He’s Sho Sakurai.” I said his name as though it was an explanation in itself. And I knew, somehow, it was. “He’s Superman. He’s Japan’s Most Eligible Bachelor, and he’ll never be happy with me. He can’t afford to be with someone who’s still trying to build a life.”
I got to my feet and paced the floor of the shop. “He needs someone who can support him. He needs someone to cook for him, and keep him happy, and watch over his pretty babies. I need someone who’ll just let me be, and I can’t just - build a career - while I keep worrying that some goddess with an enhanced nose is out to get my boyfriend-”
But my mother was staring at me too patiently for comfort. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Marina. Are you telling me you’re scared?” She blinked. “Are you scared of not going according to plan? Or are you scared of Sho?”
Against my better judgment, I tried to find an answer to her question. Logically speaking - objectively speaking - there was only one sensible answer. “I don’t know, Mother.”
I lied. I knew I was scared of Sho.
But it seemed I was transparent. My mother looked at me pityingly. “Sho is still only human, Marina. You do him a great disservice by thinking he doesn’t have the same emotional makeup as everyone else.”
My nails dug so deeply into my palms it hurt.
Unable to find the right words, I turned on my heel and walked out of the shop. My mother didn’t stop me. I wouldn’t know what she sent Sho as a birthday gift, or if she ever did. That night, I packed my bags and left my parents’ house. Perhaps I’d always wanted to for a very long time.
__
February 2016
Sunday
The little mango specialty shop that Sho had bought off its previous owner had not changed one bit since the last time we ate there. Naturally, that meant their mango cheesecake recipe was still lackluster, despite my having told them they needed to do something about it. Thankfully, however, it meant the pastry chef I had bullied into finding better ways to bake my favorite dessert was still under Sho’s employ. With his help - and the promise that I would lay off his back for a while - I managed to convince the manager to call their boss and inform him of a supposed emergency in the shop he had neglected for months.
I had checked with Sho’s handlers earlier to confirm he had no professional engagements that day.
At half past one, the whole shop had been cleared, and I was standing alone in front of the sparkling silver sinks, plates of various mango cheesecake recipes set in a line in front of me. I had spent the whole morning baking, borrowing the staff’s spare apron, and convincing the kitchen crew that no, they would not lose their jobs just because they had acquiesced to the mad request of their boss’ mad ex-girlfriend. I was confident, for some reason, that Sho still had an ounce of fairness - maybe even forgiveness - in his heart.
At a quarter past one thirty, I heard Sho walk into the shop, and shortly after, make his way into the kitchen.
He stared at me with a blank expression, and I smiled back hesitantly. I was amused to see he was dressed at his utter laziest - a white T-shirt and a dark jacket, with plain jeans and a knitted hat. No button-down shirts that day, I noted. So he had, to some extent, tried to dress up whenever he met me. The thought cheered me up considerably. “What time is your next appointment?”
With Sho, life was an endless string of appointments. He inclined his head, thinking. “I’m going to have dinner with my college buddies at eight.”
“Good,” I confirmed, nodding as I took my apron off. “You have a few hours to taste test my recipes.”
Cautiously, Sho walked closer to the table where the cakes were laid out. Frowning slightly as he inspected each of them, he pointlessly asked, “What are these?”
“Mango cheesecakes.”
“Yes, yes, I can see that,” he said, exasperated. “Why do you have so many? Why are you here - in my kitchen?”
“I had my students search for these as extra credit, you know.” I frowned. “Most of the submissions I’d already heard of - but these five caught my eye, so I tried them out.”
I pointed at the plates between us.
Sho ogled me. “You teach Literature. Surely you realize what you’ve asked them to do is beyond your curriculum?”
“Stop whining and sit.”
Still confused, Sho pulled up a stool and sat opposite me. Grinning, I passed him a fork and a wad of tissues, pointing at a small saucer with blue trim. “Start with this one.”
Unusually quiet, he did as he was told. Peering up at Sho, I took a fork and helped myself to the same slice he was eating. He pushed the plate closer to me so we could share. Even as he kept quiet though, I could see he was ridiculously tired. His eyes were rimmed red, and even at midday he looked half-asleep.
Biting his lower lip softly, Sho sighed. “Can I ask you something?”
I started, swallowing a piece of my cheesecake. It was too salty. “All right.”
“Well.” Sho pulled his knitted hat off. His hair was flat under it.
“You said you wanted to get married at the age of 30. That in your twenties you’d concentrate on your job, and travelling, and - other stuff. And dating didn’t seem to be part of those… other stuff.” He ran his fingers under the dark strands of his hair, trying to put some life into them. “According to your plan, how were you supposed to find your husband - if you concentrated on nothing but your job?”
“Omiai? I don’t know.” We moved to the second plate. “I don’t really hate the thought of dating.”
“You didn’t seem that happy about dating me,” he muttered sullenly. Pointing to the first plate, he said, “That one’s a disaster. There’s something wrong with it, I just can’t tell what.”
“It’s got too much salt.” I pondered over his question. “I’ve imagined my boyfriend in my head before, you see-”
“Your boyfriend - just the one?”
“In my head, yes, there’s just one. I marry him right after we meet each others’ parents.” I frowned. “And this man - you’re not like him. Even if you weren’t in Johnny’s you’d still be too much for me. I wanted a light relationship, someone who was all right with long, quiet moments. Someone who wouldn’t demand too much-”
“Why did you come all the way to Tokyo then? You could have emailed me a list of why I couldn’t make you happy, if this is all you came to talk to me about.” He pushed the second plate away with an expression of disgust. “This isn’t right either-”
“Too sweet,” I agreed. “Too much whipped cream - and maybe it’s not cold enough?”
Sho was already on the third plate by the time I finished my judgment. More than angry, however, he appeared even more worn out. The exhaustion didn’t seem purely physical either. “I don’t really care.”
I smiled bitterly. “What I miss most about you is when you’re horrible to me. I don’t know why. I wish I knew.”
Looking up with blank, round eyes, Sho slowly ate his way through the third cheesecake recipe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I couldn’t even tell what he thought of the cake. Pensive, he moved on yet again, reaching for the fourth plate. “I understand why you’re scared.”
“Really?” I put my fork down, and ran a hand under my hair. He was still eating. “So explain everything, if you understand so much.”
Sho tilted his head, not meeting my eyes. “You like me so much, but I’m not the guy you envisioned ‘The One’ to be. They all realize that in the end. I’m too popular, too restless, too ambitious. But I’d really rather be not just that, you know?” He glanced up and smiled miserably. “Still if you were to risk being with me, it would mean adjusting your dreams completely, not to mention accommodating an entirely different world that isn’t easy to understand in the first place.”
I paused thoughtfully, resting my chin on my raised arms. “I’m probably not the first girl who’s felt this way about you then?”
“No,” Sho said simply. “I was hoping you’d come to your senses though.”
By this time he was already on the fifth plate. “I never hope.”
“Are you seeing anyone right now?”
He glanced up, visibly surprised, and frowned. “You’re supposed to find out about things like that even before you confess.”
“Was that a confession? I’m not sure that was a confession-”
“I don’t have the time to play with you, Marina,” Sho interrupted, shaking his head. “You either want me, or you don’t. There are a lot of other women who wouldn’t hesitate about getting into a relationship with me. I don’t even mind picking the most decent one among them just to get things over with.”
He gestured irritably with his free hand. “But here I am, waiting like an idiot for you decide if I happen to fit in your life plan or not.”
“Is this your version of waiting then?” I stared. “Why?”
Sho sighed, impatient. “Because as hard as I tried to find someone to take your place, I’ve realized it’s highly improbable anyone else can be as right for me as you were.” He put his fork down and pushed the plates away, but still kept his eyes averted. He was staring so hard at the table I wouldn’t have been shocked if a hole materialized there. “As much as I can settle with a half-assed version of happiness, the blissful kind is still more preferable.”
There was very pregnant pause in which he looked up from the table, pursing his lips.
I stared at the fork in his hands. “I like you, too, Sho.”
He grinned. And although his eyes were red and his cheeks were too pale, his face seemed to brighten. “There! Thank you! It’s nice to get the truth out of you at last-”
“You’re not even going to tell me you like me back?”
But he shook his head, smirking. “I tried and failed too many times because you wouldn’t listen to me.”
Blinking, playing with the lily pendant of my necklace, I asked again, “So are you dating anyone right now?”
He shrugged, sniffing as he wiped his fingers on the tissues I had given. “That can be arranged. Besides, she’s not my girlfriend.”
“You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Oh yes, I’ve been told.” Something seemed to bother him suddenly, and he frowned in contemplative recall. “What about that precious job of yours though? The one you chose over me so easily.”
I squared my shoulders and attempted an impersonation of him. “That can be arranged.” I got a laugh out of him, and some of the tension in the room dissipated. “I actually applied at Professor Sakurai’s department. I’m in Tokyo because they asked me to do a teaching demo. They told me I would get a call sometime next week.”
“You’ll get the job.”
I smiled weakly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’ve prepared a back-up plan in case I don’t. When I was an undergraduate, Google asked me to be one of their translators. I think my father had something to do with that, but anyway - beggars can’t be choosers.” I shrugged. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll swallow my pride and take that. It should be fun. I’ve always wanted to translate professionally.”
“You’re going back to your old apartment then?”
I shook my head no. “Someone’s renting it now, so I might have to stay at a hotel for some weeks. I can start looking for a better place as soon as this semester ends.”
Sho watched me, eyes wide and innocent. “My offer for a slumber party still stands.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
“You’re never going to give up on that, are you?” Running my hand over my cold forehead, I sighed. “I don’t know a thing about that, Sho. You might not want to be with me after - things.”
He smirked. “Somehow I find that highly improbable.”
Blushing, I tore my gaze away from his dark eyes. Something strange was forming behind his stare, and it unsettled me. I abruptly pointed at the last recipe he had tasted. “I’ve always liked this one best. What do you think of it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he agreed offhandedly. “Now why don’t we test my theory, so I can prove you wrong?”
I closed my eyes. “The paparazzi know where you live, don’t they?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I moved.” He inclined his head so his hair, still unnaturally flat, fell into his forehead. “I have an actual house now. It cost me a fortune, but there are perks-”
“This would be considered cheating, as you’re seeing someone else right now.”
“And what makes you think I’m the only one she’s seeing right now? Like I told you, she’s not my girlfriend.”
I crossed my arms, fully aware I was flushing like a human tomato. “I’m not mentally prepared for this! Do you realize how unnerving this is for me?”
But to him the arrangement was final.
“I’m going to park by the service entrance.” He stood and took his car keys out. “You’ll be there in five minutes.”
“You are so bossy! Are you going to be like this from now on?”
“I would never force you into something you don’t want - that’s why I’m giving you the power to walk away,” Sho explained patiently. “Besides, if you really didn’t like this plan, you’d have run out of the kitchen a long time ago. But you’re still here, aren’t you?” He half-smiled, half-smirked. “Why is that?”
I sat across him, staring up into his face, as he gazed down at me with barely disguised amusement.
“I’ll give you ten minutes.”
In the duration of that countdown, my body moved on its own. I drained all the cake down the silver sinks, and distractedly washed the borrowed dishes. Based on my standards, whatever my decision would be it would be completely spontaneous, completely unplanned, and completely life-altering. I had imagined this moment, very many times before, and the background had always been a honeymoon, some place far away, some place very far away from Tokyo.
In a way, maybe Sho had been right. I would always be one for romance.
I heard a car engine hum outside the service door, before it came to a stop and all became still. The electricity in the kitchen had been properly turned off, and my only light was the afternoon sunshine peeking through a small window. I stood in front of the side exit and stared at it thoughtfully, clutching my overnight bag. I had planned to stay in Tokyo just one night, the previous night, and planned to go home right after I spoke with him.
But maybe, in a way, this moment had been carefully planned as well. By something much older, much wiser, and much more powerful than Sho and I.
I stepped forward and went to open the door. To my surprise, he was standing on the other side, a hand extended towards it, too. His eyes were wide as we stared at each other, and he stood flabbergasted for a moment as though shocked to see me there. I rolled my eyes at him.
Recovering slowly, he let his hand fall. Then he smirked.
In exchange for changing my original life plan, Sho Sakurai cancelled his plans that night.
__
Plans End.
__
A/N
UGH. SO MUCH CHEESE. This gives me goosebumps. Please note that as the warning to all my messed-up stories go, “I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.” Now if I only could, maybe I could step up from writing unabashed cheese like this. Still, thank you so much for reading! [14.34, 30 May 2013]
PS Horikita Maki's real name is Hara Marina. Just saying.