[01/01] Joyride
Joyride
Sho. Roadtrip. Yokohama.
An Arashi One-Shot
Summary
What’s a girl to do on a blind date with Sakurai Sho? Based on Arashi’s Kitto Daijobu
“Shake it, shake it, baby, my feelings are 80% |It’s fine! It’s not bad! Isn’t it love?”
A/N
[29 December 2011] Here’s the plot of the first Arashi Fanfic I ever wanted to write. I had already written half of it when I decided to trash it because I felt it wasn’t good enough. But this time, although I’m not sure this is the best version I can come up with, I’ve decided to finally write it down for good. For closure? ::D I hope you like it.
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 a nutshell, an omiai is a way of meeting one’s prospective wife or husband. At least it dramas, it is.
Kindly take note of the time. People often complain about my transitions. ::)
English in Bold.
___________________________
Joyride
For Arashi
The command had come through the butler that morning, as Kujoin Arisa had been yawning over her second cup of coffee. Come to Tokyo as soon as you are able, Grandmother had supposedly ordered, and be ready for pick up at 12 today. Look sharp. Twenty-three years of decoding cryptic messages from faceless family members had ingrained in Arisa the art of interpreting the unsaid, which in this case was obviously: 1) That the interfering matriarch of the Kujoin Clan had finally found her a fiancé candidate; and, 2) That said fiancé candidate was no small fry. She would have to watch herself yet again.
Thus, the assistance of the housemaids had been required for the mini-makeover which ensued. The Operation Ojousama wardrobe collection that her second brother’s wife-to-be had kindly put together for her turned out to be a blessing in disguise, never mind how Arisa hated the sight of anything pink with ruffles. She had to put her foot down, however, when the issue of Sakura Pop lipstick had been brought up, and mercifully she had been allowed the grace to wear her usual drugstore red. She may not have shown explicit loathing at the thought of an omiai, the head housemaid would be telling the gardener that afternoon, but it didn’t mean she was all too excited about entertaining a perfect stranger.
A few minutes before noon and she was nervously flattening her hair while tiptoeing down the carpeted stairs. Across the main hallway and through the arch of the anteroom, she stopped near the ornate fireplace that had been the first to intrigue her in this fairly eccentric mansion. In front of the anomaly, his face barely visible, stood a man who seemed just as confused by the hearth as she had once been. His hair was unnaturally neat, his dress shirt immaculate, and by the private school arrogance with which he carried himself, she pegged him to be in the CEO category. The CEO category, Arisa murmured inwardly, mood darkening. The worst classification of all.
But perhaps she’d forgive him, with shoulders like that.
“The Meiji Restoration apparently caused that,” she ventured to explain the lapses of her forebears. “Too much money and William Perry make a very bad house.”
He jumped very slightly and quickly turned to face her. Instinctively, she found her eyes taking in his features: the strange forehead, the odd nose, and the rather chubby cheeks. At the back of her mind, she thought she heard him say, I think it’s an interesting design, or something just as innocuous. For a few seconds, however, she merely stood there, her brain a mixture of hormones and of propriety, watching the eerily attractive way his lips moved. But even after all the mad thinking she had done, all she could conclude was that her grandmother was the devil incarnate. She had been deceived, for the nth time.
What she had believed she would be dealing with today was an overachieving, sheltered, pampered MBA A-lister with an obnoxious paycheck and too few Facebook friends - if an account existed in the first place. She had not - for all the foresight she had always prided herself on - expected this… sparkly person. She decided to clear her throat before the heat fully crept up her face.
“You’re an interior designer, right?” was all she could catch from his opening speech. He seemed to have noticed the glazed look in her eyes, and despite her embarrassment, Arisa could do nothing but just stand there and impersonate a human tomato. For his part, he appeared unaffected by the sudden burst of repressed infatuation, an unexpected show of refinement she could only be thankful for. “If you don’t like it then, I suppose it really is awful.”
Arisa nodded dumbly, dropping her gaze, and praying the decades-old floor would swallow her. Looking thoroughly amused, he turned his face away to hide the grin plastered there. With his eyes off her, she pressed both palms over her face, and subsequently mouthed a plea for help at the butler who was standing nearby. And when the only piece of advice she received was the soundproof suggestion “His name!” Arisa cleared her throat again, watched him turn around, and, staring at a spot on his shoulder, slowly tried, “I’m afraid I still don’t know your name.”
He smiled faintly. “My name is Sakurai Sho,” he said in accented English, as though it was his fluent use of Japanese that scared her so terribly. “And you’re Kujoin Arisa, right?”
“Yes.” A pause. “I’m an interior designer.” A twitch. “But you already know that-”
“Yes, my mother told me.”
“Your mother knows me?” Another twitch. “I mean - I’m afraid I’ve never had the privilege of meeting her-”
“It seems you grandmother talks about you often,” he explained slowly, “so my mother feels she’s already met you because she’s heard so much about you.” He added as an afterthought, “And my mother talks about you a lot as well.”
Arisa fell into a thoughtful silence. So her grandmother didn’t hate her as much as she had believed. Never mind that her parents had been divorced for more than twenty years. Never mind that she was Japanese only by blood, having lived in New York all her life. Never mind that she was just an assistant designer at a small furniture company. But perhaps she should have realized that, when the invitation to move to Japan had been offered.
She looked up and met Sakurai’s watchful eyes. Still smiling slightly, looking inexplicably pleased with himself, he just stood there, watching her think. And she realized he scared her even more now.
“It seems unfair that you should know so much about me when I don’t know anything about you,” she said, slightly louder and more confidently, although her hands remained clutched together behind her. “Kindly enlighten me. What is it you do, Sakurai-san?”
__
13.04
Arisa stared at the faces before her with as little emotion as she could muster. To her credit, she seemed to be holding her shock in better than the others were, judging by the slack jaws and rounded eyes the four of them shared. “This is our leader, Ohno Satoshi,” Sho was helpfully, albeit uselessly, introducing the members of his group - never mind that Arisa had been doing as much research as she could about Arashi for the past three months. “This one over here is Aiba Masaki, our mood maker.” Aiba at least had enough presence of mind left to raise a hand and smile. “And those over there are Matsumoto Jun and Ninomiya Kazunari. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Kujoin Arisa.”
“Girlfriend?” Ninomiya verbalized his evident amazement as Arisa made a quick bow and Matsumoto muttered a muffled Nice to meet you. “You’re really good at hiding things, aren’t you? We didn’t know anything about this at all-”
“That’s why I’m introducing everybody now,” Sho said easily, waving all future questions aside. “I’ll explain things later, but I really have to pee. Honey, do you mind if I leave you for a moment?”
“Don’t call me Honey,” Arisa muttered as quietly as she could, as Sho got up with a grin on his face. If she hadn’t known everyone was staring at her through, at least, their peripheral vision, she wouldn’t have hesitated to stick her elbow down Sho’s gut. It was bad enough that he had dragged her here without warning - why was he making a show of being extra sickeningly sweet? She nervously listened to the door shut as he left, doing her best to calmly return the stares being aimed at her.
“How long have you two been going out then?” Ninomiya asked with barely disguised curiosity. Vaguely, Arisa noted how much he resembled his TV persona - from the inquisitiveness, to the impishness, to the undeniable concern for his members. She also realized those people were right - the ones who said his nose was too distracting. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s introducing you to us like this. I’d have expected something more formal from Sho-san, like an evening dinner or something-”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the situation any better than you do,” Arisa admitted, frowning slightly. “Sho just told me to come to this place for lunch - I didn’t think I’d be meeting any of you today.”
“Sho?” Matsumoto uttered in a strangled, hollow voice, eyes wide as he leaned close. “You call him Sho?”
“When we’re around other people I call him Sho-san,” Arisa explained slowly, “but since I figured you call him Sho, too, I thought you wouldn’t be bothered by it.” Four blank gazes stared back at her. “Was I wrong?”
“But this is really surprising, you know,” Aiba pragmatically reasoned out, crossing his arms rather dramatically. Beside him Ohno nodded his head without a word, staring at the wooden table as though trying to recall a faint memory. “Sho-chan’s never introduced any girls to us, huh? Arisa-chan is the first-”
“What do you think you’re doing, calling her Arisa-chan!”
“Even when he was still with Fumie-san, he never brought her over to meet us, right?” Matsumoto observed with furrowed brows, arms crossed. “And they’d been dating for a really long time. Four years?” he asked Ohno.
Leader shook his head. “I’ve met Fumie-san once though. I think it was somewhere around Roppongi - I was still doing Maou. We met at this bar, but I don’t remember what happened-”
“You were probably drunk,” Ninomiya instantly suggested.
“Yeah, I was probably drunk,” Ohno agreed, grinning sheepishly.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but-” As one, four faces turned towards her attentively. Involuntarily, she felt herself draw back. So this is what it feels like for a guest in HnA? “May I know who this Fumie-san is?”
“Fumie-san?” Ninomiya and Matsumoto exchanged a l0ok full of meaning. “I think she and Sho-san went to Keio together,” Matsumoto began. “She was a kouhai from the same department, but they only started dating after college. They broke up I think sometime during our 10th year anniversary?”
“Something like that,” Ninomiya confirmed, hand cupping his chin. “I don’t think it was meant to work out though. She was too obsessed with him, and he just wasn’t into her-”
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Ohno suddenly requested, holding a hand out to his companions. Arisa thought she saw him glance towards her once or twice, but she hadn’t thought he’d been seriously concerned about her. “Really, let’s not.”
“I think it’s different this time though. I really think it is,” Aiba contributed positively. “I mean, we’re all together right now, aren’t we? Sho-san’s probably been planning this since last week! Remember how he kept asking around about good shabu shabu restaurants?”
“Wait!” Ninomiya was struck by an epiphany. “Would that mean he’s paying for lunch today?” He laughed just as suddenly, saying between chuckles, “All right, it was a bad joke. I’m sorry!”
“Are we making you uncomfortable, Kujoin-san?” Matsumoto was looking at her worriedly from across the table, as the laughter around them died quickly. “We’re usually not this insensitive. We’re just really overwhelmed by all this.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Arisa tried to assure him. She even did her best to smile. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
In her head, however, Arisa couldn’t set aside the fact that the rest of Arashi didn’t know about her, or that Sho hadn’t shown any signs - symptoms - of being… in the state of dating. What did Sho think he was doing? Why invite her to meet his friends when he’d never told them about her in the first place? Why-?
“I’m back,” the devil in question chirped pleasantly, lightly touching her back as he plopped into the seat beside her. As she glanced at him quickly, he smiled. “I hope you haven’t been teasing Arisa while I was gone?”
“Oh.” Ninomiya, eyes unsure, looked at Matsumoto again. “We didn’t mean to.”
Eyebrows twitching, Sho slowly turned his eyes back to Arisa. But she was only smiling faintly, refusing to return his gaze, choosing to marvel over the food instead. Under different circumstances, she might have expressed irrefutable delight at the feast before her, but as things were, she could only do her best not to cry. Or worse, slap to sleep the man who claimed to be her boyfriend.
“Oh, but this is amazing!” she heard herself say, in a voice that sounded oddly alien, distant. “I adore shabu shabu! Thank you, everyone!”
An uncomfortable silence hung over the table, as the five men exchanged wordless questions, helpless.
__
15.11
He placed the bouquet of roses on the sparkling kitchen counter, and turned to her with a grave expression. “Cecil-san is just someone from work. We were talking about a possible drama collaboration over a round of drinks - that’s all.”
Arisa irritably motioned for her staff to bugger off, as their curious heads were fairly visible through the showroom windows. “You call her Cecil-san,” she shot at him with her eyes averted, watching her people quail under her dagger eyes. “Not Kishimoto-san-”
“Everybody calls me Sho-san. It doesn’t mean they’re attracted to me.”
She responded by transferring her glare to the glass-topped dining table, where today’s Cyzo banner head had for some reason chosen to imprint itself. She barely cared that she was starting to see things. “She’s really beautiful.”
“She’s a model,” Sho said with a trace of exasperation. “That’s part of her job - a large part of it actually!”
To say the least, Arisa’s day had not started out well. Over breakfast, her grandmother had called to report today’s Cyzo scoop, and when she surfed the fastest web tabloids they all attested to having played witness to Sakurai Sho and some famous model getting mushy over a bottle of wine. At Ginza. With other people, it had been noted - but still!
“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m actually jealous of her - not at all!” Arisa tried to clarify, although she could feel a shapeless lump forming in her throat. “If you truly were cheating on me with that woman, you’d be able to hide it a bit better, I’m sure - goodness knows you keep me secret well enough-”
“Oh!” Sho straightened up beside her kitchen set, and for a mad, distracted moment she wondered if he would consider endorsing her shop. “So this is what it’s about?”
“What I don’t understand is why, whenever we meet, it’s always at your place or my place or - under particularly dire circumstances - my grandmother’s house!” She was doing her best to keep her voice low, to retain what little pride she had left over not being as obsessed about him as his other girlfriends had been. “Whenever you meet ‘people from work’ it’s always at Ginza or Roppongi Hills or Shibuya at the least - you can’t even visit me at Yokohama!”
“Then let’s go to Ginza right now!”
“Don’t be stupid - you’re already late for work, as it is-”
He ran a hand through his hat hair - not the usual ‘casually windswept’ today - and seemed to be counting to ten as he took the seat beside her. Holding her glare with his let’s-talk-about-this eyes, he said, “If it’s any consolation, this is the first time I’ve ever tried to skip work. Also the first time I’ve ever felt the need to apologize. Not the first time I’ve ever bought someone roses, but it is the first time I’ve ever thought I wouldn’t be forgiven even after handing them over sincerely. Not that I’ve even done anything wrong!”
She silently pondered his apology with her hands cupping her head. “Are Japanese men always this awkward at expressing themselves?” By the way he chose to say nothing she knew she had hit a nerve.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Some odd, undetermined emotion flashed in Sho’s eyes.
“You’re so dramatic,” she muttered, reaching the limit of decorum, gracelessly pushing her seat away and rising. “I don’t really care anymore. I don’t understand anything. Call it selfishness, or even stupidity, but I’m not breaking up with you over this.” Frowning at the universe in general, refusing to look him in the eye, she ranted, “Do you know? I’ve already come to the point where I don’t care if you like me. I don’t even care what you think of me anymore-”
“That’s stupid.” He was starting to get angry. It irritated Arisa that she could tell by now. “You know I care for you.”
“Oh, sure I do. I just don’t know how much.” She glanced at the clock above the waterless sink, and frowned further. “You might still make it if you leave now. Let’s talk about this some other time.” She did her best to restrain herself, and miserably, irrevocably failed. “Knowing you it’s going to be a day or two later, but whatever-”
She turned her back on him, but felt him reach for her wrist. Pulling away as gently as her mood allowed her, Arisa looked back to see a somber Sho. The sight momentarily disarmed her. He had never looked at her like this, and in a quick burst of rational thinking she knew they had crossed a dangerous, unwritten line. “If I asked you to marry me right now,” he began, his eyes begging the same answer, “would you say yes?”
Arisa froze. The world dissolved in a few beats of silence, but if she had the intention to listen, Arisa would have heard the exaggerated drumming of her overworked, overstressed heart. She fought to maintain her breathing. But try as she might to compose herself, to fight back the crushing wave welling in her chest, she felt her hands go numb. “That’s pathetic, Sakurai.”
She turned away from him, yet again.
“You’re running away because you’re afraid of saying yes!” She heard his chair scrape the floor, felt him stand and preach to her retreating back. She knew if she turned he’d be worse than angry, knew she would one day regret putting him under this dilemma. “You’re running because you know you’ll say yes! And you’re afraid to say yes, aren’t you?”
Arisa broke into a run.
__
17.08
The garden was quiet, spare the unexpected chirping of unseen birds. Arisa had at first been surprised that Sho would sit on the grass in his tux, but if there was anything she’d learned about the man it was that he was almost impossible to predict. Easy to read at times, but the skill didn’t make life with him less complicated. She rested her face on her raised knees, her gown hiding her smile.
He sensed her feelings anyway. “What are you thinking of?” he asked in a low voice, poking her bare shoulder.
“I’m thinking my father and I have a pretty large age gap,” she replied, uncharacteristically coy, as she peered at Sho through an eye. “He’s already celebrating his 70th birthday and I’m not even in my 30s yet.”
Sho stretched and made a non-committal sound. “Men tend to marry late, huh?”
“Father didn’t marry late. I just happened to come out unexpectedly tardy.”
He laughed, eyes crinkling, and she realized how strangely carefree the last few weeks had been. Sho had finally taken her to Ginza, where he’d introduced her to his favorite bartender - she was pleasantly surprised that he knew so much about her. He’d also taken her shopping - and he really did pay huge attention to his clothes, contrary to his image. He hadn’t said a single word about the Cyzo incident, and Arisa - not to mention her grandmother, who had become an expert in Japanese entertainment since Sho - liked to think he leaked the tip himself. Maybe he was tired of having to hide. It had been five years, after all.
“How do you see yourself ten years from now?” she suddenly felt the urge to ask. “Considering you’re pretty much set for life.”
“Ten years?” Sho proceeded to pinch her arm. “Married.”
She laughed. “Career-wise, I mean,” she clarified, trying not to look too pleased or expectant. “You’ve already achieved pretty much everything showbiz has to offer - why not turn to politics?”
“Did your father put you up to this?” he narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness, pulling her closer. “He’s been bringing the topic up constantly since that GQ survey-”
“He just thinks you’ll be great at it,” she explained. “I happen to think so, too.”
“Well.” Sho rested a hand on her back, submerging into a sea of deep thought. “It would be great to serve Japan, that’s true-”
“You studied Economics, and family background is strong so-”
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“Father says he’ll support you, if you’re interested.” She felt her face redden, and cursed her biological makeup for being so transparent even after all this time. “You’ll probably have to marry into the family though, just to strengthen the agreement.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in marrying for convenience?” Sho muttered with a hint of smugness. “Or am I that prince charming you prayed for in fourth grade-?”
“Ew. I can’t believe she told you that story.” In the first place, she didn’t think Grandmother still had the capacity to remember the things she was told. “Anyway-” She scratched her arm in a most unladylike manner. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. Perspectives change. People change.”
“You know that’s the permanent excuse slow thinkers give?”
Arisa cringed. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that line before?” She blinked to clear her head. “Is that from a movie? Your movie?” But he simply shook his head, a small smile on his face as he took her hand and bounced it in his. The motion stirred a realization. She was expecting him to propose to her, when in five years she had never confessed.
“I don’t mind marrying you,” she began, gaze low, “because-” She bit her lip. Why tell him now, when he didn’t seem bothered by her lack of overt emotion? “Huh. You’re too awkward to handle the truth. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Sho grinned. Taking hold of her fingers, he pressed his lips lightly against them before quickly pulling away. “Give me a few more months,” he seemed to whisper to the ground. “You’re only 28 anyway.”
Almost lazily, he dodged the forceful slap she threw at him. Pulling a face, he stood up in a rush and left her glaring at him. But as he moved to walk away, dusting the blades of grass that clung to his pants, she faintly heard the proposition, “Although it may be prudent to start searching for houses now.”
__
“So you wouldn’t date a popular guy?” Sakurai asked as he parked in front of an imposing, tree-walled mansion. “Never mind that he’s got everything going for him? Good job, good prospects, good DNA?”
She shot him a covertly incredulous look. “The DNA sounds tempting, but don’t think it will work out.” She pulled a face. “I’d really like a no fuss relationship. As long as we understand each other - even if it borders on mere companionship - I don’t think I’d really mind.” Although it would be nice to marry for more than stability-
“You wouldn’t date a celebrity, then?” he pressed, as they pulled their seatbelts off. “Or an athlete for that matter? This is honestly fairly surprising, given your family background.”
“It depends on how famous he is, really.” She paused for a moment to think. “Just how famous is famous in Japan anyway? Do you guys have paparazzi?”
“Let’s just say there’s this really popular guy-” He broke off with his hands in a frozen gesture before him, his face scrunched in an effort to make his point. “There’s this guy and- Ahhh, what’s a recent event? Let’s just say he’s on a people-sniff-his-towels-in-hotel-rooms level of popular. That kind of person.”
“There are people like that? People who sniff celebrity towels?”
“And post them on Twitter with an attached picture, yes.”
Arisa laughed. “If there really are people that obsessed,” she began, wiping away a tear, “all the more I shouldn’t date Japanese celebrities, right?”
Sakurai laughed hesitantly. “Right?”
They got off his SUV - a nondescript but obviously well-maintained BMW - and he walked her to the gates of her grandmother’s just as ancient house. They stopped by the patrol booth where she gave the guard on duty her name, all the while not speaking, Sakurai whistling as he twirled his keys in one hand. Turning to him as she waited for entry, she said, “Thank you for showing me around. I appreciate it, truly.”
“It’s no problem,” he replied rather casually, raising a hand to make his point. “Should you ever need a tour guide, I’d be happy to assist you.”
“Oh, but that would mean you’d have to read more travel books to prepare-”
“I enjoy getting around anyway. Only it’s somewhat lonely to go on a joyride alone.”
She smiled faintly. “I may be wrong, but I get the impression you’re the busy type.”
“It’s obvious, huh? Must be the dark circles,” he joked, chuckling heartily. “My last job just ended though, so I won’t be doing anything in the next couple of months. Just a few weeks left, and I’m free-” He laughed again, thoroughly pleased about something, before he stopped at the look on Arisa’s face. “Hang on. That’s not the problem here, is it?”
She scratched her head apologetically. “I don’t know. It’s just-” She sneaked a glance at his face. “Something about you makes me feel that you’re hiding something from me. Something extremely important.”
He nodded in understanding. “There is something I’ve been hiding from you. And I’m not telling you so I can be assured we’ll meet again-”
“Please be serious,” she begged him half-heartedly, playfully slapping his shoulder, too quickly for him to dodge. “I also get the feeling you’re someone I should know, only I can’t place you. Although I’m sure if I ask my grandmother, she’ll be able to illuminate me.”
“I have to say I’m looking forward to your reaction when you discover the truth.” He laughed again, and although Arisa had the strongest suspicion they were starting to resemble a stupid, airheaded couple - the way his constant laughing made them both lightheaded - she couldn’t help laughing with him anyway. “I really have to go now though. I have an appointment I can’t miss. I’ll pay you a visit as soon as I can. I swear on my forebears’ graves-”
“You don’t have to go that far!” she reprimanded, swaying with the giddiness of laughter. “You’re not drunk, are you? We only had one glass each of shaved ice cream - I don’t think there was alcohol in that-”
“No, seriously, please stop.” He held a hand out at her. “I really have to go. Please stop distracting me. I swear I’ll call you once my schedule frees up-”
“The schedule technique already?” She shook her head, unwilling to believe him. “You don’t have to force yourself to call me. Just tell me if I’m not to expect anything from you, and I promise I won’t mind.”
But he was suddenly serious. “Please believe me when I say my schedule is very tight.”
“Sakurai-san,” she had a feeling he was being entirely honest, but she couldn’t help it. “You know that’s the same excuse slow thinkers make?” Seeing his eyebrows twitch in irritation, she burst into a fit of giggles.
He seemed to be exercising his jaw. Then he opened his mouth with the intention to say something, before his companion’s ceaseless giggling chased all possible comebacks from the corners of his head. Raising one hand to his nose, expression pained and amused at the same time, Sakurai told her, “You know there aren’t a lot of people who can render me speechless.”
“Really?” Arisa straightened up in between peals of laughter, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. In front of her, more than an entire arm’s length away, stood Sakurai, muttering something unintelligible. “If that’s the case, then-” She felt her face flush. “I suppose we’re even.”
“Yes, I really should be leaving.” He seemed not to have read her words’ intention, apparently distracted by something only he understood. To Arisa’s surprise, instead of merely making a polite bow, Sakurai stepped forward and held out a hand for her to shake. “It was nice meeting you. See you soon.”
He had dropped her hand, prepared to depart, when he suddenly appeared to be struck by an idea. Partially turning around, a grin on his face, he winked rather comically and rumbled, “Sweet dreams, Baby.”
“W-wait a minute.” Arisa was 100% positive he was toying with her, from the way his shoulders - abnormally sloped - shook in fits of silent laughter, the way he couldn’t walk in a straight line on the way back to his car. “I hope you haven’t misunderstood - I don’t really like you yet. Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean I’m infatuated with you.” But he didn’t even turn back. Cupping her hands, fingers curled in agitation, she shouted to his retreating profile, “I hope you don’t become too smug over this!”
“Unfortunately,” he chose to reply, one arm draped over his car door, the other on his waist, “being pleased with myself is a habit I can’t shake off. I get a lot of reinforcement, you see-”
“Oh, just evaporate won’t you?!” She finally shrieked at him, red in the face, as he burst into yet another wave of explosive laughter. “I don’t care what your stupid secret is - it probably isn’t worth digging up anyway!”
“Do me a favor and watch NTV tonight.” Sakurai, signature smug smile in place, rolled his window down and offered a small salute. “There’s a TV program called ‘News Zero’. I hope it - ah - illuminates you.”
“What?” But with a wave and another self-absorbed smile, he was gone.
The blood was still pumping madly into Arisa’s temples as she stood in front of the double gates for a few seconds, stunned and speechless. Sakurai Sho, she concluded - as she was wont to do - scared her. He scared her terribly. The man had picked her up at her house, split the lunch bill with her at a cheap soba restaurant, introduced her to shaved ice, and bought her a bouquet of daisies which they later forgot in a convenience store, but complained about his unplanned itinerary the entire trip through. The whole time, Arisa recalled through the haze in her head, he just kept muttering, This isn’t in the plan, this isn’t in the plan, whenever she mentioned something minor in their unremarkably circular conversations about the weather, their genealogies, and the hidden charms of first-class airplane seating. Sakurai Sho scared her. He was so undeniably normal he was interesting.
“I’m sorry to interrupt - Ojousama?”
She opened her eyes and searched for the voice. A few feet from her, completely ignored the whole time, stood two security guards who looked justifiably worried for her sanity. “Ojousama, are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She straightened up instantly, knowing she had to pull herself together if she was to report to Grandmother. “I’m fine, only-” She pursed her lips, an imaginary light bulb hovering over her head. “I’m afraid I must ask. Do you know that person?” She blinked, licking her lips. “He’s a celebrity, isn’t he? Who is he?”
“You mean to say you don’t know who he is?” The taller of the guards looked highly incredulous. “He’s pretty popular.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. If you will…?”
The two men looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed and gazes confused. Finally, the taller one again replied, “Isn’t that Ohno Satoshi?”
She blinked. “No, no… His name’s Sakurai. Sakurai Sho.”
“Ahhhh, Sakurai, huh?” The shorter one tapped his head in meditation, running through the files in his memory bank. “Isn’t he in Arashi?”
Arisa paused. “He’s in Arashi?”
They nodded. “He’s in Arashi, yes.”
Another pause. “What’s Arashi?”
__
End.
__
A/N
Somehow, I apologize for that ending. It was supposed to end with “Isn’t that Ohno Satoshi?” but that bit didn’t work out, so! Regarding the time thing, I’ve set the hours to stand in for years as well. [I know I shouldn’t do this, but I feel I have to explain.] Since the two of them meet at 12, it signifies them having met during Arashi’s 12th year together. The rest follow, but the last chapter reverts to Year 12. I know this doesn’t clear things up, but I like to think I tried. ::P I hope you like it! I hope you caught the references to Sho’s real-life failures! [29 December 2011]
Sho. Roadtrip. Yokohama.
An Arashi One-Shot
Summary
What’s a girl to do on a blind date with Sakurai Sho? Based on Arashi’s Kitto Daijobu
“Shake it, shake it, baby, my feelings are 80% |It’s fine! It’s not bad! Isn’t it love?”
A/N
[29 December 2011] Here’s the plot of the first Arashi Fanfic I ever wanted to write. I had already written half of it when I decided to trash it because I felt it wasn’t good enough. But this time, although I’m not sure this is the best version I can come up with, I’ve decided to finally write it down for good. For closure? ::D I hope you like it.
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 a nutshell, an omiai is a way of meeting one’s prospective wife or husband. At least it dramas, it is.
Kindly take note of the time. People often complain about my transitions. ::)
English in Bold.
___________________________
Joyride
For Arashi
The command had come through the butler that morning, as Kujoin Arisa had been yawning over her second cup of coffee. Come to Tokyo as soon as you are able, Grandmother had supposedly ordered, and be ready for pick up at 12 today. Look sharp. Twenty-three years of decoding cryptic messages from faceless family members had ingrained in Arisa the art of interpreting the unsaid, which in this case was obviously: 1) That the interfering matriarch of the Kujoin Clan had finally found her a fiancé candidate; and, 2) That said fiancé candidate was no small fry. She would have to watch herself yet again.
Thus, the assistance of the housemaids had been required for the mini-makeover which ensued. The Operation Ojousama wardrobe collection that her second brother’s wife-to-be had kindly put together for her turned out to be a blessing in disguise, never mind how Arisa hated the sight of anything pink with ruffles. She had to put her foot down, however, when the issue of Sakura Pop lipstick had been brought up, and mercifully she had been allowed the grace to wear her usual drugstore red. She may not have shown explicit loathing at the thought of an omiai, the head housemaid would be telling the gardener that afternoon, but it didn’t mean she was all too excited about entertaining a perfect stranger.
A few minutes before noon and she was nervously flattening her hair while tiptoeing down the carpeted stairs. Across the main hallway and through the arch of the anteroom, she stopped near the ornate fireplace that had been the first to intrigue her in this fairly eccentric mansion. In front of the anomaly, his face barely visible, stood a man who seemed just as confused by the hearth as she had once been. His hair was unnaturally neat, his dress shirt immaculate, and by the private school arrogance with which he carried himself, she pegged him to be in the CEO category. The CEO category, Arisa murmured inwardly, mood darkening. The worst classification of all.
But perhaps she’d forgive him, with shoulders like that.
“The Meiji Restoration apparently caused that,” she ventured to explain the lapses of her forebears. “Too much money and William Perry make a very bad house.”
He jumped very slightly and quickly turned to face her. Instinctively, she found her eyes taking in his features: the strange forehead, the odd nose, and the rather chubby cheeks. At the back of her mind, she thought she heard him say, I think it’s an interesting design, or something just as innocuous. For a few seconds, however, she merely stood there, her brain a mixture of hormones and of propriety, watching the eerily attractive way his lips moved. But even after all the mad thinking she had done, all she could conclude was that her grandmother was the devil incarnate. She had been deceived, for the nth time.
What she had believed she would be dealing with today was an overachieving, sheltered, pampered MBA A-lister with an obnoxious paycheck and too few Facebook friends - if an account existed in the first place. She had not - for all the foresight she had always prided herself on - expected this… sparkly person. She decided to clear her throat before the heat fully crept up her face.
“You’re an interior designer, right?” was all she could catch from his opening speech. He seemed to have noticed the glazed look in her eyes, and despite her embarrassment, Arisa could do nothing but just stand there and impersonate a human tomato. For his part, he appeared unaffected by the sudden burst of repressed infatuation, an unexpected show of refinement she could only be thankful for. “If you don’t like it then, I suppose it really is awful.”
Arisa nodded dumbly, dropping her gaze, and praying the decades-old floor would swallow her. Looking thoroughly amused, he turned his face away to hide the grin plastered there. With his eyes off her, she pressed both palms over her face, and subsequently mouthed a plea for help at the butler who was standing nearby. And when the only piece of advice she received was the soundproof suggestion “His name!” Arisa cleared her throat again, watched him turn around, and, staring at a spot on his shoulder, slowly tried, “I’m afraid I still don’t know your name.”
He smiled faintly. “My name is Sakurai Sho,” he said in accented English, as though it was his fluent use of Japanese that scared her so terribly. “And you’re Kujoin Arisa, right?”
“Yes.” A pause. “I’m an interior designer.” A twitch. “But you already know that-”
“Yes, my mother told me.”
“Your mother knows me?” Another twitch. “I mean - I’m afraid I’ve never had the privilege of meeting her-”
“It seems you grandmother talks about you often,” he explained slowly, “so my mother feels she’s already met you because she’s heard so much about you.” He added as an afterthought, “And my mother talks about you a lot as well.”
Arisa fell into a thoughtful silence. So her grandmother didn’t hate her as much as she had believed. Never mind that her parents had been divorced for more than twenty years. Never mind that she was Japanese only by blood, having lived in New York all her life. Never mind that she was just an assistant designer at a small furniture company. But perhaps she should have realized that, when the invitation to move to Japan had been offered.
She looked up and met Sakurai’s watchful eyes. Still smiling slightly, looking inexplicably pleased with himself, he just stood there, watching her think. And she realized he scared her even more now.
“It seems unfair that you should know so much about me when I don’t know anything about you,” she said, slightly louder and more confidently, although her hands remained clutched together behind her. “Kindly enlighten me. What is it you do, Sakurai-san?”
__
13.04
Arisa stared at the faces before her with as little emotion as she could muster. To her credit, she seemed to be holding her shock in better than the others were, judging by the slack jaws and rounded eyes the four of them shared. “This is our leader, Ohno Satoshi,” Sho was helpfully, albeit uselessly, introducing the members of his group - never mind that Arisa had been doing as much research as she could about Arashi for the past three months. “This one over here is Aiba Masaki, our mood maker.” Aiba at least had enough presence of mind left to raise a hand and smile. “And those over there are Matsumoto Jun and Ninomiya Kazunari. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Kujoin Arisa.”
“Girlfriend?” Ninomiya verbalized his evident amazement as Arisa made a quick bow and Matsumoto muttered a muffled Nice to meet you. “You’re really good at hiding things, aren’t you? We didn’t know anything about this at all-”
“That’s why I’m introducing everybody now,” Sho said easily, waving all future questions aside. “I’ll explain things later, but I really have to pee. Honey, do you mind if I leave you for a moment?”
“Don’t call me Honey,” Arisa muttered as quietly as she could, as Sho got up with a grin on his face. If she hadn’t known everyone was staring at her through, at least, their peripheral vision, she wouldn’t have hesitated to stick her elbow down Sho’s gut. It was bad enough that he had dragged her here without warning - why was he making a show of being extra sickeningly sweet? She nervously listened to the door shut as he left, doing her best to calmly return the stares being aimed at her.
“How long have you two been going out then?” Ninomiya asked with barely disguised curiosity. Vaguely, Arisa noted how much he resembled his TV persona - from the inquisitiveness, to the impishness, to the undeniable concern for his members. She also realized those people were right - the ones who said his nose was too distracting. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s introducing you to us like this. I’d have expected something more formal from Sho-san, like an evening dinner or something-”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the situation any better than you do,” Arisa admitted, frowning slightly. “Sho just told me to come to this place for lunch - I didn’t think I’d be meeting any of you today.”
“Sho?” Matsumoto uttered in a strangled, hollow voice, eyes wide as he leaned close. “You call him Sho?”
“When we’re around other people I call him Sho-san,” Arisa explained slowly, “but since I figured you call him Sho, too, I thought you wouldn’t be bothered by it.” Four blank gazes stared back at her. “Was I wrong?”
“But this is really surprising, you know,” Aiba pragmatically reasoned out, crossing his arms rather dramatically. Beside him Ohno nodded his head without a word, staring at the wooden table as though trying to recall a faint memory. “Sho-chan’s never introduced any girls to us, huh? Arisa-chan is the first-”
“What do you think you’re doing, calling her Arisa-chan!”
“Even when he was still with Fumie-san, he never brought her over to meet us, right?” Matsumoto observed with furrowed brows, arms crossed. “And they’d been dating for a really long time. Four years?” he asked Ohno.
Leader shook his head. “I’ve met Fumie-san once though. I think it was somewhere around Roppongi - I was still doing Maou. We met at this bar, but I don’t remember what happened-”
“You were probably drunk,” Ninomiya instantly suggested.
“Yeah, I was probably drunk,” Ohno agreed, grinning sheepishly.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but-” As one, four faces turned towards her attentively. Involuntarily, she felt herself draw back. So this is what it feels like for a guest in HnA? “May I know who this Fumie-san is?”
“Fumie-san?” Ninomiya and Matsumoto exchanged a l0ok full of meaning. “I think she and Sho-san went to Keio together,” Matsumoto began. “She was a kouhai from the same department, but they only started dating after college. They broke up I think sometime during our 10th year anniversary?”
“Something like that,” Ninomiya confirmed, hand cupping his chin. “I don’t think it was meant to work out though. She was too obsessed with him, and he just wasn’t into her-”
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Ohno suddenly requested, holding a hand out to his companions. Arisa thought she saw him glance towards her once or twice, but she hadn’t thought he’d been seriously concerned about her. “Really, let’s not.”
“I think it’s different this time though. I really think it is,” Aiba contributed positively. “I mean, we’re all together right now, aren’t we? Sho-san’s probably been planning this since last week! Remember how he kept asking around about good shabu shabu restaurants?”
“Wait!” Ninomiya was struck by an epiphany. “Would that mean he’s paying for lunch today?” He laughed just as suddenly, saying between chuckles, “All right, it was a bad joke. I’m sorry!”
“Are we making you uncomfortable, Kujoin-san?” Matsumoto was looking at her worriedly from across the table, as the laughter around them died quickly. “We’re usually not this insensitive. We’re just really overwhelmed by all this.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Arisa tried to assure him. She even did her best to smile. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
In her head, however, Arisa couldn’t set aside the fact that the rest of Arashi didn’t know about her, or that Sho hadn’t shown any signs - symptoms - of being… in the state of dating. What did Sho think he was doing? Why invite her to meet his friends when he’d never told them about her in the first place? Why-?
“I’m back,” the devil in question chirped pleasantly, lightly touching her back as he plopped into the seat beside her. As she glanced at him quickly, he smiled. “I hope you haven’t been teasing Arisa while I was gone?”
“Oh.” Ninomiya, eyes unsure, looked at Matsumoto again. “We didn’t mean to.”
Eyebrows twitching, Sho slowly turned his eyes back to Arisa. But she was only smiling faintly, refusing to return his gaze, choosing to marvel over the food instead. Under different circumstances, she might have expressed irrefutable delight at the feast before her, but as things were, she could only do her best not to cry. Or worse, slap to sleep the man who claimed to be her boyfriend.
“Oh, but this is amazing!” she heard herself say, in a voice that sounded oddly alien, distant. “I adore shabu shabu! Thank you, everyone!”
An uncomfortable silence hung over the table, as the five men exchanged wordless questions, helpless.
__
15.11
He placed the bouquet of roses on the sparkling kitchen counter, and turned to her with a grave expression. “Cecil-san is just someone from work. We were talking about a possible drama collaboration over a round of drinks - that’s all.”
Arisa irritably motioned for her staff to bugger off, as their curious heads were fairly visible through the showroom windows. “You call her Cecil-san,” she shot at him with her eyes averted, watching her people quail under her dagger eyes. “Not Kishimoto-san-”
“Everybody calls me Sho-san. It doesn’t mean they’re attracted to me.”
She responded by transferring her glare to the glass-topped dining table, where today’s Cyzo banner head had for some reason chosen to imprint itself. She barely cared that she was starting to see things. “She’s really beautiful.”
“She’s a model,” Sho said with a trace of exasperation. “That’s part of her job - a large part of it actually!”
To say the least, Arisa’s day had not started out well. Over breakfast, her grandmother had called to report today’s Cyzo scoop, and when she surfed the fastest web tabloids they all attested to having played witness to Sakurai Sho and some famous model getting mushy over a bottle of wine. At Ginza. With other people, it had been noted - but still!
“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m actually jealous of her - not at all!” Arisa tried to clarify, although she could feel a shapeless lump forming in her throat. “If you truly were cheating on me with that woman, you’d be able to hide it a bit better, I’m sure - goodness knows you keep me secret well enough-”
“Oh!” Sho straightened up beside her kitchen set, and for a mad, distracted moment she wondered if he would consider endorsing her shop. “So this is what it’s about?”
“What I don’t understand is why, whenever we meet, it’s always at your place or my place or - under particularly dire circumstances - my grandmother’s house!” She was doing her best to keep her voice low, to retain what little pride she had left over not being as obsessed about him as his other girlfriends had been. “Whenever you meet ‘people from work’ it’s always at Ginza or Roppongi Hills or Shibuya at the least - you can’t even visit me at Yokohama!”
“Then let’s go to Ginza right now!”
“Don’t be stupid - you’re already late for work, as it is-”
He ran a hand through his hat hair - not the usual ‘casually windswept’ today - and seemed to be counting to ten as he took the seat beside her. Holding her glare with his let’s-talk-about-this eyes, he said, “If it’s any consolation, this is the first time I’ve ever tried to skip work. Also the first time I’ve ever felt the need to apologize. Not the first time I’ve ever bought someone roses, but it is the first time I’ve ever thought I wouldn’t be forgiven even after handing them over sincerely. Not that I’ve even done anything wrong!”
She silently pondered his apology with her hands cupping her head. “Are Japanese men always this awkward at expressing themselves?” By the way he chose to say nothing she knew she had hit a nerve.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Some odd, undetermined emotion flashed in Sho’s eyes.
“You’re so dramatic,” she muttered, reaching the limit of decorum, gracelessly pushing her seat away and rising. “I don’t really care anymore. I don’t understand anything. Call it selfishness, or even stupidity, but I’m not breaking up with you over this.” Frowning at the universe in general, refusing to look him in the eye, she ranted, “Do you know? I’ve already come to the point where I don’t care if you like me. I don’t even care what you think of me anymore-”
“That’s stupid.” He was starting to get angry. It irritated Arisa that she could tell by now. “You know I care for you.”
“Oh, sure I do. I just don’t know how much.” She glanced at the clock above the waterless sink, and frowned further. “You might still make it if you leave now. Let’s talk about this some other time.” She did her best to restrain herself, and miserably, irrevocably failed. “Knowing you it’s going to be a day or two later, but whatever-”
She turned her back on him, but felt him reach for her wrist. Pulling away as gently as her mood allowed her, Arisa looked back to see a somber Sho. The sight momentarily disarmed her. He had never looked at her like this, and in a quick burst of rational thinking she knew they had crossed a dangerous, unwritten line. “If I asked you to marry me right now,” he began, his eyes begging the same answer, “would you say yes?”
Arisa froze. The world dissolved in a few beats of silence, but if she had the intention to listen, Arisa would have heard the exaggerated drumming of her overworked, overstressed heart. She fought to maintain her breathing. But try as she might to compose herself, to fight back the crushing wave welling in her chest, she felt her hands go numb. “That’s pathetic, Sakurai.”
She turned away from him, yet again.
“You’re running away because you’re afraid of saying yes!” She heard his chair scrape the floor, felt him stand and preach to her retreating back. She knew if she turned he’d be worse than angry, knew she would one day regret putting him under this dilemma. “You’re running because you know you’ll say yes! And you’re afraid to say yes, aren’t you?”
Arisa broke into a run.
__
17.08
The garden was quiet, spare the unexpected chirping of unseen birds. Arisa had at first been surprised that Sho would sit on the grass in his tux, but if there was anything she’d learned about the man it was that he was almost impossible to predict. Easy to read at times, but the skill didn’t make life with him less complicated. She rested her face on her raised knees, her gown hiding her smile.
He sensed her feelings anyway. “What are you thinking of?” he asked in a low voice, poking her bare shoulder.
“I’m thinking my father and I have a pretty large age gap,” she replied, uncharacteristically coy, as she peered at Sho through an eye. “He’s already celebrating his 70th birthday and I’m not even in my 30s yet.”
Sho stretched and made a non-committal sound. “Men tend to marry late, huh?”
“Father didn’t marry late. I just happened to come out unexpectedly tardy.”
He laughed, eyes crinkling, and she realized how strangely carefree the last few weeks had been. Sho had finally taken her to Ginza, where he’d introduced her to his favorite bartender - she was pleasantly surprised that he knew so much about her. He’d also taken her shopping - and he really did pay huge attention to his clothes, contrary to his image. He hadn’t said a single word about the Cyzo incident, and Arisa - not to mention her grandmother, who had become an expert in Japanese entertainment since Sho - liked to think he leaked the tip himself. Maybe he was tired of having to hide. It had been five years, after all.
“How do you see yourself ten years from now?” she suddenly felt the urge to ask. “Considering you’re pretty much set for life.”
“Ten years?” Sho proceeded to pinch her arm. “Married.”
She laughed. “Career-wise, I mean,” she clarified, trying not to look too pleased or expectant. “You’ve already achieved pretty much everything showbiz has to offer - why not turn to politics?”
“Did your father put you up to this?” he narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness, pulling her closer. “He’s been bringing the topic up constantly since that GQ survey-”
“He just thinks you’ll be great at it,” she explained. “I happen to think so, too.”
“Well.” Sho rested a hand on her back, submerging into a sea of deep thought. “It would be great to serve Japan, that’s true-”
“You studied Economics, and family background is strong so-”
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“Father says he’ll support you, if you’re interested.” She felt her face redden, and cursed her biological makeup for being so transparent even after all this time. “You’ll probably have to marry into the family though, just to strengthen the agreement.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in marrying for convenience?” Sho muttered with a hint of smugness. “Or am I that prince charming you prayed for in fourth grade-?”
“Ew. I can’t believe she told you that story.” In the first place, she didn’t think Grandmother still had the capacity to remember the things she was told. “Anyway-” She scratched her arm in a most unladylike manner. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. Perspectives change. People change.”
“You know that’s the permanent excuse slow thinkers give?”
Arisa cringed. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that line before?” She blinked to clear her head. “Is that from a movie? Your movie?” But he simply shook his head, a small smile on his face as he took her hand and bounced it in his. The motion stirred a realization. She was expecting him to propose to her, when in five years she had never confessed.
“I don’t mind marrying you,” she began, gaze low, “because-” She bit her lip. Why tell him now, when he didn’t seem bothered by her lack of overt emotion? “Huh. You’re too awkward to handle the truth. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Sho grinned. Taking hold of her fingers, he pressed his lips lightly against them before quickly pulling away. “Give me a few more months,” he seemed to whisper to the ground. “You’re only 28 anyway.”
Almost lazily, he dodged the forceful slap she threw at him. Pulling a face, he stood up in a rush and left her glaring at him. But as he moved to walk away, dusting the blades of grass that clung to his pants, she faintly heard the proposition, “Although it may be prudent to start searching for houses now.”
__
“So you wouldn’t date a popular guy?” Sakurai asked as he parked in front of an imposing, tree-walled mansion. “Never mind that he’s got everything going for him? Good job, good prospects, good DNA?”
She shot him a covertly incredulous look. “The DNA sounds tempting, but don’t think it will work out.” She pulled a face. “I’d really like a no fuss relationship. As long as we understand each other - even if it borders on mere companionship - I don’t think I’d really mind.” Although it would be nice to marry for more than stability-
“You wouldn’t date a celebrity, then?” he pressed, as they pulled their seatbelts off. “Or an athlete for that matter? This is honestly fairly surprising, given your family background.”
“It depends on how famous he is, really.” She paused for a moment to think. “Just how famous is famous in Japan anyway? Do you guys have paparazzi?”
“Let’s just say there’s this really popular guy-” He broke off with his hands in a frozen gesture before him, his face scrunched in an effort to make his point. “There’s this guy and- Ahhh, what’s a recent event? Let’s just say he’s on a people-sniff-his-towels-in-hotel-rooms level of popular. That kind of person.”
“There are people like that? People who sniff celebrity towels?”
“And post them on Twitter with an attached picture, yes.”
Arisa laughed. “If there really are people that obsessed,” she began, wiping away a tear, “all the more I shouldn’t date Japanese celebrities, right?”
Sakurai laughed hesitantly. “Right?”
They got off his SUV - a nondescript but obviously well-maintained BMW - and he walked her to the gates of her grandmother’s just as ancient house. They stopped by the patrol booth where she gave the guard on duty her name, all the while not speaking, Sakurai whistling as he twirled his keys in one hand. Turning to him as she waited for entry, she said, “Thank you for showing me around. I appreciate it, truly.”
“It’s no problem,” he replied rather casually, raising a hand to make his point. “Should you ever need a tour guide, I’d be happy to assist you.”
“Oh, but that would mean you’d have to read more travel books to prepare-”
“I enjoy getting around anyway. Only it’s somewhat lonely to go on a joyride alone.”
She smiled faintly. “I may be wrong, but I get the impression you’re the busy type.”
“It’s obvious, huh? Must be the dark circles,” he joked, chuckling heartily. “My last job just ended though, so I won’t be doing anything in the next couple of months. Just a few weeks left, and I’m free-” He laughed again, thoroughly pleased about something, before he stopped at the look on Arisa’s face. “Hang on. That’s not the problem here, is it?”
She scratched her head apologetically. “I don’t know. It’s just-” She sneaked a glance at his face. “Something about you makes me feel that you’re hiding something from me. Something extremely important.”
He nodded in understanding. “There is something I’ve been hiding from you. And I’m not telling you so I can be assured we’ll meet again-”
“Please be serious,” she begged him half-heartedly, playfully slapping his shoulder, too quickly for him to dodge. “I also get the feeling you’re someone I should know, only I can’t place you. Although I’m sure if I ask my grandmother, she’ll be able to illuminate me.”
“I have to say I’m looking forward to your reaction when you discover the truth.” He laughed again, and although Arisa had the strongest suspicion they were starting to resemble a stupid, airheaded couple - the way his constant laughing made them both lightheaded - she couldn’t help laughing with him anyway. “I really have to go now though. I have an appointment I can’t miss. I’ll pay you a visit as soon as I can. I swear on my forebears’ graves-”
“You don’t have to go that far!” she reprimanded, swaying with the giddiness of laughter. “You’re not drunk, are you? We only had one glass each of shaved ice cream - I don’t think there was alcohol in that-”
“No, seriously, please stop.” He held a hand out at her. “I really have to go. Please stop distracting me. I swear I’ll call you once my schedule frees up-”
“The schedule technique already?” She shook her head, unwilling to believe him. “You don’t have to force yourself to call me. Just tell me if I’m not to expect anything from you, and I promise I won’t mind.”
But he was suddenly serious. “Please believe me when I say my schedule is very tight.”
“Sakurai-san,” she had a feeling he was being entirely honest, but she couldn’t help it. “You know that’s the same excuse slow thinkers make?” Seeing his eyebrows twitch in irritation, she burst into a fit of giggles.
He seemed to be exercising his jaw. Then he opened his mouth with the intention to say something, before his companion’s ceaseless giggling chased all possible comebacks from the corners of his head. Raising one hand to his nose, expression pained and amused at the same time, Sakurai told her, “You know there aren’t a lot of people who can render me speechless.”
“Really?” Arisa straightened up in between peals of laughter, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. In front of her, more than an entire arm’s length away, stood Sakurai, muttering something unintelligible. “If that’s the case, then-” She felt her face flush. “I suppose we’re even.”
“Yes, I really should be leaving.” He seemed not to have read her words’ intention, apparently distracted by something only he understood. To Arisa’s surprise, instead of merely making a polite bow, Sakurai stepped forward and held out a hand for her to shake. “It was nice meeting you. See you soon.”
He had dropped her hand, prepared to depart, when he suddenly appeared to be struck by an idea. Partially turning around, a grin on his face, he winked rather comically and rumbled, “Sweet dreams, Baby.”
“W-wait a minute.” Arisa was 100% positive he was toying with her, from the way his shoulders - abnormally sloped - shook in fits of silent laughter, the way he couldn’t walk in a straight line on the way back to his car. “I hope you haven’t misunderstood - I don’t really like you yet. Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean I’m infatuated with you.” But he didn’t even turn back. Cupping her hands, fingers curled in agitation, she shouted to his retreating profile, “I hope you don’t become too smug over this!”
“Unfortunately,” he chose to reply, one arm draped over his car door, the other on his waist, “being pleased with myself is a habit I can’t shake off. I get a lot of reinforcement, you see-”
“Oh, just evaporate won’t you?!” She finally shrieked at him, red in the face, as he burst into yet another wave of explosive laughter. “I don’t care what your stupid secret is - it probably isn’t worth digging up anyway!”
“Do me a favor and watch NTV tonight.” Sakurai, signature smug smile in place, rolled his window down and offered a small salute. “There’s a TV program called ‘News Zero’. I hope it - ah - illuminates you.”
“What?” But with a wave and another self-absorbed smile, he was gone.
The blood was still pumping madly into Arisa’s temples as she stood in front of the double gates for a few seconds, stunned and speechless. Sakurai Sho, she concluded - as she was wont to do - scared her. He scared her terribly. The man had picked her up at her house, split the lunch bill with her at a cheap soba restaurant, introduced her to shaved ice, and bought her a bouquet of daisies which they later forgot in a convenience store, but complained about his unplanned itinerary the entire trip through. The whole time, Arisa recalled through the haze in her head, he just kept muttering, This isn’t in the plan, this isn’t in the plan, whenever she mentioned something minor in their unremarkably circular conversations about the weather, their genealogies, and the hidden charms of first-class airplane seating. Sakurai Sho scared her. He was so undeniably normal he was interesting.
“I’m sorry to interrupt - Ojousama?”
She opened her eyes and searched for the voice. A few feet from her, completely ignored the whole time, stood two security guards who looked justifiably worried for her sanity. “Ojousama, are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She straightened up instantly, knowing she had to pull herself together if she was to report to Grandmother. “I’m fine, only-” She pursed her lips, an imaginary light bulb hovering over her head. “I’m afraid I must ask. Do you know that person?” She blinked, licking her lips. “He’s a celebrity, isn’t he? Who is he?”
“You mean to say you don’t know who he is?” The taller of the guards looked highly incredulous. “He’s pretty popular.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. If you will…?”
The two men looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed and gazes confused. Finally, the taller one again replied, “Isn’t that Ohno Satoshi?”
She blinked. “No, no… His name’s Sakurai. Sakurai Sho.”
“Ahhhh, Sakurai, huh?” The shorter one tapped his head in meditation, running through the files in his memory bank. “Isn’t he in Arashi?”
Arisa paused. “He’s in Arashi?”
They nodded. “He’s in Arashi, yes.”
Another pause. “What’s Arashi?”
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End.
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A/N
Somehow, I apologize for that ending. It was supposed to end with “Isn’t that Ohno Satoshi?” but that bit didn’t work out, so! Regarding the time thing, I’ve set the hours to stand in for years as well. [I know I shouldn’t do this, but I feel I have to explain.] Since the two of them meet at 12, it signifies them having met during Arashi’s 12th year together. The rest follow, but the last chapter reverts to Year 12. I know this doesn’t clear things up, but I like to think I tried. ::P I hope you like it! I hope you caught the references to Sho’s real-life failures! [29 December 2011]