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“Yeah but, like, it’s not illegal for us to suggest that he break into the house,” Suga said, doing his best to sound persuasive.
“No, it’s just illegal for him to actually do it,” Daichi responded just as seriously.
“Semantics.”
Asahi joined the conversation. “Why would we tell him to break into the house when he could just google a picture or something? That seems easier? Oh! Unless it’s valuable or something?”
“I still can’t believe we’re still entertaining the idea of telling someone to break into a stranger’s house to steal one of their houseplants.”
“C’mon, who hasn’t thought of a bashing a window in because they saw a plant and absolutely had to have it?”
Daichi groaned. “Literally only you. This has got to be the dumbest conversation we’ve ever had.”
“I dunno,” Suga snickered. “We’ve had some pretty stupid conversations.”
Asahi swallowed audibly. “Are we going to lose listeners over this?”
“They’re already gone, Asahi. They left twenty minutes ago.”
“Nah, they’re around” Suga said. “You’re just a pair of weenies, which is not news.”
Tanaka Ryuunosuke saw the blenders come to life, familiar enough with the sharp whirring that cut through the lively chatter in his favorite smoothie shop that he’d recognize it in his sleep, but he didn’t hear anything over the voices that blasted through his headphones.
He'd followed quite a few podcasts over the years, but the only one he listened to religiously was One Two Three. He subscribed to it just after its inception two years earlier, and the podcast had been his constant incorporeal companion ever since.
It had even inspired him to create his own.
The idea of carving out a Tanaka-centric space in the podcasting multiverse had occurred to him before he’d started listening to OTT, but he'd always had an excuse to put it off.
Creating a podcast from scratch was too much work. He had never created content for anything other than his personal social media accounts. He didn’t have the education to make his opinions credible. He was too busy trying to make ends meet in famously expensive city to put energy he didn’t have into a pipe-dream. Finally, even if he did manage to put something together, who in the world would listen?
Somewhere between ribbing each other without mercy and laughing at their own jokes, and despite Tanaka's best attempts to tear himself down, the guys behind OTT managed to motivate him to speak his piece and, as of standing in line for his biweekly protein shake before losing half of his body weight in sweat at hot yoga, Mediocre Me had four glorious episodes, a solid handful of good reviews, and a slowly (but steadily) increasing number of subscribers.
Tanaka relaxed the muscles of his face, stretched his jaw, and smiled to himself.
They were really something, those guys. He didn’t know them personally, but he sure felt like he did.
Sawamura Daichi ran the podcast like a sadistic GM but had been the only one ever to cry while recording. Tanaka gave it to him though, as did the rest of their listeners. He’d probably cry openly if someone asked him about his feelings on dog adoption.
Azumane Asahi had been doing podcasts the longest but somehow managed to sound like each episode was his first time with a microphone. His soft, hesitant voice tethered their conversations, like he if weren’t there the other two would drift too far apart.
Finally, there was Sugawara Koushi, who was something else entirely. He’d have Tanaka doubled over in laughter just as soon as he’d have him fifteen pages deep down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. He’d coo into the mic like a long-lost lover and in the same breath send his listeners running for cover.
The aforementioned host was speaking into Tanaka’s ear when someone brushed against his shoulder. He glanced in the direction he thought the person would’ve gone as they walked past him but, instead of finding a retreating back, found himself staring into someone else’s face at point blank range.
They were just a few inches shorter with a head of thick, silver hair and delicate cheekbones, one of them rising to carry a single mole. Their eyes were wide with shockingly obvious curiosity, so intense that Tanaka gulped. Looking deeper, their light brown irises reminded Tanaka of the fossilized amber from Jurassic Park, and he distracted himself momentarily with the notion that baby dinosaurs might pop out of his eyes and scurry around the shop. A laugh erupted in his throat, easing his self-inflicted awkwardness.
“Sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. He shifted so they could get by while he kept his place in line. “My bad.”
They examined Tanaka’s face while a small smile played at the corners of their mouth. He might’ve had more time to dwell on being subjected to such intense scrutiny if he hadn’t realized how handsome they were. Suddenly, he regretted having rescheduled his yoga class so soon after his morning dog-walking appointments.
They moved their lips and Tanaka rushed to remove his headphones. “Hm?”
“What are you listening to?” They asked, unfazed by having to repeat the question.
Their voice was familiar. He felt like he’d just been addressed by an old friend but was damn sure he would’ve remembered meeting someone so pleasing on the eye. “Oh, uh, just a podcast,” he answered out of politeness.
“Really? Which one?”
Again with that voice! Tanaka closed his eyes tightly, took a breath and opened them again. The stranger was still standing in space, but they had taken a step back. “There I go, running my mouth to strangers,” they said with a pout. “I was just curious because your face journeys have been really fun to watch.”
Tanaka scratched the recently shaved back of his head. He’d given up on processing the situation and fell back on his tried-and-true method of dealing with too many unknown elements. He started to ramble. “Oh, uh, no, don’t worry about it. I was listening to One Two Three, dunno if you’ve heard it? It’s super good, one of my favorites. You should check it out if you’re into that kinda thing, like fake but real advice shows. Except comedy. They're super funny.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected from the stranger, but it definitely wasn’t a megawatt smile. “It’s a very good one! And I’m glad they have expressive and, well,” they said, eyes dancing over Tanaka’s face, then trailing over his chest and down his arms, “jacked fans.”
Tanaka choked on his breath right as the customer in front of him moved away from the counter. It was his turn to order, and his yoga instructor would have his head if he was late again. He shoved his disappointment as deeply as any unwanted feeling could go. “Thanks?” He gestured to the person eyeing him from behind the register. “But I gotta get my smoothie.”
Regret momentarily marred their face, but it disappeared in favor of a mischievous grin. “I’ll get out of your hair, though I just wanted to say that you should reach out to them, the guys who do OTT. They’d love to hear from you.”
He’d thought about it, of course, but figuring out the exact right thing to say had never been one of his strong suits. Chikara helped him produce Mediocre Me, but he doubted he could convince his friend to write personal messages as well.Then again, that was the point of doing his podcast; he was tired of the voices holding him back. “You’re totally right,” he said, returning the grin with a toothy one of his own. “Thanks for the push.”
“Anytime. I’m looking forward to it.”
Tanaka cocked his head as they waved and walked away, willing his eyes away from the stranger’s backside and relying purely on muscle memory to order his drink.
The stranger’s familiarity ricocheted inside his skull like a stray bullet while his smoothie came together, and, when it was ready, Tanaka swiped it off the counter and took an aggressive sip. His phone vibrated, a visceral reminder that he couldn’t waste his day beating himself up over every stray thought that popped into his head.
He put his headphones back over his ears, suppressing a whine when he realized he hadn’t paused the episode.
“Suga, you can’t answer this one and you’re banned from answering for the rest of the hour,” Daichi said.
“But the people love me!”
Tanaka stopped so abruptly that the soles of his trainers squeaked against the linoleum floor.
That voice.
He’d just been talking to none other than Sugawara Koushi.
Sugawara Koushi, the self-proclaimed Number Two of One, Two, Three, who happened to be exceptionally handsome, had just smiled at him and ogled his muscles.
And it was the Sugawara Koushi who had just let Tanaka babble about the guy's own podcast like the world's biggest idiot.
He rubbed his face and braced himself for the wave of embarrassment that never came. In its place, an idea bubbled to the surface, fully formed and absolutely perfect. He almost dropped his phone as he scrambled to unlock his phone. He tapped at the screen and pressed "Tweet" before he could talk himself out of it.
So who knew @suganotwo spent his days creeping on face journeys at Smoothie World?