Coming Undone
Title: Coming Undone
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sakurai Sho/Kitagawa Keiko
Word count: 10,970
Summary: Sho and Keiko unwittingly go on what ends up being a once-in-a-lifetime date. It isn’t all smooth sailing, though. What happens when they get cast together as co-stars in “Nazodi”?
Warnings/Notes: Originally posted here, written for the recently concluded fix exchange at je_whiteday. It was so much fun writing Sho/Keiko, because I thought they had excellent chemistry in Nazodi. I hope you guys enjoy reading this one! ♥
The celebrity world has been kind to her.
Keiko is grateful for the blessings she has been given-what with all the dramas and movie offers she has been getting. On the streets, she is no longer remembered just as the girl who played Sailor Mars or that random Seventeen model, she is finally getting recognition as a legitimate actress. Her lifestyle as one incredibly satisfies her; she has always been fiercely independent, and earning both livelihood and respect through tangible things she works hard for is something she treasures. She was no longer just a pretty face-she has something to offer, and she is dead set on proving everyone at home, Kobe, that she has what it takes to make a lasting impression in her current profession.
Tokyo life, she finds, suits her as well. It gives her the freedom that Kobe never did. In a strange way, even though she is more exposed now and more recognized in public, Tokyo affords her a certain anonymity, a chance to get away from all the hometown niceties and bumping into everyone and their mother. Not that she doesn’t love Kobe, or that she doesn’t miss home. Keiko just has a strong hunch that she has always been meant for bigger things, and that if she doesn’t blow it, she really could make it, whatever “making it” means.
*
That night, Shihori invites her out to dinner. But knowing Shihori the way she does, Keiko knows that it probably wasn’t just dinner. The prospect of a nice, quiet night after an insanely hectic week to stay in (and watch some DVDs she recently acquired) slowly goes down the drain. Shihori constantly worries about her social life. Needlessly, Keiko thinks.
“I just want to stay home, Shihori-chan. Besides, isn’t it kind of crowded at Aoyama? It’s a Friday, isn’t it,” she whines into her mobile phone.
Her friend laughs. “The place we’re going to go to will be exclusive, I promise you.”
Keiko’s mood plummets. “Exclusive? You mean industry people, right?”
“Hmm, maybe. What’s wrong with that?”
“But,” Keiko sniffs, knowing she is fighting a losing battle, “I have nothing to wear.”
“Your ‘I have nothing to wear’ is code speak for you’re just being little miss antisocial and gloomy,” Shihori enthuses. “Let’s live a little, shall we?”
Keiko groans. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were a stay-at-home kind of person. That’s only the reason I befriended you. I was so wrong.”
Shihori giggles. “Kitagawa, you’re something.”
“And you’re annoying.”
A whoop of delight rings through her phone. “I’ll come over in an hour,” Shihori announces authoritatively before putting down the phone.
Keiko sighs. After dragging herself of for a quick bath, she settles on a black long-sleeved dress that ended comfortably at mid-thigh. Shihori would kill her if she wore flats, so she settles for the comfiest platform pumps she owned. At nine on the dot, Shihori rings the bell. Keiko opens the door to welcome her friend, who is wearing a long pleated skirt with a delicate, girly top, her hair in a high top-bun-Keiko suddenly feels somewhat unkempt in comparison.
“Well aren’t you decked out tonight, Kanjiya-san.”
Frowning, Shihori takes in Keiko’s still slightly wet hair and utter lack of make-up. “Please don’t tell me you’re done.”
Keiko had to laugh. “Okay, I won’t.”
Shihori scuffles for something in her clutch. She tosses a tube of lip-gloss to Keiko. “At least put some on, for my sake.” Humoring her, Keiko quickly swipes it on her lips. “What about your hair?”
Exasperated, Keiko grabs her bag and her keys, pulling Shihori by the arm. “It’s going to dry itself, god!”
When they get to the bar-“You said we were going to have dinner!” “We are, we can order food here, can’t we?”-Keiko and Shihori are ushered into the VIP area. Upon getting there, they are inundated with greetings and air-kisses by people they all know and are familiar with: directors, producers, and TV personalities, some people from the music scene, and several fellow actors and actresses. Apparently, it is the place to be that night in Tokyo. Keiko is no stranger to the social celebrity circuit, but she still finds it a little overwhelming to be around them. They are all so coiffed, gracious, and sociable, and it makes her panic a little. After surviving the throngs of greetings and pleasantries, she and Shihori head straight towards the drinks.
“Cheers!”
Things aren’t so bad after she and Shihori down a glass of red wine each. She is starting to enjoy herself, her tired muscles relaxing thanks to both the alcohol and the relaxing bistro music. It had been a tough week filled with shoots and interviews, and as exasperating as Shihori could be, Keiko has always adored her company ever since they met through a drama they both acted in. She finds that Shihori softens up all her rough edges and is the best at coaxing her out of her tendency to be too independent, and often, morose.
Shihori is regaling her with a funny incident regarding her mom when suddenly, her eyes light up and she issues a suspicious, tiny wave at someone behind Keiko. When Keiko sees who was approaching them, her eyes grow big and she quickly turns back to face Shihori. Her laughter is already gurgling up her throat. “Oh no, you didn’t,” she accuses.
Her friend gives her the most innocent look she could muster. “What?”
“Oh god you did.” Keiko barely has enough time to put a lid on her unwomanly guffaws when the man in question finally reaches them.
“Kanjiya-san, Kitagawa-san.” He greets them pleasantly, his hands jammed in pockets as if he was nervous. Conversely, the flushed look Shihori has on her face is telling. Not forgetting her manners, Keiko bows slightly and acknowledges him. “Aiba-san.”
“I see you girls have started without me,” he says casually as he glides beside Shihori. He cranes his neck to spy on what Shihori is drinking. “Red wine, huh,” he says, his simpering, be-dimpled smile aimed at Shihori.
“Yeah,” she weakly replies. It is almost too entertaining, Keiko thinks.
“Red wine’s amazing with ginger ale. Kitagawa-san, have you tried it?” He shoots a conversational look at Keiko. She now has no doubts that she is the third wheel.
“I can’t say I have,” Keiko replies, amused at Shihori’s increasingly pink cheeks.
Aiba’s smile grows wider. Man, this guy certainly isn’t stingy with the smiles, Keiko thinks. “How about I get you girls a round of that? You’re almost finished with your red wine, anyway.”
“Sounds great,” Keiko replies.
Aiba turns towards Shihori, as if gleaning her permission. She puts her hand on his arm and says, “If it’s the same as last night’s, I’m all for it.”
The smile he returns is sickeningly sweet, Keiko wonders how everyone in their vicinity isn’t retching. “Great! I know the owner here, bet he’ll let me use the bar for awhile.”
When Aiba goes off to get their drinks for them, Shihori and Keiko find themselves staring at each other. It is a test of will on who will crack first. Try as she might to restrain herself, Keiko couldn’t.
“If it’s the same as last night’s?”
Shihori is all poker-faced. “Yes, I did say that.”
A couple of moments pass. “So you’ve bagged the bartender.” An ungainly snort escapes from her.
At this, Shihori moans. “Keiko!” Just like that, they burst into uncontrollable laughter, both unable to keep it together anymore. “Well, he’s cute, isn’t he?”
“Hmm. He is,” Keiko replies, meaning it sincerely. “But seriously, I had no idea! Have you been seeing each other since your drama ended?”
“Well, it’s a fairly recent thing, if that’s what you mean.” She hides her face with her hands. “God! I knew that this was going to be embarrassing.”
Keiko claps her on the back. “No need for that. You obviously had the hots for him even when you were just shooting together.”
“You knew?” Shihori croaks.
“You are the most transparent person I know,” she assures her. “But what I can’t believe is the fact that you dragged me out tonight when you’re out on a date! Don’t you even dare deny it!”
At this, Shihori looks smug. “I’m not that selfish,” she declares. As if right on cue, Aiba arrives with two glasses of his concoction. Someone dressed up in a simple white shirt and jeans is trailing behind him. It is definitely impossible not to recognize who he is, especially when he’s with Aiba. Did they actually think they could be inconspicuous together? He flashes her and Shihori a small, polite smile. Suddenly, Keiko gets a clear, blinding flash of cognition at what Shihori was hinting at. She feels like strangling her good friend for the fresh hell that the night was shaping up to be.
“Here we go,” Aiba announces as he puts down their drinks. “Kitagawa-san, I hope it’s okay that my friend joins us.”
For some reason, Keiko finds it cute and somewhat amusing that Aiba refers to him as a friend. But still, the two of them still weren’t off the hook. She’s going to kill Shihori later. “I don’t mind.”
The newcomer steps forward and gives a little bow to Keiko. “It’s been awhile.”
Keiko returns the pleasantries. “It’s nice to see you, Sakurai-san.”
*
Sho never learns his lesson. A simple drink with Aiba is never just drinks-that much he knows from experience alone. But he cannot deny that the allure of moderate alcohol consumption after a hard day’s work is much too tempting. So after quickly dashing back to his apartment for a quick shower and change of clothes-dark jeans, a perfectly respectable white dress shirt, and a nice casual coat-he drives on to Aoyama to meet up with his band mate.
Aiba had told him that he is meeting up with Shihori, and Sho wasn’t opposed to the idea. He finds Shihori fun and interesting, a perfect complement to Aiba; Sho thinks the way Aiba is completely smitten by her hilarious…and quite endearing, actually. But after Sho had agreed, Aiba suspiciously made him promise to not back out.
“You’re going, okay? Okay?” Aiba enthuses. “I’ll see you in a bit!”
“Masaki,” Sho warns. “I don’t like the tone of your voice.”
Aiba chuckles. “What?”
Sho knows where this was going. He sighs. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”
It is uncanny, but Sho could practically hear Aiba smiling over the phone. Only Aiba, Sho thinks. “No, Sho-chan, you don’t. See you!” The dial tone bleeps in Sho’s ear.
It’s not that Aiba doesn’t have Sho’s best interests in mind-it is true that he hasn’t been seeing or dating anyone for the longest stretch ever, in his life-but the way Aiba goes about it makes Sho wince. Every now and then, when Aiba’s out on a date, he invites him out for drinks and brings along a girl, so that “Sho-chan can have someone to talk to”. Maybe it can be attributed to the fact that their tastes don’t overlap much, but usually, the girls end up being too cheerful or aggressive for Sho’s taste. And there’s something that Sho feels Aiba doesn’t quite understand: he’s not really looking for someone. Sure, he is looking to settle down someday, he relishes the thought of having his own family, but what he’s not thinking of right now is addressing the blurry middle in between his goal to settle down and his presently single status. He’s not a serial dater, never have been. Sho figures he’ll just bump into her someday, naturally, organically, whoever she is. He can wait. At this stage in his life, when he is at what he knows is the prime of his career, he thinks he can afford to delay just for a little while.
But Aiba, who has appointed himself as Sho’s wingman, takes it upon himself to be proactive about Sho’s love life. And frankly, he really doesn’t have the heart to turn down Aiba, even if he has yet to be successful at finding a decent match for Sho. It is a mark of his fondness for Aiba that he manages to sportingly play along.
When he gets to the bar, Aiba meets him downstairs. “I swear, Sho-chan, no pressure tonight. I think you’ll find her real pretty. No, scratch that, I know you find her pretty.”
Sho falls into step with Aiba. “I know her?” he asks, incredulous. “Please tell me it’s not Nino in a wig.”
Aiba snorts with laughter at the memory as they tread up the stairs. “No, although I’m sure Nino wouldn’t mind doing it a second time.” Aiba turns towards Sho. “You’ll see in a bit!”
When he does see her, he knows Aiba isn’t messing around. She is in a simple black dress, her hair raked back by hand, lips full, eyes huge and doe-like-Sho has always been secretly weak for girls who seem to sit on the divide of being pretty and sultry. There is a mystery around her that Sho easily senses, and he remembers wondering about her when she guested on their TV show. It also helps that he is kind of a fan of one of her earlier works, which Aiba, to Sho’s now apparent disadvantage, knows. It can therefore be safely concluded that Aiba definitely isn’t kidding around this time around. He feels his throat drying up.
“I can’t,” Sho splutters, stopping on his tracks.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“This is too…real.”
Aiba giggles. “Man-up, Sho-chan. It’s not every day that you can buy a drink for”-and here Sho notes that Aiba’s eyes are positively twinkling with an other-worldly glow-“Sailor Mars herself.”
Tugging on his coat, Sho groans. “You’re going to pay for this, Aiba Masaki.”
*
Aiba happily settles himself on the lounge chair beside Shihori, which leaves Sho to sit beside Keiko. They aren’t touching, but he is close enough that she could make out his scent: slightly citrus-y and overall, quite pleasant. If she were to be honest, she would say that his scent reminded her of car freshener. Not in a bad way. Keiko suddenly feels nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Usually, she was quite confident, even dismissive, around men, but something about Sho unnerves her. They already had the chance to meet on a couple of occasions before, but except for Arashi’s talk show, they’ve never really talked. She finds Sho intimidating, his news-casting work being the one that leaves the biggest impression on her.
“I see Aiba-chan has been foisting his alcoholic creations on you,” Sho says amiably, gesturing towards her drink.
She takes a sip. “It’s actually good, you know.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I got so drunk when he let me to try a couple of his experiments,” he says. “He gets much too involved in his roles.”
Sakurai Sho, drunk? Now that is an image she couldn’t wrap her mind around. “You two are closer than I expected. I mean, outside Arashi and all.” She blushes at bringing up his group, for some reason.
He smiles. “Ah, well.”
In front of them, Aiba and Shihori are having what it looked like a very private discussion-Shihori is playing with the cheesy umbrella from the cocktail, twirling it around her fingers, whispering to Aiba as he grins into his beer. His fingers are equally busy as well, drawing innocent circles absentmindedly on Shihori’s knee. Keiko sips at her beverage, swallowing at the awkwardness of the situation. What is more grating is the fact that she senses that Sho seems to be observing the situation too. When Aiba orders a bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses, Sho shoots her a look as if saying, “warning, it’s going down.” He looks at her straight in the eye imploringly.
“Are they ignoring us?” Keiko whispers.
“I don’t think they even realize we exist, at this point,” Sho replies. He grabs his jacket. “Let’s hit the bar? I don’t think these two will even notice that we’re gone.”
To be stuck with her friend who is so obviously on a date and pretty much enamored with said company, or to hang out by the bar, maybe get tipsy enough to pass the night, with someone who is practically a stranger? Well, not a stranger, since probably all of Japan intimately knows his face (and also his other nether regions, she thinks wryly), but still, he’s someone she isn’t personally familiar with. Oh well, she supposes. It is more hateful to be the third wheel.
“Let’s go.”
Taking their seats by the bar, they start talking. It is stilted and overly polite at first, but when Sho finishes with his glass of scotch, Keiko notices that he’s now more relaxed around her, the alcohol slowly working its way and limbering him right up. She is surprised at his clumsiness, with the way he almost knocks down his own glass, and how he accidentally hits her with his elbow when he was gesturing. After his profuse apologies, Keiko could only laugh.
“You’re kind of clumsy,” she teases.
Sho gives her a pained smile. “I’m truly sorry.”
To her surprise, they end up talking about a variety of topics with relative ease. He tells her about his recent assignments for News Zero-in that area of conversation, his manner of speech is anything but clumsy. Sho also asks her about various things, she notes, always in an even and inquisitive way. Usually, she prefers not to talk about herself, yet she finds that talking to Sho feels as natural as breathing. He is as polite as he seemed in the beginning, yet to her relief, not half as intimidating. It has to be because of the way he laughs-deeply, boisterously, animatedly. She doesn’t know anyone who laughs like that. It’s so darn infectious, she thinks.
When they decide that they both have had enough to drink, they both step out of the venue, feeling refreshed by the crisp night air. His hair lightly is lightly mussed by the wind, and Keiko finds herself drawn to the way he finger-combs his hair back unaffectedly-she decides that she rather likes how he looks when he’s not all gussied up in idol sequins, tight pants, and extra-volume hair. For the moment, he is preoccupied with messaging someone on his mobile phone. She looks on at him in what she hopes is a discreet way, observing the way his face is painted orange by the streetlight. Keiko guiltily looks away when Sho puts his phone back into his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “Just my manager checking in, you know how it is.” Noticing her shivering, he quickly shrugs his coat off and lightly drapes her with it. “You’re cold.” His voice is slightly admonishing.
Keiko barely has enough time to process a reaction. She suddenly feels warm all over, and it certainly isn’t just because of the extra layer of clothes. Her knees are feeling a little bit flimsy at how Sho didn’t even think twice about giving her his coat. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but she has always been absurdly weak at gestures like that. “Thank you” is about all she could muster.
“How are you going home, Kitagawa-san? I don’t think Aiba-chan is letting your friend go anytime soon,” he says, a small smile on his face.
“Taxi? Yes, taxi, I’ll go home by taxi,” she replies.
Sho checks his watch. “At 2 a.m.? I don’t think so.” He looks up. “Please don’t take it the wrong way, but may I drive you home?”
Her stomach flips over. “Oh, no. No, I can manage on my own.”
He fishes out his keys from his pockets and points to the nearest car, one of those sleek black things, which responds with an ominous beep. How convenient, Keiko thinks with a sigh. “Aiba-chan will kill me if he finds out that I let his girlfriend’s best friend take a cab home.” He opens the passenger’s side for her. “Please?”
“Girlfriend?”
Sho’s smile grows wider. “I see you’re not privy to what’s really going on between them,” he teases.
She grumbles. That Shihori has a lot of explaining to do.
“What if I promise that I’ll tell you all I know and we can gossip about our friends to our hearts content if you’ll just please let me take you home?”
Sakurai Sho is full of surprises. Keiko restrains the smile that’s threatening to overrun her face. “Gossip? What about journalistic integrity and all that?”
“Just get in,” he says, smiling. “Or would you rather the tabloids get a shot of us having a lover’s spat in the middle of Aoyama? Our managers can freak out about it tomorrow.”
Well…when he puts it like that. “That’s underhanded, Sakurai-san.” Keiko sinks down on the plush leather seat, and Sho closes the passenger door with a laugh. She is filled with a sudden headiness when she realizes that Sho really does smell like his car: an odd mix of citrus and a certain, clean manliness. Keiko inhales deeply before Sho gets inside. She notes his red-tinged cheeks as he puts on his seatbelt.
*
His heart is plodding on in a healthy pace, making its presence known. It is suddenly all too quiet inside his car, as they are now wholly insulated from the outside world. Sho can’t quite believe that he is inside the same car with Kitagawa Keiko. Actually, to put it quite simply, Sho can’t believe that he is in his car with a girl. He feels like it’s been ages since the last time, and it doesn’t help that the girl sitting on his left demands his utmost attention.
He glances at her from the corner of his eyes, noting the way her glistening brown hair cascades gracefully against her collarbones. Keiko isn’t exactly what he expected her to be: of course, she is beautiful, staggeringly so. He kind of had a major thing for her when she played the live-action Sailor Mars, a few years back. Normally, Sho isn’t even the type to watch those kinds of shows, but he remembers channel-surfing one idle night when he stumbles on a girl “transforming”-it is a magical blur of white legs, long black hair, a short red skirt, and that maddeningly huge indigo ribbon-and finds himself duly transfixed, shoddy plot and all other things be damned. Sho had felt somewhat dirty to fixate on a girl who seemed a little bit too young back then, but he couldn’t help watching the entire show. He remembers trying to bring it up in a casual conversation in their green room once, thinking he might find a fellow fan in Nino, the likeliest candidate. Turns out that it was a supremely wrong decision on his part. (“That’s some kind of a kink you have there,” Ohno had murmured. Jun had only raised his eyebrows, amused, while Nino and Aiba literally both rolled on the sofa with unforgiving laughter.) Sho winces at the memory. Just what would they all say when they find out she’s actually sitting beside him, in his car, right now?
Sho puts on some music after fidgeting with his seatbelt. He also adjusts the temperature, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Warm enough?” Keiko nods as she fixes her seatbelt.
He grips the steering wheel, figuring if he should just go for it. He braves a look at her. “Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, I am,” she says, her hands rubbing her belly. Sho finds it adorable and attractive at the same time, and it has a deranging effect on him. “Actually, Shihori dragged me here with the promise of dinner, but I guess that was a lie.” She smiles.
He tries not to stare. She was already beautiful back then, but it could not compare to how much more breathtaking she is now, Sho thinks. Maturity suits her, and Sho finds himself attracted to the way she handles herself. He thought she would be girlier in person, delicate, even, but Keiko just outright bowls him over. Throughout the night, he’s surprised to find that she’s actually a little reserved, a little bit manly…and somehow, what comes to mind is…dignified. He finds that she wordlessly and unintentionally commands respect, yet her flourishes are all womanly and unaffected. She also has a naturally soft side, something Sho can’t explain as of yet. Needless to say, he finds her more and more interesting as the night wears on.
“What did she tell you, anyway? About tonight?” Sho’s curiosity is getting the better of him; he couldn’t help it.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say Aiba-chan hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with me, either,” he admits.
They are silent for a moment (a moment too long, Sho thinks). At his periphery, he can see Keiko licking her lips. “Sakurai-san, we’ve been set up,” she declares. She looks at him, as if for confirmation.
Sho nods reverently. “We have been duped.”
Keiko fiddles with the strap of her bag, looking down. “Those liars.”
“Shameless, really.”
“How dare they,” Keiko plays along.
“Filthy, filthy liars,” he replies, watching a smile twitching about on her lips. God, she is so cute. “To think they call themselves our friends!”
She laughs, her eyes disappearing into slits. “So much deceit!”
“You have no idea. Aiba-chan is particularly evil behind that fake, cute-as-a-puppy façade,” he says, warmed by the sound of her laughter.
“Shihori’s the same,” she laments. “I think our friends think we’re hopeless.”
“I might be,” Sho says.
“Me too.”
Somehow, Sho finds that he can’t completely believe that. Surely she is up to her ears with suitors, left and right? She isn’t exactly plain, Sho thinks wryly. Nonetheless, Sho revs up the car and starts driving. “Do you like ramen?”
Keiko turns to face him. “What do you have in mind?”
“Shall we perpetuate this pseudo-date our friends have so evilly arranged for us just a little bit longer?” Courage, Sho, courage.
“Well, I really am hungry,” she replies, her hand unconsciously brushing her bangs away to the side, her eyes on him.
“Great! I know a place,” he smiles, barely able to take his eyes off her.
*
She is groggy and out of sorts, having had only a couple hours of sleep the night before. Her shoot ended late, and she is now trying to remedy her crippling sleepiness with a huge cup of coffee. Her manager is noisily shuffling around papers as he discusses something heatedly with someone on the phone. Keiko barely registers what the conversation is about; she is still dreaming about the soft, downy caress of her sheets.
Komatsu puts down the phone. “I am just the greatest, Keiko-chan,” he declares.
Keiko rubs her temples. “What is so important that you had to barge in this early? It’s my day-off,” she complains.
He pushes a couple of sheets of papers towards her. “Really, no need to thank me.”
Keiko frowns sullenly at him and grabs the papers. “Nazotoki wa dinner no…ato de?”
Her manager is positively glowing. “I got you a lead role for next season!”
Not wanting to give her manager the benefit of the knowledge that she’s sort of pleased at getting another lead, she stays quiet and mulls over the details of the drama. The plot seems interesting as she reads about it. Her morning seems to be rapidly improving when suddenly, something inside her ices over. She reads the list of who she will be co-starring with several times, just to be sure that she isn’t imagining things.
But she isn’t.
Sakurai Sho.
She feels close to hyperventilating, grabbing her cup and gulping in a huge amount of coffee. “The roles are already set?” She tries not to be obvious about her distress, not wanting to elicit a barrage of questions from her perennially nosy manager.
“Yes. Sakurai-san has just gotten on board, I was just talking to the producer,” he gushes. “Imagine, an Arashi member! They’re also doing the theme song, which probably will be a ratings draw. Lucky!”
Keiko smiles weakly at Komatsu. Truth be told, she doesn’t really feel all that lucky. She is actually feeling dread, something akin to a massive rock inside her stomach, regurgitating over and over, agitating her to no end.
It has been a month since that accidental (was that the word?) non-date with Sho, which had gone on pretty smoothly. Before taking her home, Sho had taken her out to his favorite ramen place, as they were both hungry. Over ramen, they found themselves talking more; Sho was particularly fascinated about her initial dreams of becoming a doctor. It ended up becoming quite a serious talk, with the both of them talking about their careers, the blessings they had been given, and also the what-ifs. Keiko had never felt such an effortless companionship with any other guy before; she was utterly surprised at how easy it was to open up to Sho. There was something reassuring about the way he talked, the way he listened. Before she got out of the car when they reached her place, Sho had asked for her number. It surprised her a little bit, knocked the wind out of her, so to speak. But after the not-so-ordinary yet, well, ordinary night they had spent together, Keiko had felt no qualms about obliging him. If she were to be perfectly honest, she was thinking that maybe there was something to it, something to the two of them together, something worth exploring. Just maybe. Sho had opened the car door for her.
“I had the greatest time tonight, Kitagawa-san.”
Keiko, in all honesty, had felt the exact, same way. Sho offered his hand, helping her step out of his car. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt his eyes on her as she walked up to the entrance of her apartment building. He didn’t leave until she disappeared from sight.
It felt a little like floating on air, buoyed up by invisible forces that she could not resist.
Yet he never called.
After a week without hearing from him, she had gotten rather upset. (An understatement.) Still, she just shook it off, thinking that maybe it really was just a one-time thing, and that it was both for the best. They were both so busy anyway. Also, nothing really happened that night anyway, she thinks. People have great, sort of embarrassingly life-altering, charged conversations all the time, right? People have that kind of chemistry brewing between them all the time, right?
Right?
Being a young, highly in-demand actress has its perks: she has no time to reflect on tiny not-quite-there heartbreaks…or at least, that is how she wants to see things. Keiko abhors being on the losing end. If there is one thing she hates, it’s losing.
Yet here is fate, averting her path towards his again. Frankly, Keiko just wants to play it cool, wants to act like nothing ever happened. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right? She turns to Komatsu. “Send me the script immediately when you get it.”
*
>> Part 2
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sakurai Sho/Kitagawa Keiko
Word count: 10,970
Summary: Sho and Keiko unwittingly go on what ends up being a once-in-a-lifetime date. It isn’t all smooth sailing, though. What happens when they get cast together as co-stars in “Nazodi”?
Warnings/Notes: Originally posted here, written for the recently concluded fix exchange at je_whiteday. It was so much fun writing Sho/Keiko, because I thought they had excellent chemistry in Nazodi. I hope you guys enjoy reading this one! ♥
The celebrity world has been kind to her.
Keiko is grateful for the blessings she has been given-what with all the dramas and movie offers she has been getting. On the streets, she is no longer remembered just as the girl who played Sailor Mars or that random Seventeen model, she is finally getting recognition as a legitimate actress. Her lifestyle as one incredibly satisfies her; she has always been fiercely independent, and earning both livelihood and respect through tangible things she works hard for is something she treasures. She was no longer just a pretty face-she has something to offer, and she is dead set on proving everyone at home, Kobe, that she has what it takes to make a lasting impression in her current profession.
Tokyo life, she finds, suits her as well. It gives her the freedom that Kobe never did. In a strange way, even though she is more exposed now and more recognized in public, Tokyo affords her a certain anonymity, a chance to get away from all the hometown niceties and bumping into everyone and their mother. Not that she doesn’t love Kobe, or that she doesn’t miss home. Keiko just has a strong hunch that she has always been meant for bigger things, and that if she doesn’t blow it, she really could make it, whatever “making it” means.
*
That night, Shihori invites her out to dinner. But knowing Shihori the way she does, Keiko knows that it probably wasn’t just dinner. The prospect of a nice, quiet night after an insanely hectic week to stay in (and watch some DVDs she recently acquired) slowly goes down the drain. Shihori constantly worries about her social life. Needlessly, Keiko thinks.
“I just want to stay home, Shihori-chan. Besides, isn’t it kind of crowded at Aoyama? It’s a Friday, isn’t it,” she whines into her mobile phone.
Her friend laughs. “The place we’re going to go to will be exclusive, I promise you.”
Keiko’s mood plummets. “Exclusive? You mean industry people, right?”
“Hmm, maybe. What’s wrong with that?”
“But,” Keiko sniffs, knowing she is fighting a losing battle, “I have nothing to wear.”
“Your ‘I have nothing to wear’ is code speak for you’re just being little miss antisocial and gloomy,” Shihori enthuses. “Let’s live a little, shall we?”
Keiko groans. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were a stay-at-home kind of person. That’s only the reason I befriended you. I was so wrong.”
Shihori giggles. “Kitagawa, you’re something.”
“And you’re annoying.”
A whoop of delight rings through her phone. “I’ll come over in an hour,” Shihori announces authoritatively before putting down the phone.
Keiko sighs. After dragging herself of for a quick bath, she settles on a black long-sleeved dress that ended comfortably at mid-thigh. Shihori would kill her if she wore flats, so she settles for the comfiest platform pumps she owned. At nine on the dot, Shihori rings the bell. Keiko opens the door to welcome her friend, who is wearing a long pleated skirt with a delicate, girly top, her hair in a high top-bun-Keiko suddenly feels somewhat unkempt in comparison.
“Well aren’t you decked out tonight, Kanjiya-san.”
Frowning, Shihori takes in Keiko’s still slightly wet hair and utter lack of make-up. “Please don’t tell me you’re done.”
Keiko had to laugh. “Okay, I won’t.”
Shihori scuffles for something in her clutch. She tosses a tube of lip-gloss to Keiko. “At least put some on, for my sake.” Humoring her, Keiko quickly swipes it on her lips. “What about your hair?”
Exasperated, Keiko grabs her bag and her keys, pulling Shihori by the arm. “It’s going to dry itself, god!”
When they get to the bar-“You said we were going to have dinner!” “We are, we can order food here, can’t we?”-Keiko and Shihori are ushered into the VIP area. Upon getting there, they are inundated with greetings and air-kisses by people they all know and are familiar with: directors, producers, and TV personalities, some people from the music scene, and several fellow actors and actresses. Apparently, it is the place to be that night in Tokyo. Keiko is no stranger to the social celebrity circuit, but she still finds it a little overwhelming to be around them. They are all so coiffed, gracious, and sociable, and it makes her panic a little. After surviving the throngs of greetings and pleasantries, she and Shihori head straight towards the drinks.
“Cheers!”
Things aren’t so bad after she and Shihori down a glass of red wine each. She is starting to enjoy herself, her tired muscles relaxing thanks to both the alcohol and the relaxing bistro music. It had been a tough week filled with shoots and interviews, and as exasperating as Shihori could be, Keiko has always adored her company ever since they met through a drama they both acted in. She finds that Shihori softens up all her rough edges and is the best at coaxing her out of her tendency to be too independent, and often, morose.
Shihori is regaling her with a funny incident regarding her mom when suddenly, her eyes light up and she issues a suspicious, tiny wave at someone behind Keiko. When Keiko sees who was approaching them, her eyes grow big and she quickly turns back to face Shihori. Her laughter is already gurgling up her throat. “Oh no, you didn’t,” she accuses.
Her friend gives her the most innocent look she could muster. “What?”
“Oh god you did.” Keiko barely has enough time to put a lid on her unwomanly guffaws when the man in question finally reaches them.
“Kanjiya-san, Kitagawa-san.” He greets them pleasantly, his hands jammed in pockets as if he was nervous. Conversely, the flushed look Shihori has on her face is telling. Not forgetting her manners, Keiko bows slightly and acknowledges him. “Aiba-san.”
“I see you girls have started without me,” he says casually as he glides beside Shihori. He cranes his neck to spy on what Shihori is drinking. “Red wine, huh,” he says, his simpering, be-dimpled smile aimed at Shihori.
“Yeah,” she weakly replies. It is almost too entertaining, Keiko thinks.
“Red wine’s amazing with ginger ale. Kitagawa-san, have you tried it?” He shoots a conversational look at Keiko. She now has no doubts that she is the third wheel.
“I can’t say I have,” Keiko replies, amused at Shihori’s increasingly pink cheeks.
Aiba’s smile grows wider. Man, this guy certainly isn’t stingy with the smiles, Keiko thinks. “How about I get you girls a round of that? You’re almost finished with your red wine, anyway.”
“Sounds great,” Keiko replies.
Aiba turns towards Shihori, as if gleaning her permission. She puts her hand on his arm and says, “If it’s the same as last night’s, I’m all for it.”
The smile he returns is sickeningly sweet, Keiko wonders how everyone in their vicinity isn’t retching. “Great! I know the owner here, bet he’ll let me use the bar for awhile.”
When Aiba goes off to get their drinks for them, Shihori and Keiko find themselves staring at each other. It is a test of will on who will crack first. Try as she might to restrain herself, Keiko couldn’t.
“If it’s the same as last night’s?”
Shihori is all poker-faced. “Yes, I did say that.”
A couple of moments pass. “So you’ve bagged the bartender.” An ungainly snort escapes from her.
At this, Shihori moans. “Keiko!” Just like that, they burst into uncontrollable laughter, both unable to keep it together anymore. “Well, he’s cute, isn’t he?”
“Hmm. He is,” Keiko replies, meaning it sincerely. “But seriously, I had no idea! Have you been seeing each other since your drama ended?”
“Well, it’s a fairly recent thing, if that’s what you mean.” She hides her face with her hands. “God! I knew that this was going to be embarrassing.”
Keiko claps her on the back. “No need for that. You obviously had the hots for him even when you were just shooting together.”
“You knew?” Shihori croaks.
“You are the most transparent person I know,” she assures her. “But what I can’t believe is the fact that you dragged me out tonight when you’re out on a date! Don’t you even dare deny it!”
At this, Shihori looks smug. “I’m not that selfish,” she declares. As if right on cue, Aiba arrives with two glasses of his concoction. Someone dressed up in a simple white shirt and jeans is trailing behind him. It is definitely impossible not to recognize who he is, especially when he’s with Aiba. Did they actually think they could be inconspicuous together? He flashes her and Shihori a small, polite smile. Suddenly, Keiko gets a clear, blinding flash of cognition at what Shihori was hinting at. She feels like strangling her good friend for the fresh hell that the night was shaping up to be.
“Here we go,” Aiba announces as he puts down their drinks. “Kitagawa-san, I hope it’s okay that my friend joins us.”
For some reason, Keiko finds it cute and somewhat amusing that Aiba refers to him as a friend. But still, the two of them still weren’t off the hook. She’s going to kill Shihori later. “I don’t mind.”
The newcomer steps forward and gives a little bow to Keiko. “It’s been awhile.”
Keiko returns the pleasantries. “It’s nice to see you, Sakurai-san.”
*
Sho never learns his lesson. A simple drink with Aiba is never just drinks-that much he knows from experience alone. But he cannot deny that the allure of moderate alcohol consumption after a hard day’s work is much too tempting. So after quickly dashing back to his apartment for a quick shower and change of clothes-dark jeans, a perfectly respectable white dress shirt, and a nice casual coat-he drives on to Aoyama to meet up with his band mate.
Aiba had told him that he is meeting up with Shihori, and Sho wasn’t opposed to the idea. He finds Shihori fun and interesting, a perfect complement to Aiba; Sho thinks the way Aiba is completely smitten by her hilarious…and quite endearing, actually. But after Sho had agreed, Aiba suspiciously made him promise to not back out.
“You’re going, okay? Okay?” Aiba enthuses. “I’ll see you in a bit!”
“Masaki,” Sho warns. “I don’t like the tone of your voice.”
Aiba chuckles. “What?”
Sho knows where this was going. He sighs. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”
It is uncanny, but Sho could practically hear Aiba smiling over the phone. Only Aiba, Sho thinks. “No, Sho-chan, you don’t. See you!” The dial tone bleeps in Sho’s ear.
It’s not that Aiba doesn’t have Sho’s best interests in mind-it is true that he hasn’t been seeing or dating anyone for the longest stretch ever, in his life-but the way Aiba goes about it makes Sho wince. Every now and then, when Aiba’s out on a date, he invites him out for drinks and brings along a girl, so that “Sho-chan can have someone to talk to”. Maybe it can be attributed to the fact that their tastes don’t overlap much, but usually, the girls end up being too cheerful or aggressive for Sho’s taste. And there’s something that Sho feels Aiba doesn’t quite understand: he’s not really looking for someone. Sure, he is looking to settle down someday, he relishes the thought of having his own family, but what he’s not thinking of right now is addressing the blurry middle in between his goal to settle down and his presently single status. He’s not a serial dater, never have been. Sho figures he’ll just bump into her someday, naturally, organically, whoever she is. He can wait. At this stage in his life, when he is at what he knows is the prime of his career, he thinks he can afford to delay just for a little while.
But Aiba, who has appointed himself as Sho’s wingman, takes it upon himself to be proactive about Sho’s love life. And frankly, he really doesn’t have the heart to turn down Aiba, even if he has yet to be successful at finding a decent match for Sho. It is a mark of his fondness for Aiba that he manages to sportingly play along.
When he gets to the bar, Aiba meets him downstairs. “I swear, Sho-chan, no pressure tonight. I think you’ll find her real pretty. No, scratch that, I know you find her pretty.”
Sho falls into step with Aiba. “I know her?” he asks, incredulous. “Please tell me it’s not Nino in a wig.”
Aiba snorts with laughter at the memory as they tread up the stairs. “No, although I’m sure Nino wouldn’t mind doing it a second time.” Aiba turns towards Sho. “You’ll see in a bit!”
When he does see her, he knows Aiba isn’t messing around. She is in a simple black dress, her hair raked back by hand, lips full, eyes huge and doe-like-Sho has always been secretly weak for girls who seem to sit on the divide of being pretty and sultry. There is a mystery around her that Sho easily senses, and he remembers wondering about her when she guested on their TV show. It also helps that he is kind of a fan of one of her earlier works, which Aiba, to Sho’s now apparent disadvantage, knows. It can therefore be safely concluded that Aiba definitely isn’t kidding around this time around. He feels his throat drying up.
“I can’t,” Sho splutters, stopping on his tracks.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“This is too…real.”
Aiba giggles. “Man-up, Sho-chan. It’s not every day that you can buy a drink for”-and here Sho notes that Aiba’s eyes are positively twinkling with an other-worldly glow-“Sailor Mars herself.”
Tugging on his coat, Sho groans. “You’re going to pay for this, Aiba Masaki.”
*
Aiba happily settles himself on the lounge chair beside Shihori, which leaves Sho to sit beside Keiko. They aren’t touching, but he is close enough that she could make out his scent: slightly citrus-y and overall, quite pleasant. If she were to be honest, she would say that his scent reminded her of car freshener. Not in a bad way. Keiko suddenly feels nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Usually, she was quite confident, even dismissive, around men, but something about Sho unnerves her. They already had the chance to meet on a couple of occasions before, but except for Arashi’s talk show, they’ve never really talked. She finds Sho intimidating, his news-casting work being the one that leaves the biggest impression on her.
“I see Aiba-chan has been foisting his alcoholic creations on you,” Sho says amiably, gesturing towards her drink.
She takes a sip. “It’s actually good, you know.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I got so drunk when he let me to try a couple of his experiments,” he says. “He gets much too involved in his roles.”
Sakurai Sho, drunk? Now that is an image she couldn’t wrap her mind around. “You two are closer than I expected. I mean, outside Arashi and all.” She blushes at bringing up his group, for some reason.
He smiles. “Ah, well.”
In front of them, Aiba and Shihori are having what it looked like a very private discussion-Shihori is playing with the cheesy umbrella from the cocktail, twirling it around her fingers, whispering to Aiba as he grins into his beer. His fingers are equally busy as well, drawing innocent circles absentmindedly on Shihori’s knee. Keiko sips at her beverage, swallowing at the awkwardness of the situation. What is more grating is the fact that she senses that Sho seems to be observing the situation too. When Aiba orders a bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses, Sho shoots her a look as if saying, “warning, it’s going down.” He looks at her straight in the eye imploringly.
“Are they ignoring us?” Keiko whispers.
“I don’t think they even realize we exist, at this point,” Sho replies. He grabs his jacket. “Let’s hit the bar? I don’t think these two will even notice that we’re gone.”
To be stuck with her friend who is so obviously on a date and pretty much enamored with said company, or to hang out by the bar, maybe get tipsy enough to pass the night, with someone who is practically a stranger? Well, not a stranger, since probably all of Japan intimately knows his face (and also his other nether regions, she thinks wryly), but still, he’s someone she isn’t personally familiar with. Oh well, she supposes. It is more hateful to be the third wheel.
“Let’s go.”
Taking their seats by the bar, they start talking. It is stilted and overly polite at first, but when Sho finishes with his glass of scotch, Keiko notices that he’s now more relaxed around her, the alcohol slowly working its way and limbering him right up. She is surprised at his clumsiness, with the way he almost knocks down his own glass, and how he accidentally hits her with his elbow when he was gesturing. After his profuse apologies, Keiko could only laugh.
“You’re kind of clumsy,” she teases.
Sho gives her a pained smile. “I’m truly sorry.”
To her surprise, they end up talking about a variety of topics with relative ease. He tells her about his recent assignments for News Zero-in that area of conversation, his manner of speech is anything but clumsy. Sho also asks her about various things, she notes, always in an even and inquisitive way. Usually, she prefers not to talk about herself, yet she finds that talking to Sho feels as natural as breathing. He is as polite as he seemed in the beginning, yet to her relief, not half as intimidating. It has to be because of the way he laughs-deeply, boisterously, animatedly. She doesn’t know anyone who laughs like that. It’s so darn infectious, she thinks.
When they decide that they both have had enough to drink, they both step out of the venue, feeling refreshed by the crisp night air. His hair lightly is lightly mussed by the wind, and Keiko finds herself drawn to the way he finger-combs his hair back unaffectedly-she decides that she rather likes how he looks when he’s not all gussied up in idol sequins, tight pants, and extra-volume hair. For the moment, he is preoccupied with messaging someone on his mobile phone. She looks on at him in what she hopes is a discreet way, observing the way his face is painted orange by the streetlight. Keiko guiltily looks away when Sho puts his phone back into his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “Just my manager checking in, you know how it is.” Noticing her shivering, he quickly shrugs his coat off and lightly drapes her with it. “You’re cold.” His voice is slightly admonishing.
Keiko barely has enough time to process a reaction. She suddenly feels warm all over, and it certainly isn’t just because of the extra layer of clothes. Her knees are feeling a little bit flimsy at how Sho didn’t even think twice about giving her his coat. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but she has always been absurdly weak at gestures like that. “Thank you” is about all she could muster.
“How are you going home, Kitagawa-san? I don’t think Aiba-chan is letting your friend go anytime soon,” he says, a small smile on his face.
“Taxi? Yes, taxi, I’ll go home by taxi,” she replies.
Sho checks his watch. “At 2 a.m.? I don’t think so.” He looks up. “Please don’t take it the wrong way, but may I drive you home?”
Her stomach flips over. “Oh, no. No, I can manage on my own.”
He fishes out his keys from his pockets and points to the nearest car, one of those sleek black things, which responds with an ominous beep. How convenient, Keiko thinks with a sigh. “Aiba-chan will kill me if he finds out that I let his girlfriend’s best friend take a cab home.” He opens the passenger’s side for her. “Please?”
“Girlfriend?”
Sho’s smile grows wider. “I see you’re not privy to what’s really going on between them,” he teases.
She grumbles. That Shihori has a lot of explaining to do.
“What if I promise that I’ll tell you all I know and we can gossip about our friends to our hearts content if you’ll just please let me take you home?”
Sakurai Sho is full of surprises. Keiko restrains the smile that’s threatening to overrun her face. “Gossip? What about journalistic integrity and all that?”
“Just get in,” he says, smiling. “Or would you rather the tabloids get a shot of us having a lover’s spat in the middle of Aoyama? Our managers can freak out about it tomorrow.”
Well…when he puts it like that. “That’s underhanded, Sakurai-san.” Keiko sinks down on the plush leather seat, and Sho closes the passenger door with a laugh. She is filled with a sudden headiness when she realizes that Sho really does smell like his car: an odd mix of citrus and a certain, clean manliness. Keiko inhales deeply before Sho gets inside. She notes his red-tinged cheeks as he puts on his seatbelt.
*
His heart is plodding on in a healthy pace, making its presence known. It is suddenly all too quiet inside his car, as they are now wholly insulated from the outside world. Sho can’t quite believe that he is inside the same car with Kitagawa Keiko. Actually, to put it quite simply, Sho can’t believe that he is in his car with a girl. He feels like it’s been ages since the last time, and it doesn’t help that the girl sitting on his left demands his utmost attention.
He glances at her from the corner of his eyes, noting the way her glistening brown hair cascades gracefully against her collarbones. Keiko isn’t exactly what he expected her to be: of course, she is beautiful, staggeringly so. He kind of had a major thing for her when she played the live-action Sailor Mars, a few years back. Normally, Sho isn’t even the type to watch those kinds of shows, but he remembers channel-surfing one idle night when he stumbles on a girl “transforming”-it is a magical blur of white legs, long black hair, a short red skirt, and that maddeningly huge indigo ribbon-and finds himself duly transfixed, shoddy plot and all other things be damned. Sho had felt somewhat dirty to fixate on a girl who seemed a little bit too young back then, but he couldn’t help watching the entire show. He remembers trying to bring it up in a casual conversation in their green room once, thinking he might find a fellow fan in Nino, the likeliest candidate. Turns out that it was a supremely wrong decision on his part. (“That’s some kind of a kink you have there,” Ohno had murmured. Jun had only raised his eyebrows, amused, while Nino and Aiba literally both rolled on the sofa with unforgiving laughter.) Sho winces at the memory. Just what would they all say when they find out she’s actually sitting beside him, in his car, right now?
Sho puts on some music after fidgeting with his seatbelt. He also adjusts the temperature, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Warm enough?” Keiko nods as she fixes her seatbelt.
He grips the steering wheel, figuring if he should just go for it. He braves a look at her. “Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, I am,” she says, her hands rubbing her belly. Sho finds it adorable and attractive at the same time, and it has a deranging effect on him. “Actually, Shihori dragged me here with the promise of dinner, but I guess that was a lie.” She smiles.
He tries not to stare. She was already beautiful back then, but it could not compare to how much more breathtaking she is now, Sho thinks. Maturity suits her, and Sho finds himself attracted to the way she handles herself. He thought she would be girlier in person, delicate, even, but Keiko just outright bowls him over. Throughout the night, he’s surprised to find that she’s actually a little reserved, a little bit manly…and somehow, what comes to mind is…dignified. He finds that she wordlessly and unintentionally commands respect, yet her flourishes are all womanly and unaffected. She also has a naturally soft side, something Sho can’t explain as of yet. Needless to say, he finds her more and more interesting as the night wears on.
“What did she tell you, anyway? About tonight?” Sho’s curiosity is getting the better of him; he couldn’t help it.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say Aiba-chan hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with me, either,” he admits.
They are silent for a moment (a moment too long, Sho thinks). At his periphery, he can see Keiko licking her lips. “Sakurai-san, we’ve been set up,” she declares. She looks at him, as if for confirmation.
Sho nods reverently. “We have been duped.”
Keiko fiddles with the strap of her bag, looking down. “Those liars.”
“Shameless, really.”
“How dare they,” Keiko plays along.
“Filthy, filthy liars,” he replies, watching a smile twitching about on her lips. God, she is so cute. “To think they call themselves our friends!”
She laughs, her eyes disappearing into slits. “So much deceit!”
“You have no idea. Aiba-chan is particularly evil behind that fake, cute-as-a-puppy façade,” he says, warmed by the sound of her laughter.
“Shihori’s the same,” she laments. “I think our friends think we’re hopeless.”
“I might be,” Sho says.
“Me too.”
Somehow, Sho finds that he can’t completely believe that. Surely she is up to her ears with suitors, left and right? She isn’t exactly plain, Sho thinks wryly. Nonetheless, Sho revs up the car and starts driving. “Do you like ramen?”
Keiko turns to face him. “What do you have in mind?”
“Shall we perpetuate this pseudo-date our friends have so evilly arranged for us just a little bit longer?” Courage, Sho, courage.
“Well, I really am hungry,” she replies, her hand unconsciously brushing her bangs away to the side, her eyes on him.
“Great! I know a place,” he smiles, barely able to take his eyes off her.
*
She is groggy and out of sorts, having had only a couple hours of sleep the night before. Her shoot ended late, and she is now trying to remedy her crippling sleepiness with a huge cup of coffee. Her manager is noisily shuffling around papers as he discusses something heatedly with someone on the phone. Keiko barely registers what the conversation is about; she is still dreaming about the soft, downy caress of her sheets.
Komatsu puts down the phone. “I am just the greatest, Keiko-chan,” he declares.
Keiko rubs her temples. “What is so important that you had to barge in this early? It’s my day-off,” she complains.
He pushes a couple of sheets of papers towards her. “Really, no need to thank me.”
Keiko frowns sullenly at him and grabs the papers. “Nazotoki wa dinner no…ato de?”
Her manager is positively glowing. “I got you a lead role for next season!”
Not wanting to give her manager the benefit of the knowledge that she’s sort of pleased at getting another lead, she stays quiet and mulls over the details of the drama. The plot seems interesting as she reads about it. Her morning seems to be rapidly improving when suddenly, something inside her ices over. She reads the list of who she will be co-starring with several times, just to be sure that she isn’t imagining things.
But she isn’t.
Sakurai Sho.
She feels close to hyperventilating, grabbing her cup and gulping in a huge amount of coffee. “The roles are already set?” She tries not to be obvious about her distress, not wanting to elicit a barrage of questions from her perennially nosy manager.
“Yes. Sakurai-san has just gotten on board, I was just talking to the producer,” he gushes. “Imagine, an Arashi member! They’re also doing the theme song, which probably will be a ratings draw. Lucky!”
Keiko smiles weakly at Komatsu. Truth be told, she doesn’t really feel all that lucky. She is actually feeling dread, something akin to a massive rock inside her stomach, regurgitating over and over, agitating her to no end.
It has been a month since that accidental (was that the word?) non-date with Sho, which had gone on pretty smoothly. Before taking her home, Sho had taken her out to his favorite ramen place, as they were both hungry. Over ramen, they found themselves talking more; Sho was particularly fascinated about her initial dreams of becoming a doctor. It ended up becoming quite a serious talk, with the both of them talking about their careers, the blessings they had been given, and also the what-ifs. Keiko had never felt such an effortless companionship with any other guy before; she was utterly surprised at how easy it was to open up to Sho. There was something reassuring about the way he talked, the way he listened. Before she got out of the car when they reached her place, Sho had asked for her number. It surprised her a little bit, knocked the wind out of her, so to speak. But after the not-so-ordinary yet, well, ordinary night they had spent together, Keiko had felt no qualms about obliging him. If she were to be perfectly honest, she was thinking that maybe there was something to it, something to the two of them together, something worth exploring. Just maybe. Sho had opened the car door for her.
“I had the greatest time tonight, Kitagawa-san.”
Keiko, in all honesty, had felt the exact, same way. Sho offered his hand, helping her step out of his car. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt his eyes on her as she walked up to the entrance of her apartment building. He didn’t leave until she disappeared from sight.
It felt a little like floating on air, buoyed up by invisible forces that she could not resist.
Yet he never called.
After a week without hearing from him, she had gotten rather upset. (An understatement.) Still, she just shook it off, thinking that maybe it really was just a one-time thing, and that it was both for the best. They were both so busy anyway. Also, nothing really happened that night anyway, she thinks. People have great, sort of embarrassingly life-altering, charged conversations all the time, right? People have that kind of chemistry brewing between them all the time, right?
Right?
Being a young, highly in-demand actress has its perks: she has no time to reflect on tiny not-quite-there heartbreaks…or at least, that is how she wants to see things. Keiko abhors being on the losing end. If there is one thing she hates, it’s losing.
Yet here is fate, averting her path towards his again. Frankly, Keiko just wants to play it cool, wants to act like nothing ever happened. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right? She turns to Komatsu. “Send me the script immediately when you get it.”
*
>> Part 2