Chapter Text
Spring is the season of new beginnings. It marks a reawakening after a cold winter, when birds begin to chirp, trees put on new leaves, and flowers bloom. It is a transformation of bringing everything back to life.
To Naniwa Danshi, spring also means the start of their planning phase for their next album and yearly concert tour.
And Ohashi Kazuya is bored.
With rehearsals just starting, his brain is on autopilot: wake up, get ready for practice, practice, post-practice discussions with the members (optional), and dinner with Jo. The past few weeks had become a routine he did not necessarily hate, but rather just something he had grown used to all too quickly, which felt insipid. As they say, the human brain needs some sort of mental stimulation now and then.
Spring. It does not only show in one’s surroundings, for it may also exhibit itself in one’s feelings.
For example, Nishihata Daigo and Onishi Ryusei.
It has been nagging in Kazuya’s head for quite some time. It was normal for Daigo and Ryusei to be awfully close, but recently it has been… awfully close in such a way that he could not put a finger on it.
Was it the way Ryusei always drinks from Daigo’s water bottle, or the constant soft giggles and playful nudges that paid no heed to anyone else around them? Maybe it was that gentle look they both have towards each other that the other members never get to receive.
Oh, please. It’s just Daigo and Ryusei, he would always tell himself.
But then it happened, something that solidified his supposition. And immediately, he already knew the first person he wanted to share it with.
“You think they’re what?” Jo takes the cart to an abrupt stop.
On a much carefree Friday, Kazuya and Jo had decided to cook dinner together, specifically at the older’s apartment. Practice had just ended at 7PM, and neither of them had any weekend work commitments. It was the perfect night to settle down and end the day later than usual.
“Dating,” Kazuya answers almost absentmindedly, lightly throwing a net of potatoes in the cart. He proceeds to look over to the next shelves, Jo slowly tailing behind him with a face still dumbfounded.
Their trip to the grocery was smooth yet verbally chaotic, a typical occurrence for the couple. There was a bit of a back-and-forth, with Jo disagreeing and Kazuya disagreeing with his disagreement—all the while passing through the essential aisles and perfectly throwing in a few needed ingredients. With a decade or so of endless banters and non-aggressive bickering between each other, multitasking was already second nature to them.
After a few no, I’m not convinced statements that would eventually cut into wait, I'm pretty sure I’m all out of these in between, they finally made their way to the counter, cart half-filled with ingredients for a week’s worth of meals, and some of Jo’s essentials restock.
“But there is an anomaly, my dear boyfriend,” Kazuya says in the most playful tone, smiling at Jo as he takes their goods out of the cart and places them at the end of the counter. The cashier begins scanning each product.
Jo raised an eyebrow as a silent retort, his body leaning on the cart head slightly bent, waiting for the last of the products to be scanned. He watches his boyfriend pay with his card before turning to look at him again, his smile now a smirk that Jo once fell for on one spring day.
“Ryusei has been initiating.”
Okay, Jo was intrigued.
Kazuya was able to stay in for the night, after convincing Jo what “a great idea it would be if we discussed this in the office?”
There were two specific reasons for that. One, the building would be empty, apart from the lovely security guards that always patrol the entrances. It was perfect to discuss an extra top-secret agenda that could potentially define the state of affairs of the world (exaggeration). And two, Kazuya desperately wanted to use the giant, double-sided, rotating, four-wheeled whiteboard in one of the conference rooms.
On a swivel chair, Jo looks at him suspiciously. “Where did you get that?”
“Details aren’t important right now,” Kazuya answers haphazardly, jotting down a list.
Jo paused for a few seconds before realizing what his boyfriend had done. “Did you steal that from the conference room next door?”
“I temporarily relocated it.”
“Ohashi Kazuya, there are cameras in the hallway,” Jo begins, massaging his temples. “Our manager is going to kill us!”
Kazuya turns to Jo with a large grin, “Not if we succeed,” he scribbles a few more letters before capping the marker with a decisive click and standing back.
“Alright,” he finally faces Jo this time. “First, what we know so far—what I know so far.”
There are four numbered items under the list, firstly:
- Daigo’s water bottle
There was silence in the room. Jo almost forgot to blink while he stared at the whiteboard, exasperated. Kazuya was anticipating his reaction with a golden retriever smile so wide that one could make out an imaginary tail wagging from his behind.
“So you think they’re dating because Ryusei drinks out of Daigo’s water bottle?”
“No, but he drank without wiping the mouth of the bottle,” Kazuya explains flippantly.
He extends a retractable finger pointer that Jo refuses to ask any further questions about its origins. He points at the second item.
- Skinship
Jo immediately rejects the notion, “Yes, yes, they’re touchy feely—they practically grew up together, Ohashi!”
Kazuya wanted to object, but the older—elbow on the table and cheek resting on the back of his hand—already had his finger up and motioning a gesture for the younger to move on to his next questionable idea. Kazuya huffs in response, but does so anyway.
- The LOOKS.
Jo knowingly raises an eyebrow. Half-expecting Kazuya to make up something that does not help his argument at all, half-hoping that he may finally have a believable explanation.
“So, what kind of look?”
Kazuya tilts slightly, as if confused, “Like how I look at you.”
As if it were the obvious answer.
Flustered, Jo almost slipped off the swivel chair. A near impossible occurrence to happen as its material was usually known to have a good grip on one’s buttocks. A few long seconds of silence permeated the room before he cleared a phantom lump on his throat.
“Point taken into consideration.”
A smile formed on Kazuya’s lips, and he excitedly moved on to the last item on the list. He points it with the finger pointer:
- Ryusei.
He relives the day he watched Daigo and Ryusei’s reflections in the rehearsal mirrors. It was during a choreography practice for the first quarter of the setlist, and the staff had just called for a break. The two decided to sit in the middle of the room reviewing choreographies from a borrowed tablet, discussing in whispers that Kazuya could not discern.
But the male’s interest was piqued when he witnessed one-sided gazes that were filled with longing. Always stealing glances but never looking at each other. For that, he took the liberty of not looking away.
For it was strange, it was not the kind of look he would receive from them both. More importantly, when has Ryusei ever looked at Daigo like he was holding onto something precious?
Kazuya watches Ryusei move a hand to Daigo’s fringe. Gently fixing the strands that were unkempt from all the movement they had done from practice. His ears perk at the sound of Daigo’s chuckle, playfully removing his hand from his hair.
“Stop, I’m sweating,” he heard him say.
Ryusei smiles and proceeds to put his hand back on the male’s hair, “That’s why I’m trying to fix it.”
Kazuya wanted to refute himself that day. He did so every time he had such ideas. But this felt different from usual, and he was the only one who could see it for what it was.
But then he remembers it was also spring. He may perhaps have been deluded by the season of new beginnings.
Yet, he thought it could also be possible that, just like how this season encourages a new chapter in people’s lives, Ryusei and Daigo had just recently started flipping the pages in theirs.
Once again, there was silence in the room. It lingered longer this time. Jo looked at Kazuya, eyes widened in astonishment.
“... You really saw that?” Kazuya could just nod. He was anything but a liar, but Jo does know the younger had multiple circumstances where he exaggerated. “How could you watch them long for each other without getting caught!?”
“What I have been telling you from the start,” Kazuya whined, “They were so busy being into each other that they never noticed me!”
For that, item number 3 was now validated.
“Alright,” Kazuya is back on the whiteboard, “We need structure.”
He then leans down for a moment to pick up a thick rim of paper from his bag and slam it on the table. “We need data.”
Jo takes a piece. It was an impromptu research paper.
About Ryusei and Daigo.
He could only think about how the younger could have typed all this down—how much coffee had his boyfriend consumed that could have led to this sort of spiritedness? He made a mental note to check his printer ink at home to see if there was any left.
Then it hit him. “Hold on, we!?”
“My love, you were already a part of this the moment you agreed to listen to me,” Kazuya states in the most sing-song manner, the sweetest smile on his face.
But Jo knew exactly what kind of smile that was. That specific smile, where lips were pursed and curved at a certain angle that jutted his cheeks, and made his eyes disappear from the sheer amount of excitement bubbling up inside him. It made Jo shudder; there was no going back.
He does not have the ability to stop Kazuya once he starts.
He acquiesces with a sigh, watching the male write lightning fast on the whiteboard, as if going any slower would let the ideas in his head disappear.
Jo gestures vaguely at the board. “And this is…?”
“Our criteria,” Kazuya directs Jo, “turn to page 11.”
A sigh of resignation leaves Jo’s lips, “You are unbelievable.”
Kazuya protracts his pointer, ignoring Jo’s grumbles (of affection). “Category one: Eye Contact Duration.”
The older male squints, eyebrows knit together. “You’re kidding.”
“Category two: Skinship Frequency.”
“This is starting to sound ridiculous...”
“Category three—”
“Ohashi.”
“—Suspicious Behavior Index.”
“Kazuya.”
“—and finally,” Kazuya does a light thump on the board, “Romantic Tension Level.”
Jo stares at him, bewildered. His eyes gaze at the board, then back at Kazuya, who bore the same face he had made a while ago, as if he were about to burst from staggering excitement.
“…You made that one up.”
The younger muses, “I made all of them up.”
At least he’s honest.
Kazuya inches closer to Jo, serious now. “This is science,” he slaps the finger pointer on his hand repeatedly in a pattern.
“This is not science—”
The finger pointer, now facing the ceiling, “This is love science!”
“That’s not a real field!”
A deeper sigh escapes from Jo’s lips, straightening his back without the faintest idea how long he has been hunched for.
“…Okay,” he says slowly, “hypothetically—purely hypothetically—how do you plan to measure romantic tension level?”
Ohashi lights up instantly, “I’m so glad you asked.”
With the finger pointer stick, he gently pokes the tip of Jo’s nose, causing the older to fluster. He then proceeds to walk back to the board, marker in hand, and draws a large horizontal line.
“It’s based on vibes,” he adds while he scribbles.
He stops his motion just to turn to Jo for a bit to emphasize, “Advanced vibes, ” numbers one and ten from both ends were now visible.
Jo interjects, curious. “What does ten mean?” By now, he feels oddly parched and pulls out the water bottle he brought with him.
There was a quick pause, “Almost kissing,” Kazuya says almost monotonously.
He chokes on said water. “You can’t just—what?!”
“And one is ‘just coworkers’,” the younger adds matter-of-factly, flashing a radiant smile.
Jo has given up counting how many times he had mentally told himself that he was done. However, just the sight of Kazuya’s cheerfulness always washes away the fear, the anxiety, the ridiculousness of the situation at hand.
Perhaps it won’t be so bad to partake in his little game.
“Alright,” he relents, “So, how do you want to call this little mission we have?”
And there it was, the spark in Kazuya's eyes. In that instant, he remembered why he loved him so completely. To be listened to and supported, no matter how preposterous and overdramatized his ideas were, Jo either grounded him or lifted him up. Never had doubt or ridicule touched him in Jo’s presence. He was always earnest, always ready to lend him a hand.
Kazuya’s expression softens, affection quietly settling into his features. He picks up the pointer again and gently prods Jo’s cheek, playful and familiar. For a moment, he only hums, mulling the question over.
Then, just as quickly, he springs to his feet and rushes back to the board, scribbling one last note with sudden certainty.
“Let’s call it…”
The board reads: Operation: Love Detective.