Fic by green_feelings (1/5)
Title: Like Ships at Sea...
Author: leen1707
Pairing: Akame
Word count: ~36,000
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Warnings: Extreme AU, and well, somewhere between angst and fluff (or what counts as fluff with me)
Disclaimer: This story is a product of my imagination. Any parallels with real persons or events are pure coincidence.
Notes: Dear green_feelings, you specified that if it is an extreme AU, it needs to be at least somewhat real. Somehow that's what inspired this plot, and then it grew from there into something unrecognizable. Hope I do not disappoint you completely.
Many thanks to the person, who not only beta-ed, but generally encouraged me and soothed my occasional panic attacks throughout the writing of this fic. I'd never be able to do it without you.
Summary: Leaving on a cruise Jin hoped for a light holiday romance to inspire him in his song-writing.
Day 1 - Barcelona to NICE
The ship hasn't even sailed for a full day... (which is not exactly true though - it's Jin, who hasn't been on board for a whole day, the ship, it has been doing its rounds in the Mediterranean since God knows when - but that's irrelevant)... the point is - Jin hasn't been on board for a day yet, and he already knows that the whole idea of going on a cruise was a mistake.
And it's not even that he is not fond of traveling, after all he flies halfway across the world regularly - to Tokyo or L.A. (that is - when the work absolutely demands his presence there), even if his ideal type of travel is driving in his own car to some location no further than two hours outside of London, to spend a leisurely evening at some small venue, listening to the local version of britpop or - in case he finds himself doing anything like this in the States, some newly sprung hiphop band.
In Tokyo he is usually too pressed for time to even consider traveling - what with meetings with company officials (usually held so early it's only his jet-lag that allows him to be awake at those hours) and the musicians, who generally only have some tiny moment a day, slotted somewhere between a rehearsal and a photoshoot, that may occur at just whatever time - day and night, and Jin has to juggle his schedule like hell to also be able to catch up with his friends and family in between.
Sometimes Jin thinks that he could've been an idol just like them, if things worked out differently - if his voice hadn't started to change at such an inopportune moment, if he had paid more attention to the cautionary tales of his seniors about the dangers of overstraining it at that point - but it's such an old ache, it doesn't feel like an ache anymore, and overall he's pretty happy with how his life is right now: he is still valuable for the company as a songwriter, and if it allows him to stay out of the frenzied world that the idols live in, and that - in England rather than in Japan, and his voice is still good enough to hold an occasional acoustic concert there, even if it is not up to jimusho standard anymore, and his songs do well in Oricon charts and (his English ones) even in American ratings, and he is sort of widely known but not to the point of being hunted by paparazzi or recognized by anyone beyond the close circle of fans, - it's actually all good, he can't imagine it any differently right now.
He doesn't stay in Japan for long.
He hasn't done much traveling around Europe either - though it is right there, blatantly close across the Channel. A fact that his friend, Yamashita (who is exactly one of those idols, Jin, apparently, hadn't been destined to become), never fails to rant about - about how he, for instance, has this impossibly packed “schedule from hell” that simply doesn't leave time for anything but work and, well, more work, and lives in freaking Japan, and still he has been to Italy, and Paris, and it is just impossible to understand, how Jin is basically working from home, and living so near, and yet he has not.
So, alright, and it might be that listening to all those rants had made its impact after all, when trying to rid himself of the worst writer's (or would it be composer's?) blocks ever, Jin decided to do something different - for a change...
And different it seems alright, only not in the exciting and stimulating and creativity inducing different, as he’d imagined it while packing at home, but rather in an “I'm gonna die from boredom right now” different, because that's what traveling on a ship is - as Jin has discovered - boring to death.
It is not actually the fault of the ship per se, no. The cruise liner is everything it has been advertised to be - opulence afloat. His cabin is alright, and there are bars and restaurants and playing arcades and billiard rooms and saunas and pools and dancing floors and even a casino, for God's sake - everything to keep one entertained as only one wishes to be.
The problem, or rather a bad misjudgment on Jin's part, is that he is absolutely unused to doing things alone and, seeing how he has never had problem of acquiring new friends, acquaintances or even just drinking buddies wherever he went (no problem in finding an occasional fuck-buddy to “scratch the itch” either), he sort of assumed he would just do it as easily aboard - find himself some (temporary) friends to spend time with or even plunge into an exciting vacationer's relationship (just what he'd need to sprout a few much needed ballads - after all, it is common knowledge that love songs sell the best).
Only - and that's where the “misjudgment” part is - he probably should have planned his cruise in summer for that, spring, maybe, - definitely not in December. He would've too - if his writer's block wasn't so sudden and complete, and the demand for new songs for all those after-the-new-year singles so pressing that even searching through the pile of “already written but for whatever reason still unused” didn't bring up anything but crap any more, and thus - drastic measures were in order.
***
As a result - here he was - on a ship full of wiry middle-aged Germans, occupying mainly the pool and fitness area by day and taking up all the spare chairs in the lounge area in the evenings - sipping wine in the company of their equally wiry, scarily energetic wives. The scarce population of forty-somethings was also nothing like the cool and relaxed semi-celebrities of L.A., who could competently converse about the newest music trends and, generally, seemed hardly older than Jin himself felt at his twenty eight. No - the brand of forty-somethings present on board were strictly salary men on vacation - complete with children and wives, and when seen without them - getting so drunk so quick - it rendered any chance of even semi-intelligent conversation impossible. As to males of comparable age... there were none - fullstop. Just - none.
Suffice it to say that on the romantic front it was even worse? And Jin really searched, he actually paid attention, he plainly just stood in the middle of the restaurant at supper and observed. And still the only possible candidates that he noticed was a large and rather loud group of Scandinavian medical students (or so he surmised from what they told in English to the German granny unlucky enough to sit right in their midst), but though in principle he was all for blonde hair and ample boobs - most of the girls in it were tall enough to give him a mild inferiority complex.
Most notably though - and he was seriously going to take it up with Yamapi the evil adviser - contrary to what he was led to believe, that is that cruise liners off season practically swarmed with the cost-saving tourists from Korea and Japan - it certainly seemed like he was not just the only Japanese but altogether the only Asian on board (which meant no news from home, no nostalgic reminiscences about sakura in bloom, no latest results of the football season in Japan, no shared memories about vacations in Okinawa, no complaining about how the food served at the Japanese restaurants in Europe didn't even compare to things they served in Japan... however dull even such a pastime seemed).
***
All in all, he spent the very first evening upon embarkation sitting alone in the bar, nursing a beer and using the ridiculously expensive and utterly poor Wi-Fi connection to write a bunch of pissed-off e-mails, twitter posts and text-messages. All implying that if his dead body is fished out of the Mediterranean any time soon, all blame is to be directed to Yamapi, that freaking liar, who was probably just taking his revenge on Jin for the fact that his last Jin-composed single only stayed in charts for three weeks instead of usual five.
He overslept breakfast (due, perhaps, to a half-empty bottle of Gordon's bought at the duty-free shop and taken to cabin), waking up only when the ship was long moored in Nice, and opting for room-service coffee with a tiny croissant, since the gin in his stomach apparently didn't yet fancy a proper breakfast.
The weather outside his balcony didn't seem too encouraging either, fine drizzle falling out of the lightly overcast sky, but even the perspective of walking around in the rain seemed better than being confined inside this floating personification of boredom, and after all - he could just find some nice cafe overlooking the Promenade des Anglais, have a late brunch of delicious French cuisine and observe the fine difference of French passers-by as compared to their English counterparts at home.
Thus encouraged, he grabbed his coat, put the fedora firmly upon his head, checked the passport and wallet - both there, thought about taking a camera, rethought it - the drizzle was not going to allow for a good shot anyway, opened the door and... ran smack in into an expensive looking Louis Vuitton suitcase, making it flop loudly on its side.
“Oops... I'm very sorry.” It was actually ridiculous how after all those years away from Japan he still had this habit of bowing when thanking someone or, like right now, excusing himself. Really, you could take a boy out of Japan, but you couldn't take Japan out of the boy, utterly ridiculous... Jin hesitated momentarily between straightening out right away, or bowing deeper and pretending that he was just going to pick up the suitcase, when it finally registered in his mind that what he was seeing before him was an equally bowed headfull of (definitely dyed) light brown hair, and what he was hearing was an instinctive “Sumimasen.. ano... I am sorry...” the last - with that unsure, lolling “r” that Jin himself had long left behind.
“It was my fault, I wasn't looking,” Jin felt his mouth stretch uncontrollably into a delighted grin as he switched into his native tongue, reaching for the heavy suitcase and setting it properly on its wheels. “I am Akanishi Jin. Nice to meet a fellow Japanese,” and it really was surprisingly nice - despite the fact that he should've been more used to life among the westerners by now - especially when the other turned out to be a young man of around Jin's own age, looking at him with slight reservation from behind the heavily rimmed glasses, but dutifully shaking his protruded hand with the inbred politeness of a well-brought up Japanese.
“Nice to meet you. I am Kamenashi Kazuya.” There was a slight hesitation before the name, the reserved, cautious expression inside the brown eyes thickening, totally belying the firm decisiveness of the handshake. “You were going out into the city?”
“And you have just boarded? Well, see you later then.” Jin understood a dismissal even if it was put in a form of polite inquiry (“You were going somewhere, well, continue on your way and leave me alone,” that's what Kamenashi really meant). And, well, Jin continued on his way, his step and mood much lighter than when he first started. He would check the city out for a few hours and then... Now there was definitely an evening to look forward to as well.
So he was just dismissed, so what? Not that it really could phase Jin - after all, he could read the obvious signs just fine, thank you: designer coat - point, fluffy muffler and ugly glasses - another point, the hair showing remnants of a professional coiffure, and he had seen just that kind of instinctual reservation before - and on his closest friends too.
In short, this Kamenashi obviously was someone, Jin's bet would be an idol with one of the rivaling companies. (Jin might be unable to identify every younger singer produced by the jimusho, but he certainly knew the older ones, even those that had been never given his songs. Mostly because when the idols of his generation were only starting, he was right there with them - another eager upstart among the same lot). Or maybe an actor? Someone, who hoped that there wouldn't be any “fellow Japanese”, who could recognize him during his vacation.
That was alright, though. There would be enough time for him to prove to the guy that he was not a fan, nor a paparazzi, that he in fact was in the same industry himself. It's not like they could avoid each other being in the same boat - literally?
Day 2 - Nice to ROME
Remember Jin saying that they couldn't avoid each other being on the same ship? Well, as Jin had to grudgingly admit by the next morning - it seemed, they could. It's not that Jin had consciously searched for this Kamenashi guy all around the ship though... Oh, alright, maybe he had, but totally inconspicuously - staying for a duration of a drink in the bar here, going for a smoke on the open deck there, visiting the dancing hall for no more than two songs and then retreating from there as fast as possible before a member of the “Valkyrie medical team” could appropriate him for a slow dance - height-differences notwithstanding.
But still, of Kamenashi there was - not a sign. Either the “turtle-kun” (as Jin had affectionately christened his new acquaintance) was purposefully taking care to avoid him, or (since there could always be a simpler explanation than that) he was still just living on Tokyo time, that is - happily sleeping his jet-lag off inside his cabin.
He was there at breakfast though...
And the reason for why Jin himself had roused so early was strictly because he had overheard yesterday how one French lady in the bar explained to a German lady in heavily accented English just what a bother it was to try and get from Civitavecchia to Rome by taxi, and how glad she was to be able to use the tour bus provided by the cruise company, and, well, Jin tried to avoid the unnecessary bothers if he could.
So you see, it really had nothing to do with him becoming slightly obsessed with finding and befriending the elusive compatriot, like - absolutely nothing at all...
Jin would've gladly joined him at the breakfast table though - it would have been a totally natural thing to do, now wouldn't it? But well, unlucky for him his “turtle-kun” was sitting in that farthest, completely crowded part of the dining hall, where the glass wall opened on the emerging sunrise, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible in a window seat, but succeeding only in looking really tiny beside the voluptuous Russian momma and her overactive teenager twins occupying the rest of the table.
Jin somehow missed the moment when he left too - a glance ago he was still sitting right there, sipping on his coffee cup, and then - in only a few bites, when Jin raised the eyes from his omelet again - the whole table was empty, and it was time anyway to go and quickly dress himself for the outside, if Jin didn't want to be too late for that tour bus.
The getting on the bus thing proved a whole new kind of bothersome. That is Jin knew (in principle) that the boat was pretty large, and he noticed (fleetingly) that wherever he went on it - hardly any place was empty, but still to see such a crowd of people trying to find their way to about a dozen buses they were assigned to... kind of reminded him of the times when he was still a teen in Tokyo and used the underground a lot (one thing he certainly didn't feel nostalgic about).
His disposition took a definite turn for the better though, once he disembarked in the center of Rome. The majority of people on his bus dutifully stayed on - awaiting the guide, who was going to take them to the museums of Vatican, but Jin had opted on just walking around by himself, not really keen on searching out the tourist attractions but just wanting to feel the rhythm and sight and sound of a bustling city around him. That was why he had gone on this cruise after all - to be inspired by the new experiences, and so what if he found big cities more inspiring than some historic ruins?
(The ruins were pretty spectacular too, as he grudgingly admitted once he somehow found himself with some kind of ancient column at his back, the... Forum, perhaps?.. spread on both sides of him, and the Coliseum (oh, alright, Jin wasn't perhaps the brightest pupil in his history class, but even he knew the Coliseum, when he saw it) sharply outlined against the cloudless sky.
The weather, as already noted, was obliging as well. Jin even momentarily thought that it was absolutely worth it to travel so far, if only to temporarily remove himself from the utter predictability of winter forecasts in London and bask in gentle sunshine of Italy for a while - that is if one stayed out of narrow shadowed streets with their chilly wind and kept to secluded sunny piazzas, where one could even safely take his coffee to a street table without a fear of freezing off one's butt.
***
That's how he saw him - his “turtle-kun” from the ship. Actually, Jin was so enjoying his aimless roaming, he somehow didn't think about his return to the cruise boat, nor really about his new acquaintance at all, which was in fact - sort of reassuring, because beforehand Jin had been veritably scaring himself (well, a bit) - with how quite obsessed he had become with that man. And naturally, right now, when that Kamenashi-guy was the furthest from Jin's thoughts - there he was, sitting right before him at the sun-lit table, listing through the pictures on his professional-looking camera, and completely oblivious to Jin observing him from the other side of the street.
And to tell the truth, Jin did observe him, unashamedly so. Out in the sun, obviously feeling safe and anonymous among so many people (Caucasian people, what, Jin supposed, was a pretty important factor), his new acquaintance seemed somehow more mellow, definitely less stressed-looking than he had at the time they first met. There were notably no glasses to obscure the strangely exquisite features of his down-turned face, and his hair, also sans the artful coiffure of before, was tied back with simple ribbon, from where the wind was freeing them, one light-brown strand at a time. A steaming cup of coffee rested beside his elbow, but Kamenashi had chosen to ignore it for now, his whole concentration devoted singularly to whatever wonders his camera screen held.
“May I have a look at them too?” Ah, that was one smooth approach, really, congratulations, Jin-kun! (To tell the truth, Jin didn't even remember at which particular moment he had crossed the street. It was like Kamenashi was attracting him like a magnet... Not that kind of attracting! Well, maybe, that kind of attracting also... but really, at one moment Jin was just wanting to see, what was there on his “turtle-kun's” screen, that was so absolutely absorbing, and next moment - here he was, the words already out of his mouth). “Uh... hi... I guess...”
And, please, note that Jin was hating himself right now, really hating. Because he not only made the guy jump, appearing so suddenly right beside him, but it now seemed like Kamenashi was promptly retreating back into his stressed, reserved and clearly defensive state, closing down, like those flowers that Jin had heard somewhere about, that closed their petals immediately at the slightest touch. And it was a shame... no, a crime! Was he really the Bakanishi, his friends always blamed him for being? Jumping heedlessly wherever his whim took him to the detriment of himself and any innocent bystander involved?
“I know, I know,” he continued hastily, without even giving the guy a moment to answer his greeting (because such an answer would only somehow turn into another polite dismissal, and Jin was by now pretty desperate to explain himself, if only to ease Kamenashi's mind about Jin's potential dangerousness). “You've shown it already that you have no wish whatsoever to converse with me or any compatriot for that matter. What am I saying! You've probably had the freaking passenger list checked to make sure there were no Japanese there. So much the pity at the moment you did it, I was probably still gazing on the pictures of cruise liners in that travel agency in London. But shit happens, we are both on this ship, even in neighboring cabins, so it seems. And it's not really a crime to just want to speak one's native tongue with someone, after you haven't done it other than by phone for more than a half-year, is it?.. I assure you, I may be a Bakanishi, but I am actually quite harmless. Really, I am...”
He stopped abruptly at a low chuckle, sweet as a piece of Belgian chocolate, and raising his eyes saw that he, probably, had said something right - for once, because Kamenashi wasn't sitting all prim and straight anymore, but leaning back on his chair and valiantly fighting to hold back a smile. (Jin concluded that he rather liked him smiling, even if he suspected that the mirth was on his behalf. Well, wouldn't be the first time he had turned himself into a laughing stock before his friends either. Not that Kamenashi was his friend yet, but Jin was working on it, wasn't he?)
“Sit down, sit down, please,” a small stubby-fingered hand gestured towards the opposite chair. “Uh... hello, I guess...” and, once Jin was safely seated and the smile was battled down to its polite version, “You quite overwhelmed me, really, I do not know where to start. Well, I didn't check the passenger list, but I wouldn't be surprised if my friends did, before they even made me this present... And - I'm not really averse to speaking to you, you just startled me - both times. I was really fall-down tired when I boarded the ship, and I guess I didn't expect to meet a fellow Japanese so immediately, and in such a manner - stumbling into my suitcase from the cabin directly opposite from my own. And today - I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and the chances of us stumbling into each other in Rome...” a sweep of a hand seemed to encompass their surroundings that was after all - an active megalopolis fairly bursting with people, “You have to agree, there is such a thing as stalking...”
“I wasn't stalking you!” Jin burst out indignantly, “I swear, I wasn't! I was just walking, all by myself... and then I looked here, and here you were...”
“I do not suspect you, please...” Fluttering hands wrapped themselves around the cup, only to retreat hastily from the heat of it (Why again all Jin's attention was so firmly diverted to those hands? Was he afraid to look into the guy's face or something?). “I'm just... trying to explain, okay? How it could look this way, okay? I apologize if I sounded impolite earlier... So... Can we start anew? I am Kamenashi Kazuya.” The hand extended to him was unhesitatingly firm now, nor was there any hesitation in the eyes either (once Jin found the courage to look up), instead there was a barely contained mirth dancing on the bottom of them. “And you... Akanishi Jin-san, if I remember correctly... Or is it Bakanishi?”
“Wah... what?..” Jin spluttered helplessly as bits and pieces of his “great speech” floated to the surface of his memory. “I didn't really... did I?”
It was entirely worth it though, if it caused this warm chocolaty chuckle again. Jin could like totally write a song about this chuckle alone.
“You totally did. I apologize yet again, I shouldn't have even mentioned it, but I couldn't resist the temptation.”
“It's alright,” Jin admitted grudgingly, “half of my friends call me so anyway.”
“I promise I won't. But what... you said something about London...”
“Ah,” Jin was admittedly glad that the “Bakanishi” topic wasn't expanded upon, “that's because I live there, I guess. And this whole cruise trip, it was really a last minute decision - someone canceled, they offered it on a discount, and I had no clear destination in mind, so... here I am. And you? You've mentioned that it was a present? I wish my friends came up with presents like that. Somehow all they have the imagination to do is organize some party with lots of booze...” (“… and women” was how this line usually continued, but for whatever reason Jin didn't feel inclined to add it now).
As it was, Kamenashi lowered his gaze, a slight shadow passing over his face - not at all like that previous, you know, “retreating into himself” thing that he was pulling when Jin had first approached him - just a shadow of not quite so pleasant a memory, perhaps, - and he took some time, finally lifting his cup to take a sip, before the eyes returned to look back right into Jin's - amused and just a tiny bit wistful.
“Throwing a party for someone doesn't seem to me as such a bad idea of a present,” he shook his head, and more hair spilled out from the ribbon, only to be carelessly pushed behind the ear at once. “And with the cruise... it wasn't quite this kind of present... I was overworking a lot and... got myself a little ill, I guess... so, my co-workers thought that I could do with a break...” He smiled a little ruefully. “And since it is an off-season and most of teams are at their training-camps, it seemed like it was the right time for me to take one...” He caught himself mid-word, and it was quite the time too, since Jin was sure his face was beginning to show his confusion. “I work as a sportscaster, you see...”
“A sportscaster?!” Good thing it wasn't Jin, who was drinking the coffee among the two of them, because that was the moment where he would've definitely spluttered it all over the table. “No way! I thought all sportscasters are those beefed-up ex-sportsmen, and you... I thought you'd be an idol, or an actor, uh... I don't know, a model? But a sportscaster! You aren't pulling my leg, are you?”
The coffee cup tilted dangerously in Kamenashi's hand as he fairly burst into a bout of a high-pitched laughter, that had nothing to do with poise and politeness, and the sultry chocolaty chuckles of before, but was so unashamedly candid, complete with squinting and throwing his head back, and even stomping a little, that Jin decided that he, quite probably, liked it even more.
“Oh, God...” Kamenashi wheezed finally, “Akanishi-san is so funny, I... I really cannot remember when I laughed so hard last time. But seriously, me - an idol?”
“It's Jin,” Jin corrected hastily. “Nobody but my manager calls me Akanishi-san. Everybody else... well, Jin, Jin-kun, whatever...”
“Or Bakanishi?”
“That's only when I do something stupid... Aaah!” Jin put an accusing finger into Kamenashi's direction. “You promised you wouldn't! It's unfair!”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry... that's the last time,” the man nodded quickly, “well, then... everybody is calls me Kame. I'm almost more used to it than I am to my real name, so... feel free to do so too.”
“And what's so funny with thinking you are an idol, Kame-kun?” Jin queried still a little sulkily over being called a “baka” again. “Half of my friends are idols, and you certainly look the part, so forgive me that I never thought that sportscasters needed to have a fancy haircut or wear designer coats and jeans.”
“Ah,” Kamenashi smiled ruefully, “that... well, believe me that I'm really not an idol, never even wanted to be one. My parents brought me for an audition at the Johnny's jimusho when I was about twelve, but I never passed beyond the first tour, and believe me, I was only too happy that I could return back to my baseball-training and not be bothered with their aspirations for my possible career again. So, you see, your first guess about an ex-sportsman was closer to the truth. Never managed to fill the “beefed-up” requirement though, sorry.”
He laughed a little at that, but it was not a good laugh, bitter and brittle, a laugh that told that there was more story behind this admission, and Jin waved his hand encouragingly, prompting the other to expand.
“Let’s walk,” Kame said instead, “I don't mind talking about it... It's just that I've been sitting here for a while already and it is getting cold.”
And it was true too. Jin hadn't sat there for as long, but the sun had moved, and they were in the shade now, which made the wind all the more chilly, and Jin felt the urge to finally button his parka (which was understandable), and tighten the scarf around Kame's neck (which wasn't - except that the guy had admitted that he had been ill recently, and so Jin's sudden mother-hen moment was at least a little logical if still strange).
***
And so they walk - without any more aim than Jin's initial promenade that has led to their fortuitous meeting, stopping at times for Kame to take a picture of every other odd thing that they pass, mostly silent or talking about completely unrelated things, but somehow - one thing leading to another, and Jin having just finished telling a brief account of how he came to reside in London - he finally is made privy to the great sad story of “not-beefing up”. He learns that Kame had been so passionate about baseball since very early in his life, and how he actually was a good enough pitcher to be already scouted out and signed up into a professional team when he was barely out of school. Jin, personally, doesn't know of or care for baseball much, but he knows how it feels to be so extremely passionate about something, and that gives him uneasy premonitions for how the story will progress.
It progresses with Kamenashi being a promising young player for a few years, everyone putting their hopes on him - or more like, putting their hopes into some kind of a delayed growth-spurt (his older brothers are much bigger than him, after all) that would provide him with the proper physique to complement the talent. The spurt that - as Jin can say by just observing the guy - has never arrived. But it apparently didn't stop the stubborn youth, who only resolved to train more to at least develop the muscles, if he didn't get the height (and seeing a grim and concentrated look form on the turtle-kun's sharply-defined face even as he speaks about it now, gives Jin a clear picture of someone who - if needed - would push himself relentlessly to achieve his goal).
It was made harder by the fact that early in his professional career Kamenashi had been invited to model for a famous sportswear brand, the deal that promised him a nice income, and his employers - a fresh (and cute) face and (here comes the hitch) a reasonably slender figure that would look good in whatever they put him in. And they were sort of adamant that the “slender figure” requirement had to be maintained.
That led to a constant hell (that being Jin's word, not Kame's, who goes with “struggle”) of dieting and training to get slimmer before a photoshoot or filming of a CM, followed without a break with glomping proteins and training (again) to get the muscular mass needed for the season - never enough to let him be quite equal with even those younger players who joined after him.
Frustrated, he finally approached his trainer, asking if maybe he needed to drop the modeling altogether - only to hear that modeling was probably the only thing that kept him in the team, the managers never averse to a bit of free of charge PR, and if he went out on the deal - he could just as well “drop this agony” (that being the trainer's words, not even Jin's) and simply resign.
“So in the end, for them, I was no more than just a team-mascot,” Kame finishes simply, and Jin feels his fingers curl inside his pockets with the sheer bitterness of the turtle-kun's words.
The latter is already continuing though, on how he came to a hard decision and quit the sport. But not the modeling, it seems, and it remained his sole income as he floundered for a time (barely there school eduction didn't provide him with exactly a multitude of job-opportunities), before eventually he was invited as a temporary sportscaster for a baseball quarter of a well-known TV program: just for the time being, before they could find a new one after their regular sportscaster had just retired. Either they failed to find anyone better, or Kame proved too good for them to look further (Jin cannot really tell, because he personally hasn't watched even a piece of that particular program even by chance), but the job held.
And then last year - due to the ratings falling, the baseball season being unusually dull, or whatever - the producers came up with a kind of reality project, especially for him - where he would have to spend some time with each team within the League in turn - doing in depths interviews with the players, but mostly training in an attempt to prepare for hitting a home-run - something that he had never done in his life.
Jin can't imagine what stepping back into the diamond after a few years absence must have felt for Kame. He can't - but he can. Or maybe he can't - because he exactly cannot imagine (doesn't even want to try) how it could feel for him to step onto a JE stage in a kind of glittering costume he used to wear while still being a back-dancer - and sing...
He is sure though that the obsessive turtle must have been training like never before to prove his worth, and chuckles with glee, when he hears about his success in the in-between challenges, and, particularly, the one where Kamenashi the pitcher managed to strike out all three top-batters of his former team. (Serves them right, Jin thinks, for kicking the turtle out as they did).
Kame though stands half-bent over the balustrade, facing some kind of excavation grounds, not so much smoking as watching the smoke of his cigarette being carried away by the wind, and his face is rueful.
“It sounds like revenge... But I wasn't even thinking about revenge... Only doing my best. The single thing that I did want - was to hit that damned home-run... Just once in my life...”
He didn't. Hadn't a chance to. Three days before the shooting of the final event he collapsed, spent a week in the hospital and was prohibited “any kind of continuous strenuous physical activity” for three months at least...
Jin thinks about dreams. And about them both, Kame and him alike, living precariously at the edges of their own broken aspirations. Kamenashi - with his sportscasting; and him - writing songs that he himself doesn't have the voice to sing properly. He thinks about “fair” and “not fair”, and at least he is partially to blame for his voice loss... And - is this what “growing up” is all about - to make the best with what you can get, instead of reaching up for the stars?
He doesn't speak it aloud though, or ask Kame whether he thinks it is true. Even if it is - they are both too young to be faced with this kind of a reality check. At the age they are now - most people are just starting to reach for their dreams, while they both have already tried and failed and are living with the results of their failures.
It's a rather grim line of thought. But then Jin remembers about London, and the small venues that cheer as he strums his guitar. About all the new friends he's made and the old friends that he still has. About the birthday parties with lots of booze (and girls). And about Kamenashi's colleagues giving him cruises as a get-well present...
He is not the one anyway, to sprout encouraging generalities like “you'll have other chances.” They would both only be embarrassed by how fake this promise is. So he drops his smoke into the street grating, and looks at his watch, and asks, “Do you think we still have time for some pasta before the buses are due?”
Part 2
Author: leen1707
Pairing: Akame
Word count: ~36,000
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Warnings: Extreme AU, and well, somewhere between angst and fluff (or what counts as fluff with me)
Disclaimer: This story is a product of my imagination. Any parallels with real persons or events are pure coincidence.
Notes: Dear green_feelings, you specified that if it is an extreme AU, it needs to be at least somewhat real. Somehow that's what inspired this plot, and then it grew from there into something unrecognizable. Hope I do not disappoint you completely.
Many thanks to the person, who not only beta-ed, but generally encouraged me and soothed my occasional panic attacks throughout the writing of this fic. I'd never be able to do it without you.
Summary: Leaving on a cruise Jin hoped for a light holiday romance to inspire him in his song-writing.
Day 1 - Barcelona to NICE
The ship hasn't even sailed for a full day... (which is not exactly true though - it's Jin, who hasn't been on board for a whole day, the ship, it has been doing its rounds in the Mediterranean since God knows when - but that's irrelevant)... the point is - Jin hasn't been on board for a day yet, and he already knows that the whole idea of going on a cruise was a mistake.
And it's not even that he is not fond of traveling, after all he flies halfway across the world regularly - to Tokyo or L.A. (that is - when the work absolutely demands his presence there), even if his ideal type of travel is driving in his own car to some location no further than two hours outside of London, to spend a leisurely evening at some small venue, listening to the local version of britpop or - in case he finds himself doing anything like this in the States, some newly sprung hiphop band.
In Tokyo he is usually too pressed for time to even consider traveling - what with meetings with company officials (usually held so early it's only his jet-lag that allows him to be awake at those hours) and the musicians, who generally only have some tiny moment a day, slotted somewhere between a rehearsal and a photoshoot, that may occur at just whatever time - day and night, and Jin has to juggle his schedule like hell to also be able to catch up with his friends and family in between.
Sometimes Jin thinks that he could've been an idol just like them, if things worked out differently - if his voice hadn't started to change at such an inopportune moment, if he had paid more attention to the cautionary tales of his seniors about the dangers of overstraining it at that point - but it's such an old ache, it doesn't feel like an ache anymore, and overall he's pretty happy with how his life is right now: he is still valuable for the company as a songwriter, and if it allows him to stay out of the frenzied world that the idols live in, and that - in England rather than in Japan, and his voice is still good enough to hold an occasional acoustic concert there, even if it is not up to jimusho standard anymore, and his songs do well in Oricon charts and (his English ones) even in American ratings, and he is sort of widely known but not to the point of being hunted by paparazzi or recognized by anyone beyond the close circle of fans, - it's actually all good, he can't imagine it any differently right now.
He doesn't stay in Japan for long.
He hasn't done much traveling around Europe either - though it is right there, blatantly close across the Channel. A fact that his friend, Yamashita (who is exactly one of those idols, Jin, apparently, hadn't been destined to become), never fails to rant about - about how he, for instance, has this impossibly packed “schedule from hell” that simply doesn't leave time for anything but work and, well, more work, and lives in freaking Japan, and still he has been to Italy, and Paris, and it is just impossible to understand, how Jin is basically working from home, and living so near, and yet he has not.
So, alright, and it might be that listening to all those rants had made its impact after all, when trying to rid himself of the worst writer's (or would it be composer's?) blocks ever, Jin decided to do something different - for a change...
And different it seems alright, only not in the exciting and stimulating and creativity inducing different, as he’d imagined it while packing at home, but rather in an “I'm gonna die from boredom right now” different, because that's what traveling on a ship is - as Jin has discovered - boring to death.
It is not actually the fault of the ship per se, no. The cruise liner is everything it has been advertised to be - opulence afloat. His cabin is alright, and there are bars and restaurants and playing arcades and billiard rooms and saunas and pools and dancing floors and even a casino, for God's sake - everything to keep one entertained as only one wishes to be.
The problem, or rather a bad misjudgment on Jin's part, is that he is absolutely unused to doing things alone and, seeing how he has never had problem of acquiring new friends, acquaintances or even just drinking buddies wherever he went (no problem in finding an occasional fuck-buddy to “scratch the itch” either), he sort of assumed he would just do it as easily aboard - find himself some (temporary) friends to spend time with or even plunge into an exciting vacationer's relationship (just what he'd need to sprout a few much needed ballads - after all, it is common knowledge that love songs sell the best).
Only - and that's where the “misjudgment” part is - he probably should have planned his cruise in summer for that, spring, maybe, - definitely not in December. He would've too - if his writer's block wasn't so sudden and complete, and the demand for new songs for all those after-the-new-year singles so pressing that even searching through the pile of “already written but for whatever reason still unused” didn't bring up anything but crap any more, and thus - drastic measures were in order.
***
As a result - here he was - on a ship full of wiry middle-aged Germans, occupying mainly the pool and fitness area by day and taking up all the spare chairs in the lounge area in the evenings - sipping wine in the company of their equally wiry, scarily energetic wives. The scarce population of forty-somethings was also nothing like the cool and relaxed semi-celebrities of L.A., who could competently converse about the newest music trends and, generally, seemed hardly older than Jin himself felt at his twenty eight. No - the brand of forty-somethings present on board were strictly salary men on vacation - complete with children and wives, and when seen without them - getting so drunk so quick - it rendered any chance of even semi-intelligent conversation impossible. As to males of comparable age... there were none - fullstop. Just - none.
Suffice it to say that on the romantic front it was even worse? And Jin really searched, he actually paid attention, he plainly just stood in the middle of the restaurant at supper and observed. And still the only possible candidates that he noticed was a large and rather loud group of Scandinavian medical students (or so he surmised from what they told in English to the German granny unlucky enough to sit right in their midst), but though in principle he was all for blonde hair and ample boobs - most of the girls in it were tall enough to give him a mild inferiority complex.
Most notably though - and he was seriously going to take it up with Yamapi the evil adviser - contrary to what he was led to believe, that is that cruise liners off season practically swarmed with the cost-saving tourists from Korea and Japan - it certainly seemed like he was not just the only Japanese but altogether the only Asian on board (which meant no news from home, no nostalgic reminiscences about sakura in bloom, no latest results of the football season in Japan, no shared memories about vacations in Okinawa, no complaining about how the food served at the Japanese restaurants in Europe didn't even compare to things they served in Japan... however dull even such a pastime seemed).
***
All in all, he spent the very first evening upon embarkation sitting alone in the bar, nursing a beer and using the ridiculously expensive and utterly poor Wi-Fi connection to write a bunch of pissed-off e-mails, twitter posts and text-messages. All implying that if his dead body is fished out of the Mediterranean any time soon, all blame is to be directed to Yamapi, that freaking liar, who was probably just taking his revenge on Jin for the fact that his last Jin-composed single only stayed in charts for three weeks instead of usual five.
He overslept breakfast (due, perhaps, to a half-empty bottle of Gordon's bought at the duty-free shop and taken to cabin), waking up only when the ship was long moored in Nice, and opting for room-service coffee with a tiny croissant, since the gin in his stomach apparently didn't yet fancy a proper breakfast.
The weather outside his balcony didn't seem too encouraging either, fine drizzle falling out of the lightly overcast sky, but even the perspective of walking around in the rain seemed better than being confined inside this floating personification of boredom, and after all - he could just find some nice cafe overlooking the Promenade des Anglais, have a late brunch of delicious French cuisine and observe the fine difference of French passers-by as compared to their English counterparts at home.
Thus encouraged, he grabbed his coat, put the fedora firmly upon his head, checked the passport and wallet - both there, thought about taking a camera, rethought it - the drizzle was not going to allow for a good shot anyway, opened the door and... ran smack in into an expensive looking Louis Vuitton suitcase, making it flop loudly on its side.
“Oops... I'm very sorry.” It was actually ridiculous how after all those years away from Japan he still had this habit of bowing when thanking someone or, like right now, excusing himself. Really, you could take a boy out of Japan, but you couldn't take Japan out of the boy, utterly ridiculous... Jin hesitated momentarily between straightening out right away, or bowing deeper and pretending that he was just going to pick up the suitcase, when it finally registered in his mind that what he was seeing before him was an equally bowed headfull of (definitely dyed) light brown hair, and what he was hearing was an instinctive “Sumimasen.. ano... I am sorry...” the last - with that unsure, lolling “r” that Jin himself had long left behind.
“It was my fault, I wasn't looking,” Jin felt his mouth stretch uncontrollably into a delighted grin as he switched into his native tongue, reaching for the heavy suitcase and setting it properly on its wheels. “I am Akanishi Jin. Nice to meet a fellow Japanese,” and it really was surprisingly nice - despite the fact that he should've been more used to life among the westerners by now - especially when the other turned out to be a young man of around Jin's own age, looking at him with slight reservation from behind the heavily rimmed glasses, but dutifully shaking his protruded hand with the inbred politeness of a well-brought up Japanese.
“Nice to meet you. I am Kamenashi Kazuya.” There was a slight hesitation before the name, the reserved, cautious expression inside the brown eyes thickening, totally belying the firm decisiveness of the handshake. “You were going out into the city?”
“And you have just boarded? Well, see you later then.” Jin understood a dismissal even if it was put in a form of polite inquiry (“You were going somewhere, well, continue on your way and leave me alone,” that's what Kamenashi really meant). And, well, Jin continued on his way, his step and mood much lighter than when he first started. He would check the city out for a few hours and then... Now there was definitely an evening to look forward to as well.
So he was just dismissed, so what? Not that it really could phase Jin - after all, he could read the obvious signs just fine, thank you: designer coat - point, fluffy muffler and ugly glasses - another point, the hair showing remnants of a professional coiffure, and he had seen just that kind of instinctual reservation before - and on his closest friends too.
In short, this Kamenashi obviously was someone, Jin's bet would be an idol with one of the rivaling companies. (Jin might be unable to identify every younger singer produced by the jimusho, but he certainly knew the older ones, even those that had been never given his songs. Mostly because when the idols of his generation were only starting, he was right there with them - another eager upstart among the same lot). Or maybe an actor? Someone, who hoped that there wouldn't be any “fellow Japanese”, who could recognize him during his vacation.
That was alright, though. There would be enough time for him to prove to the guy that he was not a fan, nor a paparazzi, that he in fact was in the same industry himself. It's not like they could avoid each other being in the same boat - literally?
Day 2 - Nice to ROME
Remember Jin saying that they couldn't avoid each other being on the same ship? Well, as Jin had to grudgingly admit by the next morning - it seemed, they could. It's not that Jin had consciously searched for this Kamenashi guy all around the ship though... Oh, alright, maybe he had, but totally inconspicuously - staying for a duration of a drink in the bar here, going for a smoke on the open deck there, visiting the dancing hall for no more than two songs and then retreating from there as fast as possible before a member of the “Valkyrie medical team” could appropriate him for a slow dance - height-differences notwithstanding.
But still, of Kamenashi there was - not a sign. Either the “turtle-kun” (as Jin had affectionately christened his new acquaintance) was purposefully taking care to avoid him, or (since there could always be a simpler explanation than that) he was still just living on Tokyo time, that is - happily sleeping his jet-lag off inside his cabin.
He was there at breakfast though...
And the reason for why Jin himself had roused so early was strictly because he had overheard yesterday how one French lady in the bar explained to a German lady in heavily accented English just what a bother it was to try and get from Civitavecchia to Rome by taxi, and how glad she was to be able to use the tour bus provided by the cruise company, and, well, Jin tried to avoid the unnecessary bothers if he could.
So you see, it really had nothing to do with him becoming slightly obsessed with finding and befriending the elusive compatriot, like - absolutely nothing at all...
Jin would've gladly joined him at the breakfast table though - it would have been a totally natural thing to do, now wouldn't it? But well, unlucky for him his “turtle-kun” was sitting in that farthest, completely crowded part of the dining hall, where the glass wall opened on the emerging sunrise, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible in a window seat, but succeeding only in looking really tiny beside the voluptuous Russian momma and her overactive teenager twins occupying the rest of the table.
Jin somehow missed the moment when he left too - a glance ago he was still sitting right there, sipping on his coffee cup, and then - in only a few bites, when Jin raised the eyes from his omelet again - the whole table was empty, and it was time anyway to go and quickly dress himself for the outside, if Jin didn't want to be too late for that tour bus.
The getting on the bus thing proved a whole new kind of bothersome. That is Jin knew (in principle) that the boat was pretty large, and he noticed (fleetingly) that wherever he went on it - hardly any place was empty, but still to see such a crowd of people trying to find their way to about a dozen buses they were assigned to... kind of reminded him of the times when he was still a teen in Tokyo and used the underground a lot (one thing he certainly didn't feel nostalgic about).
His disposition took a definite turn for the better though, once he disembarked in the center of Rome. The majority of people on his bus dutifully stayed on - awaiting the guide, who was going to take them to the museums of Vatican, but Jin had opted on just walking around by himself, not really keen on searching out the tourist attractions but just wanting to feel the rhythm and sight and sound of a bustling city around him. That was why he had gone on this cruise after all - to be inspired by the new experiences, and so what if he found big cities more inspiring than some historic ruins?
(The ruins were pretty spectacular too, as he grudgingly admitted once he somehow found himself with some kind of ancient column at his back, the... Forum, perhaps?.. spread on both sides of him, and the Coliseum (oh, alright, Jin wasn't perhaps the brightest pupil in his history class, but even he knew the Coliseum, when he saw it) sharply outlined against the cloudless sky.
The weather, as already noted, was obliging as well. Jin even momentarily thought that it was absolutely worth it to travel so far, if only to temporarily remove himself from the utter predictability of winter forecasts in London and bask in gentle sunshine of Italy for a while - that is if one stayed out of narrow shadowed streets with their chilly wind and kept to secluded sunny piazzas, where one could even safely take his coffee to a street table without a fear of freezing off one's butt.
***
That's how he saw him - his “turtle-kun” from the ship. Actually, Jin was so enjoying his aimless roaming, he somehow didn't think about his return to the cruise boat, nor really about his new acquaintance at all, which was in fact - sort of reassuring, because beforehand Jin had been veritably scaring himself (well, a bit) - with how quite obsessed he had become with that man. And naturally, right now, when that Kamenashi-guy was the furthest from Jin's thoughts - there he was, sitting right before him at the sun-lit table, listing through the pictures on his professional-looking camera, and completely oblivious to Jin observing him from the other side of the street.
And to tell the truth, Jin did observe him, unashamedly so. Out in the sun, obviously feeling safe and anonymous among so many people (Caucasian people, what, Jin supposed, was a pretty important factor), his new acquaintance seemed somehow more mellow, definitely less stressed-looking than he had at the time they first met. There were notably no glasses to obscure the strangely exquisite features of his down-turned face, and his hair, also sans the artful coiffure of before, was tied back with simple ribbon, from where the wind was freeing them, one light-brown strand at a time. A steaming cup of coffee rested beside his elbow, but Kamenashi had chosen to ignore it for now, his whole concentration devoted singularly to whatever wonders his camera screen held.
“May I have a look at them too?” Ah, that was one smooth approach, really, congratulations, Jin-kun! (To tell the truth, Jin didn't even remember at which particular moment he had crossed the street. It was like Kamenashi was attracting him like a magnet... Not that kind of attracting! Well, maybe, that kind of attracting also... but really, at one moment Jin was just wanting to see, what was there on his “turtle-kun's” screen, that was so absolutely absorbing, and next moment - here he was, the words already out of his mouth). “Uh... hi... I guess...”
And, please, note that Jin was hating himself right now, really hating. Because he not only made the guy jump, appearing so suddenly right beside him, but it now seemed like Kamenashi was promptly retreating back into his stressed, reserved and clearly defensive state, closing down, like those flowers that Jin had heard somewhere about, that closed their petals immediately at the slightest touch. And it was a shame... no, a crime! Was he really the Bakanishi, his friends always blamed him for being? Jumping heedlessly wherever his whim took him to the detriment of himself and any innocent bystander involved?
“I know, I know,” he continued hastily, without even giving the guy a moment to answer his greeting (because such an answer would only somehow turn into another polite dismissal, and Jin was by now pretty desperate to explain himself, if only to ease Kamenashi's mind about Jin's potential dangerousness). “You've shown it already that you have no wish whatsoever to converse with me or any compatriot for that matter. What am I saying! You've probably had the freaking passenger list checked to make sure there were no Japanese there. So much the pity at the moment you did it, I was probably still gazing on the pictures of cruise liners in that travel agency in London. But shit happens, we are both on this ship, even in neighboring cabins, so it seems. And it's not really a crime to just want to speak one's native tongue with someone, after you haven't done it other than by phone for more than a half-year, is it?.. I assure you, I may be a Bakanishi, but I am actually quite harmless. Really, I am...”
He stopped abruptly at a low chuckle, sweet as a piece of Belgian chocolate, and raising his eyes saw that he, probably, had said something right - for once, because Kamenashi wasn't sitting all prim and straight anymore, but leaning back on his chair and valiantly fighting to hold back a smile. (Jin concluded that he rather liked him smiling, even if he suspected that the mirth was on his behalf. Well, wouldn't be the first time he had turned himself into a laughing stock before his friends either. Not that Kamenashi was his friend yet, but Jin was working on it, wasn't he?)
“Sit down, sit down, please,” a small stubby-fingered hand gestured towards the opposite chair. “Uh... hello, I guess...” and, once Jin was safely seated and the smile was battled down to its polite version, “You quite overwhelmed me, really, I do not know where to start. Well, I didn't check the passenger list, but I wouldn't be surprised if my friends did, before they even made me this present... And - I'm not really averse to speaking to you, you just startled me - both times. I was really fall-down tired when I boarded the ship, and I guess I didn't expect to meet a fellow Japanese so immediately, and in such a manner - stumbling into my suitcase from the cabin directly opposite from my own. And today - I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and the chances of us stumbling into each other in Rome...” a sweep of a hand seemed to encompass their surroundings that was after all - an active megalopolis fairly bursting with people, “You have to agree, there is such a thing as stalking...”
“I wasn't stalking you!” Jin burst out indignantly, “I swear, I wasn't! I was just walking, all by myself... and then I looked here, and here you were...”
“I do not suspect you, please...” Fluttering hands wrapped themselves around the cup, only to retreat hastily from the heat of it (Why again all Jin's attention was so firmly diverted to those hands? Was he afraid to look into the guy's face or something?). “I'm just... trying to explain, okay? How it could look this way, okay? I apologize if I sounded impolite earlier... So... Can we start anew? I am Kamenashi Kazuya.” The hand extended to him was unhesitatingly firm now, nor was there any hesitation in the eyes either (once Jin found the courage to look up), instead there was a barely contained mirth dancing on the bottom of them. “And you... Akanishi Jin-san, if I remember correctly... Or is it Bakanishi?”
“Wah... what?..” Jin spluttered helplessly as bits and pieces of his “great speech” floated to the surface of his memory. “I didn't really... did I?”
It was entirely worth it though, if it caused this warm chocolaty chuckle again. Jin could like totally write a song about this chuckle alone.
“You totally did. I apologize yet again, I shouldn't have even mentioned it, but I couldn't resist the temptation.”
“It's alright,” Jin admitted grudgingly, “half of my friends call me so anyway.”
“I promise I won't. But what... you said something about London...”
“Ah,” Jin was admittedly glad that the “Bakanishi” topic wasn't expanded upon, “that's because I live there, I guess. And this whole cruise trip, it was really a last minute decision - someone canceled, they offered it on a discount, and I had no clear destination in mind, so... here I am. And you? You've mentioned that it was a present? I wish my friends came up with presents like that. Somehow all they have the imagination to do is organize some party with lots of booze...” (“… and women” was how this line usually continued, but for whatever reason Jin didn't feel inclined to add it now).
As it was, Kamenashi lowered his gaze, a slight shadow passing over his face - not at all like that previous, you know, “retreating into himself” thing that he was pulling when Jin had first approached him - just a shadow of not quite so pleasant a memory, perhaps, - and he took some time, finally lifting his cup to take a sip, before the eyes returned to look back right into Jin's - amused and just a tiny bit wistful.
“Throwing a party for someone doesn't seem to me as such a bad idea of a present,” he shook his head, and more hair spilled out from the ribbon, only to be carelessly pushed behind the ear at once. “And with the cruise... it wasn't quite this kind of present... I was overworking a lot and... got myself a little ill, I guess... so, my co-workers thought that I could do with a break...” He smiled a little ruefully. “And since it is an off-season and most of teams are at their training-camps, it seemed like it was the right time for me to take one...” He caught himself mid-word, and it was quite the time too, since Jin was sure his face was beginning to show his confusion. “I work as a sportscaster, you see...”
“A sportscaster?!” Good thing it wasn't Jin, who was drinking the coffee among the two of them, because that was the moment where he would've definitely spluttered it all over the table. “No way! I thought all sportscasters are those beefed-up ex-sportsmen, and you... I thought you'd be an idol, or an actor, uh... I don't know, a model? But a sportscaster! You aren't pulling my leg, are you?”
The coffee cup tilted dangerously in Kamenashi's hand as he fairly burst into a bout of a high-pitched laughter, that had nothing to do with poise and politeness, and the sultry chocolaty chuckles of before, but was so unashamedly candid, complete with squinting and throwing his head back, and even stomping a little, that Jin decided that he, quite probably, liked it even more.
“Oh, God...” Kamenashi wheezed finally, “Akanishi-san is so funny, I... I really cannot remember when I laughed so hard last time. But seriously, me - an idol?”
“It's Jin,” Jin corrected hastily. “Nobody but my manager calls me Akanishi-san. Everybody else... well, Jin, Jin-kun, whatever...”
“Or Bakanishi?”
“That's only when I do something stupid... Aaah!” Jin put an accusing finger into Kamenashi's direction. “You promised you wouldn't! It's unfair!”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry... that's the last time,” the man nodded quickly, “well, then... everybody is calls me Kame. I'm almost more used to it than I am to my real name, so... feel free to do so too.”
“And what's so funny with thinking you are an idol, Kame-kun?” Jin queried still a little sulkily over being called a “baka” again. “Half of my friends are idols, and you certainly look the part, so forgive me that I never thought that sportscasters needed to have a fancy haircut or wear designer coats and jeans.”
“Ah,” Kamenashi smiled ruefully, “that... well, believe me that I'm really not an idol, never even wanted to be one. My parents brought me for an audition at the Johnny's jimusho when I was about twelve, but I never passed beyond the first tour, and believe me, I was only too happy that I could return back to my baseball-training and not be bothered with their aspirations for my possible career again. So, you see, your first guess about an ex-sportsman was closer to the truth. Never managed to fill the “beefed-up” requirement though, sorry.”
He laughed a little at that, but it was not a good laugh, bitter and brittle, a laugh that told that there was more story behind this admission, and Jin waved his hand encouragingly, prompting the other to expand.
“Let’s walk,” Kame said instead, “I don't mind talking about it... It's just that I've been sitting here for a while already and it is getting cold.”
And it was true too. Jin hadn't sat there for as long, but the sun had moved, and they were in the shade now, which made the wind all the more chilly, and Jin felt the urge to finally button his parka (which was understandable), and tighten the scarf around Kame's neck (which wasn't - except that the guy had admitted that he had been ill recently, and so Jin's sudden mother-hen moment was at least a little logical if still strange).
***
And so they walk - without any more aim than Jin's initial promenade that has led to their fortuitous meeting, stopping at times for Kame to take a picture of every other odd thing that they pass, mostly silent or talking about completely unrelated things, but somehow - one thing leading to another, and Jin having just finished telling a brief account of how he came to reside in London - he finally is made privy to the great sad story of “not-beefing up”. He learns that Kame had been so passionate about baseball since very early in his life, and how he actually was a good enough pitcher to be already scouted out and signed up into a professional team when he was barely out of school. Jin, personally, doesn't know of or care for baseball much, but he knows how it feels to be so extremely passionate about something, and that gives him uneasy premonitions for how the story will progress.
It progresses with Kamenashi being a promising young player for a few years, everyone putting their hopes on him - or more like, putting their hopes into some kind of a delayed growth-spurt (his older brothers are much bigger than him, after all) that would provide him with the proper physique to complement the talent. The spurt that - as Jin can say by just observing the guy - has never arrived. But it apparently didn't stop the stubborn youth, who only resolved to train more to at least develop the muscles, if he didn't get the height (and seeing a grim and concentrated look form on the turtle-kun's sharply-defined face even as he speaks about it now, gives Jin a clear picture of someone who - if needed - would push himself relentlessly to achieve his goal).
It was made harder by the fact that early in his professional career Kamenashi had been invited to model for a famous sportswear brand, the deal that promised him a nice income, and his employers - a fresh (and cute) face and (here comes the hitch) a reasonably slender figure that would look good in whatever they put him in. And they were sort of adamant that the “slender figure” requirement had to be maintained.
That led to a constant hell (that being Jin's word, not Kame's, who goes with “struggle”) of dieting and training to get slimmer before a photoshoot or filming of a CM, followed without a break with glomping proteins and training (again) to get the muscular mass needed for the season - never enough to let him be quite equal with even those younger players who joined after him.
Frustrated, he finally approached his trainer, asking if maybe he needed to drop the modeling altogether - only to hear that modeling was probably the only thing that kept him in the team, the managers never averse to a bit of free of charge PR, and if he went out on the deal - he could just as well “drop this agony” (that being the trainer's words, not even Jin's) and simply resign.
“So in the end, for them, I was no more than just a team-mascot,” Kame finishes simply, and Jin feels his fingers curl inside his pockets with the sheer bitterness of the turtle-kun's words.
The latter is already continuing though, on how he came to a hard decision and quit the sport. But not the modeling, it seems, and it remained his sole income as he floundered for a time (barely there school eduction didn't provide him with exactly a multitude of job-opportunities), before eventually he was invited as a temporary sportscaster for a baseball quarter of a well-known TV program: just for the time being, before they could find a new one after their regular sportscaster had just retired. Either they failed to find anyone better, or Kame proved too good for them to look further (Jin cannot really tell, because he personally hasn't watched even a piece of that particular program even by chance), but the job held.
And then last year - due to the ratings falling, the baseball season being unusually dull, or whatever - the producers came up with a kind of reality project, especially for him - where he would have to spend some time with each team within the League in turn - doing in depths interviews with the players, but mostly training in an attempt to prepare for hitting a home-run - something that he had never done in his life.
Jin can't imagine what stepping back into the diamond after a few years absence must have felt for Kame. He can't - but he can. Or maybe he can't - because he exactly cannot imagine (doesn't even want to try) how it could feel for him to step onto a JE stage in a kind of glittering costume he used to wear while still being a back-dancer - and sing...
He is sure though that the obsessive turtle must have been training like never before to prove his worth, and chuckles with glee, when he hears about his success in the in-between challenges, and, particularly, the one where Kamenashi the pitcher managed to strike out all three top-batters of his former team. (Serves them right, Jin thinks, for kicking the turtle out as they did).
Kame though stands half-bent over the balustrade, facing some kind of excavation grounds, not so much smoking as watching the smoke of his cigarette being carried away by the wind, and his face is rueful.
“It sounds like revenge... But I wasn't even thinking about revenge... Only doing my best. The single thing that I did want - was to hit that damned home-run... Just once in my life...”
He didn't. Hadn't a chance to. Three days before the shooting of the final event he collapsed, spent a week in the hospital and was prohibited “any kind of continuous strenuous physical activity” for three months at least...
Jin thinks about dreams. And about them both, Kame and him alike, living precariously at the edges of their own broken aspirations. Kamenashi - with his sportscasting; and him - writing songs that he himself doesn't have the voice to sing properly. He thinks about “fair” and “not fair”, and at least he is partially to blame for his voice loss... And - is this what “growing up” is all about - to make the best with what you can get, instead of reaching up for the stars?
He doesn't speak it aloud though, or ask Kame whether he thinks it is true. Even if it is - they are both too young to be faced with this kind of a reality check. At the age they are now - most people are just starting to reach for their dreams, while they both have already tried and failed and are living with the results of their failures.
It's a rather grim line of thought. But then Jin remembers about London, and the small venues that cheer as he strums his guitar. About all the new friends he's made and the old friends that he still has. About the birthday parties with lots of booze (and girls). And about Kamenashi's colleagues giving him cruises as a get-well present...
He is not the one anyway, to sprout encouraging generalities like “you'll have other chances.” They would both only be embarrassed by how fake this promise is. So he drops his smoke into the street grating, and looks at his watch, and asks, “Do you think we still have time for some pasta before the buses are due?”
Part 2