Chocolate Fic for phrenk; part 1
To: phrenk
From: natsunonamae
Title: To Hang On Humming Wire
Pairing: Jun/Ayase Haruka, with a side dish of Sho/Fukiishi Kazue, Nino/Naka Riisa, Aiba/Kitagawa Keiko, and Ohno/Yanagihara Kanako
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Jun and Haruka come from two different worlds.
A/N: Dear phrenk, before I knew it, I had veered away a bit from the tone and feel you were asking for, but I’m still crossing my fingers that you’ll like it? I was watching one of my favorite films based on a certain Jane Austen novel and it just grew from there. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥
It is not entirely a bad way to spend a day. The sunlight streams in nicely on where she is sitting, enough to counteract the 24/7 barrage of unnecessarily bright convenience store lights. It’s enough to wash out the sickly greenness of the walls, to her relief. The most she has to do is to re-stock the shelves when they’re starting to look bare, and sometimes, to deal with customers who seemingly have all the time in the world to ask her inconsequential stuff about the most random things.
Like Pocky, for example. She once spent thirty minutes trying to convince a geriatric European man that it was perfectly edible. Her patience is long and at the end of it all, she wasn’t even pissed-even if she had to open one and show that it was edible by stuffing it all in her mouth none too gracefully. The man had only stared and said “Wow that’s a mouthful” before Nino, her co-worker, told the old man to pay for it and to “shove it up yours”. The two of them have met all kinds of characters, in the four years that they have worked in a busy convenience store.
“Excuse me?” A stern voice asks.
She quickly tries to snap herself out of the sleepy stupor that she has lulled herself into, props her glasses on her nose, and looks at her side. Nino has his headphones on as his fingers jab mercilessly on his raggedy DS, his eyes meeting hers as he shrugs. This one’s on me, she guesses, as she stands up promptly. The man on the other side of the counter taps his fingers impatiently.
“Ah!” Haruka tries not to let the surprise show on her face. The customer has pale skin and is dressed up in an all-white outfit that seemed gauzy and ethereal in its many layers. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a midday apparition to Haruka, especially with the way that he looks at her.
“Would that be all?” Haruka asks perkily, putting on her “Our Happiness is Your Happiness” smile that her boss drilled into her as she rings up his purchases. She’d be in big trouble if he found out that she insulted a customer by thinking he was a ghost. Yes, that’d get her the boot, she thinks, after all her other shenanigans.
“Yes, that’s all.” She swears that he is scowling, even though his tone is even and polite. “Oh, wait, I have to get a bottle of milk,” he backtracks. Haruka watches as he glides (yes, glides) to the humming row of refrigerators. She finds herself mildly transfixed at the way he moves-sauntering yet strict-and she can’t help but admire the way the fabric of his clothes moves around with him.
He slides the bottle of milk towards Haruka in a way that would be rude except he did it with a flourish. “None of your bottles are cold.”
Haruka bows immediately. “Sorry, they were just restocked a few minutes ago.”
Nino stands up and steps in, taking off his headphones as if he’s been listening all along. “If you would like, I could give you a cup with ice.”
“You,” the man says, eyeing Nino with something that looks faintly like distaste. Nino knits his eyebrows, probably wondering what the guy’s deal is. “Umm, yes, me. Cup with ice, sir?”
The man shakes his head, as if snapping out of a spell. “Who’s ever heard of drinking milk with ice?” he asks, an impatient curl on his lips. “Just ring it up.”
“I’m truly sorry for that, sir,” Nino says, a plastic smile on his face.
He smiles back. At least, that’s what Haruka would like to think, but it is a smile that is constipated, irritated, and trying-to-be-polite all at once. It looks terrifying, especially with his distinct facial features.
After Haruka punches everything in, and the man stomps off, as if he couldn’t leave quickly enough. Nino whistles. “Truly a breath of sunshine, the little fancy pants,” he observes.
Haruka laughs as she shakes her head. “I told you we should’ve stocked the milk bottles when we clocked in!”
“He’ll survive,” Nino replies, as he stuffs his DS and headphones inside his bag. “Say, Haru-chan, have you given it any thought?”
“Given what a thought?”
Nino sighs as he stands up. “That group date I’ve been talking about all week.”
“Ah, group date!” She couldn’t help but let an errant snigger escape her mouth.
“I’ve told you a thousand times,” Nino says, his voice pleading, which is all levels of strange and funny, coming from him. “Sho-chan says I have to bring a couple of pretty girls in tow so I can go.”
“So you think I’m pretty.” Haruka enjoys seeing him squirm. Most of the time, she was on the receiving end of Nino’s harmless teasing, so she rather enjoys having the tables turned. She musses up her hair, drapes herself across the counter, and gives Nino the best seductive look she could muster while she is in her greasy glasses and neon-green M-Mart uniform. “I can go for you, Nino, you know.”
“Somehow,” Nino says, “I want to remember this moment and what you said, because I can totally go for you too, you know.”
“Really?”
“Really. When I’m drunk and you’re less of a slob and less talkative and only if it’s convenient.”
“Aren’t you the one asking for a favor?” Haruka snipes, pulling back as she sticks out her tongue.
Nino throws himself across the counter, as if despairing. “Haru-chan, I know that you know that I think you’re a babe. So, please.”
“Tell me more about how you think I’m a babe.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really like her,” Nino pleads, his hands reaching out to Haruka in a way that reminds her of zombies clawing for untainted flesh. It’s kind of creepy, childish, and exactly the kind of thing that makes her giggle. “And fine, you’re a total babe. Very distracting. I like how you fill out our very unflattering M-Mart fatigues. I also can’t resist you when you do that rabbit thing. It’s the pinnacle of hotness. Trouble is, my heart is now beholden to someone else.”
Haruka laughs fondly. Because, Nino. “That bad, huh?”
“Yes, so stop torturing me. I know you’re never going to let me live this down.”
“Never,” Haruka grins. Nino has been bugging her to attend a group date. Apparently, it has been arranged by one of his childhood friends who was super rich (and “fucking smart, if a little goofy”, if Nino is to be believed.) The friend introduced a girl to Nino when the two of them were drinking, and Nino was smitten beyond belief. Haruka, to be honest, is a little curious about what kind of girl gets a guy like Nino eating out of the palm of her hand, because he’s always seemed quite ill-adept in social situations (via his ringing sarcasm plus lack of anything to talk about except games) and, well, a little too geeky to be interested in girls.
He wipes his stubby fingers across his face, as if defeated. “I’ll do three of your shifts next week, at your convenience. Just, please! And bring Fukiishi-san, I need two girls!”
“Five!” Haruka likes to grab an opportunity when she sees it. “You know Fukii isn’t the kind of girl to go to a group date, so that’s going to be a hassle.”
“Four! Haru-chan, have some heart. Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“Never.” Haruka pretends to puke. “And fine, four, but only because I need all the time I can get to sew my dresses for my finals. And also because you’re kind of pitiful.” And because Nino has somehow become one of her closest friends, one of her very few. He’s one of the few people she feels like she can be absolutely herself with and somehow, it’s a miracle of sorts. What’s a couple of torturous hours in a group date for a friend, who will also cover four of her seven shifts next week, right when she needs it the most?
Nino cheers in an uncharacteristic show of delight. He also grabs the box of potato chips that needed shelving with a kind of gusto that can only mean the apocalypse because Nino never, ever, volunteers to do the shelving.
“Someday, Haru-chan, you’ll be this pitiful as well and it would be the best thing you’d ever have felt!”
Haruka doubts it as Nino whistles his way towards the snack aisle.
*
What do girls normally wear for group dates? Haruka wonders, as she smoothes down the outfit she chose: a well-worn and well-loved smock dress with eyelet lace that ends on her knees. It’s one of the first dresses she made in school, and she can’t seem to let it go. She’s also wearing tights and her scuffed out yellow maryjanes. As she brushes down her bangs, she considers ditching her glasses tonight and maybe putting in some contact lenses…but then she remembers that she isn’t really trying to impress anyone, so why bother?
When she meets up with Fukii, a longtime friend of hers from Hiroshima, she realizes that maybe she’s a notch underdressed. Even through the afternoon bustle of the street, she hears Fukii’s remonstrating “Haru!” as she approaches.
Haruka still gives Fukii a hug. “It’s nice to see you too!”
Fukii squeezes back but pries herself off from Haruka quickly. “Haru, you said we were going to a group date. You look like you’re about to go do some errands! I know it’s your favorite dress, but I feel horribly overdressed next to you. Like I’m trying too hard. I even wore the shoes you made for me.”
Haruka eyes Fukii’s demure yet still eye-catching pale pink dress and wedge heels with slim ribbons on her ankles that made her legs look like delicate stalks of driftwood. She can’t help it-it’s usually people’s clothes that she looks at first, because for her, how people dress up is very telling of their personality and disposition. “Sorry, I just didn’t feel like bothering. But you look perfect, Fukii.”
“You told me to dress up,” her friend groans. “I don’t even like going to group dates, I’m just doing this for you!”
“No, we’re doing this for Nino, remember? We must support young love, in all shapes, sizes, and relative romance experience. In which case, for Nino, zilch.”
“Why do I suddenly have the feeling that you just want to have ammo to tease Ninomiya-kun with?”
Haruka laughs. “Oh, we’re going to enjoy this so much, Fukii! Nino’s going to be so awkward and hilarious. We can’t miss it.”
Fukii sighs and allows Haruka to drag her. When they step inside the tapas restaurant named Tapella, the group date is already well on its way. The vibe inside is relaxed, but Haruka can tell that it’s not a place that she could normally afford. Fukii grabs her wrist as Nino stands up to meet them halfway, looking equal parts excited and relieved.
“What’s wrong?”
“I still feel like that awkward girl from Hiroshima,” Fukii whispers. “Just like that first day when we got here and Tokyo seemed so big.”
“Maybe you still feel like the awkward girl, but you sure don’t look it,” Haruka whispers back, as Nino approaches. He greets them, eyes shining with enough emotion and gratitude as if they just discovered the cure for cancer or found the solution for everlasting world peace, between the two of them.
“I owe you my grandchildren, Haru-chan,” Nino grins. “Fukiishi-san, you made it.”
“Ninomiya-san,” Fukii acknowledges. Haruka can only grin back. “Ah, Nino, you look desperately out of your league in here.”
“No such thing,” Nino says, cocksure and looking strangely light on his toes as they approach the table.
When they get to the table, Haruka has to admit to herself that she feels quite intimidated. At first glance, everyone seated on the long table looks impossibly chic-both the girls and the boys are wearing clothes that seem like they were stripped off right from the runway. Or perhaps, it’s just a certain aura that they collectively emitted, a sense of privilege. A man at the end of the table stands up to welcome them.
“Hello,” he says. He’s wearing an oddly put together suit but somehow, he still looks fresh and well-undeniably rich.
“Sho-chan, this is Ayase-san, I work with her. And this is Fukiishi-san, her friend,” Nino says.
Before Haruka could even snort, the other man, who’s obviously the childhood friend Nino has been talking about, steps up to shake their hands. “I’m not used to you being so formal, Nino,” he says, a kind smile on his face. “I’m Sakurai Sho. You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Well aren’t you smooth,” Nino jibes. Sakurai pushes him playfully on the shoulders. “How is it possible that you have friends, much less pretty ones?”
“Only goes to show you that you’re sorely mistaken about your perceptions of me.”
“That or you’re just completely annoying and they can’t tell it to your face.”
They continue their repartee as Sho guides them to their seats. He introduces them to the other people in the group, who were all mostly Sho’s schoolmates from way back, and his childhood friends. He gestures towards the far end of the table to a standing couple who seem quite cozy with each other-a rather short, tanned man with a jaunty smile is standing behind the girl, his arms around her, his chin, on her shoulder. She’s a little plumper than the average girl and emits a vibe of cheerfulness and cuteness, especially with her cropped bob. Haruka’s eyes are naturally drawn to the little hat that looks like a birdcage perched askew on her head-how cute! Haruka thinks. “That’s Ohno Satoshi and Yanagihara Kanako, or Oh-chan and Kanako-chan. I don’t even know why they’re here, they’ve been a couple ever since we were in high school.”
The one named Ohno greets them with a wave.
“Sho-chan, how rude! How can we miss your treat in one of our favorite restaurants? Oh-chan loves their sardines, but we rarely eat here because he finds it too expensive. This miser!”
“Kanako,” the man singsongs as he hugs her even tighter, as if he’s embarrassed. Haruka already finds the two of them absolutely adorable.
“I love your hat,” she gushes, unable to hide her admiration.
Kanako grins. “Really? Satoshi makes them from scrap materials, isn’t he just amazing?” She faces Ohno and laughs at his pained and embarrassed expression. He bites into her shoulder, earning him a playful swat at the arm from Kanako.
“I’ve been telling you guys for seven years already, no biting in public!” the girl beside Kanako exclaims. She’s in a form-fitting black dress, her hair tousled and her lips a vampy red-usually the kind of girl Haruka dismisses as having zero sense of style. But something about the way she carries herself comes off as very fresh and confident to Haruka. Sho pipes in. “Oh, that’s Kitagawa Keiko, and right in front of him is Aiba Masaki. Aiba-chan is my next-door neighbor, and the three of us,” he gestures to Nino, “used to play a lot together when we were young.”
“Why are you even friends with Nino?” Aiba says to them as a greeting. Haruka and Fukii laugh.
“That’s precious, coming from you,” Nino says, obviously fond of the other guy.
“Keiko-chan is Kanako-chan’s bestfriend, we were in junior high and high school together, along with Oh-chan and a couple of other people. We were sort of a group of misfits back then, and we banded together,” Sho narrates.
“God, must you do a background story on everyone?” the girl named Keiko teases. “You’re boring the two of them to death already!”
“Am not,” Sho replies heatedly. “I’m not, right girls?” Fukii shakes her head politely and Haruka just stands there, enjoying the easy and obviously well worn camaraderie among the group.
“Keiko-chan also happens to be Sho-chan’s first love,” Ohno says. Kanako brays in infectious laughter as Keiko shoots murderous looks towards Ohno. “Still not over us, Ohno?” The soft-spoken man only giggles. “Sorry, can’t help it, it’s just hard to imagine the two of you ever being a thing.” Haruka gets the impression that he isn’t one who speaks up a lot, but when he does, it’s always as explosive or as random as what he just said.
“Sho-chi couldn’t handle me, unfortunately,” Keiko says with a grin.
“That’s interesting,” Aiba says, casting a curious glance towards Keiko. “Mind regaling us with the details?”
“Of course you’d be curious,” Nino jabs at Aiba.
“Let’s not,” Sho says, obviously tickled and exasperated at the same time. “Kei-chan, call Matsujun, will you? He’s horribly late. Riisa-chan too.”
“Kei-chan,” Kanako mimics, earning a laugh from Ohno. “Sho-chi,” he replies in an effeminate voice, caressing Kanako’s cheek exaggeratedly.
“Please forgive them, Ayase-san, Fukiishi-san. They’re the worst combi in the world,” Keiko intones.
Haruka finds herself warming up to these people who seemed high and aloft just a few moments ago. They are all obviously devastatingly rich, but something about their manner feels very welcoming to Haruka. She looks at Fukii, who’s currently being guided into a seat by a very alert-looking Sho.
“Let’s settle down,” Sho says, obviously the ringleader of the troupe, as he calls over the waiter while seemingly deciding where to sit. If not the ringleader, then the mastermind of this whole group date, Haruka thinks. A girl wearing a colorful jumpsuit that might just be dangerous for people prone to seizures joins them on the table without a thought.
“Riisa-chan! So nice of you to join us,” Sho says.
Kanako and Keiko all squeal inhumanly-Haruka swears the Earth must have shifted on its axis at least an inch from all the noise-as they stand up to smother the newcomer with hugs.
“I haven’t seen you in forever! You got back from London and you didn’t contact us? And you still dress up like a five year-old, omigod-”
“Bitch, you’re so hard to reach! I’ve been texting and calling you!”
“Sorry you guys, changed my phone several months ago,” Riisa says sheepishly, laughing as Kanako squeezes her in a death grip and Keiko pretends to strangle her.
“Oh-chan, get these animals away from me!” Riisa calls out.
“Can’t help you there,” Ohno says, smiling.
“Is this a group date or a reunion?” Aiba asks. Keiko laughs and walks towards him. She pats his head. “I’ll take care of you, cowboy,” she says, leaning towards Aiba’s ear. Everyone wolf-whistles and cheers, to Aiba’s embarrassment. He looks wondrously at Keiko, though, as she settles down on a seat beside him.
“Oh god,” Sho says, sighing. “Right. Riisa-chan, meet Ayase-san and Fukiishi-san. You remember Nino, don’t you?”
“Hey,” she says, giving them a small wave as she recovers from the assault of her friends. “Nino, you still owe me a drink, you weakling.”
Nino visibly brightens up. “Not as weak as you.”
Haruka finds herself seated beside Nino, who’s seated beside Riisa. Fukii is seated on Haruka’s other side, while Sho suspiciously takes the seat in front of her. The plates of tapas and pitchers of sangrias arrive, as if on cue.
Haruka nudges Nino. “Riisa-chan looks thoroughly unimpressed with you,” she whispers, eyeing the girl beside him. Nino sits ramrod straight on his seat. “Shh, working on it!” Haruka finds herself entertained by their conversation, which went from beds with the kind of back support that Riisa has supposedly been hunting around for, to Nino bumbling about staying up until 3 a.m. to play online games with foreigners on the other side of the hemisphere. She gets why Nino is so thoroughly taken with her when Riisa shows Nino her sneakers (which are painfully colorful and had tiny bears attached to it), and Nino goes,
“Those are truly creepy.”
“What are you talking about, they’re designer! Jeremy Scott!” Riisa says, affronted.
“Jeremy who? Well, there’s something vaguely pedophilic about them anyway.”
There’s a moment of silence that descends on them as everyone on the table holds their breath in. Riisa kicks Nino’s chair and says, “Eat shit.” She’s grinning to her ears. “It’s much cooler than that Pac-Man cap you’re wearing. Bad manners and all.”
Everyone releases a breath of relief. “Riisa-chan once kicked a guy in the balls when he said her Rainbow Brite shoes were ugly,” Kanako says very reverently.
“He was an asshole,” Riisa says, beaming at Nino.
Nino grins that shit-eating grin of his. He takes off his cap and (gently) jams it down on her head. Riisa doesn’t complain.
“Ninomiya’s a dork, isn’t he, Ayase-san,” she says, turning to Haruka.
“It’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid. He’s the type to twiddle his thumbs in the dark for no reason at all.”
Riisa puts on a fake shocked face. “Totally feels like a serial killer.”
“We can’t be absolutely sure, but it does feel like he’s one.”
“Then I shall be thorough with my investigation,” she says, fingering the brim of Nino’s cap like a detective.
“Please, girls, no front-stabbing me.” Riisa giggles, a free, tinkling, light-hearted sound that obviously inches in on Nino’s fancy, if the upturned corners of his mouth are to be the basis.
Nino turns to Haruka and secretly winks at her, looking all shades of smug and pleased. Haruka has a hard time trying not to laugh. She feels very proud though, like Nino’s a little brother who’s finally grown up and passed a rite of passage of sorts, even though she’ll probably never hear the end of how “smooth” he is when they get back to work.
As the dinner progresses, it is also obvious that Nino’s friend, Sho, is very taken with Fukii. It’s as if everyone else has dissipated into thin air, as they form an airtight bubble around the two of them. When Haruka and Fukii go for a restroom break, she ambushes her friend right away.
“Fukii, I thought you didn’t like group dates.”
Fukii blushes crimson and washes her hands hurriedly. “I don’t!”
“But you like Sho, don’t you? Or, I’m sorry, Sho-chan,” Haruka says. She whips around to face Haruka, looking flustered, a smile on her face. “Oh Haru, he’s great. Kind of goofy, actually, but so great. He’s an investment banker, did you know? He was so excited when I told him that I’m an Econ major and he was even more engrossed when I told him about my thesis. It’s probably the most romantic thing ever. But, I don’t know, it feels like he’s just humoring me. I mean, look at Keiko-chan, his ex. How could he even look at someone like me?”
“How is talking about your thesis romantic again? And please, what do you mean by ‘someone like me’?” Haruka answers. “You’re not Ms. Hiroshima 2007 for nothing!”
“Haru,” Fukii groans. “Haru, he smells great too. I don’t-”
“Fukii! You’ve been smelling him? How shameless!”
She blushes even more. “God, he’s so-he’s just-god.”
“He’s been looking at you the whole night, okay. Like he wants to eat your soul or something.”
Fukii laughs and shakes her head. They walk back to their table companionably. Haruka stops in her tracks when she sees who had squeezed in beside Sho (and right in front of her seat): the dude with the gauzy white outfit from the other day, at M-Mart. Tonight, he is wearing a pinstriped suit with a loosely buttoned white shirt, and he seems fussier and colder than ever. The quirked eyebrow that greets her as she sits down tells her that he is equally surprised to see her there.
“Ah, Jun-kun, this is Fukii-chan and Haruka-chan,” Sho says amiably, now more loose-limbed with alcohol. “Girls, this is Matsumoto Jun. You can call him Matsujun and if he snipes at you, you can tell me and I’ll give him a whack or two.”
“Matsumoto-san is fine,” he says coolly, tipping his head towards them. “Aren’t you the one working at the convenience store near Shinbashi station? The two of you.” He motions to Nino as well. Haruka notes the tone of condescension in his voice, and well, she doesn’t like it very much.
Nino has a look on his face that Haruka knows intimately: it’s a mix of annoyance and glee, something he reserves for people he feels like he can play with and he suspects that they won’t notice. “I see you’ve been to our well-stocked kingdom. You’re welcome anytime! We promise ice-cold milk the next time you swing by. Haru-chan here will be ready with a red carpet as well, Matsumoto-san.”
Jun bristles.
“Nino,” Haruka says warningly. Something about the way Jun looks at her with nary an emotion, as if he’d rather be anywhere than there right at that moment, chills her. It doesn’t usually happen, but she decides right then and there that she doesn’t quite like this Jun person. She hates the way he talks down on her and Nino.
“Well, having ice-cold drinks available when it’s supposed to be refrigerated in the first place is already the barest minimum of convenience, isn’t it? It isn’t called a convenience store for nothing.”
“Aw, lighten up, Jun-kun,” Riisa pipes in.
Nino’s cheeks turn uncharacteristically red. He is about to say something when Sho laughs nervously. “Just ignore him, you guys. He’s just not really good with people. I think his solitary days practicing alone is to blame.”
Jun’s expression remains indifferent. Haruka can’t quite stop herself, and so she asks. “Practicing what?”
Kanako speaks up. Her voice betrays a wish to steer the conversation away from where it’s been meandering. “He’s a ballet dancer, one of Japan’s best, along with Riisa-chan. They were promising even when we were just in junior high.”
That explains the way he moves, Haruka thinks.
“Really, ballet?” Aiba says, impressed. “Wow, Riisa-chan!”
“Of course you conveniently forget that Kanako-chan also mentioned Jun-kun,” Sho contributes.
“Riisa-chan is cute,” he says with a grin, as if it’s reason enough.
Ohno chooses that moment to drop his next bomb. “Jun-kun has always been the best at twirling, though.”
Everyone bursts out in rowdy laughter. Jun throws a wad of tissue at Ohno.
“You’re a ballet dancer?” Nino asks Riisa, now looking distracted as he stares at her anew. A certain kind of awe paints his features. She giggles, looking pleased.
“I know, I know, I don’t look it.”
“Can you be any more awesome?”
“Tell them about how you and Jun-kun pissed off our theater teacher back in high school by insisting that our production of Jesus Christ Superstar needed more ballet and less Judas,” Keiko goads.
“Please,” Jun says. “It doesn’t matter to these people, they don’t care about ballet.”
Nino tries his best to hold back his tongue, because Riisa is giving so much effort to distract him. Haruka, on the other hand, couldn’t contain herself. “Well aren’t you a party pooper.”
“I don’t like to waste my time.” Jun drains his glass of sangria.
Sho stands up from his chair and drags Jun. “Come on, let’s score some real alcohol from the bar. The sangria isn’t doing it for me,” he says, desperately trying to diffuse the tension. Jun stands up and follows him without another word.
Riisa turns towards Nino and Haruka. “Please don’t mind him, he’s just really like that. The world on his shoulders and all-it’s just his shtick. Quite the gloomy one.” Haruka shakes her head, while Nino shrugs.
“Are you okay?” Fukii asks her.
“Yeah. I’ve just never met anyone else so detached yet so detestable at the same time.”
Fukii could only make empathizing noises. Later on in the night, when they are about to leave, Sho and Jun (who remained quiet and standoffish the whole night) accompany them to hail a couple of taxis for them. Jun stands coolly to the side, tinkering on his phone, as Sho and Fukii look perfectly content to be next to each other, drunkenly murmuring things to each other.
When they hail one, Haruka tells Fukii to go ahead, since she lived much farther than her. Sho made an awkward move to kiss her cheek, but thought better of it, so they met in a kind of hybrid between a hug and a handshake. “I’ll call you,” Sho promises.
Fukii smiles brightly. “Okay. Haru, I’ll go ahead! Text me when you get home.” The taxi zooms away.
Haruka realizes that she forgot her phone on the table and quickly excuses herself from the two men. After she gets her phone back (which she does very quickly, as she stumbles on Aiba whispering things into Keiko’s ear, their chairs suspiciously close to each other, and Nino and Riisa watching something on a mobile phone, both laughing inebriatedly), she finds the two men still looking for a cab.
“Sorry, Haruka-chan. We’ll have to wait a bit more, seems like there’s a shortage of cabs around this area,” Sho says, genuinely remorseful.
“It’s no problem at all. You don’t have to wait with me,” she says.
“Nonsense,” Sho says. He digs into Jun’s ribs with his elbow. “Right?”
“Right.” He couldn’t look any less convincing. Haruka is desperately thinking of an alternate escape plan when Ohno and Kanako pop out of the restaurant, hand in hand. When they learn of the situation, they decide to keep them company as they wait for a cab for Haruka.
“How far away do you live?” Kanako asks in a friendly manner.
Haruka is frankly becoming uncomfortable from the effort they are expending on her. “An hour away, on a cab,” she admits. “Near the outskirts.”
Ohno whistles. “An hour, huh?”
“Jun-kun has a personal driver, why don’t you just take her home?” Kanako suggests. It feels like ice daggers on Haruka’s heart as she realizes what’s being asked of someone she doesn’t even particularly like, and she feels sick just even thinking about it.
“Please, there’s no need! I can wait here for a cab, I’m sure one will swing by soon.” Her voice is all panic and desperation.
Sho doesn’t even appear to hear her, turning to Jun. “Yeah, why not just take her? I totally wouldn’t mind except I have to pick up my sister in a bit.”
“There’s no need for it, Matsumoto-san,” she says, stumbling on her words.
Jun hikes his suit sleeve to look at his watch. He then scans the street, which, Haruka observes with pain, is currently devoid of any kind of automobiles, taxis included. “Come,” he says to her.
“What?”
Jun waves gracefully at someone in the distance and not after a minute later, a shiny, black Maserati parks smoothly in front of them. He opens the car door and gestures for her to get inside.
Haruka looks pleadingly at Sho.
“Please, Haruka-chan, I won’t rest well not knowing you’ve gotten home safe. Nino will kill me. And seeing as he’s rather, well, indisposed right now, I feel like it’s my responsibility.”
Jun sighs.
“Please. I’m sure Matsujun will see to it. I know he looks scary, but I promise you, he’s a good guy.”
Haruka doesn’t have the heart to refute the kindness of one of Nino’s friends, one who, from Nino’s stories, has helped him at his lowest moments. She says goodbye to everyone before stepping inside Jun’s car. Jun jogs to the other side and slides in next to her, the hermetic silence feeling most oppressive. He looks at her quizzically, the car still not moving.
“Oh,” Haruka says, realizing what he’s waiting for. She leans in awkwardly to the uniformed driver and tells him her address. The car starts to roll away, leaving the both of them cloaked again in uncomfortable silence. She gets a better view of his spotless suede driving shoes, which are the exact color of toffee candy. He must like fine things, she thinks, and then shakes her head, realizing how absurd that is. He only knows of fine things. That fact and the buttery leather of the car’s interiors serve to remind her of how different the worlds they move in are.
Jun glances at her, as if puzzled. “Why are you shaking your head?”
She shakes her head, before she realizes that she’s doing it. “Ah, nothing, I was just thinking.”
“Oh.”
Jun crosses his leg. “How do you feel about working at M-Mart?” he asks. She is taken aback by the randomness of his question, until she remembers why he knows that she works there. Haruka feels indignation creeping back.
“I’ve been working there for four years now and I don’t feel the least ashamed of it.”
“You don’t? That’s a feat.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Haruka asks, truly wondering how someone could be so rude.
“Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just not good at talking to people I’ve only met.”
“Sure didn’t feel like it,” she says, biting her tongue in order to stop saying more. After all, she is riding in his car.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” he says. Haruka puzzles at what he’s saying, when she meets his eyes. “And I guess I can’t tolerate stupid questions.”
“Stupid questions?”
“Do you ever drink your milk with ice?”
“He was just being nice,” Haruka answers icily. “You were a customer, he was just doing his work.”
“Well, it was pretty idiotic of him.”
“You really aren’t good at talking to people.”
They turn silent again. Haruka feels like she could die-he makes her so uncomfortable and so uneasy at the same time. She’s not sure whether she hates his guts or she pities him for his apparent lack for human empathy. He looks indifferent as she squirms in the seat, despising the silence. She might not like the guy, but she hates the dead air more.
“So, you’re a ballet dancer,” she says, her voice sounding odd even to herself-she has to admit that she’s actually curious about that.
Jun doesn’t even look at her. “Yes.”
“I once saw a ballet where they danced to Michael Jackson songs. They did amazing pirouettes to that Free Willy song, pretty moving stuff. I may have cried.”
Jun sniffs. Or scoffs. With him, Haruka is never sure.
“Are you still a student or are you part of a ballet company?”
He looks at her. “Still a student, but hoping to be a part of an esteemed company. Paris Opera Ballet, to be precise.”
“And you wish to dance in the Palais Garnier,” she guesses.
For the first time, his eyes show some emotion. “How do you know that? How do you even know about Palais Garnier?”
The guy couldn’t get more arrogant, Haruka thinks. “Paris is very close to my heart.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, a fashion design student will always dream about Paris. Or at least, in my case, dream about pulling off a runway show in an area with lots of natural light.”
“You study fashion?”
“Does that come as a surprise to you?”
“It does, actually. Then why are you working in a convenience store? Rather unfashionable.”
“Some people actually don’t sweat money from their pores, you know.” Haruka couldn’t help it anymore.
“And what do you mean by that, exactly?” The look on Jun’s face is challenging.
“What I mean is that I can’t stand people like you. There’s nothing wrong with being rich, but there’s definitely something wrong with being pompous about other people having to work hard to have things that they wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise! I wanted to study in Tokyo, not in Hiroshima, because I have a dream. It sucks that I have to work to pay for it, but it’s not my parents’ fault that they can’t afford to pay for my tuition fee in full! Just because I’m a working student doesn’t mean a fancy-shmancy rich kid like you can belittle me.” She is breathless by the time she finishes.
Jun turns away from her and looks at the blurred cityscape hurrying by. “Please. You don’t know me.”
That is the end of it, and by the time they reach Haruka’s apartment, she is seething and pretty fed up. The fact that she probably won’t ever see him again is a relief to her.
“Thanks,” she says coldly, not waiting for him to reply. The car speeds away as soon as she is at a barely safe distance.
She suspects that the feeling is mutual.
*
“When will this shoddy day end,” Nino yawns, stretching his limbs like a cat.
“You’re more restless than usual,” Haruka observes, as she wipes the counter clean. It’s another typical day at M-Mart. “Hot date with Riisa-chan?”
“She’s finally invited me to her place! We’re going to play games,” he says dreamily. “We’re also going to play. Get it?”
“Very romantic,” Haruka quips, but she is truly happy for her friend. Things with him and his new “ladylove”-Nino’s words, not hers-are going extremely well, and no matter how much Nino likes to yank on her chain, he deserves to be happy.
“I hope our salary comes in in a day or two, though. I feel completely strapped for cash, and I wanted to buy a bottle of soju or even cheap red wine to share. I can’t even do that much for her,” Nino laments.
Haruka frowns. “I’m sure she doesn’t care that you’re dirt poor and mired in student loans. Not when she knows that you’re scraping by just to finish your medical degree.”
“Dirt poor? Gee thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nino sits on the counter, brazenly ignoring their manager’s rule-“M-Mart Tenet #8: Counters are not meant to be sat on by human beings. Especially those who go by the name ‘Ninomiya’.”
“Haru-chan, don’t you ever wonder how it feels like to be so rich that you don’t even have to think about money?”
“It would be nice and, god, it would be such a big relief, but I can’t say that it crosses my mind on a regular basis.”
“Do you know why I count every yen I get?”
“Your mom likes to tell you that saving is a very fun hobby, even when you were just six years old, and it’s been an ingrained in you ever since.”
“Ah, I guess I haven’t told you the real reason.” He looks at her. “It’s kind of a sad story.”
“I’m listening.”
Nino leans back on the counter, his hands pillowing the back of his head. “We used to be really rich. I don’t really have memories of it, but once, my mom showed me a picture of us in our old house. I was dressed up all fancily, and my mom had a big smile on her face. Dad wasn’t alcoholic yet, and god, we had a fountain okay? A marble fountain. The folks don’t like talking about what happened, but from what I can piece together from the little they’ve told me, my dad got swindled. We lost almost everything. It didn’t happen quickly, but slowly, and the older I got, I eventually understood that we didn’t have a lot of money. We transferred to my grandmother’s house, in a still relatively fancy neighborhood, but according to my mom, it was nothing like where we lived before. At first I didn’t understand her frustration, I was so young and more than happy to get new neighbors and playmates.”
Haruka smiles, imagining Nino, the kid version. Nino sits up and continues. “I can’t ever forget the first time Aiba rang the bell, looking absolutely filthy, mud caked on his face, with Sho-chan behind him. It’s probably one of my earliest memories. I understood the difference between myself and the two of them when they always had the newest toys, the newest clothes, and I was stuck with old things. They never judged me for that, but it was hard to be around them. I mean, it’s not that I hated how my life was, I didn’t know any different and it was still pretty cushy, but it was such a blow to learn at twelve that we had no life savings. That I had nothing to inherit. That if I wanted to go to college, I had to work like a dog.”
“Nino,” Haruka says, not knowing what to say.
“What added salt to the wound was when my mom came sobbing to me one night, saying sorry, over and over. She admitted that from the little that they had left, dad had squandered most of it on alcohol, throughout the years. He couldn’t get out of his pit, his despair, and she couldn’t carry the burden by herself anymore. I can never hate my dad, he’s kind and well-spoken when he’s not on the juice and when he’s not in his stretches of depression, but, I don’t know. I’ve always struggled to understand him, to know why he can’t seem to pick himself up. How can a person become so defeated? So beaten to the ground? It just sucks sometimes, knowing that things could have been a lot different.”
Nino stops talking, lost in his thoughts. Haruka remains silent. When Nino turns towards her, tears were already racing down her face. “Oh god, Haru-chan, don’t cry. It’s embarrassing,” he says, handing her his handkerchief. Nino stands up and hugs her, even though they aren’t the type of friends to be demonstrative. Haruka sniffles. She whispers in his ear. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to be a clinical psychologist, you softie.”
“Busted,” he whispers back.
“And here I was thinking that you were talking it up just because you were being your normal creepy self.”
“There’s that.”
Haruka hugs him tighter. “Oh Nino, I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t think differently of me. Lots of people have bigger problems.”
“But Nino-”
He hushes her. They spend a good long while just holding each other, both hopelessly exposed and vulnerable.
It is Nino who speaks up again. “Haru-chan?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t think I’m a creep, but I’m now suddenly very aware of your boobs on my chest.”
Haruka pulls back immediately. “Well, we can’t have that.” They look at each other, and before they can say anything else, they both burst out laughing. When they get over their laughing fit, there isn’t anything else to do but to go about their remaining shelving duties until their shift ends in thirty minutes.
When they’re about to go their separate ways after walking a few blocks together, Haruka turns to him. “Nino, save every yen you can. Work hard. Love hard. Just, I don’t know, go for it. I’m here to chase after your slacking ass if you do anything less.”
“Haru-chan,” he smiles fondly. “You’re a dork.”
*
She has a shift alone in M-Mart that lonely Wednesday night. The raindrops cascading down the glass windows make the outside world hard to see, as if it didn’t exist at all. Haruka feels like she is in a completely different plane than the rest of humanity, everyone else crawling forward to their destinies despite the heavy downpour. Or have they completely stopped in their tracks as well, watching the grey day pass underneath whatever roof they happen to be under, when the rain fell? She bemoans the fact that she doesn’t have a raincoat with her, which will make going home a tricky business. Of course she can always just borrow one of the umbrellas in the store, but she will still get soaked to the bone. When her shifts ends, she wonders how long she will have to wait before the rain peters out. Every downpour runs out of fuel sooner or later, right?
Haruka is just mindlessly browsing a magazine when the sound of the electronic bell goes off. She sighs when she realizes that the person on the next shift hasn’t arrived yet. Well, how could anyone, in a storm like this?
The sight that welcomes her when she steps out of the employee room stops her dead in her tracks. It is Jun, looking severe yet immaculately-kept in an expensive looking raincoat, which seems like it hasn’t encountered a splatter of rain. He has his hand on his hip, looking a little uncomfortable and out of place for the very first time.
“How…how may I help you?” Haruka starts.
“You’re not in your M-Mart uniform,” he says.
“Well, technically, it’s not my shift anymore.”
“Oh.” Jun looks at her before he turns around and walks towards the refreshments section. Haruka isn’t surprised when he comes back with a bottle of milk.
“It’s actually cold,” he says.
“Yes,” Haruka says, swiping his purchase. “Will that be-”
The telephone rings loudly, enough to jolt the both of them. “Just a minute,” she says. When she gets off the phone, she turns towards Jun again. “Will that be all?”
“I’m thinking if I should get a meat bun or something.”
Seriously? Haruka thinks. “It would be ideal if you get one now, because otherwise, you won’t be able to buy it later. The manager just called, he said that we’re closing M-Mart for the day.”
“Oh,” he looks surprised. He races to get another bottle of milk and two meat buns. “Here.”
When they are all nicely packed up, she hands the paper bag to him. She gives him an expectant look, wondering how the hell he’s going to brave the rain. Then she remembers that he has a black sports car that he can’t even be bothered to drive himself.
“Ayase-san, actually, I-,” he says, stumbling, “-I came here because I couldn’t get you out of my head. I mean, I wanted to apologize.” He meets her eyes searchingly. “I’ve been a complete ass, and I meant what I said last time: I just really suck at talking to people.”
Haruka is truly startled. “You said some horrible things.”
“I won’t deny that, but please don’t take it at face value. I’m not always…very nice. But it’s just the way I speak, and I guess, my moods.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I know that. Just, please. Feel free to call me socially-inept.”
She almost smiles, enjoying their exchange with satisfaction. “And kind of douchey.”
“And kind of douchey. Yes, that too.”
“Can I ask you one question?” He nods. “Are you serious?”
Jun looks up, now startled himself. “Pretty much, yes.”
She considers him in his haughty clothes and his expression, which still remains practically unreadable. “Well, I can’t say that I like you very much-”
“People say that a lot to me.”
“-but I guess even someone like you deserves a chance.” She sticks out her hand. “Truce?”
“We were never fighting in the first place.”
Haruka sighs. When she looks up though, he is smiling. It completely transforms his face, even for the mere couple of seconds that he grins at Haruka, and it blindsides her, takes her breath away. She is already pretty sure that she will always remember that face, simply because it rang so true to her. Like he’s an actual person, with actual feelings.
Jun shakes her proffered hand, in promise. “Call me Jun.”
*
Haruka opens the door to an upset-looking Fukii.
“What’s wrong, Fukii?”
Her lips quivers as she settles on Haruka’s couch. “It went so well, like a dream. At least, for almost a month. You know me, I don’t trust people so easily.”
“Sakurai-san?”
Fukii nods. “And then he just stopped. Just like that,” she says, snapping her finger for effect. “No dates, no more calls, nothing.”
“What? Why, did anything happen? A disagreement?”
Fukii only shakes her head. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Fukii. He seemed really nice.”
She leans back on the couch dispiritedly, sighing. When she thinks Haruka isn’t looking, she wipes a lone tear away. Haruka aches for her friend, her beautiful friend who’s so pure and won’t ever do anything to hurt anyone. She hates to see her so heartbroken. There is nothing else left to do except fix her a steaming cup of chamomile.
Fukii sips from her cup. “Some things are just too good to be true, I guess.”
Haruka hates that line of thinking, but she purrs sympathetically for the benefit of a very good friend. Someday, Haruka is sure, Fukii will see that she deserves so much more.
“How about I sew you a new dress?” she offers.
Fukii finally smiles. “You know you can’t automatically make me un-sad just because you’re offering to make me a new dress.”
“I know, but still. You’ll wear it and you’ll parade around Tokyo like the total babe that you are. That man will be eating his hands off, him and his chipmunk face.”
“Oh, Haru.” Fukii hugs her tight.
*
part two
From: natsunonamae
Title: To Hang On Humming Wire
Pairing: Jun/Ayase Haruka, with a side dish of Sho/Fukiishi Kazue, Nino/Naka Riisa, Aiba/Kitagawa Keiko, and Ohno/Yanagihara Kanako
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Jun and Haruka come from two different worlds.
A/N: Dear phrenk, before I knew it, I had veered away a bit from the tone and feel you were asking for, but I’m still crossing my fingers that you’ll like it? I was watching one of my favorite films based on a certain Jane Austen novel and it just grew from there. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥
It is not entirely a bad way to spend a day. The sunlight streams in nicely on where she is sitting, enough to counteract the 24/7 barrage of unnecessarily bright convenience store lights. It’s enough to wash out the sickly greenness of the walls, to her relief. The most she has to do is to re-stock the shelves when they’re starting to look bare, and sometimes, to deal with customers who seemingly have all the time in the world to ask her inconsequential stuff about the most random things.
Like Pocky, for example. She once spent thirty minutes trying to convince a geriatric European man that it was perfectly edible. Her patience is long and at the end of it all, she wasn’t even pissed-even if she had to open one and show that it was edible by stuffing it all in her mouth none too gracefully. The man had only stared and said “Wow that’s a mouthful” before Nino, her co-worker, told the old man to pay for it and to “shove it up yours”. The two of them have met all kinds of characters, in the four years that they have worked in a busy convenience store.
“Excuse me?” A stern voice asks.
She quickly tries to snap herself out of the sleepy stupor that she has lulled herself into, props her glasses on her nose, and looks at her side. Nino has his headphones on as his fingers jab mercilessly on his raggedy DS, his eyes meeting hers as he shrugs. This one’s on me, she guesses, as she stands up promptly. The man on the other side of the counter taps his fingers impatiently.
“Ah!” Haruka tries not to let the surprise show on her face. The customer has pale skin and is dressed up in an all-white outfit that seemed gauzy and ethereal in its many layers. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a midday apparition to Haruka, especially with the way that he looks at her.
“Would that be all?” Haruka asks perkily, putting on her “Our Happiness is Your Happiness” smile that her boss drilled into her as she rings up his purchases. She’d be in big trouble if he found out that she insulted a customer by thinking he was a ghost. Yes, that’d get her the boot, she thinks, after all her other shenanigans.
“Yes, that’s all.” She swears that he is scowling, even though his tone is even and polite. “Oh, wait, I have to get a bottle of milk,” he backtracks. Haruka watches as he glides (yes, glides) to the humming row of refrigerators. She finds herself mildly transfixed at the way he moves-sauntering yet strict-and she can’t help but admire the way the fabric of his clothes moves around with him.
He slides the bottle of milk towards Haruka in a way that would be rude except he did it with a flourish. “None of your bottles are cold.”
Haruka bows immediately. “Sorry, they were just restocked a few minutes ago.”
Nino stands up and steps in, taking off his headphones as if he’s been listening all along. “If you would like, I could give you a cup with ice.”
“You,” the man says, eyeing Nino with something that looks faintly like distaste. Nino knits his eyebrows, probably wondering what the guy’s deal is. “Umm, yes, me. Cup with ice, sir?”
The man shakes his head, as if snapping out of a spell. “Who’s ever heard of drinking milk with ice?” he asks, an impatient curl on his lips. “Just ring it up.”
“I’m truly sorry for that, sir,” Nino says, a plastic smile on his face.
He smiles back. At least, that’s what Haruka would like to think, but it is a smile that is constipated, irritated, and trying-to-be-polite all at once. It looks terrifying, especially with his distinct facial features.
After Haruka punches everything in, and the man stomps off, as if he couldn’t leave quickly enough. Nino whistles. “Truly a breath of sunshine, the little fancy pants,” he observes.
Haruka laughs as she shakes her head. “I told you we should’ve stocked the milk bottles when we clocked in!”
“He’ll survive,” Nino replies, as he stuffs his DS and headphones inside his bag. “Say, Haru-chan, have you given it any thought?”
“Given what a thought?”
Nino sighs as he stands up. “That group date I’ve been talking about all week.”
“Ah, group date!” She couldn’t help but let an errant snigger escape her mouth.
“I’ve told you a thousand times,” Nino says, his voice pleading, which is all levels of strange and funny, coming from him. “Sho-chan says I have to bring a couple of pretty girls in tow so I can go.”
“So you think I’m pretty.” Haruka enjoys seeing him squirm. Most of the time, she was on the receiving end of Nino’s harmless teasing, so she rather enjoys having the tables turned. She musses up her hair, drapes herself across the counter, and gives Nino the best seductive look she could muster while she is in her greasy glasses and neon-green M-Mart uniform. “I can go for you, Nino, you know.”
“Somehow,” Nino says, “I want to remember this moment and what you said, because I can totally go for you too, you know.”
“Really?”
“Really. When I’m drunk and you’re less of a slob and less talkative and only if it’s convenient.”
“Aren’t you the one asking for a favor?” Haruka snipes, pulling back as she sticks out her tongue.
Nino throws himself across the counter, as if despairing. “Haru-chan, I know that you know that I think you’re a babe. So, please.”
“Tell me more about how you think I’m a babe.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really like her,” Nino pleads, his hands reaching out to Haruka in a way that reminds her of zombies clawing for untainted flesh. It’s kind of creepy, childish, and exactly the kind of thing that makes her giggle. “And fine, you’re a total babe. Very distracting. I like how you fill out our very unflattering M-Mart fatigues. I also can’t resist you when you do that rabbit thing. It’s the pinnacle of hotness. Trouble is, my heart is now beholden to someone else.”
Haruka laughs fondly. Because, Nino. “That bad, huh?”
“Yes, so stop torturing me. I know you’re never going to let me live this down.”
“Never,” Haruka grins. Nino has been bugging her to attend a group date. Apparently, it has been arranged by one of his childhood friends who was super rich (and “fucking smart, if a little goofy”, if Nino is to be believed.) The friend introduced a girl to Nino when the two of them were drinking, and Nino was smitten beyond belief. Haruka, to be honest, is a little curious about what kind of girl gets a guy like Nino eating out of the palm of her hand, because he’s always seemed quite ill-adept in social situations (via his ringing sarcasm plus lack of anything to talk about except games) and, well, a little too geeky to be interested in girls.
He wipes his stubby fingers across his face, as if defeated. “I’ll do three of your shifts next week, at your convenience. Just, please! And bring Fukiishi-san, I need two girls!”
“Five!” Haruka likes to grab an opportunity when she sees it. “You know Fukii isn’t the kind of girl to go to a group date, so that’s going to be a hassle.”
“Four! Haru-chan, have some heart. Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“Never.” Haruka pretends to puke. “And fine, four, but only because I need all the time I can get to sew my dresses for my finals. And also because you’re kind of pitiful.” And because Nino has somehow become one of her closest friends, one of her very few. He’s one of the few people she feels like she can be absolutely herself with and somehow, it’s a miracle of sorts. What’s a couple of torturous hours in a group date for a friend, who will also cover four of her seven shifts next week, right when she needs it the most?
Nino cheers in an uncharacteristic show of delight. He also grabs the box of potato chips that needed shelving with a kind of gusto that can only mean the apocalypse because Nino never, ever, volunteers to do the shelving.
“Someday, Haru-chan, you’ll be this pitiful as well and it would be the best thing you’d ever have felt!”
Haruka doubts it as Nino whistles his way towards the snack aisle.
*
What do girls normally wear for group dates? Haruka wonders, as she smoothes down the outfit she chose: a well-worn and well-loved smock dress with eyelet lace that ends on her knees. It’s one of the first dresses she made in school, and she can’t seem to let it go. She’s also wearing tights and her scuffed out yellow maryjanes. As she brushes down her bangs, she considers ditching her glasses tonight and maybe putting in some contact lenses…but then she remembers that she isn’t really trying to impress anyone, so why bother?
When she meets up with Fukii, a longtime friend of hers from Hiroshima, she realizes that maybe she’s a notch underdressed. Even through the afternoon bustle of the street, she hears Fukii’s remonstrating “Haru!” as she approaches.
Haruka still gives Fukii a hug. “It’s nice to see you too!”
Fukii squeezes back but pries herself off from Haruka quickly. “Haru, you said we were going to a group date. You look like you’re about to go do some errands! I know it’s your favorite dress, but I feel horribly overdressed next to you. Like I’m trying too hard. I even wore the shoes you made for me.”
Haruka eyes Fukii’s demure yet still eye-catching pale pink dress and wedge heels with slim ribbons on her ankles that made her legs look like delicate stalks of driftwood. She can’t help it-it’s usually people’s clothes that she looks at first, because for her, how people dress up is very telling of their personality and disposition. “Sorry, I just didn’t feel like bothering. But you look perfect, Fukii.”
“You told me to dress up,” her friend groans. “I don’t even like going to group dates, I’m just doing this for you!”
“No, we’re doing this for Nino, remember? We must support young love, in all shapes, sizes, and relative romance experience. In which case, for Nino, zilch.”
“Why do I suddenly have the feeling that you just want to have ammo to tease Ninomiya-kun with?”
Haruka laughs. “Oh, we’re going to enjoy this so much, Fukii! Nino’s going to be so awkward and hilarious. We can’t miss it.”
Fukii sighs and allows Haruka to drag her. When they step inside the tapas restaurant named Tapella, the group date is already well on its way. The vibe inside is relaxed, but Haruka can tell that it’s not a place that she could normally afford. Fukii grabs her wrist as Nino stands up to meet them halfway, looking equal parts excited and relieved.
“What’s wrong?”
“I still feel like that awkward girl from Hiroshima,” Fukii whispers. “Just like that first day when we got here and Tokyo seemed so big.”
“Maybe you still feel like the awkward girl, but you sure don’t look it,” Haruka whispers back, as Nino approaches. He greets them, eyes shining with enough emotion and gratitude as if they just discovered the cure for cancer or found the solution for everlasting world peace, between the two of them.
“I owe you my grandchildren, Haru-chan,” Nino grins. “Fukiishi-san, you made it.”
“Ninomiya-san,” Fukii acknowledges. Haruka can only grin back. “Ah, Nino, you look desperately out of your league in here.”
“No such thing,” Nino says, cocksure and looking strangely light on his toes as they approach the table.
When they get to the table, Haruka has to admit to herself that she feels quite intimidated. At first glance, everyone seated on the long table looks impossibly chic-both the girls and the boys are wearing clothes that seem like they were stripped off right from the runway. Or perhaps, it’s just a certain aura that they collectively emitted, a sense of privilege. A man at the end of the table stands up to welcome them.
“Hello,” he says. He’s wearing an oddly put together suit but somehow, he still looks fresh and well-undeniably rich.
“Sho-chan, this is Ayase-san, I work with her. And this is Fukiishi-san, her friend,” Nino says.
Before Haruka could even snort, the other man, who’s obviously the childhood friend Nino has been talking about, steps up to shake their hands. “I’m not used to you being so formal, Nino,” he says, a kind smile on his face. “I’m Sakurai Sho. You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Well aren’t you smooth,” Nino jibes. Sakurai pushes him playfully on the shoulders. “How is it possible that you have friends, much less pretty ones?”
“Only goes to show you that you’re sorely mistaken about your perceptions of me.”
“That or you’re just completely annoying and they can’t tell it to your face.”
They continue their repartee as Sho guides them to their seats. He introduces them to the other people in the group, who were all mostly Sho’s schoolmates from way back, and his childhood friends. He gestures towards the far end of the table to a standing couple who seem quite cozy with each other-a rather short, tanned man with a jaunty smile is standing behind the girl, his arms around her, his chin, on her shoulder. She’s a little plumper than the average girl and emits a vibe of cheerfulness and cuteness, especially with her cropped bob. Haruka’s eyes are naturally drawn to the little hat that looks like a birdcage perched askew on her head-how cute! Haruka thinks. “That’s Ohno Satoshi and Yanagihara Kanako, or Oh-chan and Kanako-chan. I don’t even know why they’re here, they’ve been a couple ever since we were in high school.”
The one named Ohno greets them with a wave.
“Sho-chan, how rude! How can we miss your treat in one of our favorite restaurants? Oh-chan loves their sardines, but we rarely eat here because he finds it too expensive. This miser!”
“Kanako,” the man singsongs as he hugs her even tighter, as if he’s embarrassed. Haruka already finds the two of them absolutely adorable.
“I love your hat,” she gushes, unable to hide her admiration.
Kanako grins. “Really? Satoshi makes them from scrap materials, isn’t he just amazing?” She faces Ohno and laughs at his pained and embarrassed expression. He bites into her shoulder, earning him a playful swat at the arm from Kanako.
“I’ve been telling you guys for seven years already, no biting in public!” the girl beside Kanako exclaims. She’s in a form-fitting black dress, her hair tousled and her lips a vampy red-usually the kind of girl Haruka dismisses as having zero sense of style. But something about the way she carries herself comes off as very fresh and confident to Haruka. Sho pipes in. “Oh, that’s Kitagawa Keiko, and right in front of him is Aiba Masaki. Aiba-chan is my next-door neighbor, and the three of us,” he gestures to Nino, “used to play a lot together when we were young.”
“Why are you even friends with Nino?” Aiba says to them as a greeting. Haruka and Fukii laugh.
“That’s precious, coming from you,” Nino says, obviously fond of the other guy.
“Keiko-chan is Kanako-chan’s bestfriend, we were in junior high and high school together, along with Oh-chan and a couple of other people. We were sort of a group of misfits back then, and we banded together,” Sho narrates.
“God, must you do a background story on everyone?” the girl named Keiko teases. “You’re boring the two of them to death already!”
“Am not,” Sho replies heatedly. “I’m not, right girls?” Fukii shakes her head politely and Haruka just stands there, enjoying the easy and obviously well worn camaraderie among the group.
“Keiko-chan also happens to be Sho-chan’s first love,” Ohno says. Kanako brays in infectious laughter as Keiko shoots murderous looks towards Ohno. “Still not over us, Ohno?” The soft-spoken man only giggles. “Sorry, can’t help it, it’s just hard to imagine the two of you ever being a thing.” Haruka gets the impression that he isn’t one who speaks up a lot, but when he does, it’s always as explosive or as random as what he just said.
“Sho-chi couldn’t handle me, unfortunately,” Keiko says with a grin.
“That’s interesting,” Aiba says, casting a curious glance towards Keiko. “Mind regaling us with the details?”
“Of course you’d be curious,” Nino jabs at Aiba.
“Let’s not,” Sho says, obviously tickled and exasperated at the same time. “Kei-chan, call Matsujun, will you? He’s horribly late. Riisa-chan too.”
“Kei-chan,” Kanako mimics, earning a laugh from Ohno. “Sho-chi,” he replies in an effeminate voice, caressing Kanako’s cheek exaggeratedly.
“Please forgive them, Ayase-san, Fukiishi-san. They’re the worst combi in the world,” Keiko intones.
Haruka finds herself warming up to these people who seemed high and aloft just a few moments ago. They are all obviously devastatingly rich, but something about their manner feels very welcoming to Haruka. She looks at Fukii, who’s currently being guided into a seat by a very alert-looking Sho.
“Let’s settle down,” Sho says, obviously the ringleader of the troupe, as he calls over the waiter while seemingly deciding where to sit. If not the ringleader, then the mastermind of this whole group date, Haruka thinks. A girl wearing a colorful jumpsuit that might just be dangerous for people prone to seizures joins them on the table without a thought.
“Riisa-chan! So nice of you to join us,” Sho says.
Kanako and Keiko all squeal inhumanly-Haruka swears the Earth must have shifted on its axis at least an inch from all the noise-as they stand up to smother the newcomer with hugs.
“I haven’t seen you in forever! You got back from London and you didn’t contact us? And you still dress up like a five year-old, omigod-”
“Bitch, you’re so hard to reach! I’ve been texting and calling you!”
“Sorry you guys, changed my phone several months ago,” Riisa says sheepishly, laughing as Kanako squeezes her in a death grip and Keiko pretends to strangle her.
“Oh-chan, get these animals away from me!” Riisa calls out.
“Can’t help you there,” Ohno says, smiling.
“Is this a group date or a reunion?” Aiba asks. Keiko laughs and walks towards him. She pats his head. “I’ll take care of you, cowboy,” she says, leaning towards Aiba’s ear. Everyone wolf-whistles and cheers, to Aiba’s embarrassment. He looks wondrously at Keiko, though, as she settles down on a seat beside him.
“Oh god,” Sho says, sighing. “Right. Riisa-chan, meet Ayase-san and Fukiishi-san. You remember Nino, don’t you?”
“Hey,” she says, giving them a small wave as she recovers from the assault of her friends. “Nino, you still owe me a drink, you weakling.”
Nino visibly brightens up. “Not as weak as you.”
Haruka finds herself seated beside Nino, who’s seated beside Riisa. Fukii is seated on Haruka’s other side, while Sho suspiciously takes the seat in front of her. The plates of tapas and pitchers of sangrias arrive, as if on cue.
Haruka nudges Nino. “Riisa-chan looks thoroughly unimpressed with you,” she whispers, eyeing the girl beside him. Nino sits ramrod straight on his seat. “Shh, working on it!” Haruka finds herself entertained by their conversation, which went from beds with the kind of back support that Riisa has supposedly been hunting around for, to Nino bumbling about staying up until 3 a.m. to play online games with foreigners on the other side of the hemisphere. She gets why Nino is so thoroughly taken with her when Riisa shows Nino her sneakers (which are painfully colorful and had tiny bears attached to it), and Nino goes,
“Those are truly creepy.”
“What are you talking about, they’re designer! Jeremy Scott!” Riisa says, affronted.
“Jeremy who? Well, there’s something vaguely pedophilic about them anyway.”
There’s a moment of silence that descends on them as everyone on the table holds their breath in. Riisa kicks Nino’s chair and says, “Eat shit.” She’s grinning to her ears. “It’s much cooler than that Pac-Man cap you’re wearing. Bad manners and all.”
Everyone releases a breath of relief. “Riisa-chan once kicked a guy in the balls when he said her Rainbow Brite shoes were ugly,” Kanako says very reverently.
“He was an asshole,” Riisa says, beaming at Nino.
Nino grins that shit-eating grin of his. He takes off his cap and (gently) jams it down on her head. Riisa doesn’t complain.
“Ninomiya’s a dork, isn’t he, Ayase-san,” she says, turning to Haruka.
“It’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid. He’s the type to twiddle his thumbs in the dark for no reason at all.”
Riisa puts on a fake shocked face. “Totally feels like a serial killer.”
“We can’t be absolutely sure, but it does feel like he’s one.”
“Then I shall be thorough with my investigation,” she says, fingering the brim of Nino’s cap like a detective.
“Please, girls, no front-stabbing me.” Riisa giggles, a free, tinkling, light-hearted sound that obviously inches in on Nino’s fancy, if the upturned corners of his mouth are to be the basis.
Nino turns to Haruka and secretly winks at her, looking all shades of smug and pleased. Haruka has a hard time trying not to laugh. She feels very proud though, like Nino’s a little brother who’s finally grown up and passed a rite of passage of sorts, even though she’ll probably never hear the end of how “smooth” he is when they get back to work.
As the dinner progresses, it is also obvious that Nino’s friend, Sho, is very taken with Fukii. It’s as if everyone else has dissipated into thin air, as they form an airtight bubble around the two of them. When Haruka and Fukii go for a restroom break, she ambushes her friend right away.
“Fukii, I thought you didn’t like group dates.”
Fukii blushes crimson and washes her hands hurriedly. “I don’t!”
“But you like Sho, don’t you? Or, I’m sorry, Sho-chan,” Haruka says. She whips around to face Haruka, looking flustered, a smile on her face. “Oh Haru, he’s great. Kind of goofy, actually, but so great. He’s an investment banker, did you know? He was so excited when I told him that I’m an Econ major and he was even more engrossed when I told him about my thesis. It’s probably the most romantic thing ever. But, I don’t know, it feels like he’s just humoring me. I mean, look at Keiko-chan, his ex. How could he even look at someone like me?”
“How is talking about your thesis romantic again? And please, what do you mean by ‘someone like me’?” Haruka answers. “You’re not Ms. Hiroshima 2007 for nothing!”
“Haru,” Fukii groans. “Haru, he smells great too. I don’t-”
“Fukii! You’ve been smelling him? How shameless!”
She blushes even more. “God, he’s so-he’s just-god.”
“He’s been looking at you the whole night, okay. Like he wants to eat your soul or something.”
Fukii laughs and shakes her head. They walk back to their table companionably. Haruka stops in her tracks when she sees who had squeezed in beside Sho (and right in front of her seat): the dude with the gauzy white outfit from the other day, at M-Mart. Tonight, he is wearing a pinstriped suit with a loosely buttoned white shirt, and he seems fussier and colder than ever. The quirked eyebrow that greets her as she sits down tells her that he is equally surprised to see her there.
“Ah, Jun-kun, this is Fukii-chan and Haruka-chan,” Sho says amiably, now more loose-limbed with alcohol. “Girls, this is Matsumoto Jun. You can call him Matsujun and if he snipes at you, you can tell me and I’ll give him a whack or two.”
“Matsumoto-san is fine,” he says coolly, tipping his head towards them. “Aren’t you the one working at the convenience store near Shinbashi station? The two of you.” He motions to Nino as well. Haruka notes the tone of condescension in his voice, and well, she doesn’t like it very much.
Nino has a look on his face that Haruka knows intimately: it’s a mix of annoyance and glee, something he reserves for people he feels like he can play with and he suspects that they won’t notice. “I see you’ve been to our well-stocked kingdom. You’re welcome anytime! We promise ice-cold milk the next time you swing by. Haru-chan here will be ready with a red carpet as well, Matsumoto-san.”
Jun bristles.
“Nino,” Haruka says warningly. Something about the way Jun looks at her with nary an emotion, as if he’d rather be anywhere than there right at that moment, chills her. It doesn’t usually happen, but she decides right then and there that she doesn’t quite like this Jun person. She hates the way he talks down on her and Nino.
“Well, having ice-cold drinks available when it’s supposed to be refrigerated in the first place is already the barest minimum of convenience, isn’t it? It isn’t called a convenience store for nothing.”
“Aw, lighten up, Jun-kun,” Riisa pipes in.
Nino’s cheeks turn uncharacteristically red. He is about to say something when Sho laughs nervously. “Just ignore him, you guys. He’s just not really good with people. I think his solitary days practicing alone is to blame.”
Jun’s expression remains indifferent. Haruka can’t quite stop herself, and so she asks. “Practicing what?”
Kanako speaks up. Her voice betrays a wish to steer the conversation away from where it’s been meandering. “He’s a ballet dancer, one of Japan’s best, along with Riisa-chan. They were promising even when we were just in junior high.”
That explains the way he moves, Haruka thinks.
“Really, ballet?” Aiba says, impressed. “Wow, Riisa-chan!”
“Of course you conveniently forget that Kanako-chan also mentioned Jun-kun,” Sho contributes.
“Riisa-chan is cute,” he says with a grin, as if it’s reason enough.
Ohno chooses that moment to drop his next bomb. “Jun-kun has always been the best at twirling, though.”
Everyone bursts out in rowdy laughter. Jun throws a wad of tissue at Ohno.
“You’re a ballet dancer?” Nino asks Riisa, now looking distracted as he stares at her anew. A certain kind of awe paints his features. She giggles, looking pleased.
“I know, I know, I don’t look it.”
“Can you be any more awesome?”
“Tell them about how you and Jun-kun pissed off our theater teacher back in high school by insisting that our production of Jesus Christ Superstar needed more ballet and less Judas,” Keiko goads.
“Please,” Jun says. “It doesn’t matter to these people, they don’t care about ballet.”
Nino tries his best to hold back his tongue, because Riisa is giving so much effort to distract him. Haruka, on the other hand, couldn’t contain herself. “Well aren’t you a party pooper.”
“I don’t like to waste my time.” Jun drains his glass of sangria.
Sho stands up from his chair and drags Jun. “Come on, let’s score some real alcohol from the bar. The sangria isn’t doing it for me,” he says, desperately trying to diffuse the tension. Jun stands up and follows him without another word.
Riisa turns towards Nino and Haruka. “Please don’t mind him, he’s just really like that. The world on his shoulders and all-it’s just his shtick. Quite the gloomy one.” Haruka shakes her head, while Nino shrugs.
“Are you okay?” Fukii asks her.
“Yeah. I’ve just never met anyone else so detached yet so detestable at the same time.”
Fukii could only make empathizing noises. Later on in the night, when they are about to leave, Sho and Jun (who remained quiet and standoffish the whole night) accompany them to hail a couple of taxis for them. Jun stands coolly to the side, tinkering on his phone, as Sho and Fukii look perfectly content to be next to each other, drunkenly murmuring things to each other.
When they hail one, Haruka tells Fukii to go ahead, since she lived much farther than her. Sho made an awkward move to kiss her cheek, but thought better of it, so they met in a kind of hybrid between a hug and a handshake. “I’ll call you,” Sho promises.
Fukii smiles brightly. “Okay. Haru, I’ll go ahead! Text me when you get home.” The taxi zooms away.
Haruka realizes that she forgot her phone on the table and quickly excuses herself from the two men. After she gets her phone back (which she does very quickly, as she stumbles on Aiba whispering things into Keiko’s ear, their chairs suspiciously close to each other, and Nino and Riisa watching something on a mobile phone, both laughing inebriatedly), she finds the two men still looking for a cab.
“Sorry, Haruka-chan. We’ll have to wait a bit more, seems like there’s a shortage of cabs around this area,” Sho says, genuinely remorseful.
“It’s no problem at all. You don’t have to wait with me,” she says.
“Nonsense,” Sho says. He digs into Jun’s ribs with his elbow. “Right?”
“Right.” He couldn’t look any less convincing. Haruka is desperately thinking of an alternate escape plan when Ohno and Kanako pop out of the restaurant, hand in hand. When they learn of the situation, they decide to keep them company as they wait for a cab for Haruka.
“How far away do you live?” Kanako asks in a friendly manner.
Haruka is frankly becoming uncomfortable from the effort they are expending on her. “An hour away, on a cab,” she admits. “Near the outskirts.”
Ohno whistles. “An hour, huh?”
“Jun-kun has a personal driver, why don’t you just take her home?” Kanako suggests. It feels like ice daggers on Haruka’s heart as she realizes what’s being asked of someone she doesn’t even particularly like, and she feels sick just even thinking about it.
“Please, there’s no need! I can wait here for a cab, I’m sure one will swing by soon.” Her voice is all panic and desperation.
Sho doesn’t even appear to hear her, turning to Jun. “Yeah, why not just take her? I totally wouldn’t mind except I have to pick up my sister in a bit.”
“There’s no need for it, Matsumoto-san,” she says, stumbling on her words.
Jun hikes his suit sleeve to look at his watch. He then scans the street, which, Haruka observes with pain, is currently devoid of any kind of automobiles, taxis included. “Come,” he says to her.
“What?”
Jun waves gracefully at someone in the distance and not after a minute later, a shiny, black Maserati parks smoothly in front of them. He opens the car door and gestures for her to get inside.
Haruka looks pleadingly at Sho.
“Please, Haruka-chan, I won’t rest well not knowing you’ve gotten home safe. Nino will kill me. And seeing as he’s rather, well, indisposed right now, I feel like it’s my responsibility.”
Jun sighs.
“Please. I’m sure Matsujun will see to it. I know he looks scary, but I promise you, he’s a good guy.”
Haruka doesn’t have the heart to refute the kindness of one of Nino’s friends, one who, from Nino’s stories, has helped him at his lowest moments. She says goodbye to everyone before stepping inside Jun’s car. Jun jogs to the other side and slides in next to her, the hermetic silence feeling most oppressive. He looks at her quizzically, the car still not moving.
“Oh,” Haruka says, realizing what he’s waiting for. She leans in awkwardly to the uniformed driver and tells him her address. The car starts to roll away, leaving the both of them cloaked again in uncomfortable silence. She gets a better view of his spotless suede driving shoes, which are the exact color of toffee candy. He must like fine things, she thinks, and then shakes her head, realizing how absurd that is. He only knows of fine things. That fact and the buttery leather of the car’s interiors serve to remind her of how different the worlds they move in are.
Jun glances at her, as if puzzled. “Why are you shaking your head?”
She shakes her head, before she realizes that she’s doing it. “Ah, nothing, I was just thinking.”
“Oh.”
Jun crosses his leg. “How do you feel about working at M-Mart?” he asks. She is taken aback by the randomness of his question, until she remembers why he knows that she works there. Haruka feels indignation creeping back.
“I’ve been working there for four years now and I don’t feel the least ashamed of it.”
“You don’t? That’s a feat.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Haruka asks, truly wondering how someone could be so rude.
“Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just not good at talking to people I’ve only met.”
“Sure didn’t feel like it,” she says, biting her tongue in order to stop saying more. After all, she is riding in his car.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” he says. Haruka puzzles at what he’s saying, when she meets his eyes. “And I guess I can’t tolerate stupid questions.”
“Stupid questions?”
“Do you ever drink your milk with ice?”
“He was just being nice,” Haruka answers icily. “You were a customer, he was just doing his work.”
“Well, it was pretty idiotic of him.”
“You really aren’t good at talking to people.”
They turn silent again. Haruka feels like she could die-he makes her so uncomfortable and so uneasy at the same time. She’s not sure whether she hates his guts or she pities him for his apparent lack for human empathy. He looks indifferent as she squirms in the seat, despising the silence. She might not like the guy, but she hates the dead air more.
“So, you’re a ballet dancer,” she says, her voice sounding odd even to herself-she has to admit that she’s actually curious about that.
Jun doesn’t even look at her. “Yes.”
“I once saw a ballet where they danced to Michael Jackson songs. They did amazing pirouettes to that Free Willy song, pretty moving stuff. I may have cried.”
Jun sniffs. Or scoffs. With him, Haruka is never sure.
“Are you still a student or are you part of a ballet company?”
He looks at her. “Still a student, but hoping to be a part of an esteemed company. Paris Opera Ballet, to be precise.”
“And you wish to dance in the Palais Garnier,” she guesses.
For the first time, his eyes show some emotion. “How do you know that? How do you even know about Palais Garnier?”
The guy couldn’t get more arrogant, Haruka thinks. “Paris is very close to my heart.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, a fashion design student will always dream about Paris. Or at least, in my case, dream about pulling off a runway show in an area with lots of natural light.”
“You study fashion?”
“Does that come as a surprise to you?”
“It does, actually. Then why are you working in a convenience store? Rather unfashionable.”
“Some people actually don’t sweat money from their pores, you know.” Haruka couldn’t help it anymore.
“And what do you mean by that, exactly?” The look on Jun’s face is challenging.
“What I mean is that I can’t stand people like you. There’s nothing wrong with being rich, but there’s definitely something wrong with being pompous about other people having to work hard to have things that they wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise! I wanted to study in Tokyo, not in Hiroshima, because I have a dream. It sucks that I have to work to pay for it, but it’s not my parents’ fault that they can’t afford to pay for my tuition fee in full! Just because I’m a working student doesn’t mean a fancy-shmancy rich kid like you can belittle me.” She is breathless by the time she finishes.
Jun turns away from her and looks at the blurred cityscape hurrying by. “Please. You don’t know me.”
That is the end of it, and by the time they reach Haruka’s apartment, she is seething and pretty fed up. The fact that she probably won’t ever see him again is a relief to her.
“Thanks,” she says coldly, not waiting for him to reply. The car speeds away as soon as she is at a barely safe distance.
She suspects that the feeling is mutual.
*
“When will this shoddy day end,” Nino yawns, stretching his limbs like a cat.
“You’re more restless than usual,” Haruka observes, as she wipes the counter clean. It’s another typical day at M-Mart. “Hot date with Riisa-chan?”
“She’s finally invited me to her place! We’re going to play games,” he says dreamily. “We’re also going to play. Get it?”
“Very romantic,” Haruka quips, but she is truly happy for her friend. Things with him and his new “ladylove”-Nino’s words, not hers-are going extremely well, and no matter how much Nino likes to yank on her chain, he deserves to be happy.
“I hope our salary comes in in a day or two, though. I feel completely strapped for cash, and I wanted to buy a bottle of soju or even cheap red wine to share. I can’t even do that much for her,” Nino laments.
Haruka frowns. “I’m sure she doesn’t care that you’re dirt poor and mired in student loans. Not when she knows that you’re scraping by just to finish your medical degree.”
“Dirt poor? Gee thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nino sits on the counter, brazenly ignoring their manager’s rule-“M-Mart Tenet #8: Counters are not meant to be sat on by human beings. Especially those who go by the name ‘Ninomiya’.”
“Haru-chan, don’t you ever wonder how it feels like to be so rich that you don’t even have to think about money?”
“It would be nice and, god, it would be such a big relief, but I can’t say that it crosses my mind on a regular basis.”
“Do you know why I count every yen I get?”
“Your mom likes to tell you that saving is a very fun hobby, even when you were just six years old, and it’s been an ingrained in you ever since.”
“Ah, I guess I haven’t told you the real reason.” He looks at her. “It’s kind of a sad story.”
“I’m listening.”
Nino leans back on the counter, his hands pillowing the back of his head. “We used to be really rich. I don’t really have memories of it, but once, my mom showed me a picture of us in our old house. I was dressed up all fancily, and my mom had a big smile on her face. Dad wasn’t alcoholic yet, and god, we had a fountain okay? A marble fountain. The folks don’t like talking about what happened, but from what I can piece together from the little they’ve told me, my dad got swindled. We lost almost everything. It didn’t happen quickly, but slowly, and the older I got, I eventually understood that we didn’t have a lot of money. We transferred to my grandmother’s house, in a still relatively fancy neighborhood, but according to my mom, it was nothing like where we lived before. At first I didn’t understand her frustration, I was so young and more than happy to get new neighbors and playmates.”
Haruka smiles, imagining Nino, the kid version. Nino sits up and continues. “I can’t ever forget the first time Aiba rang the bell, looking absolutely filthy, mud caked on his face, with Sho-chan behind him. It’s probably one of my earliest memories. I understood the difference between myself and the two of them when they always had the newest toys, the newest clothes, and I was stuck with old things. They never judged me for that, but it was hard to be around them. I mean, it’s not that I hated how my life was, I didn’t know any different and it was still pretty cushy, but it was such a blow to learn at twelve that we had no life savings. That I had nothing to inherit. That if I wanted to go to college, I had to work like a dog.”
“Nino,” Haruka says, not knowing what to say.
“What added salt to the wound was when my mom came sobbing to me one night, saying sorry, over and over. She admitted that from the little that they had left, dad had squandered most of it on alcohol, throughout the years. He couldn’t get out of his pit, his despair, and she couldn’t carry the burden by herself anymore. I can never hate my dad, he’s kind and well-spoken when he’s not on the juice and when he’s not in his stretches of depression, but, I don’t know. I’ve always struggled to understand him, to know why he can’t seem to pick himself up. How can a person become so defeated? So beaten to the ground? It just sucks sometimes, knowing that things could have been a lot different.”
Nino stops talking, lost in his thoughts. Haruka remains silent. When Nino turns towards her, tears were already racing down her face. “Oh god, Haru-chan, don’t cry. It’s embarrassing,” he says, handing her his handkerchief. Nino stands up and hugs her, even though they aren’t the type of friends to be demonstrative. Haruka sniffles. She whispers in his ear. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to be a clinical psychologist, you softie.”
“Busted,” he whispers back.
“And here I was thinking that you were talking it up just because you were being your normal creepy self.”
“There’s that.”
Haruka hugs him tighter. “Oh Nino, I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t think differently of me. Lots of people have bigger problems.”
“But Nino-”
He hushes her. They spend a good long while just holding each other, both hopelessly exposed and vulnerable.
It is Nino who speaks up again. “Haru-chan?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t think I’m a creep, but I’m now suddenly very aware of your boobs on my chest.”
Haruka pulls back immediately. “Well, we can’t have that.” They look at each other, and before they can say anything else, they both burst out laughing. When they get over their laughing fit, there isn’t anything else to do but to go about their remaining shelving duties until their shift ends in thirty minutes.
When they’re about to go their separate ways after walking a few blocks together, Haruka turns to him. “Nino, save every yen you can. Work hard. Love hard. Just, I don’t know, go for it. I’m here to chase after your slacking ass if you do anything less.”
“Haru-chan,” he smiles fondly. “You’re a dork.”
*
She has a shift alone in M-Mart that lonely Wednesday night. The raindrops cascading down the glass windows make the outside world hard to see, as if it didn’t exist at all. Haruka feels like she is in a completely different plane than the rest of humanity, everyone else crawling forward to their destinies despite the heavy downpour. Or have they completely stopped in their tracks as well, watching the grey day pass underneath whatever roof they happen to be under, when the rain fell? She bemoans the fact that she doesn’t have a raincoat with her, which will make going home a tricky business. Of course she can always just borrow one of the umbrellas in the store, but she will still get soaked to the bone. When her shifts ends, she wonders how long she will have to wait before the rain peters out. Every downpour runs out of fuel sooner or later, right?
Haruka is just mindlessly browsing a magazine when the sound of the electronic bell goes off. She sighs when she realizes that the person on the next shift hasn’t arrived yet. Well, how could anyone, in a storm like this?
The sight that welcomes her when she steps out of the employee room stops her dead in her tracks. It is Jun, looking severe yet immaculately-kept in an expensive looking raincoat, which seems like it hasn’t encountered a splatter of rain. He has his hand on his hip, looking a little uncomfortable and out of place for the very first time.
“How…how may I help you?” Haruka starts.
“You’re not in your M-Mart uniform,” he says.
“Well, technically, it’s not my shift anymore.”
“Oh.” Jun looks at her before he turns around and walks towards the refreshments section. Haruka isn’t surprised when he comes back with a bottle of milk.
“It’s actually cold,” he says.
“Yes,” Haruka says, swiping his purchase. “Will that be-”
The telephone rings loudly, enough to jolt the both of them. “Just a minute,” she says. When she gets off the phone, she turns towards Jun again. “Will that be all?”
“I’m thinking if I should get a meat bun or something.”
Seriously? Haruka thinks. “It would be ideal if you get one now, because otherwise, you won’t be able to buy it later. The manager just called, he said that we’re closing M-Mart for the day.”
“Oh,” he looks surprised. He races to get another bottle of milk and two meat buns. “Here.”
When they are all nicely packed up, she hands the paper bag to him. She gives him an expectant look, wondering how the hell he’s going to brave the rain. Then she remembers that he has a black sports car that he can’t even be bothered to drive himself.
“Ayase-san, actually, I-,” he says, stumbling, “-I came here because I couldn’t get you out of my head. I mean, I wanted to apologize.” He meets her eyes searchingly. “I’ve been a complete ass, and I meant what I said last time: I just really suck at talking to people.”
Haruka is truly startled. “You said some horrible things.”
“I won’t deny that, but please don’t take it at face value. I’m not always…very nice. But it’s just the way I speak, and I guess, my moods.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I know that. Just, please. Feel free to call me socially-inept.”
She almost smiles, enjoying their exchange with satisfaction. “And kind of douchey.”
“And kind of douchey. Yes, that too.”
“Can I ask you one question?” He nods. “Are you serious?”
Jun looks up, now startled himself. “Pretty much, yes.”
She considers him in his haughty clothes and his expression, which still remains practically unreadable. “Well, I can’t say that I like you very much-”
“People say that a lot to me.”
“-but I guess even someone like you deserves a chance.” She sticks out her hand. “Truce?”
“We were never fighting in the first place.”
Haruka sighs. When she looks up though, he is smiling. It completely transforms his face, even for the mere couple of seconds that he grins at Haruka, and it blindsides her, takes her breath away. She is already pretty sure that she will always remember that face, simply because it rang so true to her. Like he’s an actual person, with actual feelings.
Jun shakes her proffered hand, in promise. “Call me Jun.”
*
Haruka opens the door to an upset-looking Fukii.
“What’s wrong, Fukii?”
Her lips quivers as she settles on Haruka’s couch. “It went so well, like a dream. At least, for almost a month. You know me, I don’t trust people so easily.”
“Sakurai-san?”
Fukii nods. “And then he just stopped. Just like that,” she says, snapping her finger for effect. “No dates, no more calls, nothing.”
“What? Why, did anything happen? A disagreement?”
Fukii only shakes her head. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Fukii. He seemed really nice.”
She leans back on the couch dispiritedly, sighing. When she thinks Haruka isn’t looking, she wipes a lone tear away. Haruka aches for her friend, her beautiful friend who’s so pure and won’t ever do anything to hurt anyone. She hates to see her so heartbroken. There is nothing else left to do except fix her a steaming cup of chamomile.
Fukii sips from her cup. “Some things are just too good to be true, I guess.”
Haruka hates that line of thinking, but she purrs sympathetically for the benefit of a very good friend. Someday, Haruka is sure, Fukii will see that she deserves so much more.
“How about I sew you a new dress?” she offers.
Fukii finally smiles. “You know you can’t automatically make me un-sad just because you’re offering to make me a new dress.”
“I know, but still. You’ll wear it and you’ll parade around Tokyo like the total babe that you are. That man will be eating his hands off, him and his chipmunk face.”
“Oh, Haru.” Fukii hugs her tight.
*
part two