The Plan (1/2)
Title: The Plan
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Ohno finds this all incredibly strange. He's gone through the plan backwards and forwards in his mind, no small feat indeed. And nowhere does this Aiba Masaki appear in Sho's plan. Based loosely on the movie The Adjustment Bureau (2011) with Matt Damon and Emily Blunt.
Notes/Warnings: What's this? Sakuraiba?? Yes, I wrote this for the most recent Sakuraiba exchange (sa-movie-rabu to give myself a fun challenge :)
An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle but will never break.
--Chinese proverb
--
The flash drive is in his pocket, and every few seconds Sho feels inclined to remind himself that it's there. He's got the speech he wants to give completely memorized, down to the second, but that's not the speech he'll be delivering tonight. The small text file on the flash drive was written about a month ago, just because Jun said he'd be an idiot not to have one.
"But we're going to win, so don't worry about it," Jun had always said.
Jun's optimism has taken a nosedive, Sho's right along with it. And with good reason. The scandal about Moriyama's son, the kid's arrest on marijuana charges, had seemed like a godsend a week ago. But like always, money talks. And money talked quite a bit. Not a peep in the major papers, not a mention on the news. Right up until election day the only people who wanted to talk about it were in the Sakurai Sho campaign. As the votes trickle in, Sho knows that Moriyama's money has won the day and the seat.
As the catered-in meal slowly disappears from the tables, as the news broadcast drones on, as Jun's eyes start to lose the fire in them that have gotten Sho this far, he knows it's over. He pulls the flash drive from his pocket, moving across the room and catching Jun by the elbow.
"Print this for me."
Jun gives him a grim look, slipping the drive from his fingers and disappearing to find an intern with nothing better to do. Sho takes a look around, sees the bundle of victory balloons in the rear of the room by the folded-up bleachers, still under the netting and likely to remain there.
From the beginning, money had been holding them back. "You can't just run on principles," Jun had warned him from day one. Sho hadn't wanted to believe it. He's lost, loitering at the end of the food tables like the hired help and not the candidate they're all here to support. Maki finds him, and from the look in her eyes Sho understands that she has no idea what to say to him.
She doesn't make a move to touch him, instead standing at his side in silence while Sho waits for Jun to return with the printed-out concession speech. She's been dressed all day in one of the well-tailored suits she usually wears to work, her "VOTE SAKURAI 17TH!" button gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school gymnasium they've rented out for the pathetic rally. She looks more like a winner's wife than a loser's girlfriend. She doesn't belong here.
As always, her father's money goes unspoken between them. With Horikita-san's backing, Sho could have put up a fight. Could have hired more staff, nudged more people to get out and vote. And with Horikita-san's backing he'd be tethered forever to her, to a life he's not sure he wants. On paper it all makes perfect sense. In Sho's heart, it's not quite so simple.
Jun returns, the paper still a bit warm from whatever copy room he's used, maybe the teachers' lounge. He checks his watch. It's only 8:30 PM. "Half an hour," Jun says, dark purple circles under his eyes bruising his face the same as Sho's. When's the last time either of them have gotten a decent night's sleep? "In half an hour, we'll have it all ready, okay?"
"Okay," Sho says agreeably. Every election has a winner and a loser. Sho just hadn't wanted to lose.
He holds the paper in his hand and leaves, feeling Maki's eyes burning a hole in his back. He's let her down, he's a disappointment. Her father wants to see a ring on his daughter's hand from a member of the House, not the low-level paper pusher he'll be again tomorrow. Her father will accept nothing less, and Sho knows that the pressure is getting to her as much as him. He wonders who he should really be addressing his concession speech to - the voters or to her.
The gymnasium is too hot, too crowded, and he disappears through the double doors. By day this is Katsushika Okudo Junior High School, a building swarming with noisy kids and apathetic teachers. At night, it's almost like an old, haunted building as he wanders past shoe lockers and empty classrooms.
There's a bathroom at the end of the hall, and he takes his speech inside. Standing in one of the classrooms won't let him practice the polite smile of the failed candidate very well. There's a bank of white porcelain sinks and a mirror running the length of them. The first sink is long dry and he lets the paper drop into it, staring at himself in the glass.
He's still clean-cut, professional in his suit and tie and "VOTE SAKURAI 17TH!" button. But he's so tired. Just so tired. He's lost weight from stress and from running to rally after fruitless rally, and his cheekbones are getting sharp. Nobody cares that much about their elected representative, especially when they don't bother to learn who he is or who he could be.
Sho sighs, resting a hand on either edge of the sink, staring down at the words. They seem to stare back at him, unfamiliar and full of extremely formal language that he'd cobbled together so many weeks back. Who is this person in the speech? Who the hell is this Sakurai Sho?
He licks his lips. Better get practicing. "Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a very hard-fought campaign..."
A toilet in the stall furthest from the door flushes noisily, almost comically just as he gets going. He'd laugh if his world, his future wasn't crumbling before him.
The stall door opens, and a man emerges. About his age and height but with a more slender build. Sho sees a matching Vote Sakurai button on the collar of his button-down shirt, which is tucked into a pair of well-worn slacks. The guy's got frizzy brown hair and a bright smile, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
"Sakurai-san, sorry to interrupt."
Sho doesn't recognize him, merely inclining his head and pondering if he should just take his speech elsewhere. The guy doesn't give him a chance, turning on the sink and pumping out some soap from the dispenser.
"Guess things didn't work out for you," the man says bluntly, stunning Sho into silence as he starts washing his hands. "Well, that's politics I guess. I've never really been into it myself, I don't follow it, you know. Ah, well not til this election."
"And why is that?" Sho manages to say, wanting to lock himself in a stall like a child and not come out.
"Because of you."
The guy turns off the sink, stands there with his dripping wet hands at his side. "It really is because of you. I don't want to be creepy, confronting you in a men's room of course, but my mother's always said you can't ignore chance encounters. That it's fate working itself out. But the fact of the matter is, Sakurai-san, that you came to this school and you talked to the kids. You're fighting for education and that's something that so often gets overlooked. It's all about foreign policy or the birth rate or taxes, and I guess I was just shocked to hear someone with a genuine message. Not talking points, but a message for improving life for the kids. They're the ones we need to prepare for the future, after all. So I just appreciated and loved that you had something different and new to say."
Sho knows that the printed out speech lying in the sink before him is nothing but talking points. Soulless, polite conversation. No passion. Just fizzling out after a doomed campaign.
He turns back to his new companion. "Well, as you said, things didn't work out for me." He gestures at the speech print-out. "In about 20 minutes I'm conceding."
"So what?" the guy continues, suddenly reaching out his damp hand to give Sho a rather hard poke in the shoulder. "So your message, your hope goes away just because you didn't win this one silly election? That's such crap!"
Sho's startled at the guy's abrupt, casual behavior. "Look..."
"Aiba," the man says in a loose introduction. "Aiba Masaki, your number one shadow supporter. I volunteer for your campaign. Now listen here, I have never seen anyone want to win as much as you and that's just from watching you give speeches around the community. So you lost this one. Big deal. You keep fighting, okay? Or it's just going to be more of the same. People buying elections, the government not giving a damn. We need people like you. So always keep fighting."
Sho stares at him, speechless. In two minutes this stranger has seen through Sho completely, right through him to the person Sho wants to be. The passionate elected official, fighting for the common man. The person Sho really can't be in Japan's political climate, the person Sho definitely won't be if he runs again and lets Horikita-san's money do the talking. It's the pep talk Jun's too practical to give him, the encouragement Maki doesn't know how to give.
Moments earlier, Sho had been lost, uncertain. A failure. But he's not, he's absolutely not. So politics and money won this election? So what? If Sho's been able to rile up someone politically apathetic like Aiba-san, if he works harder, maybe all of Katsushika will back him if he runs again. If he keeps fighting for what he believes in.
Aiba-san looks down at his shoes, chuckling. "Wow, I'm sorry, I just...I don't know. You don't know me, what does it matter what I have to say..."
Sho finds himself reaching out, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Thank you, Aiba-san."
"You still have to go admit that you lost," Aiba says, and Sho feels an odd shift in the air. He can feel Aiba's shoulders go stiff under his fingers, the man's pupils widening as he stares at Sho.
"Right. I do."
"We're behind you all the way," Aiba says, his voice sounding a little scratchier, a bit less confident than when he'd come blundering out of the stall. "For next time."
"You may not know me, and I may not know you," Sho admits, "but you've just saved me."
Aiba blinks. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Sho's embarrassed, letting his fingers slip away from Aiba and into his pockets. If someone walked into the bathroom right now, what would they think? Two men, two complete strangers, standing as close as lovers. Sho tries to ignore the strange feelings bubbling in his stomach, and he tries to ignore Aiba-san's gentle, encouraging smile. It doesn't really work.
Aiba doesn't walk away, standing with an odd look in his eyes as though he's waiting for Sho's next move. Sho expects Aiba to disappear into the night. Maybe he's not really a volunteer for the campaign. Maybe he's just an angel or someone sent to earth at just the right moment. Just when Sho's lost his way completely.
"Don't let me keep you," Sho says, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you have a family to get home to. No need to stay for the most boring speech of the century."
Aiba's grin burns through him, opens him up and winds around him like ivy climbing brick. What the hell is happening? "Good luck with everything. I'll vote for you any time, any place. I promise."
"I appreciate it, thank you."
And then he leaves, the room suddenly much chillier and emptier than only seconds earlier. Sho shivers, letting out a nervous breath. He pulls the paper with his concession speech from the sink, tearing it to shreds and shoving the pieces into the garbage can. Aiba Masaki, Sho wonders to himself, who are you? How did you find me when I needed you the most?
The halls are empty when Sho heads back to the gymnasium, holding his head high. Jun eyes him curiously when he brings Sho over to the platform they've set up, but he says nothing, not even commenting on the lack of a speech in Sho's hand. They start playing a gentle song, rousing the crowd's attention as Sho holds out his hand. Maki takes it. Her hand is cold, her fingers limp as she allows him to pull her along onto the stage so she can stand at his side. Her father will hate the photo op - his daughter beside a loser.
He feels her at his side. Where all these months she's been a quiet, but calm and reassuring presence, tonight Sho feels the shift, the sudden lurch. Will she stay with him out of obligation or because she cares about him? What does tomorrow hold?
He feels terrible for an instant, wants to set her free, and then he spots Aiba Masaki in the crowd, gathered in a group of other volunteers. All these months Aiba and others like him have been doing their best to help Sho. To concede in the pathetic way he'd planned would be too insulting. Jun's instructed him to meet everyone's eyes, to let everyone feel connected to him.
"My friends and supporters," Sho says calmly, "by now you've seen the numbers. The path we've walked together, this path for Katsushika...we've come to the end of it. But I assure you, no, I promise you that it's a path I'd like us to walk again."
Sho finds that he can only meet the eyes of Aiba-san, halfway across the gym. He's like a radiating light, so warm and genuine where Sho only feels disappointment, staged smiles at his side. He lets Aiba's encouragement flow into him, and he starts to speak with more passion, more dedication than he's shown throughout the campaign.
He speaks and speaks and speaks, and Aiba's smile grows bigger. It's taken the loss to give Sho the knowledge of what victory truly should be.
In the papers the next day, maybe a paragraph is given over to Moriyama-san's victory. The rest of the article, however, greeting the eyes of all of Tokyo's readers, discusses Sakurai Sho - the future of Japan's leadership.
--
ONE YEAR LATER
--
Ohno has always liked supporting Sho.
He's a good person. He obeys the law, and for the most
part has always done as expected. There's been very
little need to interfere, and Ohno appreciates that.
It makes his job so much easier.
Things had been hectic during his campaign the previous year,
and Ohno had tried to gently nudge things in a way that
would ease Sho's troubles, maybe even get him to the job
he wanted so badly a bit earlier. Sho is destined for greatness,
so why not let him have it now? That had been Ohno's thinking,
at least. Orchestrating the scandal with Moriyama's son, however,
had been out of bounds, and Ohno's been under scrutiny from
management ever since. Nothing so drastic, Ohno had been told.
Not ever again.
Even so, Sakurai Sho's previously unremarkable life has
managed to take a turn for the remarkable, something that
Ohno now can't do too much about. If he wants Sho to be less
popular, less famous again, it'll take a great deal of effort.
Because ever since that concession speech, Sho's been on
the news. He's no elected official, but he's a voice for
the young, for the future. Everyone wants to know
what Sakurai Sho thinks.
Ohno thus trails Sho from his apartment every day,
ensuring that nothing interferes while he's making his way
to a studio or another interview. And it's pretty set that
Sho will be gearing up for a landslide victory in the next
election. Ohno will have to work really hard to ensure all
goes according to plan. He can't afford to let anything
get in Sho's way. All the pieces are coming together,
but Ohno knows that it only takes one derivation from the plan
to mess things up. One moment where Ohno's not paying attention.
So when Sho leaves his apartment one Tuesday morning, Ohno follows.
At 7:36 Sho picks up a newspaper from the stand around the corner.
At 7:43 he's having a breakfast sandwich warmed up in the Lawson microwave.
All this goes without a hitch because Sho knows and Ohno knows
that the Sobu Line Rapid train Sho needs pulls up
to the station at 7:57.
He follows Sho through the turnstile and up onto the platform.
The digital sign has the 7:57 Rapid on schedule,
following right after a 7:55 Local.
But it's the 7:55 Local that's going to ruin everything.
--
Sho hides a little burp behind his fist as he stands back, away from the passengers neatly queued up for the next train. Businessmen, students with their bookbags, everyone tired or holding back a yawn. If they recognize him, Sakurai Sho from the occasional television program, they don't seem to show it.
The chime goes off on the platform. The 7:55 Local will soon be arriving on track one. Sho tucks his paper under his arm, sighing. Jun apparently has an "important announcement" that he didn't want to convey over the phone today, so Sho's already worried. Will Jun send him to another conference to shake hands, rub elbows, make connections? The next election's still a long way off, and he would much rather be here in the city he wants to represent. These people are more important.
The train brakes squeal as it pulls up to the platform, Sho mentally running through every excuse he could make to Jun when he sees a familiar face through the train car glass. It's the car that's pulled up right in front of him, with the passengers already moving aside robotically as the doors open to let people out. In a button-down cardigan and gray slacks and a backpack at his feet, Sho sees Aiba Masaki for the first time in a year.
Without thinking he moves, squeezing his briefcase handle as he forgets the Rapid and boards the Local, hearing the chimes just as the door shuts him in, the last to board the car.
The train lurches on its way to the next stop, and their eyes meet.
Sho remembers Aiba's face, that smile in the crowd from the night of his concession speech. The night where Sho was completely reborn. In the whirlwind days after that, the man who'd been responsible for Sho's political and mental rejuvenation had been mostly forgotten. Maki had left for her opportunity overseas, Jun had nearly worked himself to death getting Sho recognition, and Sho had simply been too busy to find and thank Aiba for all he'd done. Maybe it's not too late.
Sho is stuck between an old man in a suit that smells of stale cigarettes and two junior high girls sharing a pair of mp3 player earbuds between them. But Aiba, holding tight to one of the plastic straps suspended from the ceiling, sees him and smiles.
Without words, they go about four stops and Aiba nods that this one is his. Sho steps out of the car, Aiba behind him pulling on his backpack.
"Sakurai Sho," Aiba says cheerfully as they stand together on the platform. "What are the odds?"
People mill around, waiting idly for their train or heading for the exit. Sho doesn't want to let Aiba Masaki out of his sight. A year's gone by, but it's so easy to fall right back to that night when Aiba told him not to give up, to keep fighting.
"Thank you," Sho blurts out suddenly, losing any of the eloquence he seems to save for TV appearances and the occasional speech in the neighborhood.
"Thank me? For what?" Aiba asks, looking confused.
Sho finds himself blushing like a teenager making his first confession. "I'm sorry, I just...I saw you on the train and all I could do was get right on it. I wanted to talk to you, to thank you since I never did last year."
"Sho-san, there's nothing you need to thank me for." Aiba pulls his cell phone from his pocket, checking the time. "Ah, do you mind if we walk and talk?"
"Oh, of course."
Of course Aiba's not just going to stand awkwardly with him on a train platform at this time of the morning. He follows Aiba out of the unfamiliar station, weaving through the crowds and out onto the street. Jun's going to kill him for being late, but it doesn't matter. He's found him.
Sho, briefcase in hand, walks with Aiba for several blocks. Along the way he learns that Aiba Masaki, former volunteer for the Sakurai Sho campaign, is a chemistry teacher at Katsushika Okudo Junior High School, the same place where they'd met. He learns that Aiba has still been cheering him on all this time, the teacher reddening in embarrassment when Sho discovers the "Vote Sakurai" button attached to his backpack even now. And he learns that Aiba takes the Sobu Line Local every morning to get to school in time for first period.
They halt at the front gate, and for some reason Sho feels rather shy. Aiba pats him on the shoulder. "It's been really great to see you again."
"Not as great as it's been for me," Sho admits, the words sounding strange as they emerge from him. This was why Jun tweaked all his speeches for him. Sho's passionate but channeling his thoughts into saying something coherent doesn't always happen.
But Aiba doesn't seem to find it weird. He just turns on that superstar smile that seems almost too perfect for a mere science teacher. It warms Sho like rays of sunlight. "I'll see you around."
He watches Aiba walk across the school grounds, students coming up to greet him or offer him a rather silly little fist bump. When he's out of sight, Sho finally acknowledges his cell phone, finding five missed calls, all from Jun. He's half an hour late for their meeting.
--
Matsumoto Jun has transformed over the past year from mere campaign runner for an old school friend to a full-time manager, negotiating with TV studios, newspapers, magazines, and many more for any access to Sakurai Sho. Which has made him even crazier, though Sho appreciates all the effort Jun puts into it for his sake. But it means Jun has a short fuse where Sho's time is concerned.
"You don't answer your phone. You don't leave me a message," Jun's already complaining when Sho enters the office (and future campaign headquarters) that Jun's rented out for them in a small office park. Appearance fees pay Sho enough to keep the operation afloat, and he's learned over the past year that Jun seems to thrive on getting no sleep in exchange for seeing Sho's star rise.
"Sorry, sorry."
He can't exactly explain where he's been. He doesn't want to tell Jun why he felt so compelled to board the train, reconnect with a random stranger. Somewhere deep down he knows what it probably means, but with an anxious Jun before him and an election cycle getting into gear sooner or later, he doesn't need to think about it. He can't afford to.
Jun cracks his knuckles, fuming behind his desk. "You have an 11:00 lunch and learn with staffers from MEXT, then a sit-down with the Keio poli sci club."
Sho's been to at least 20 "lunch and learns" with people from the Ministry of Education. Surely he's done enough networking with these people. He finds himself drifting to the thought of skipping out on that lunch, finding his way back to Katsushika Okudo Junior High School to learn what Aiba Masaki eats for the midday meal.
"...and then I'm flying out to Kenya to go on safari." Jun frowns, his voice softening. "Sho-kun, where are you today?"
He blinks, turning back to his friend. "Distracted," he admits, inclining his head. "Sorry."
"Well, anyway," Jun says dismissively, flipping through some papers on his desk. "Why haven't you been returning Maki-chan's calls?"
"Huh?"
Jun looks up at him suspiciously. "She's coming back next week. She says she's been trying to get a hold of you for a month. Is there something I should know?"
Within days of Sho's election loss, Maki had told him about an open position at a branch of her law firm in California that she intended to take. In Sho's mind, it had been a clean break - Maki would clearly be happier focusing on her career, putting some miles between herself and her father's overbearing demands. They hadn't really spoken about what it had meant, but to Sho...
Jun shuts his eyes. "You did not..."
"Didn't what?"
"Break up with her. You didn't, did you? You just did the long-distance thing, right? Look, I don't usually pry into your personal shit, but you know she's good for you."
Sho sits down heavily in the chair in front of Jun's desk. He imagines Maki's calm, gentle demeanor. Her sweet face. Her intelligence. "She's good for my image. My polling numbers." He swallows, looking away from his friend's gaze. "But maybe not for me."
"If we don't have her father's support, we don't have a leg to stand on. You could interview at 20 magazines a week telling them the same working class boy trying to make a difference story, and it still won't matter. Name recognition matters, but so does cash for TV spots, for newspaper endorsements, for..."
"I'll call her," Sho says, gritting his teeth. "Happy now? I'll call her."
They sit in silence, Jun lost in ambition and Sho lost again in the thought of the Sobu Line train pulling up to the platform.
--
Ohno doesn't want to intervene.
He's been following Sho his whole life, and even if
his job means seeing Sho is successful, Ohno has come to
realize that he'd rather see Sho happy. So when Sho's morning
routine shifts and he leaves a few minutes earlier to ride
the Sobu Line Local instead of the Sobu Line Rapid, Ohno is torn.
He can see it even if Sho can't, even if Sho refuses to.
They're like magnets, Sho and this Aiba Masaki.
As the days become weeks, Sho and Aiba become inseparable.
Riding the train together, stealing moments to grab dinner
and chat, get to know each other better. Ohno finds this all
incredibly strange. He's gone through the plan backwards and
forwards in his mind, no small feat indeed. And nowhere does
this Aiba Masaki appear in Sho's plan. On the night Sho
lost the election, Aiba Masaki hadn't even been mentioned then.
At the time Ohno had been sipping punch in the gymnasium,
not realizing that Sho's life was changing forever a few rooms away.
He's supposed to report this, such a big change in the plan.
Because Horikita Maki is back, and Sho's supposed to win the
next election with her father's financial backing. And then
they're supposed to get married. "Tokyo's power couple," Nino always says
with a roll of his eyes. "How the hell did someone like you
get assigned to someone like that?"
Sho's falling and falling fast. Ohno's job is to catch him.
But how can he? How can he when Sho's so happy?
--
Aiba's in the parking lot, honking the horn of a tiny Toyota hatchback when Sho emerges from the Yomiuri Shimbun building. He brings his finger to his lips, desperate to ssh the man.
Instead Aiba brings up his arm, jamming his elbow down on the horn. "Sho-chan! Yo!" he screams out the window, and people are definitely looking now.
Sho holds back a laugh, loosening his tie and hurrying over to let himself in the passenger side. "Hold on, I have to check in," he says, pulling his phone from his pocket as Aiba puts the car in drive and pulls out of the lot.
"Mom will get worried, huh?"
Sho punches in Jun's number, chuckling. Mom indeed. He calmly tells him that the interview at the newspaper is complete and that he'll be visiting his parents for the rest of the day.
This is a lie.
Sho's been hiding this from Jun for about two months now, and he's not sure why. Does it really matter who he hangs out with? He's 31, not 12. In every spare moment, Sho seems to find himself in Aiba's company. Like nobody else in his life, Aiba seems to be on the same wavelength. They couldn't be more different on paper. A wannabe politician and a junior high teacher. One in a suit, another who spends his days in a lab coat praying that his students don't blow up the place.
But they share plenty else. They love movies, traveling, long drives, sports (even if Sho's not very good and Aiba's quick to point it out). With Sho's busy schedule, with the expectations around a future politician, he hasn't made much time to just have fun. But now Aiba's appeared in his life and is doing his very best to change that.
Aiba has declared today a field trip. They're going to Chiba, Aiba's home prefecture, to relax and have a good time. Sho leans back in the seat, sliding out of his suit jacket. In a month's time Sho will officially declare himself a candidate for the election. Jun will be working harder than ever, and Sho will too. He's had dinner with Maki twice, and each time he should have asked to clarify their relationship, he's simply let her talk about her experiences with America, shutting down and dodging any questions she sent back at him. But someday soon he'll have to decide what to do about her.
For today, at least, Sho can ignore all that.
They stop for a fresh seafood lunch and make it to a beach after that. Aiba's quick to shove a t-shirt and trunks Sho's way, letting him finally ditch the suit. The beach is crowded with families, with groups of young people, and Sho wonders if they look strange, the two of them swimming, bobbing up and down on the waves.
Unlike anyone else Sho's ever met, Aiba Masaki is naturally good with people. He talks their way onto a boat with a couple other guys, and the pair of them end up jet skiing. Poorly. Sho falls several times, but when Aiba's there, laughing and holding out his hand, Sho doesn't feel like that much of a failure.
But when the guys head in for the day, they say goodbye and Aiba becomes quiet. He merely gestures for Sho to get back into the car, and as sunset approaches, Aiba doesn't say a word as they drive to a scenic overlook. Sho thinks he's seen this place mentioned in a guidebook before. Chiba's most scenic overlook, something overblown like that.
Aiba shuts the car off, jingling the keys in his hand. "I, um, this is going to sound weird. But if you want to, you know, watch the sunset with me..."
Sho chuckles. "That sounds fine."
Aiba, who never seems to be at a loss for words or even an encouraging smile, is silent, adjusting his baseball cap and keeping his hands shoved in his pockets as he brings Sho over to one of the overlook benches. It seems that nobody else has had this idea today, and they find themselves alone.
The sun's just on its way down, dipping down over the waters of the bay, painting the water and sky with hazy pinks and burnt oranges. Aiba pulls his hand from his pocket, unraveling the earbuds from an mp3 player. "Sho-san, I...did you want to listen to something? Some sunset music?"
All of a sudden Sho is "Sho-san" again, and he hasn't been for weeks. Their fingers brush when Aiba hands him one of the earbuds, Aiba yanking his hand back nervously as he scrolls through his playlist. The world goes utterly quiet as Sho waits. He can't hear the waves lapping the shore, nor the birds screeching overhead. All he knows is Aiba's breathing beside him, the way he's biting his lip as he tries to find the song he wants to play.
When it starts, Sho breathes in sharply. It's the song that played that night, the song Jun had picked to play as Sho got to the stage to concede defeat. The song that faded out as he found Aiba's face in the gymnasium crowd, giving him the courage to say he'd keep fighting. Why has Aiba chosen this song?
They listen to it quietly, not looking at one another. The day is ending, but over the past few months of Sho's life, something has been beginning. This friendship with Aiba, it's something he can't define. He's made and lost, made and kept friends his whole life. But it's never been like this. Never this simple, never this right. Maybe Aiba's not a friend at all.
When realization dawns, when he finally stops denying what's so obvious, the song stops. And when he turns, pulling the earbud out, Aiba's already leaning in.
An hour later, they're in a dingy hotel, and the pillowcase beneath him has a hole from a cigarette burn. Aiba beside him still smells like the salt of the bay.
"How long?" Sho asks. "How long have you known?"
"The day you came to our school," Aiba admits. "But I guess it was confirmed when you found me. That day on the train. And you?"
Sho wants to say he didn't know at all. That this has all come as such a surprise. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll never let it happen again. Instead, he tells the truth, lips burning a trail along Aiba's collarbone.
"I've known since you flushed that stupid toilet and came out blabbering at me."
Aiba's laughter echoes off the walls.
Part Two
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Ohno finds this all incredibly strange. He's gone through the plan backwards and forwards in his mind, no small feat indeed. And nowhere does this Aiba Masaki appear in Sho's plan. Based loosely on the movie The Adjustment Bureau (2011) with Matt Damon and Emily Blunt.
Notes/Warnings: What's this? Sakuraiba?? Yes, I wrote this for the most recent Sakuraiba exchange (sa-movie-rabu to give myself a fun challenge :)
An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle but will never break.
--Chinese proverb
--
The flash drive is in his pocket, and every few seconds Sho feels inclined to remind himself that it's there. He's got the speech he wants to give completely memorized, down to the second, but that's not the speech he'll be delivering tonight. The small text file on the flash drive was written about a month ago, just because Jun said he'd be an idiot not to have one.
"But we're going to win, so don't worry about it," Jun had always said.
Jun's optimism has taken a nosedive, Sho's right along with it. And with good reason. The scandal about Moriyama's son, the kid's arrest on marijuana charges, had seemed like a godsend a week ago. But like always, money talks. And money talked quite a bit. Not a peep in the major papers, not a mention on the news. Right up until election day the only people who wanted to talk about it were in the Sakurai Sho campaign. As the votes trickle in, Sho knows that Moriyama's money has won the day and the seat.
As the catered-in meal slowly disappears from the tables, as the news broadcast drones on, as Jun's eyes start to lose the fire in them that have gotten Sho this far, he knows it's over. He pulls the flash drive from his pocket, moving across the room and catching Jun by the elbow.
"Print this for me."
Jun gives him a grim look, slipping the drive from his fingers and disappearing to find an intern with nothing better to do. Sho takes a look around, sees the bundle of victory balloons in the rear of the room by the folded-up bleachers, still under the netting and likely to remain there.
From the beginning, money had been holding them back. "You can't just run on principles," Jun had warned him from day one. Sho hadn't wanted to believe it. He's lost, loitering at the end of the food tables like the hired help and not the candidate they're all here to support. Maki finds him, and from the look in her eyes Sho understands that she has no idea what to say to him.
She doesn't make a move to touch him, instead standing at his side in silence while Sho waits for Jun to return with the printed-out concession speech. She's been dressed all day in one of the well-tailored suits she usually wears to work, her "VOTE SAKURAI 17TH!" button gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school gymnasium they've rented out for the pathetic rally. She looks more like a winner's wife than a loser's girlfriend. She doesn't belong here.
As always, her father's money goes unspoken between them. With Horikita-san's backing, Sho could have put up a fight. Could have hired more staff, nudged more people to get out and vote. And with Horikita-san's backing he'd be tethered forever to her, to a life he's not sure he wants. On paper it all makes perfect sense. In Sho's heart, it's not quite so simple.
Jun returns, the paper still a bit warm from whatever copy room he's used, maybe the teachers' lounge. He checks his watch. It's only 8:30 PM. "Half an hour," Jun says, dark purple circles under his eyes bruising his face the same as Sho's. When's the last time either of them have gotten a decent night's sleep? "In half an hour, we'll have it all ready, okay?"
"Okay," Sho says agreeably. Every election has a winner and a loser. Sho just hadn't wanted to lose.
He holds the paper in his hand and leaves, feeling Maki's eyes burning a hole in his back. He's let her down, he's a disappointment. Her father wants to see a ring on his daughter's hand from a member of the House, not the low-level paper pusher he'll be again tomorrow. Her father will accept nothing less, and Sho knows that the pressure is getting to her as much as him. He wonders who he should really be addressing his concession speech to - the voters or to her.
The gymnasium is too hot, too crowded, and he disappears through the double doors. By day this is Katsushika Okudo Junior High School, a building swarming with noisy kids and apathetic teachers. At night, it's almost like an old, haunted building as he wanders past shoe lockers and empty classrooms.
There's a bathroom at the end of the hall, and he takes his speech inside. Standing in one of the classrooms won't let him practice the polite smile of the failed candidate very well. There's a bank of white porcelain sinks and a mirror running the length of them. The first sink is long dry and he lets the paper drop into it, staring at himself in the glass.
He's still clean-cut, professional in his suit and tie and "VOTE SAKURAI 17TH!" button. But he's so tired. Just so tired. He's lost weight from stress and from running to rally after fruitless rally, and his cheekbones are getting sharp. Nobody cares that much about their elected representative, especially when they don't bother to learn who he is or who he could be.
Sho sighs, resting a hand on either edge of the sink, staring down at the words. They seem to stare back at him, unfamiliar and full of extremely formal language that he'd cobbled together so many weeks back. Who is this person in the speech? Who the hell is this Sakurai Sho?
He licks his lips. Better get practicing. "Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a very hard-fought campaign..."
A toilet in the stall furthest from the door flushes noisily, almost comically just as he gets going. He'd laugh if his world, his future wasn't crumbling before him.
The stall door opens, and a man emerges. About his age and height but with a more slender build. Sho sees a matching Vote Sakurai button on the collar of his button-down shirt, which is tucked into a pair of well-worn slacks. The guy's got frizzy brown hair and a bright smile, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
"Sakurai-san, sorry to interrupt."
Sho doesn't recognize him, merely inclining his head and pondering if he should just take his speech elsewhere. The guy doesn't give him a chance, turning on the sink and pumping out some soap from the dispenser.
"Guess things didn't work out for you," the man says bluntly, stunning Sho into silence as he starts washing his hands. "Well, that's politics I guess. I've never really been into it myself, I don't follow it, you know. Ah, well not til this election."
"And why is that?" Sho manages to say, wanting to lock himself in a stall like a child and not come out.
"Because of you."
The guy turns off the sink, stands there with his dripping wet hands at his side. "It really is because of you. I don't want to be creepy, confronting you in a men's room of course, but my mother's always said you can't ignore chance encounters. That it's fate working itself out. But the fact of the matter is, Sakurai-san, that you came to this school and you talked to the kids. You're fighting for education and that's something that so often gets overlooked. It's all about foreign policy or the birth rate or taxes, and I guess I was just shocked to hear someone with a genuine message. Not talking points, but a message for improving life for the kids. They're the ones we need to prepare for the future, after all. So I just appreciated and loved that you had something different and new to say."
Sho knows that the printed out speech lying in the sink before him is nothing but talking points. Soulless, polite conversation. No passion. Just fizzling out after a doomed campaign.
He turns back to his new companion. "Well, as you said, things didn't work out for me." He gestures at the speech print-out. "In about 20 minutes I'm conceding."
"So what?" the guy continues, suddenly reaching out his damp hand to give Sho a rather hard poke in the shoulder. "So your message, your hope goes away just because you didn't win this one silly election? That's such crap!"
Sho's startled at the guy's abrupt, casual behavior. "Look..."
"Aiba," the man says in a loose introduction. "Aiba Masaki, your number one shadow supporter. I volunteer for your campaign. Now listen here, I have never seen anyone want to win as much as you and that's just from watching you give speeches around the community. So you lost this one. Big deal. You keep fighting, okay? Or it's just going to be more of the same. People buying elections, the government not giving a damn. We need people like you. So always keep fighting."
Sho stares at him, speechless. In two minutes this stranger has seen through Sho completely, right through him to the person Sho wants to be. The passionate elected official, fighting for the common man. The person Sho really can't be in Japan's political climate, the person Sho definitely won't be if he runs again and lets Horikita-san's money do the talking. It's the pep talk Jun's too practical to give him, the encouragement Maki doesn't know how to give.
Moments earlier, Sho had been lost, uncertain. A failure. But he's not, he's absolutely not. So politics and money won this election? So what? If Sho's been able to rile up someone politically apathetic like Aiba-san, if he works harder, maybe all of Katsushika will back him if he runs again. If he keeps fighting for what he believes in.
Aiba-san looks down at his shoes, chuckling. "Wow, I'm sorry, I just...I don't know. You don't know me, what does it matter what I have to say..."
Sho finds himself reaching out, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Thank you, Aiba-san."
"You still have to go admit that you lost," Aiba says, and Sho feels an odd shift in the air. He can feel Aiba's shoulders go stiff under his fingers, the man's pupils widening as he stares at Sho.
"Right. I do."
"We're behind you all the way," Aiba says, his voice sounding a little scratchier, a bit less confident than when he'd come blundering out of the stall. "For next time."
"You may not know me, and I may not know you," Sho admits, "but you've just saved me."
Aiba blinks. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Sho's embarrassed, letting his fingers slip away from Aiba and into his pockets. If someone walked into the bathroom right now, what would they think? Two men, two complete strangers, standing as close as lovers. Sho tries to ignore the strange feelings bubbling in his stomach, and he tries to ignore Aiba-san's gentle, encouraging smile. It doesn't really work.
Aiba doesn't walk away, standing with an odd look in his eyes as though he's waiting for Sho's next move. Sho expects Aiba to disappear into the night. Maybe he's not really a volunteer for the campaign. Maybe he's just an angel or someone sent to earth at just the right moment. Just when Sho's lost his way completely.
"Don't let me keep you," Sho says, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you have a family to get home to. No need to stay for the most boring speech of the century."
Aiba's grin burns through him, opens him up and winds around him like ivy climbing brick. What the hell is happening? "Good luck with everything. I'll vote for you any time, any place. I promise."
"I appreciate it, thank you."
And then he leaves, the room suddenly much chillier and emptier than only seconds earlier. Sho shivers, letting out a nervous breath. He pulls the paper with his concession speech from the sink, tearing it to shreds and shoving the pieces into the garbage can. Aiba Masaki, Sho wonders to himself, who are you? How did you find me when I needed you the most?
The halls are empty when Sho heads back to the gymnasium, holding his head high. Jun eyes him curiously when he brings Sho over to the platform they've set up, but he says nothing, not even commenting on the lack of a speech in Sho's hand. They start playing a gentle song, rousing the crowd's attention as Sho holds out his hand. Maki takes it. Her hand is cold, her fingers limp as she allows him to pull her along onto the stage so she can stand at his side. Her father will hate the photo op - his daughter beside a loser.
He feels her at his side. Where all these months she's been a quiet, but calm and reassuring presence, tonight Sho feels the shift, the sudden lurch. Will she stay with him out of obligation or because she cares about him? What does tomorrow hold?
He feels terrible for an instant, wants to set her free, and then he spots Aiba Masaki in the crowd, gathered in a group of other volunteers. All these months Aiba and others like him have been doing their best to help Sho. To concede in the pathetic way he'd planned would be too insulting. Jun's instructed him to meet everyone's eyes, to let everyone feel connected to him.
"My friends and supporters," Sho says calmly, "by now you've seen the numbers. The path we've walked together, this path for Katsushika...we've come to the end of it. But I assure you, no, I promise you that it's a path I'd like us to walk again."
Sho finds that he can only meet the eyes of Aiba-san, halfway across the gym. He's like a radiating light, so warm and genuine where Sho only feels disappointment, staged smiles at his side. He lets Aiba's encouragement flow into him, and he starts to speak with more passion, more dedication than he's shown throughout the campaign.
He speaks and speaks and speaks, and Aiba's smile grows bigger. It's taken the loss to give Sho the knowledge of what victory truly should be.
In the papers the next day, maybe a paragraph is given over to Moriyama-san's victory. The rest of the article, however, greeting the eyes of all of Tokyo's readers, discusses Sakurai Sho - the future of Japan's leadership.
--
ONE YEAR LATER
--
Ohno has always liked supporting Sho.
He's a good person. He obeys the law, and for the most
part has always done as expected. There's been very
little need to interfere, and Ohno appreciates that.
It makes his job so much easier.
Things had been hectic during his campaign the previous year,
and Ohno had tried to gently nudge things in a way that
would ease Sho's troubles, maybe even get him to the job
he wanted so badly a bit earlier. Sho is destined for greatness,
so why not let him have it now? That had been Ohno's thinking,
at least. Orchestrating the scandal with Moriyama's son, however,
had been out of bounds, and Ohno's been under scrutiny from
management ever since. Nothing so drastic, Ohno had been told.
Not ever again.
Even so, Sakurai Sho's previously unremarkable life has
managed to take a turn for the remarkable, something that
Ohno now can't do too much about. If he wants Sho to be less
popular, less famous again, it'll take a great deal of effort.
Because ever since that concession speech, Sho's been on
the news. He's no elected official, but he's a voice for
the young, for the future. Everyone wants to know
what Sakurai Sho thinks.
Ohno thus trails Sho from his apartment every day,
ensuring that nothing interferes while he's making his way
to a studio or another interview. And it's pretty set that
Sho will be gearing up for a landslide victory in the next
election. Ohno will have to work really hard to ensure all
goes according to plan. He can't afford to let anything
get in Sho's way. All the pieces are coming together,
but Ohno knows that it only takes one derivation from the plan
to mess things up. One moment where Ohno's not paying attention.
So when Sho leaves his apartment one Tuesday morning, Ohno follows.
At 7:36 Sho picks up a newspaper from the stand around the corner.
At 7:43 he's having a breakfast sandwich warmed up in the Lawson microwave.
All this goes without a hitch because Sho knows and Ohno knows
that the Sobu Line Rapid train Sho needs pulls up
to the station at 7:57.
He follows Sho through the turnstile and up onto the platform.
The digital sign has the 7:57 Rapid on schedule,
following right after a 7:55 Local.
But it's the 7:55 Local that's going to ruin everything.
--
Sho hides a little burp behind his fist as he stands back, away from the passengers neatly queued up for the next train. Businessmen, students with their bookbags, everyone tired or holding back a yawn. If they recognize him, Sakurai Sho from the occasional television program, they don't seem to show it.
The chime goes off on the platform. The 7:55 Local will soon be arriving on track one. Sho tucks his paper under his arm, sighing. Jun apparently has an "important announcement" that he didn't want to convey over the phone today, so Sho's already worried. Will Jun send him to another conference to shake hands, rub elbows, make connections? The next election's still a long way off, and he would much rather be here in the city he wants to represent. These people are more important.
The train brakes squeal as it pulls up to the platform, Sho mentally running through every excuse he could make to Jun when he sees a familiar face through the train car glass. It's the car that's pulled up right in front of him, with the passengers already moving aside robotically as the doors open to let people out. In a button-down cardigan and gray slacks and a backpack at his feet, Sho sees Aiba Masaki for the first time in a year.
Without thinking he moves, squeezing his briefcase handle as he forgets the Rapid and boards the Local, hearing the chimes just as the door shuts him in, the last to board the car.
The train lurches on its way to the next stop, and their eyes meet.
Sho remembers Aiba's face, that smile in the crowd from the night of his concession speech. The night where Sho was completely reborn. In the whirlwind days after that, the man who'd been responsible for Sho's political and mental rejuvenation had been mostly forgotten. Maki had left for her opportunity overseas, Jun had nearly worked himself to death getting Sho recognition, and Sho had simply been too busy to find and thank Aiba for all he'd done. Maybe it's not too late.
Sho is stuck between an old man in a suit that smells of stale cigarettes and two junior high girls sharing a pair of mp3 player earbuds between them. But Aiba, holding tight to one of the plastic straps suspended from the ceiling, sees him and smiles.
Without words, they go about four stops and Aiba nods that this one is his. Sho steps out of the car, Aiba behind him pulling on his backpack.
"Sakurai Sho," Aiba says cheerfully as they stand together on the platform. "What are the odds?"
People mill around, waiting idly for their train or heading for the exit. Sho doesn't want to let Aiba Masaki out of his sight. A year's gone by, but it's so easy to fall right back to that night when Aiba told him not to give up, to keep fighting.
"Thank you," Sho blurts out suddenly, losing any of the eloquence he seems to save for TV appearances and the occasional speech in the neighborhood.
"Thank me? For what?" Aiba asks, looking confused.
Sho finds himself blushing like a teenager making his first confession. "I'm sorry, I just...I saw you on the train and all I could do was get right on it. I wanted to talk to you, to thank you since I never did last year."
"Sho-san, there's nothing you need to thank me for." Aiba pulls his cell phone from his pocket, checking the time. "Ah, do you mind if we walk and talk?"
"Oh, of course."
Of course Aiba's not just going to stand awkwardly with him on a train platform at this time of the morning. He follows Aiba out of the unfamiliar station, weaving through the crowds and out onto the street. Jun's going to kill him for being late, but it doesn't matter. He's found him.
Sho, briefcase in hand, walks with Aiba for several blocks. Along the way he learns that Aiba Masaki, former volunteer for the Sakurai Sho campaign, is a chemistry teacher at Katsushika Okudo Junior High School, the same place where they'd met. He learns that Aiba has still been cheering him on all this time, the teacher reddening in embarrassment when Sho discovers the "Vote Sakurai" button attached to his backpack even now. And he learns that Aiba takes the Sobu Line Local every morning to get to school in time for first period.
They halt at the front gate, and for some reason Sho feels rather shy. Aiba pats him on the shoulder. "It's been really great to see you again."
"Not as great as it's been for me," Sho admits, the words sounding strange as they emerge from him. This was why Jun tweaked all his speeches for him. Sho's passionate but channeling his thoughts into saying something coherent doesn't always happen.
But Aiba doesn't seem to find it weird. He just turns on that superstar smile that seems almost too perfect for a mere science teacher. It warms Sho like rays of sunlight. "I'll see you around."
He watches Aiba walk across the school grounds, students coming up to greet him or offer him a rather silly little fist bump. When he's out of sight, Sho finally acknowledges his cell phone, finding five missed calls, all from Jun. He's half an hour late for their meeting.
--
Matsumoto Jun has transformed over the past year from mere campaign runner for an old school friend to a full-time manager, negotiating with TV studios, newspapers, magazines, and many more for any access to Sakurai Sho. Which has made him even crazier, though Sho appreciates all the effort Jun puts into it for his sake. But it means Jun has a short fuse where Sho's time is concerned.
"You don't answer your phone. You don't leave me a message," Jun's already complaining when Sho enters the office (and future campaign headquarters) that Jun's rented out for them in a small office park. Appearance fees pay Sho enough to keep the operation afloat, and he's learned over the past year that Jun seems to thrive on getting no sleep in exchange for seeing Sho's star rise.
"Sorry, sorry."
He can't exactly explain where he's been. He doesn't want to tell Jun why he felt so compelled to board the train, reconnect with a random stranger. Somewhere deep down he knows what it probably means, but with an anxious Jun before him and an election cycle getting into gear sooner or later, he doesn't need to think about it. He can't afford to.
Jun cracks his knuckles, fuming behind his desk. "You have an 11:00 lunch and learn with staffers from MEXT, then a sit-down with the Keio poli sci club."
Sho's been to at least 20 "lunch and learns" with people from the Ministry of Education. Surely he's done enough networking with these people. He finds himself drifting to the thought of skipping out on that lunch, finding his way back to Katsushika Okudo Junior High School to learn what Aiba Masaki eats for the midday meal.
"...and then I'm flying out to Kenya to go on safari." Jun frowns, his voice softening. "Sho-kun, where are you today?"
He blinks, turning back to his friend. "Distracted," he admits, inclining his head. "Sorry."
"Well, anyway," Jun says dismissively, flipping through some papers on his desk. "Why haven't you been returning Maki-chan's calls?"
"Huh?"
Jun looks up at him suspiciously. "She's coming back next week. She says she's been trying to get a hold of you for a month. Is there something I should know?"
Within days of Sho's election loss, Maki had told him about an open position at a branch of her law firm in California that she intended to take. In Sho's mind, it had been a clean break - Maki would clearly be happier focusing on her career, putting some miles between herself and her father's overbearing demands. They hadn't really spoken about what it had meant, but to Sho...
Jun shuts his eyes. "You did not..."
"Didn't what?"
"Break up with her. You didn't, did you? You just did the long-distance thing, right? Look, I don't usually pry into your personal shit, but you know she's good for you."
Sho sits down heavily in the chair in front of Jun's desk. He imagines Maki's calm, gentle demeanor. Her sweet face. Her intelligence. "She's good for my image. My polling numbers." He swallows, looking away from his friend's gaze. "But maybe not for me."
"If we don't have her father's support, we don't have a leg to stand on. You could interview at 20 magazines a week telling them the same working class boy trying to make a difference story, and it still won't matter. Name recognition matters, but so does cash for TV spots, for newspaper endorsements, for..."
"I'll call her," Sho says, gritting his teeth. "Happy now? I'll call her."
They sit in silence, Jun lost in ambition and Sho lost again in the thought of the Sobu Line train pulling up to the platform.
--
Ohno doesn't want to intervene.
He's been following Sho his whole life, and even if
his job means seeing Sho is successful, Ohno has come to
realize that he'd rather see Sho happy. So when Sho's morning
routine shifts and he leaves a few minutes earlier to ride
the Sobu Line Local instead of the Sobu Line Rapid, Ohno is torn.
He can see it even if Sho can't, even if Sho refuses to.
They're like magnets, Sho and this Aiba Masaki.
As the days become weeks, Sho and Aiba become inseparable.
Riding the train together, stealing moments to grab dinner
and chat, get to know each other better. Ohno finds this all
incredibly strange. He's gone through the plan backwards and
forwards in his mind, no small feat indeed. And nowhere does
this Aiba Masaki appear in Sho's plan. On the night Sho
lost the election, Aiba Masaki hadn't even been mentioned then.
At the time Ohno had been sipping punch in the gymnasium,
not realizing that Sho's life was changing forever a few rooms away.
He's supposed to report this, such a big change in the plan.
Because Horikita Maki is back, and Sho's supposed to win the
next election with her father's financial backing. And then
they're supposed to get married. "Tokyo's power couple," Nino always says
with a roll of his eyes. "How the hell did someone like you
get assigned to someone like that?"
Sho's falling and falling fast. Ohno's job is to catch him.
But how can he? How can he when Sho's so happy?
--
Aiba's in the parking lot, honking the horn of a tiny Toyota hatchback when Sho emerges from the Yomiuri Shimbun building. He brings his finger to his lips, desperate to ssh the man.
Instead Aiba brings up his arm, jamming his elbow down on the horn. "Sho-chan! Yo!" he screams out the window, and people are definitely looking now.
Sho holds back a laugh, loosening his tie and hurrying over to let himself in the passenger side. "Hold on, I have to check in," he says, pulling his phone from his pocket as Aiba puts the car in drive and pulls out of the lot.
"Mom will get worried, huh?"
Sho punches in Jun's number, chuckling. Mom indeed. He calmly tells him that the interview at the newspaper is complete and that he'll be visiting his parents for the rest of the day.
This is a lie.
Sho's been hiding this from Jun for about two months now, and he's not sure why. Does it really matter who he hangs out with? He's 31, not 12. In every spare moment, Sho seems to find himself in Aiba's company. Like nobody else in his life, Aiba seems to be on the same wavelength. They couldn't be more different on paper. A wannabe politician and a junior high teacher. One in a suit, another who spends his days in a lab coat praying that his students don't blow up the place.
But they share plenty else. They love movies, traveling, long drives, sports (even if Sho's not very good and Aiba's quick to point it out). With Sho's busy schedule, with the expectations around a future politician, he hasn't made much time to just have fun. But now Aiba's appeared in his life and is doing his very best to change that.
Aiba has declared today a field trip. They're going to Chiba, Aiba's home prefecture, to relax and have a good time. Sho leans back in the seat, sliding out of his suit jacket. In a month's time Sho will officially declare himself a candidate for the election. Jun will be working harder than ever, and Sho will too. He's had dinner with Maki twice, and each time he should have asked to clarify their relationship, he's simply let her talk about her experiences with America, shutting down and dodging any questions she sent back at him. But someday soon he'll have to decide what to do about her.
For today, at least, Sho can ignore all that.
They stop for a fresh seafood lunch and make it to a beach after that. Aiba's quick to shove a t-shirt and trunks Sho's way, letting him finally ditch the suit. The beach is crowded with families, with groups of young people, and Sho wonders if they look strange, the two of them swimming, bobbing up and down on the waves.
Unlike anyone else Sho's ever met, Aiba Masaki is naturally good with people. He talks their way onto a boat with a couple other guys, and the pair of them end up jet skiing. Poorly. Sho falls several times, but when Aiba's there, laughing and holding out his hand, Sho doesn't feel like that much of a failure.
But when the guys head in for the day, they say goodbye and Aiba becomes quiet. He merely gestures for Sho to get back into the car, and as sunset approaches, Aiba doesn't say a word as they drive to a scenic overlook. Sho thinks he's seen this place mentioned in a guidebook before. Chiba's most scenic overlook, something overblown like that.
Aiba shuts the car off, jingling the keys in his hand. "I, um, this is going to sound weird. But if you want to, you know, watch the sunset with me..."
Sho chuckles. "That sounds fine."
Aiba, who never seems to be at a loss for words or even an encouraging smile, is silent, adjusting his baseball cap and keeping his hands shoved in his pockets as he brings Sho over to one of the overlook benches. It seems that nobody else has had this idea today, and they find themselves alone.
The sun's just on its way down, dipping down over the waters of the bay, painting the water and sky with hazy pinks and burnt oranges. Aiba pulls his hand from his pocket, unraveling the earbuds from an mp3 player. "Sho-san, I...did you want to listen to something? Some sunset music?"
All of a sudden Sho is "Sho-san" again, and he hasn't been for weeks. Their fingers brush when Aiba hands him one of the earbuds, Aiba yanking his hand back nervously as he scrolls through his playlist. The world goes utterly quiet as Sho waits. He can't hear the waves lapping the shore, nor the birds screeching overhead. All he knows is Aiba's breathing beside him, the way he's biting his lip as he tries to find the song he wants to play.
When it starts, Sho breathes in sharply. It's the song that played that night, the song Jun had picked to play as Sho got to the stage to concede defeat. The song that faded out as he found Aiba's face in the gymnasium crowd, giving him the courage to say he'd keep fighting. Why has Aiba chosen this song?
They listen to it quietly, not looking at one another. The day is ending, but over the past few months of Sho's life, something has been beginning. This friendship with Aiba, it's something he can't define. He's made and lost, made and kept friends his whole life. But it's never been like this. Never this simple, never this right. Maybe Aiba's not a friend at all.
When realization dawns, when he finally stops denying what's so obvious, the song stops. And when he turns, pulling the earbud out, Aiba's already leaning in.
An hour later, they're in a dingy hotel, and the pillowcase beneath him has a hole from a cigarette burn. Aiba beside him still smells like the salt of the bay.
"How long?" Sho asks. "How long have you known?"
"The day you came to our school," Aiba admits. "But I guess it was confirmed when you found me. That day on the train. And you?"
Sho wants to say he didn't know at all. That this has all come as such a surprise. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll never let it happen again. Instead, he tells the truth, lips burning a trail along Aiba's collarbone.
"I've known since you flushed that stupid toilet and came out blabbering at me."
Aiba's laughter echoes off the walls.
Part Two