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Koji gets his very own ICOCA a few days after his twelfth birthday.
It’s uncomfortably warm outside; the bucket hat he pilfered from Tatsuro just barely keeps the sun out of his eyes. But the trek through their sleepy neighbourhood to the train station is still a little adventure. Mae walks Koji to the IC card machine in the corner and shows him what buttons to push. When he’s done, she carefully extracts an old 10,000 yen bill from her purse.
“There.” She hands Koji the freshly minted silver-and-turquoise card. “Now you have 9,000 yen on your card.”
Koji stares at her, wide-eyed. He’s old enough to know how much money that is.
“For good luck,” mae explains on the walk home. “Don’t forget, nine is the luckiest number!”
"I remember!" It comes out more defensive than Koji intended; he regrets it instantly. Mae exhales softly and loops an arm around Koji.
“I know this move has been hard on you,” she murmurs in Thai. “Thanks for doing your best.”
Koji blinks back tears and nods, eyes trained firmly on the ground. Hard is an understatement.
Koji’s family has visited Japan every summer for as long as he can remember. At the time, it was a trip he looked forward to. He would go home with stories of zooming across the Japanese countryside on the shinkansen, of how he ate so much takoyaki in one sitting that the mere sight of octopus made him sick, of how the sun and the sea and the salty air reminded him so much of Bangkok that he couldn’t wait to get home and tell everyone about it.
But moving to Japan was a different story entirely. Vacations came with an end date. When Koji tired of unfamiliar streets, the thick dialect that went over his head, and the steady stream of visitors who wouldn’t let him hide behind Tatsuro, there was always a return date he could look forward to. The day he could go back home to his real life.
But Nara is his real life now. And even though it has been a few months already, it still doesn’t feel like home.
Koji thumbs his ICOCA absently, watching the sunlight bounce off its silver edges.
“It was hard for me, too, the first time I followed your father here. But it gets easier, I promise.” Mae gives him another reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone, okay? You’ll always have oton and Tatsuro and me.”
Koji holds the ICOCA up against the sun and manages a watery smile. “And lucky number nine.”
—
“Koji-kun?”
A soft voice jerks Koji out of his impromptu nap on the floor.
“’m awake,” Koji mumbles automatically, even though he’s having trouble prying his eyes open. “’s fine, I can go again.”
There’s a chuckle and then something lukewarm presses against his cheek.
Koji pushes himself up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. With every blink, the hazy images of local trains and turquoise cards dancing on the back of his eyelids grow softer. By the time the harsh white lights of the practice room come into focus, Koji forgets what he was dreaming about.
There’s a polite cough at his side.
Oh!
Meguro is crouched beside him. He holds up a water bottle as a peace offering. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He looks sheepish. “Fukazawa-kun said you were passed out in here and it’s past eleven, so…”
Koji feels the tension leak from his shoulders. “I wasn’t asleep,” he insists, face breaking into a grin. “I was just resting my e—wait, did you say it’s eleven? Shit.”
He grabs his phone from where it’s charging and is greeted by a black screen, the battery icon still flashing ominously.
“Is everything okay?”
“My phone died,” Koji says grimly, furiously clicking the power button as though that will magically make it power up. “I must have dozed off after I plugged it in. But it’s still—” He holds it up for Meguro to see and runs his free hand through his hair, frustrated. “—and I need Google Maps to get home.”
It takes a second, but Meguro’s eyes widen with realization. “Oh, because you just moved here. Of course.” Meguro has never once been hard to read and worry is written openly on his face. “I can—”
Koji is no stranger to worry in people’s eyes. The first day of work after Naniwa Danshi was formed? Hell. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom in peace without the managers patting his back sympathetically. It was almost worse than being left out of the group. It only stopped when he pasted on his brightest, fakest smile and started joking about debuting with Ryuta-kun.
Well, he hadn’t really been joking, but considering how things played out, it’s probably for the best that they didn’t know.
Meguro’s concern is slightly easier to bear because it isn’t laced with pity, but it’s close enough that it’s unnerving.
“I’ll be fine!” Koji cuts him off, switching on a confident smile with practiced ease. He taps on his head and winks. “I’ve got it all up here!” He flashes Meguro a peace sign and moves to get up. “Alright, I shouldn’t keep you, Meguro-kun. See you tomorrow!”
Meguro doesn’t say anything, but he does follow Koji out of the practice room, down the hallway and into the street.
This area is confusing at the best of times, but at night, it’s a straight up maze. Koji cheerfully says his goodbyes to Meguro and picks a direction that looks vaguely right. It feels like he’s walked down this street before, anyway. At worst he could probably get a taxi? But can he afford it at this time of the month—
He pauses mid-step to read a streetsign when a warm body bumps into him with a soft oof.
“Oh, are you also heading this way, Meguro-kun?” Koji chirps brightly, pretending his nerves aren’t totally frayed. “Haha, what a coincidence! Where do you live?”
Instead of answering his question, Meguro continues to look at his phone thoughtfully. “You live near Akihabara station, right?”
Huh?
Koji shakes his head. “Kanda. A little ways from the station.”
Meguro tucks his phone into his pocket and nods. “Let’s go.” He walks a few paces in the opposite direction before turning mid-step to look at Koji. “Come on, you can still catch the last train if we hurry.”
Koji stares at him.
Meguro just sighs. He grabs Koji’s arm and tugs; to his own surprise, Koji follows wordlessly. “I know a shortcut to the station,” Meguro murmurs. “This way.”
All the arguments Koji thinks up take a backseat. It hadn’t taken long for Koji to learn Osaka by heart, but Tokyo is bright and noisy and large in a way that makes Koji feel powerless and small.
Also, it’s late, he’s exhausted and Meguro probably won’t believe him if he claimed he knew where he was going.
“Meguro-kun,” Koji says quietly. “Thank you.”
Meguro’s grip around Koji’s forearm tightens; the warmth of his palm burns through all the layers between them and lands on Koji’s skin like a tattoo. Koji shivers. Meguro’s ears turn pink. It’s a cold night after all.
Meguro checks his watch again and speeds up to a light jog. A sprint down unfamiliar alleyways under a canopy of flickering streetlights brings them to a station Koji has never heard of before. The lights are on, but it’s deserted.
Another wave of anxiety washes over Koji. He tries to look for the route map discreetly, but Meguro leads him to the ticket gate and waits expectantly.
“Oh, wait.” He frowns. “Your phone’s dead. Do you need to buy a ticket? The machines are over there.”
Koji shakes his head and digs through his wallet. “I have an ICOCA in here somewhere.” It’s a little dinged up and he hasn’t used it since he switched to the mobile app, but it has dutifully followed him from wallet to wallet for a decade, just in case. “There!”
He taps it on the IC Card reader and walks through the ticket gate.
“Okay!” Koji beams, turning to face Meguro. “I’ve got it from here.”
Meguro nods, but he swipes through the gate and matter-of-factly walks past Koji to the platform. “The train will be at platform number 2 in a couple of minutes. This way.”
“Wait, where are you headed?”
Koji doesn’t get an answer to his question until they’re queued up on the platform. First, the station announcements ring through the air. Then the noise of the train arriving at the platform is loud enough to drown out any attempt at conversation. The train slows to a halt, and the rush of wind in the tunnel sends Meguro’s precisely-cut bangs flying.
“Kanda station,” Meguro grins as the doors hiss open behind him. “I’m walking you home.”
—
Koji auditions on the condition that he can quit any time he wants. After a few months, he decides maybe being in Johnny’s is not the worst thing in the world.
It’s like an after-school club, except he gets to attend with Tatsuro and occasionally be on TV, which is pretty cool. Koji is still extraordinarily shy, but he discovers he has a talent for comedy. Even more surprising, he learns he likes being onstage.
It’s fun, being everyone’s younger brother. He plays it up on camera, delighted at being teased and doted on in equal measure. It spills over into real life too, and soon he has friends. Friends he talks to outside of work! Friends who invite him out, just because.
He gets a little green case for his ICOCA and attaches it to his backpack. It follows him around on his adventures around Osaka; first to malls and movies and family restaurants, later to izakayas and karaoke and concerts. Every beep! is a sign of good times to come or a night well spent.
One night, at a Manekineko in Tennoji, a very drunk Daigo throws his arm around Koji and declares, “Ko-chan! Promise me! Promise me we’ll debut together!”
Koji, who is just tipsy enough to find this extremely funny, dissolves into laughter and knocks a mic off the table. Eventually, he resurfaces for air and pretends to think deeply. “Only if I can bring Sho-chan with me,” he pouts for effect. “And Ryuta-kun.”
Daigo nods with a convinction he won’t remember in the morning. “All of us,” he says earnestly. “You, me, Ren, everyone. Kansai family!”
The karaoke room erupts in drunken cheers. The early dawn sunlight filters in through the window. Someone adds Osaka Romanesque to the queue. Koji beams.
Okan, I’m home.
—
Ryuuuuuta-kun (*≧∀≦*) @ 7:34 AM
Is this a romance drama lolol
He dropped you off at your apartment
And waited for you to wave from the balcony???
Sounds like a date
The only thing missing from this story is a goodnight kiss
…unless??? lololol
Koji is not really awake but he hits the Video Call button and pouts aggressively before Ryuta-kun even turns his camera on.
“Stop making fun of me,” he complains, squinting at the blurry outline on screen. He pats the floor next to his futon for his glasses. “It wasn’t a date!”
“Good morning to you too,” Ryuta-kun says pleasantly.
“Aren’t you happy I made a good friend,” Koji sniffs theatrically. His muscles ache something awful from yesterday’s rehearsals and the prospect of doing it all over again today is not appealing. He grumbles all the way to the bathroom and props his phone up by the sink while he draws a bath. “Instead you’re making fun of me!”
“I can be happy you’re settling in and tease you about your obvious crush,” Ryuta-kun grins. “And before you claim it isn’t a crush, you should go reread what you texted me in the middle of the night.”
Koji looks up from the bath tub and makes a deeply bullied face that has Ryuta-kun cackling. He clears his throat. “‘Meguro-kun really has great boyfriend instincts,” he narrates gravely.
“What! He does,” Koji says defensively. “He always waited for me to go first and even offered to buy me coffee from the vending machine because it was chilly out! He’s a gentleman, a gentleman!” The fact that gentleman is in English just makes Ryuta-kun laugh harder.
“There is also quite a bit here about how handsome he looked in the moonlight,” Ryuta-kun scrolls through their chat with great interest.
“No, there isn’t!” Koji protests. “You’re just making that up! I didn’t write that!”
“So you thought that.”
Koji’s ears burn. “Maybe,” he says finally, stepping into the bath. “He just looks so different now! Anyway, that isn’t the point. The reason I texted you about it,” he points a wet finger at the screen, “is because I want ideas on how to thank him.”
“I can think of at least one way,” Ryuta-kun says lightly. Before Koji can complain, he continues more sincerely, “It was a very kind thing he did.” Koji sinks deeper into the bath. “But don’t drive yourself crazy worrying about it.”
“Maybe I’ll make him some curry,” Koji thinks aloud. “Maybe green curry? Everyone likes okan’s green curry.”
Ryuta-kun hums. “Don’t overthink it.” His tone is gentle. “Meguro helped you because he wanted to. It’s okay to let someone take care of you for a change, Koji.”
—
The shift happens so gradually that Koji doesn’t realize it until he’s late to a taping one afternoon.
“Koji, honestly,” Kinoshita manager sighs, rushing him through hair and make up. “Stop acting like a kid! They’re thinking of giving you a TV show. You’re supposed to be one of the leaders!”
This is the first Koji hears of it and, as it turns out, being a leader does not come naturally to him. Taking care of the younger kids, even exceptionally cute ones like Micchi, takes a lot out of him. He learns to shove his own feelings down and dial his stage persona up to eleven so they never see him upset. Little kids are perceptive, and Koji would hate to make them worry.
By the time a gaggle of Tokyo juniors are assigned to backdance for Kin Kan, Koji takes charge of them with practiced ease. He makes a beeline for the shy kid at the back whose extraordinary talent is only matched by his nervousness. He looks so earnest and determined that Koji can’t help but want to pull his leg and tease a reaction out of him.
It’s cute. He’s cute.
“Meguro-kun, right?” Koji beams. “Hi, I’m Mukai Koji. Welcome to Osaka!”
—
He should make more of an effort to socialize with his new group members, but so much has changed in such a short time that Koji can’t help but retreat into his shell. Koji develops a habit of escaping to an empty table at the back when they break for lunch.
“Is this seat taken?”
Meguro doesn’t wait for a reply. He sits down on Koji’s right and digs into his bento like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Koji hesitates. Well, this is as good an opportunity as any. “About last night…”
Meguro looks up, and there’s a small piece of chicken stuck to his lips. Koji brushes it away without thinking, fond. His face is sharper now, and he goes to great lengths to style his hair almost severely, but Meguro has not changed in the ways that matter.
“About last night,” Koji repeats. “Thank you.”
“What happened last night?” A cheerful voice pipes up. Sakuma appears out of nowhere with his own bento and plops down on the other side of the table.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing!” Koji admonishes. “My phone died last night, so Meguro-kun took me home.” Meguro’s ears are pink again; Koji wonders absently if he should him some tea.
“Ren!” Sakuma gasps. “That’s so romantic! So chivalrous!”
“Don’t call me ‘Ren’,” Meguro grumbles, fighting a grin.
“Now now,” Sakuma chides. “Is that any way to talk to your senpai? Anyway, you took Koji home? Wow. Did you come to work together this morning? Can I come with you tonight? I want to see Ren’s room too!”
“I didn’t take him home!” Meguro looks almost flustered and it’s awfully cute.
“Yeah!” Koji rushes to clarify. “He took me to my house.”
“Wait, you went all the way to Akihabara?” Fukazawa-kun draws himself a chair next to Sakuma. “Meme, isn’t your house in the opposite direction?”
It suddenly occurs to Koji that he had never once thought to ask where Meguro lives.
“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbles.
“But why—”
“Leave him alone.” Shota-kun joins in. “Isn’t this the same as you walking Hikaru to school from the train station every day?”
“That’s different,” Fukazawa-kun says immediately.
“It’s exactly the same,” Shota-kun counters dryly.
If Meguro lives in the opposite direction, does that mean—did he—
Unfortunately, Koji’s questions go both unasked and unanswered. Meguro puts his chopsticks down and gets up. “I’m going to get a coffee from the vending machine.” He all but runs out of the room.
When Takizawa-kun calls it a night six hours later, Koji still has 83% on his phone. Meguro still waits for him by the door, walks him to same station as last time—Gaiemmae—and rides the train with him to Kanda. He waits until they arrive at Koji’s apartment to extract a small bag from his coat pocket.
“For you. They didn’t have orange, sorry.” A small smile plays on his lips. “I hope you like black.”
“I love black,” Koji says loyally, reaching into the bag. He looks at the little box and bites back a laugh. “Is this a… portable charger? Meguro-kun!” He bats his eyelashes. “My birthday isn’t until summer! You’re going to spoil me.”
“Meme is fine.” Koji can’t tell if he’s imagining the pink on Meguro’s—Meme’s?—cheeks, but he can feel the heat rushing up his own neck. “It’s always good to have one of these on hand. Think of it as a… welcome to Tokyo present?”
—
Kin Kan is dissolved unceremoniously. Koji can’t bring himself to be mad at Sho-chan, but it stings, the now-familiar feeling of being left behind. He tells everyone he’s fine, he’s proud of Sho and Ren, but sometimes, he drags Seiya and Jo to karaoke just so he isn’t left alone with his sad thoughts.
A month later, he coincidentally runs into Meguro at the Tokyo office and feels a different pang of sadness. He had grown so fond of this duckling, but they didn’t really get to see each other anymore.
“Meguro-kyun!” he greets. “I don’t know if you heard about Kin Kan, but we won’t get to work together any time soon.”
“I did hear. I’m sorry.” Koji expects a platitude—he’s not sure if he ever even made an impression on Meguro—so his earnestness takes Koji by surprise.
“Don’t be too sorry,” Koji tries to lighten the mood. “Now you won’t have to deal with me stepping on your toes all the time!”
Meguro’s brows furrow at that.
“Please be nicer to yourself, Koji-kun.” He doesn’t scold, but it comes out stern. “You’re always too hard on yourself.”
—
Koji thinks the portable charger is the end of it, a funny story they’ll tell in magazines someday, but Meguro—Meme—still escorts him home every night.
In time, Koji stops protesting. Tokyo is still uncomfortably large and Meme’s presence is comforting. He gets used to hearing the beep! of his ICOCA again, starts associating the sound with late nights on the Ginza line with Meme.
It reminds him of learning the Osaka Loop with Daigo, Hassun and Masakado, of getting hopelessly lost time and again and toasting to their misadventures at izakayas near whatever dinky station they ended up at. Koji realizes slowly he didn’t learn Osaka all by himself. He always had friends.
Meme catches his eyes and smiles. Koji still has friends.
He realizes he has forgotten what it feels like to rely on his friends. He needs to prove himself, prove that he belongs in Snow Man, prove that he deserves to star in Takizawa Kabuki. But when Meme catches his eye again, Koji realizes maybe he doesn’t have to go it alone.
—
“Why do you keep bringing me home?” Koji asks one Wednesday night as the local train slowly makes it’s way through the city. “It’s so out of the way for you.”
“I like walks,” Meme says lightly. “Especially with people I like.”
“Meme.” There’s just a hint of a whine in Koji’s voice. “You never even come upstairs!”
Meme takes his time checking the schedule on his train app before sliding it into his pocket.
“Because you were nice to me,” he says finally. “In Osaka, back when you were in Kin Kan.”
Koji remembers Meme from back then—of course he does, how could anyone forget him. He was impossibly cute, his Meguro-kyun.
The Meme leaning against the doors of the train is almost unrecognizable. His hair is different, his jaw is sharper, he is quieter and his gaze is more thoughtful. Koji always said Meme would grow up well, but even he couldn’t have predicted how well.
“It was a long time ago.” There’s a faint hint of embarassment in Meme’s voice now. Cute. “But I never forgot it. Or you.”
“I never forgot you either,” Koji admits.
Be nicer to yourself, Koji-kun.
The train pulls into a stop and their conversation peters out in the resulting commotion. Koji sits down.
A few minutes later, Meme breaks the silence.
“Did you ever think we would debut together?”
It comes out casual, but Koji knows this shade of feigned casual. The hint of nervouness hiding just behind the words. Maybe Meme hasn’t changed all that much after all.
There are a number of things Koji could say in this moment that would make for a good story. “Of course, I was waiting for you!”, or “We were destined!”, or even “We came together because of lucky number nine!” But in this moment, Koji decides he would rather be honest.
“No,” he admits. And then, “I didn’t think I would debut… here.” Koji plays with the strap of his ICOCA case. “It hasn’t really sunk in yet.”
Meme nods. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for it to.” Koji struggles to find the words. “Sink in, I mean.”
Meme doesn’t say anything. Koji sneaks a glance and finds him staring out the window, at the dimly lit cityscape rushing past.
“My life is in Kansai.”
It’s really as simple as that. It didn’t feel real when he bought the one-way shinkansen ticket, it didn’t feel real when he moved into the tiny studio above the Chinese restaurant in Kanda. He shows up for Kabuki rehearsals every day and works harder than he ever has, but Koji still forgets from time to time that he’s in Snow Man now, that he’s not a Kansai junior anymore.
“I don’t want to say goodbye to my friends.” It’s a relief to finally say it out loud. “Even though I made this choice myself.”
The train driver announces the next station on the line. Koji gets up.
Kanda Station. Please exit on the right side.
“I get it,” Meme says, finally. “It’s not the same but… yeah. You feel like you’re leaving your friends behind.” He gives Koji a lopsided smile. “Kind of sucks.”
“Yeah.” Koji is smiling before he knows it. “Yeah.”
Something shifts between them in that moment; Koji can see it in Meme’s eyes.
—
It’s a cool spring night in Kanda. The trees in front of the station have started sprouting leaves; soft pink buds dot the dark weather-worn branches. Koji tucks his ICOCA safely into his pocket and jogs to meet Meme by the bus stop. Their hands brush against each other as they walk.
“The sakura are early this year,” Meme comments. “Maybe they’ll bloom before the show opens.”
Koji hums. “Not long now.”
The next time their hands brush together, Meme laces their fingers together.
“It would be fun to go see them together, maybe at night,” Koji’s cheeks are pink, but he keeps his eyes trained firmly ahead. “Are you free on the ninth?”
Meme hums. Koji doesn’t look, but he can hear the smile in his voice.