Café N83 (2/2)
Title: Café N83
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nino/Sho, Nino/Arashi
Word count: 13,266
Warnings: Mention of Nino's back condition, broken-up Arashi (I know I'm so sorry)
Summary: Nino is working towards building a small café behind his house. His first four customers are the most important ones.
Part 1
It’s a thick scar, just right below Sho’s left eye. The skin on top of it is translucent, perhaps a fleshy peach in a certain light. It traverses Sho’s cheek diagonally, smooth and long as a finger.
Nino’s eyes couldn’t go upwards, so it tracks down to his throat. Sho has always had a neck that seemed both sturdy and pretty, something Nino couldn’t look away from. He loses himself in thoughts of those veins straining under the gale of Sho’s uncomplicated amusement. It’s not a huge jump from there, to thoughts of never being able to hear it again. Of not having heard it for so long.
In a way, Nino brought it upon himself.
“You can touch it,” Sho says. Nino feels like he's been punched at hearing Sho’s voice.
*
Before Nino gets to lock his doors, Sho swiftly steals inside his car’s passenger seat, breath heavy with exertion.
“Get out,” Nino says. His mind is racing, thinking of ways to escape Sho’s presence without resorting to shoving him out of his car. “What are you doing?”
“Just drive,” and Nino bristles at the command in Sho’s tone. Nino knows there is no arguing with him now. He turns the ignition and drives out of the parking lot, prepared to stay silent.
“Stop pretending in front of me,” Sho says. “Please.”
Nino turns on the radio. The station is playing an overly cheerful girl group song. It is discordant with the tense, tight air brewing inside the car. Sho fidgets, turns toward him.
“Nino, don’t be stubborn.”
His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he focuses on driving and ignoring Sho, whose gaze is a hot laser beam tracking on his skin. He could smell Sho’s shampoo, could imagine the newly-showered pink skin on his collar. If he closed his eyes, he could see Sho, as he was just less than an hour ago, bathed in cheers, fireworks, and adoration.
Sho sighs. “You can’t go on like this. It’s been three years. Doesn’t it make sense that it’s something we all prepare for?”
Nino’s heart curls into itself, as if he could make it implode and disappear through his own effort. He wants to be alone. “What if I’m not there?” Sho asks, voice soft, and Nino thinks he could actually hate Sho, just for this moment, just for the thought. Nino is intimate with the ways he lacks, with everything having to do with him.
They cruise past a row of trees weeping with orange leaves, his headlights making them glow in the dark. Nino’s always liked autumn, for the way it seems more transient than the other seasons. He wonders if Sho really understands the implications of what he’s trying to suggest because Nino-Nino has thought about it more than anyone else. That things can fall apart faster than the time it takes for trees to shed away their aged, golden leaves. Nino has thought about it to the point of madness.
Sho wrings and cracks his knuckles. “Is this going to be a monologue?”
“Then why don’t you just shut up, Sho-chan?” Nino snaps.
If Sho is shocked by his words, he doesn’t show it. “You’re not supposed to be alone.”
Nino stops at the red light. “It’s my issue. Mine. If you don’t tell anyone, then nothing has to change."
"That's where you're wrong. This is not just about you," Sho says, stern in a way that Nino has rarely encountered.
He doesn’t get Sho's fervor, not really. They’re the kind of group who never cross a certain line when it comes to private matters-it’s probably one of the things that make them so solid as a group, that kind of quiet consideration. Yet Sho is persistent on this one, has been persistent for years.
Tonight, the sharp edge of his ultimatum in the locker room is what finally sets Nino off. The others could have heard, and nothing about that sits right with Nino. In fact, he hates even thinking about the possibility of them finding out.
"No, it's exactly only about me. Everything is as it should be, okay? Tonight was just like any other night."
“Except you’re in pain,” Sho says. “How is that fine?”
“Well, you’re there to remind me to take my medicines, aren't you,” Nino says, sarcastic in his irritation. “I just forgot tonight. Big deal.”
“That’s not the fucking point, Nino, and you know it.” The light changes to green. Nino’s stomach sinks. He’s had enough, has had years to steel against what he’s been trying to undo inside of him. The street suddenly feels too wide. He withers inside. This is it. Sho is finally done with him, he thinks. He might as well get it over with, once and for all.
“Then what is the point? That you want me to come clean? That you want me to apologize for using you? But I told you, didn't I? I told you that you didn't owe me anything.”
“Nino,” Sho breathes, stricken. He reaches out to Nino’s hand.
“Don’t touch me.” It’s like everything replays in his head, in agonizing, crystal-clear detail. He wants the night to swallow him up whole and chew him apart into pieces-anything, apart from remembering.
“Stop the car, Nino,” Sho says, voice rough. “Listen to me, for once!”
“I don’t want to listen to you say it,” Nino says, face heating up, fingers cold. “Whatever you’re about to say, I know it already, okay?”
“Nino, slow down, you’re not making sense,” Sho says, reaching out again to touch him.
“I’m cruel for still having feelings for you, for letting that happen. I’m the worst,” Nino says, eyes stinging as he shrugs the hand away. Sho looks like he’s been punched in the gut.
"What are you saying? Listen to me-" Sho says, but Nino doesn't allow him to continue.
“You don't get to make it out as if I’m holding us back, okay? I warned you, don't say I didnt," Nino says, voice shaking. "I’m not okay with disappointing any of you, even if you find that hard to believe.”
“I never said that!” They’ve always been able to talk, been able to meet mid-way despite their differences, but this, this feels like an unraveling. Was it always inevitable? “Can you please slow down? You need to understand something.”
Nino’s laugh sounds bitter even to his own ears. “I understand perfectly, Sho-chan. Don’t worry.”
“No, you don’t.” Sho scrubs his face with his hand. “I would never, ever, want you to get hurt! It hurts me when you're in pain, Nino. Hasn't that been plain to see?”
“No need to explain,” Nino says, eyes on the road.
“Nino, I don’t-”
The white lights burn his eyes for a small eternity. He doesn’t hear the crash and only hears the words he supplies in his head “-love you”.
*
He doesn’t touch Sho’s scar. He wants to run away, right that second, but his thirst to see Sho wins. It costs him a lot, not to just stand there and take his fill. To hope that Sho is just a figment of his imagination, even as he takes in the familiarity of Sho’s face and the newness of his gaze.
“Follow me,” Nino says, gaining back his senses, worried that Sho will be recognized by the locals. To his credit, Sho doesn’t balk at his command and only falls into step beside him, hands shoved in his jeans. Nino doesn’t dare to look at him as they walk through the grocery. He pays for his purchases at the counter, hoping that Sho tugs his bucket hat down further-Nino’s enjoyed anonymity in this small town for so long.
They step out of the grocery without any trouble. Nino’s feet take him to the nearest playground, right around the next corner. It is hidden by a copse of trees, a shady relief from the intensity of the heat. Nino drags his bike and leaves it by the side of the swings. He sits down on one, not watching Sho settle down beside him.
The swing creaks as Sho stretches out his legs. Nino used to think that he could live the rest of his life without having to sit through this moment. Didn’t he leave with that as one of his reasons, if not the biggest one? His hands are already shaking, and he rushes to shove it down his pockets. He could never trust himself around Sho again.
“How did you find me?” Nino asks, glancing his way.
Sho looks at him sideways. “Well, the others said-”
“-of course. I meant, how did you find me at the grocery?”
“I wasn’t trying to find you there,” Sho says.
“Oh.” Nino swallows, eyes landing on the scar again, his heart a shipwreck. His mind races with things to tell Sho. It hurts to see him, hurts to see the remainder of Nino’s selfishness. The gash on Sho’s face gashes him inside too, like a living thing. It scrapes along his guarded feelings, cracking it open, an inky blackness spilling out and seeping into his blood, into his thoughts.
“I was just looking for something to bring for you,” Sho admits.
“There’s no need for that.” No need for Sho to be so nice. No need to see him again.
“Everything that we were,” Sho starts, and Nino braces himself, “all of that-is it all really gone?”
The absurdity of Sho asking him that question engulfs him in an instant. He has spent so much of his days, of himself, convincing himself of that very thing. How is it not obvious to Sho? “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”
“That you didn’t forget us so easily.” Sho’s voice is steady, a counterpoint to Nino’s resolve. He feels anger boiling inside him, looking for the nearest exist to burst through. How could Sho think that? How could Sho even spare any more thoughts for him?
People who had near-death experiences always claim to have flashbacks of their lives. Back then, he didn't have time to experience that, but it seems like it's catching up to him now, in the worst of timings. The scenes are sudden, and hyper-real in its immediacy: those long weeks in bed, unable to move, replaying the sound of glass splintering all around him. The damning headlines, how they never stopped, how they still got to him no matter how everyone tried to hide it from his eyes. In a wheelchair, gently being refused entry to Sho's room by a stately, old man who looks so much like him. His shame, his anger. The moment when it sinks in that they were right. Signing off to make a contract that had shaped his very heart null and void. Handing his key to his weary-eyed manager.
“We want you back,” Sho says, and Nino is sinking all over again, is in the driver's seat again. “I want you back.”
Nino stands up, feeling his eyes stinging traitorously. “I can’t have this conversation. Don’t waste another day-off for me, Sho. I’m not worth it.”
He rides on his bike and doesn’t look back.
*
He wakes up in a hospital bed. It’s not his back that’s aching, but his leg that’s plastered in a cast, hanging suspended in mid-air. He also feels bruised and sore everywhere, as if he just got beaten up. His mother is by his side, holding his hand.
“Kazu,” she says, her expression somber.
“How many days?”
“Three.”
“Get me out of this thing,” Nino asks, struggling to move. “Where is he?”
His mother restrains him with a gentle hand-not that he could move much, given the pain and his suspended legs. “You broke your right leg, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” Nino knows that she purposely didn’t answer his other question. Panic bubbles inside his stomach. She steps out of the room.
When the door opens again, it’s with one less face that he wants to see. Aiba and Ohno walk up to either side of him, throwing out casual hellos even as their eyes are grave as Nino’s ever seen them. Jun hangs back, clutching the railing at the foot of his bed.
“Where’s Sho-chan,” Nino asks, eyes scanning their faces for clues. Something doesn’t feel right.
“He’s fine,” Ohno says. “Worry about getting better, for now.” Aiba is looking at him like he’s about to cry, and Nino’s beginning to feel anxious.
“Fine? Can you please elaborate on fine?”
“He’s in the other wing, and he’s-“ Aiba begins to say, but Jun cuts him off.
“Leader’s right, you just need to rest.”
“You need to tell me, okay? Where the hell is he? It’s all my fault,” Nino exclaims, even as his mouth feels leaden and sticky. “My fault, it's my fault."
“Shh.” Aiba fixes the hair that falls to his forehead. “We’ve got him, okay?”
Horror clouds him, wondering if they knew what happened, what he and Sho were fighting about. Here they all are, looking at Nino like he’s some delicate piece of glass they have to handle with care. He closes his eyes, warm tears seeping out to the side.
“You’re okay now, Nino,” Ohno says, placing his hand on top of his. “You’re safe.”
Nino shakes his head, reeling at the intensity of his need to confess. “You don’t understand.” His shoulders shake as he tells them about what led to what happened in the car, sparing the details that he thinks they might end up hating him more for. It’s not his place to say that he’s been in love with Sho for so long, not when Sho made it clear that it’s never going to be mutual. Nino will do anything not to hurt Sho, to disrespect his wishes. Even if it’s too late.
Instead, he confesses about his back problem, how Sho is the only one who knows about it, that it's what they were fighting about in the car. Jun’s face crumples-“no, Jun, you don’t get to feel guilty about this,” Nino says, heart breaking at his talent in disappointing everyone he loves.
“Nino, that’s not something you should have faced alone,” Aiba says, wiping his tears messily with his index finger.
“So people keep telling me,” Nino says. “I’m a horrible person, basically. I was wrong to dump all of that on Sho-chan.”
“What’s done is done,” Ohno says, fingers curling into Nino’s, adamant and sure. “There’s nothing you can do to make us think that you’re a horrible person.”
“Then please just tell me how he is,” Nino pleads. “Why the fuck can’t anyone tell me that?”
Jun looks at him straight in the eyes, firm and piercing. “He has multiple injuries. A couple of broken bones. Bruised chest. A huge laceration on his face. He’s not okay, but he’ll live, Nino.”
“Jun!” Ohno remonstrates. But it’s too late. He looks at the three of them, holding him up together in loyalty and perhaps, habit, and he thinks that he doesn’t deserve any of it. And then there’s the thought of Sho’s broken bones, his beloved face, marred by his intentions and his weaknesses-it stabs him so sharply that he just wants to close his eyes forever. His pain is a forest fire, razing everything he knows. There is only ruin in between his ribs.
What he treasured, he did not handle with care, that much is clear.
He feels so broken that he can’t even comprehend it. The sun in him had set.
*
They give him enough space, but Nino knows that they won't leave him alone, now that he's given them an inch. It's easier to just let them believe what they want to believe than to actively resist them. He has grown tired of being vigilant. The days pass by and summer quietly becomes autumn, the season of falling leaves. The season where everything falls and had fallen.
Aiba keeps on finding excuses to drop by his house, even though it's a three-hour drive from Tokyo. He says he can now only drink Nino's cappucino and no one else's. Jun brings over a stack of singles, "homework for when he's ready", hurtful and thoughtful at the same time. It remains wrapped, untouched at the corner of his bedroom. Ohno only visits him once but weasels out his phone number from him secretly when he went to the toilet. He is now besieged every so often by pictures of scary-looking lures, steaming bowls of ramen, a half-naked Maru flexing inside a greenroom.
It's almost like being with them again, except Nino doesn't allow himself to come too close. It's an illusion. Even if it comforts him, makes him feel like things could be okay again, he doesn't dare dream that they could ever be what they once were. Somehow, he knows that they all know they are skirting around a big crater, something they couldn't confront yet, and Nino definitely won't be the one leading them into it. He's fine where he is.
One day, he opens his phone to a picture sent by Ohno. Somehow, it's even more distinct in photos. Sho is in a bathrobe, looking like he was caught unaware, his mouth forming an uncertain smile.
He doesn't know I'm sending it to you, which I acknowledge is unfair. But he misses you too, you know.
But Nino cannot see anything else besides the scar on his face. His fingers rush to erase the image and to block Ohno's number, like if he does it quickly enough, he would be able to rub out the picture from his brain, to pretend that he doesn't know better. That night, Nino doesn't know what he's even crying for anymore. He is so tired.
He knows it's cowardly, but Nino ignores them, doesn't answer the door when Aiba raps again and again on it. More than anything else, he is furious that he trusted himself enough to be open again. Really, they don't know what they are asking for is impossible. The leaves have been swept away by the wind.
*
It takes almost a year until they release a single without Nino, a year before everything dies down enough that the agency could capitalize on the buzz around Arashi, or what’s left of it. Since he quit, he hasn’t turned on the television, steered clear of magazines, lived a life outside what he’s known for most of it. That’s why, it devastates him with a visceral force when a truck with those four faces stops by the intersection.
Nino finds out then that Sho and the management decided to keep his scar visible. Practical, because it’s too big to meticulously cover in makeup everyday. He never saw the shard of glass that lodged in Sho’s cheek. Could he have felt better, if he had seen just how far he had tempted fate, how reckless he got when wrapped up in his own emotions?
The light turns green. Nino stays rooted in place, trembling like a leaf.
*
It starts out as a normal spring day. When he approaches his house, there is a wooden sign attached on the slats of his picket fence. It is painted white, with “Café 83” written on it with yellow paint. His stomach sinks. He pedals inside to the small backyard, almost not surprised to see the new chairs and tables strewn around underneath the shade of the tree. They all have a battered wooden finish, and Nino sees Ohno in them before the real person steps out from the sliding doors.
“If you don’t like it, I have other buckets of paint in my truck,” he says shyly, eyes fluttering up to Nino's.
Nino gets off his bike, leaving it there. He goes inside and sees a pastry refrigerator whirring beside the counter. It’s already halfway full, filled up with more sweets and baked goods that Nino could name.
“You guys just can't stop meddling,” Nino says, as Aiba timidly stands up from his hiding place behind the counter and Jun stares back at him defiantly, a tray of perfect-looking danishes in his hands.
“Hi,” Aiba says, unsure but smiling. “We know you wouldn’t spring for a legitimate refrigerator. Call it our gift to you.”
“And the furniture?”
“Cheap,” Ohno says. “Just your style.”
“Please don’t tell me you baked all of that,” Nino says, his feelings a flurry that he can't make out. “I can’t be bothered to bake.”
Jun shrugs, a smile creeping on his lips. “Hire a commisary. Bulk-buy from the convenience store. Use your imagination.”
“And the dumb name?”
“You love it,” Aiba says, grabbing a piece of donut from the refrigerator. "I thought of it!"
He looks into all of their eyes, still the same, will always be the same, he now realizes, full of warmth and familiarity. His knees give in as he collapses into the nearest chair. It had been a long winter, a long time to be alone again. “You can’t bribe me into going back, you know?”
Ohno laughs, high and melodic, and Nino can hear the relief in it. “I told you you shouldn’t have bought the most expensive one, Aiba-chan.”
“But it’s so cool! You can even change the color of the lights!”
“Seriously, this is your bribe for me? Pimping up my café and setting me up for life?” Nino’s tone is joking, but he is overwhelmed with their combined presence, of basking in that atmosphere again. He doesn’t know whether it’s too late, or too soon, but it is something. The three of them stand there, stubborn and waiting, and Nino finally understands that unless he really means it, they won't ever leave him alone. And that deep inside, he never could have managed to mean it. He is as exasperated as he is relieved by what he is relearning.
“Watch us try,” Jun says, bringing him back to the present, face kind and open.
“Ninomi, you’re not pushing us away again, right?” Aiba asks.
Jun ribs Aiba not so gently. “At least hang out with us, no pressure. We’ll want what you want.”
At ‘us’, Nino balks, a funny feeling settling in him. “And Sho-chan? Are you just waiting to spring him on me like a surprise?"
Ohno gives Jun a look and sits down on the chair on front of him. “Nino,” he says. “Don’t you think that the three of us deserve at least even a small space in your life? Don’t we deserve a chance?”
Nino feels like he’s been punched in the gut, because it’s not supposed to be them asking for it. “Oh-chan. Of course.”
“Then doesn’t Sho-kun deserve the best chance?”
Nino leans forward, catching his face in his hands. “If it were only that simple.”
“It’s not?” Jun interrupts.
“There are so many things I can’t take back. He doesn’t deserve my best, not even my worst. He doesn’t deserve to be around a person like me. I scar everything I love.” He doesn’t even know what Ohno knows, but honesty is all he has now. He doesn’t have anything to lose, not anymore.
“Scars fade,” a voice says, and suddenly, there’s Sho, standing at the entrance, leaving Nino to think they are all so horribly predictable. So unchanging.
Ohno stands up. The three of them file out in silence, eyes darting in both fear and hope.
*
He overhears two girls talking on the other aisle.
"It almost looks like he was born with it now, don't you think?"
"You mean Scar-chan? Yeah, it's cute! Just like in Pikanchi," the other giggles.
Nino has never squeezed a bottle of oolong tea so hard in his life. It is absurd, ridiculous, stupid, childish-he runs out of adjectives to describe what he just heard. There is now a name for what is only his biggest fuck-up in life. Do they talk about it in MCs? Glaze it over like Nino didn't ever exist? Or worse, make it seem like it wasn't his fault? He cannot bear it. He calmly puts the bottle back to the refrigerator, furiously bikes home, and boots up the most violent game he could think of.
*
“You didn’t let me finish, that night.”
Nino knows he’s about to cry. He bites into his lips, overwhelmed at Sho’s presence. Somehow, he already knows that this is a moment that will be emblazoned in his memories forever: Sho, standing by the table, the muted afternoon light blurring his outline. He can stand here, stubborn, for all he wants, but he knows that he is thawing at the sides, that he can't keep the feeble pretenses up for much longer. Not in front of Sho, not this time.
“Then what did you want to say?”
Sho takes a step towards him. When he reaches Nino, he kneels down by his side. Nino is plunged into a similar moment in the past, and everything that he's been trying to hold together inside of him coming apart. He takes Nino’s hand and places it on his scar. It feels smooth under the pads of his fingers. He is shaking.
"They named it. It's the most stupid thing I've ever heard," he says when Sho doesn't answer, scrabbling for control that he doesn't have.
"They did, and it's okay."
Sho leans into his palm. He can't turn back from this, not when Sho comes to him so open, so trusting of Nino's touch. There is no trace of any hesitation there. His thumb swipes over the wetness cascading down Sho’s scar, in wonder and trepidation. Why are you crying? How can you stand to look at me again?
“Nino, I don’t know if you’re still waiting for me.”
His stomach lurches. “What?”
"That was what I was telling you back then," Sho murmurs, voice cracking. "I was so stupid."
Nino tries to take it all in. "What do you mean?" he asks, even though everything clicks into place and he just suddenly knows. Deep inside, he already knows. Nino fights not to crumble apart into tiny pieces right then and there, but Sho spells it out for him.
“I wanted to ask, because I’m just as in love with you as you were with me. Still.”
And just like that, his own tears flow down at every clumsy patch-job he’s done over the long days he’s been spending alone-meaningless, but real. Nino has no time for “what if’s”, because he has Sho here.
"Nino? Did you hear me?" Sho says, so gentle with him. Is there time to undo the fear that he could be wrong again and misread things? He can run, or he can wrestle with the possibility that he could hurt Sho once more. But Sho only looks back at him. His eyes blur even further, in apology, in tender, consuming want. For everything he wants to say and hand to Sho in a neat platter, but can't.
"I'm afraid," Nino admits, and Sho's takes his hand again, lets his fingers trace the scar that sits there. "This will fade," Sho whispers. "My feelings won't."
“I'm so sorry,” Nino whispers back, aching so much that it's the only thing he can get himself to say. He places his other hand on Sho’s face, framing him, seeing him clearly again despite the tears. When he leans down, Sho is already there to meet him halfway.
*
✮✮✮✮✮
Arashi
Cafe N83
"When I'm with you, I draw confident dreams
with these hands over and over again
Wanting anything and everything, it fell through the gaps in my fingers
Crying and struggling to hold it all, it just spilled from them
There's no point in lamenting about it now
As the time passes, it leaves its mark on the palms of these hands"
If Cafe N83's album art is any indication of Arashi's direction as an idol group from hereon, then they are again changing the blueprint of what it means to be an "idol". There are no perfect faces on the cover. Instead, it almost looks like an indie offering, its muted colors and the obvious nod to their own youth surely making it stand out on the garrish idol group rack in stores. Genuis marketing ploy? A looming tie-up with Sony? Perhaps. But Cafe N83 is the real deal, and is humbly their best offering to date.
Cafe N83 is Arashi's 14th studio album release and marks the reemergence of Arashi as a group with five members, with Ninomiya Kazunari silently returning after two years of absence. Musically, it is easy to hear his influence on the record: he penned eight out of the thirteen tracks, all of the songs except the solos, with Sakurai Sho sharing some of the writing duties for the rap portions. Ninomiya obviously favors copious, stream-of-thought lyrics along with soft melodies boasting of the occasional dramatic, almost whiny, crescendo. But it's not a liability in this case. Arashi may still not be the best of the crop, vocals-wise, but their harmonies in Cafe N83 is a treat to listen to, like a group of pals singing over a bonfire, guitar and a beatbox in their hands. Their voices aren't compressed to the idol sheen that was their standard before, and it is refreshing and immensely relatable. Ohno Satoshi's crystalline voice particularly shines in Nino's tender, almost feminine, songwriting.
As a whole, the record sounds like something you may have listened to when you were a teenager, staring out the windows as you ride the train. Maybe you were also listening with the same Walkman. It is unapologetically nostalgic, combining Arashi's strength-their penchant for choosing rousing, infectious karaoke-worthy ditties-with a newfound, light-handed and thoughtful sobriety. Not to say that this isn't idol pop, because it still is, by any criteria. Even with the quirky, liberal touches of acoustic guitar and harmonicas, Cafe N83 is created and meant as pop, best enjoyed when listened to as such. Indeed, what Cafe N83 brings to the table is sincerity and track after track of pop earworms that resonate emotionally, whether you're a fan overwhelmed by Ninomiya's unexpected and emotional return, or a casual listener recognizing bits of yourself in their softly-rendered paeans to friendship and love. Even the tracks covered in synths, obviously meant for dancing on concerts, are easy to memorize and, strangely enough, touching. You almost want to learn the choreography. Almost.
With Cafe N83 officially passing the astounding 1 million mark only a week after its release, Arashi has finally proved that they are still a force to reckon with, if not the pulsing beat of Japan's music scene for 2016. In their 30s, Arashi fully stands up to the long-disputed title "national idols" and has now proven to have clout even outside their immensely loyal fanbase. But more than the petty fixations with labels, what Arashi has clearly accomplished with Cafe N83 is something most musical acts struggle with for sometimes their entire career: they seem to have captured an essence that is truly, and only, their own. No one would mistake any of these songs as anyone else's but Arashi's.
This is a comeback that's both triuphantly mainstream and musically nuanced, a combination that Arashi has proven can be done with finesse. Cafe N83 is an album that will stand the test of time, proof that even the music snobs can be wrong. Arashi demonstrates in fine form that pop is alive and well, and can be the most affirming music to live alongside by. This is music that stays in your heart.
- - -
Credits:
Lyrics by yarukizero
Photo from markheybo
- - -
ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTES
(Which you don't have to read, of course.)
1) I wrote this in two weeks, and while that's definitely not a bragging point, I'm just putting that here so that I'll never, ever be so stupid as to wing an exchange again. Thank heavens for hand-holders and great mods. :D
2) It's true: I really did send my initial draft for the exchange, instead of the final product. I am still beyond horrified. To my recipient, I am so sorry for my scatter-brained self.
3) I will never write broken Arashi again. Ever. That was painful to navigate.
4) And because I really am a fan of Arashi's music, more than anything else, I really wanted to imagine how Cafe N83 would sound like. This is the closest I could get it to (and it includes some of my most favorite tracks from them):
1. KONO TE NO HIRA NI
2. VOICE
3. FULL OF LOVE
4. RISE AND SHINE
5. TE TSUNAGOO
6. MY ANSWER
7. HITORI JANAI SA
8. THANK YOU FOR MY DAYS
9. ROCK YOU
10. IMA AI WO KATAROU
12. KIMI GA WARAERU YOU NI
13. NATSU NO OWAR NI OMOU KOTO
14. SUPER FRESH
15. LIFE
I'll try to make an 8tracks of it if I have time. Somehow, I hope reading through this was still enjoyable for some of you, even though it took Nino away from the other 4 for a little (fine, long) while. ♥
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nino/Sho, Nino/Arashi
Word count: 13,266
Warnings: Mention of Nino's back condition, broken-up Arashi (I know I'm so sorry)
Summary: Nino is working towards building a small café behind his house. His first four customers are the most important ones.
Part 1
It’s a thick scar, just right below Sho’s left eye. The skin on top of it is translucent, perhaps a fleshy peach in a certain light. It traverses Sho’s cheek diagonally, smooth and long as a finger.
Nino’s eyes couldn’t go upwards, so it tracks down to his throat. Sho has always had a neck that seemed both sturdy and pretty, something Nino couldn’t look away from. He loses himself in thoughts of those veins straining under the gale of Sho’s uncomplicated amusement. It’s not a huge jump from there, to thoughts of never being able to hear it again. Of not having heard it for so long.
In a way, Nino brought it upon himself.
“You can touch it,” Sho says. Nino feels like he's been punched at hearing Sho’s voice.
*
Before Nino gets to lock his doors, Sho swiftly steals inside his car’s passenger seat, breath heavy with exertion.
“Get out,” Nino says. His mind is racing, thinking of ways to escape Sho’s presence without resorting to shoving him out of his car. “What are you doing?”
“Just drive,” and Nino bristles at the command in Sho’s tone. Nino knows there is no arguing with him now. He turns the ignition and drives out of the parking lot, prepared to stay silent.
“Stop pretending in front of me,” Sho says. “Please.”
Nino turns on the radio. The station is playing an overly cheerful girl group song. It is discordant with the tense, tight air brewing inside the car. Sho fidgets, turns toward him.
“Nino, don’t be stubborn.”
His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he focuses on driving and ignoring Sho, whose gaze is a hot laser beam tracking on his skin. He could smell Sho’s shampoo, could imagine the newly-showered pink skin on his collar. If he closed his eyes, he could see Sho, as he was just less than an hour ago, bathed in cheers, fireworks, and adoration.
Sho sighs. “You can’t go on like this. It’s been three years. Doesn’t it make sense that it’s something we all prepare for?”
Nino’s heart curls into itself, as if he could make it implode and disappear through his own effort. He wants to be alone. “What if I’m not there?” Sho asks, voice soft, and Nino thinks he could actually hate Sho, just for this moment, just for the thought. Nino is intimate with the ways he lacks, with everything having to do with him.
They cruise past a row of trees weeping with orange leaves, his headlights making them glow in the dark. Nino’s always liked autumn, for the way it seems more transient than the other seasons. He wonders if Sho really understands the implications of what he’s trying to suggest because Nino-Nino has thought about it more than anyone else. That things can fall apart faster than the time it takes for trees to shed away their aged, golden leaves. Nino has thought about it to the point of madness.
Sho wrings and cracks his knuckles. “Is this going to be a monologue?”
“Then why don’t you just shut up, Sho-chan?” Nino snaps.
If Sho is shocked by his words, he doesn’t show it. “You’re not supposed to be alone.”
Nino stops at the red light. “It’s my issue. Mine. If you don’t tell anyone, then nothing has to change."
"That's where you're wrong. This is not just about you," Sho says, stern in a way that Nino has rarely encountered.
He doesn’t get Sho's fervor, not really. They’re the kind of group who never cross a certain line when it comes to private matters-it’s probably one of the things that make them so solid as a group, that kind of quiet consideration. Yet Sho is persistent on this one, has been persistent for years.
Tonight, the sharp edge of his ultimatum in the locker room is what finally sets Nino off. The others could have heard, and nothing about that sits right with Nino. In fact, he hates even thinking about the possibility of them finding out.
"No, it's exactly only about me. Everything is as it should be, okay? Tonight was just like any other night."
“Except you’re in pain,” Sho says. “How is that fine?”
“Well, you’re there to remind me to take my medicines, aren't you,” Nino says, sarcastic in his irritation. “I just forgot tonight. Big deal.”
“That’s not the fucking point, Nino, and you know it.” The light changes to green. Nino’s stomach sinks. He’s had enough, has had years to steel against what he’s been trying to undo inside of him. The street suddenly feels too wide. He withers inside. This is it. Sho is finally done with him, he thinks. He might as well get it over with, once and for all.
“Then what is the point? That you want me to come clean? That you want me to apologize for using you? But I told you, didn't I? I told you that you didn't owe me anything.”
“Nino,” Sho breathes, stricken. He reaches out to Nino’s hand.
“Don’t touch me.” It’s like everything replays in his head, in agonizing, crystal-clear detail. He wants the night to swallow him up whole and chew him apart into pieces-anything, apart from remembering.
“Stop the car, Nino,” Sho says, voice rough. “Listen to me, for once!”
“I don’t want to listen to you say it,” Nino says, face heating up, fingers cold. “Whatever you’re about to say, I know it already, okay?”
“Nino, slow down, you’re not making sense,” Sho says, reaching out again to touch him.
“I’m cruel for still having feelings for you, for letting that happen. I’m the worst,” Nino says, eyes stinging as he shrugs the hand away. Sho looks like he’s been punched in the gut.
"What are you saying? Listen to me-" Sho says, but Nino doesn't allow him to continue.
“You don't get to make it out as if I’m holding us back, okay? I warned you, don't say I didnt," Nino says, voice shaking. "I’m not okay with disappointing any of you, even if you find that hard to believe.”
“I never said that!” They’ve always been able to talk, been able to meet mid-way despite their differences, but this, this feels like an unraveling. Was it always inevitable? “Can you please slow down? You need to understand something.”
Nino’s laugh sounds bitter even to his own ears. “I understand perfectly, Sho-chan. Don’t worry.”
“No, you don’t.” Sho scrubs his face with his hand. “I would never, ever, want you to get hurt! It hurts me when you're in pain, Nino. Hasn't that been plain to see?”
“No need to explain,” Nino says, eyes on the road.
“Nino, I don’t-”
The white lights burn his eyes for a small eternity. He doesn’t hear the crash and only hears the words he supplies in his head “-love you”.
*
He doesn’t touch Sho’s scar. He wants to run away, right that second, but his thirst to see Sho wins. It costs him a lot, not to just stand there and take his fill. To hope that Sho is just a figment of his imagination, even as he takes in the familiarity of Sho’s face and the newness of his gaze.
“Follow me,” Nino says, gaining back his senses, worried that Sho will be recognized by the locals. To his credit, Sho doesn’t balk at his command and only falls into step beside him, hands shoved in his jeans. Nino doesn’t dare to look at him as they walk through the grocery. He pays for his purchases at the counter, hoping that Sho tugs his bucket hat down further-Nino’s enjoyed anonymity in this small town for so long.
They step out of the grocery without any trouble. Nino’s feet take him to the nearest playground, right around the next corner. It is hidden by a copse of trees, a shady relief from the intensity of the heat. Nino drags his bike and leaves it by the side of the swings. He sits down on one, not watching Sho settle down beside him.
The swing creaks as Sho stretches out his legs. Nino used to think that he could live the rest of his life without having to sit through this moment. Didn’t he leave with that as one of his reasons, if not the biggest one? His hands are already shaking, and he rushes to shove it down his pockets. He could never trust himself around Sho again.
“How did you find me?” Nino asks, glancing his way.
Sho looks at him sideways. “Well, the others said-”
“-of course. I meant, how did you find me at the grocery?”
“I wasn’t trying to find you there,” Sho says.
“Oh.” Nino swallows, eyes landing on the scar again, his heart a shipwreck. His mind races with things to tell Sho. It hurts to see him, hurts to see the remainder of Nino’s selfishness. The gash on Sho’s face gashes him inside too, like a living thing. It scrapes along his guarded feelings, cracking it open, an inky blackness spilling out and seeping into his blood, into his thoughts.
“I was just looking for something to bring for you,” Sho admits.
“There’s no need for that.” No need for Sho to be so nice. No need to see him again.
“Everything that we were,” Sho starts, and Nino braces himself, “all of that-is it all really gone?”
The absurdity of Sho asking him that question engulfs him in an instant. He has spent so much of his days, of himself, convincing himself of that very thing. How is it not obvious to Sho? “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”
“That you didn’t forget us so easily.” Sho’s voice is steady, a counterpoint to Nino’s resolve. He feels anger boiling inside him, looking for the nearest exist to burst through. How could Sho think that? How could Sho even spare any more thoughts for him?
People who had near-death experiences always claim to have flashbacks of their lives. Back then, he didn't have time to experience that, but it seems like it's catching up to him now, in the worst of timings. The scenes are sudden, and hyper-real in its immediacy: those long weeks in bed, unable to move, replaying the sound of glass splintering all around him. The damning headlines, how they never stopped, how they still got to him no matter how everyone tried to hide it from his eyes. In a wheelchair, gently being refused entry to Sho's room by a stately, old man who looks so much like him. His shame, his anger. The moment when it sinks in that they were right. Signing off to make a contract that had shaped his very heart null and void. Handing his key to his weary-eyed manager.
“We want you back,” Sho says, and Nino is sinking all over again, is in the driver's seat again. “I want you back.”
Nino stands up, feeling his eyes stinging traitorously. “I can’t have this conversation. Don’t waste another day-off for me, Sho. I’m not worth it.”
He rides on his bike and doesn’t look back.
*
He wakes up in a hospital bed. It’s not his back that’s aching, but his leg that’s plastered in a cast, hanging suspended in mid-air. He also feels bruised and sore everywhere, as if he just got beaten up. His mother is by his side, holding his hand.
“Kazu,” she says, her expression somber.
“How many days?”
“Three.”
“Get me out of this thing,” Nino asks, struggling to move. “Where is he?”
His mother restrains him with a gentle hand-not that he could move much, given the pain and his suspended legs. “You broke your right leg, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” Nino knows that she purposely didn’t answer his other question. Panic bubbles inside his stomach. She steps out of the room.
When the door opens again, it’s with one less face that he wants to see. Aiba and Ohno walk up to either side of him, throwing out casual hellos even as their eyes are grave as Nino’s ever seen them. Jun hangs back, clutching the railing at the foot of his bed.
“Where’s Sho-chan,” Nino asks, eyes scanning their faces for clues. Something doesn’t feel right.
“He’s fine,” Ohno says. “Worry about getting better, for now.” Aiba is looking at him like he’s about to cry, and Nino’s beginning to feel anxious.
“Fine? Can you please elaborate on fine?”
“He’s in the other wing, and he’s-“ Aiba begins to say, but Jun cuts him off.
“Leader’s right, you just need to rest.”
“You need to tell me, okay? Where the hell is he? It’s all my fault,” Nino exclaims, even as his mouth feels leaden and sticky. “My fault, it's my fault."
“Shh.” Aiba fixes the hair that falls to his forehead. “We’ve got him, okay?”
Horror clouds him, wondering if they knew what happened, what he and Sho were fighting about. Here they all are, looking at Nino like he’s some delicate piece of glass they have to handle with care. He closes his eyes, warm tears seeping out to the side.
“You’re okay now, Nino,” Ohno says, placing his hand on top of his. “You’re safe.”
Nino shakes his head, reeling at the intensity of his need to confess. “You don’t understand.” His shoulders shake as he tells them about what led to what happened in the car, sparing the details that he thinks they might end up hating him more for. It’s not his place to say that he’s been in love with Sho for so long, not when Sho made it clear that it’s never going to be mutual. Nino will do anything not to hurt Sho, to disrespect his wishes. Even if it’s too late.
Instead, he confesses about his back problem, how Sho is the only one who knows about it, that it's what they were fighting about in the car. Jun’s face crumples-“no, Jun, you don’t get to feel guilty about this,” Nino says, heart breaking at his talent in disappointing everyone he loves.
“Nino, that’s not something you should have faced alone,” Aiba says, wiping his tears messily with his index finger.
“So people keep telling me,” Nino says. “I’m a horrible person, basically. I was wrong to dump all of that on Sho-chan.”
“What’s done is done,” Ohno says, fingers curling into Nino’s, adamant and sure. “There’s nothing you can do to make us think that you’re a horrible person.”
“Then please just tell me how he is,” Nino pleads. “Why the fuck can’t anyone tell me that?”
Jun looks at him straight in the eyes, firm and piercing. “He has multiple injuries. A couple of broken bones. Bruised chest. A huge laceration on his face. He’s not okay, but he’ll live, Nino.”
“Jun!” Ohno remonstrates. But it’s too late. He looks at the three of them, holding him up together in loyalty and perhaps, habit, and he thinks that he doesn’t deserve any of it. And then there’s the thought of Sho’s broken bones, his beloved face, marred by his intentions and his weaknesses-it stabs him so sharply that he just wants to close his eyes forever. His pain is a forest fire, razing everything he knows. There is only ruin in between his ribs.
What he treasured, he did not handle with care, that much is clear.
He feels so broken that he can’t even comprehend it. The sun in him had set.
*
They give him enough space, but Nino knows that they won't leave him alone, now that he's given them an inch. It's easier to just let them believe what they want to believe than to actively resist them. He has grown tired of being vigilant. The days pass by and summer quietly becomes autumn, the season of falling leaves. The season where everything falls and had fallen.
Aiba keeps on finding excuses to drop by his house, even though it's a three-hour drive from Tokyo. He says he can now only drink Nino's cappucino and no one else's. Jun brings over a stack of singles, "homework for when he's ready", hurtful and thoughtful at the same time. It remains wrapped, untouched at the corner of his bedroom. Ohno only visits him once but weasels out his phone number from him secretly when he went to the toilet. He is now besieged every so often by pictures of scary-looking lures, steaming bowls of ramen, a half-naked Maru flexing inside a greenroom.
It's almost like being with them again, except Nino doesn't allow himself to come too close. It's an illusion. Even if it comforts him, makes him feel like things could be okay again, he doesn't dare dream that they could ever be what they once were. Somehow, he knows that they all know they are skirting around a big crater, something they couldn't confront yet, and Nino definitely won't be the one leading them into it. He's fine where he is.
One day, he opens his phone to a picture sent by Ohno. Somehow, it's even more distinct in photos. Sho is in a bathrobe, looking like he was caught unaware, his mouth forming an uncertain smile.
He doesn't know I'm sending it to you, which I acknowledge is unfair. But he misses you too, you know.
But Nino cannot see anything else besides the scar on his face. His fingers rush to erase the image and to block Ohno's number, like if he does it quickly enough, he would be able to rub out the picture from his brain, to pretend that he doesn't know better. That night, Nino doesn't know what he's even crying for anymore. He is so tired.
He knows it's cowardly, but Nino ignores them, doesn't answer the door when Aiba raps again and again on it. More than anything else, he is furious that he trusted himself enough to be open again. Really, they don't know what they are asking for is impossible. The leaves have been swept away by the wind.
*
It takes almost a year until they release a single without Nino, a year before everything dies down enough that the agency could capitalize on the buzz around Arashi, or what’s left of it. Since he quit, he hasn’t turned on the television, steered clear of magazines, lived a life outside what he’s known for most of it. That’s why, it devastates him with a visceral force when a truck with those four faces stops by the intersection.
Nino finds out then that Sho and the management decided to keep his scar visible. Practical, because it’s too big to meticulously cover in makeup everyday. He never saw the shard of glass that lodged in Sho’s cheek. Could he have felt better, if he had seen just how far he had tempted fate, how reckless he got when wrapped up in his own emotions?
The light turns green. Nino stays rooted in place, trembling like a leaf.
*
It starts out as a normal spring day. When he approaches his house, there is a wooden sign attached on the slats of his picket fence. It is painted white, with “Café 83” written on it with yellow paint. His stomach sinks. He pedals inside to the small backyard, almost not surprised to see the new chairs and tables strewn around underneath the shade of the tree. They all have a battered wooden finish, and Nino sees Ohno in them before the real person steps out from the sliding doors.
“If you don’t like it, I have other buckets of paint in my truck,” he says shyly, eyes fluttering up to Nino's.
Nino gets off his bike, leaving it there. He goes inside and sees a pastry refrigerator whirring beside the counter. It’s already halfway full, filled up with more sweets and baked goods that Nino could name.
“You guys just can't stop meddling,” Nino says, as Aiba timidly stands up from his hiding place behind the counter and Jun stares back at him defiantly, a tray of perfect-looking danishes in his hands.
“Hi,” Aiba says, unsure but smiling. “We know you wouldn’t spring for a legitimate refrigerator. Call it our gift to you.”
“And the furniture?”
“Cheap,” Ohno says. “Just your style.”
“Please don’t tell me you baked all of that,” Nino says, his feelings a flurry that he can't make out. “I can’t be bothered to bake.”
Jun shrugs, a smile creeping on his lips. “Hire a commisary. Bulk-buy from the convenience store. Use your imagination.”
“And the dumb name?”
“You love it,” Aiba says, grabbing a piece of donut from the refrigerator. "I thought of it!"
He looks into all of their eyes, still the same, will always be the same, he now realizes, full of warmth and familiarity. His knees give in as he collapses into the nearest chair. It had been a long winter, a long time to be alone again. “You can’t bribe me into going back, you know?”
Ohno laughs, high and melodic, and Nino can hear the relief in it. “I told you you shouldn’t have bought the most expensive one, Aiba-chan.”
“But it’s so cool! You can even change the color of the lights!”
“Seriously, this is your bribe for me? Pimping up my café and setting me up for life?” Nino’s tone is joking, but he is overwhelmed with their combined presence, of basking in that atmosphere again. He doesn’t know whether it’s too late, or too soon, but it is something. The three of them stand there, stubborn and waiting, and Nino finally understands that unless he really means it, they won't ever leave him alone. And that deep inside, he never could have managed to mean it. He is as exasperated as he is relieved by what he is relearning.
“Watch us try,” Jun says, bringing him back to the present, face kind and open.
“Ninomi, you’re not pushing us away again, right?” Aiba asks.
Jun ribs Aiba not so gently. “At least hang out with us, no pressure. We’ll want what you want.”
At ‘us’, Nino balks, a funny feeling settling in him. “And Sho-chan? Are you just waiting to spring him on me like a surprise?"
Ohno gives Jun a look and sits down on the chair on front of him. “Nino,” he says. “Don’t you think that the three of us deserve at least even a small space in your life? Don’t we deserve a chance?”
Nino feels like he’s been punched in the gut, because it’s not supposed to be them asking for it. “Oh-chan. Of course.”
“Then doesn’t Sho-kun deserve the best chance?”
Nino leans forward, catching his face in his hands. “If it were only that simple.”
“It’s not?” Jun interrupts.
“There are so many things I can’t take back. He doesn’t deserve my best, not even my worst. He doesn’t deserve to be around a person like me. I scar everything I love.” He doesn’t even know what Ohno knows, but honesty is all he has now. He doesn’t have anything to lose, not anymore.
“Scars fade,” a voice says, and suddenly, there’s Sho, standing at the entrance, leaving Nino to think they are all so horribly predictable. So unchanging.
Ohno stands up. The three of them file out in silence, eyes darting in both fear and hope.
*
He overhears two girls talking on the other aisle.
"It almost looks like he was born with it now, don't you think?"
"You mean Scar-chan? Yeah, it's cute! Just like in Pikanchi," the other giggles.
Nino has never squeezed a bottle of oolong tea so hard in his life. It is absurd, ridiculous, stupid, childish-he runs out of adjectives to describe what he just heard. There is now a name for what is only his biggest fuck-up in life. Do they talk about it in MCs? Glaze it over like Nino didn't ever exist? Or worse, make it seem like it wasn't his fault? He cannot bear it. He calmly puts the bottle back to the refrigerator, furiously bikes home, and boots up the most violent game he could think of.
*
“You didn’t let me finish, that night.”
Nino knows he’s about to cry. He bites into his lips, overwhelmed at Sho’s presence. Somehow, he already knows that this is a moment that will be emblazoned in his memories forever: Sho, standing by the table, the muted afternoon light blurring his outline. He can stand here, stubborn, for all he wants, but he knows that he is thawing at the sides, that he can't keep the feeble pretenses up for much longer. Not in front of Sho, not this time.
“Then what did you want to say?”
Sho takes a step towards him. When he reaches Nino, he kneels down by his side. Nino is plunged into a similar moment in the past, and everything that he's been trying to hold together inside of him coming apart. He takes Nino’s hand and places it on his scar. It feels smooth under the pads of his fingers. He is shaking.
"They named it. It's the most stupid thing I've ever heard," he says when Sho doesn't answer, scrabbling for control that he doesn't have.
"They did, and it's okay."
Sho leans into his palm. He can't turn back from this, not when Sho comes to him so open, so trusting of Nino's touch. There is no trace of any hesitation there. His thumb swipes over the wetness cascading down Sho’s scar, in wonder and trepidation. Why are you crying? How can you stand to look at me again?
“Nino, I don’t know if you’re still waiting for me.”
His stomach lurches. “What?”
"That was what I was telling you back then," Sho murmurs, voice cracking. "I was so stupid."
Nino tries to take it all in. "What do you mean?" he asks, even though everything clicks into place and he just suddenly knows. Deep inside, he already knows. Nino fights not to crumble apart into tiny pieces right then and there, but Sho spells it out for him.
“I wanted to ask, because I’m just as in love with you as you were with me. Still.”
And just like that, his own tears flow down at every clumsy patch-job he’s done over the long days he’s been spending alone-meaningless, but real. Nino has no time for “what if’s”, because he has Sho here.
"Nino? Did you hear me?" Sho says, so gentle with him. Is there time to undo the fear that he could be wrong again and misread things? He can run, or he can wrestle with the possibility that he could hurt Sho once more. But Sho only looks back at him. His eyes blur even further, in apology, in tender, consuming want. For everything he wants to say and hand to Sho in a neat platter, but can't.
"I'm afraid," Nino admits, and Sho's takes his hand again, lets his fingers trace the scar that sits there. "This will fade," Sho whispers. "My feelings won't."
“I'm so sorry,” Nino whispers back, aching so much that it's the only thing he can get himself to say. He places his other hand on Sho’s face, framing him, seeing him clearly again despite the tears. When he leans down, Sho is already there to meet him halfway.
*
✮✮✮✮✮
Arashi
Cafe N83
"When I'm with you, I draw confident dreams
with these hands over and over again
Wanting anything and everything, it fell through the gaps in my fingers
Crying and struggling to hold it all, it just spilled from them
There's no point in lamenting about it now
As the time passes, it leaves its mark on the palms of these hands"
If Cafe N83's album art is any indication of Arashi's direction as an idol group from hereon, then they are again changing the blueprint of what it means to be an "idol". There are no perfect faces on the cover. Instead, it almost looks like an indie offering, its muted colors and the obvious nod to their own youth surely making it stand out on the garrish idol group rack in stores. Genuis marketing ploy? A looming tie-up with Sony? Perhaps. But Cafe N83 is the real deal, and is humbly their best offering to date.
Cafe N83 is Arashi's 14th studio album release and marks the reemergence of Arashi as a group with five members, with Ninomiya Kazunari silently returning after two years of absence. Musically, it is easy to hear his influence on the record: he penned eight out of the thirteen tracks, all of the songs except the solos, with Sakurai Sho sharing some of the writing duties for the rap portions. Ninomiya obviously favors copious, stream-of-thought lyrics along with soft melodies boasting of the occasional dramatic, almost whiny, crescendo. But it's not a liability in this case. Arashi may still not be the best of the crop, vocals-wise, but their harmonies in Cafe N83 is a treat to listen to, like a group of pals singing over a bonfire, guitar and a beatbox in their hands. Their voices aren't compressed to the idol sheen that was their standard before, and it is refreshing and immensely relatable. Ohno Satoshi's crystalline voice particularly shines in Nino's tender, almost feminine, songwriting.
As a whole, the record sounds like something you may have listened to when you were a teenager, staring out the windows as you ride the train. Maybe you were also listening with the same Walkman. It is unapologetically nostalgic, combining Arashi's strength-their penchant for choosing rousing, infectious karaoke-worthy ditties-with a newfound, light-handed and thoughtful sobriety. Not to say that this isn't idol pop, because it still is, by any criteria. Even with the quirky, liberal touches of acoustic guitar and harmonicas, Cafe N83 is created and meant as pop, best enjoyed when listened to as such. Indeed, what Cafe N83 brings to the table is sincerity and track after track of pop earworms that resonate emotionally, whether you're a fan overwhelmed by Ninomiya's unexpected and emotional return, or a casual listener recognizing bits of yourself in their softly-rendered paeans to friendship and love. Even the tracks covered in synths, obviously meant for dancing on concerts, are easy to memorize and, strangely enough, touching. You almost want to learn the choreography. Almost.
With Cafe N83 officially passing the astounding 1 million mark only a week after its release, Arashi has finally proved that they are still a force to reckon with, if not the pulsing beat of Japan's music scene for 2016. In their 30s, Arashi fully stands up to the long-disputed title "national idols" and has now proven to have clout even outside their immensely loyal fanbase. But more than the petty fixations with labels, what Arashi has clearly accomplished with Cafe N83 is something most musical acts struggle with for sometimes their entire career: they seem to have captured an essence that is truly, and only, their own. No one would mistake any of these songs as anyone else's but Arashi's.
This is a comeback that's both triuphantly mainstream and musically nuanced, a combination that Arashi has proven can be done with finesse. Cafe N83 is an album that will stand the test of time, proof that even the music snobs can be wrong. Arashi demonstrates in fine form that pop is alive and well, and can be the most affirming music to live alongside by. This is music that stays in your heart.
- - -
Credits:
Lyrics by yarukizero
Photo from markheybo
- - -
ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTES
(Which you don't have to read, of course.)
1) I wrote this in two weeks, and while that's definitely not a bragging point, I'm just putting that here so that I'll never, ever be so stupid as to wing an exchange again. Thank heavens for hand-holders and great mods. :D
2) It's true: I really did send my initial draft for the exchange, instead of the final product. I am still beyond horrified. To my recipient, I am so sorry for my scatter-brained self.
3) I will never write broken Arashi again. Ever. That was painful to navigate.
4) And because I really am a fan of Arashi's music, more than anything else, I really wanted to imagine how Cafe N83 would sound like. This is the closest I could get it to (and it includes some of my most favorite tracks from them):
1. KONO TE NO HIRA NI
2. VOICE
3. FULL OF LOVE
4. RISE AND SHINE
5. TE TSUNAGOO
6. MY ANSWER
7. HITORI JANAI SA
8. THANK YOU FOR MY DAYS
9. ROCK YOU
10. IMA AI WO KATAROU
12. KIMI GA WARAERU YOU NI
13. NATSU NO OWAR NI OMOU KOTO
14. SUPER FRESH
15. LIFE
I'll try to make an 8tracks of it if I have time. Somehow, I hope reading through this was still enjoyable for some of you, even though it took Nino away from the other 4 for a little (fine, long) while. ♥