[je] tomorrow is something we remember
Koichi’s relativity phase lasts for a few months before he moves on to quantum theory. Tsuyoshi makes faces about it over lunch to Kamisen: Ken, who does not pay any particular attention; Go, who nods at the right places and so makes a passable pretense at listening; and Okada, who as ever looks on with elegant impassivity.
“He’s driving the stylists crazy,” Tsuyoshi says with some bitterness. “He’s driving me crazy. Don’t let him corner you. He talk you to death, I mean it. No one comes to our dressing room anymore. The Juniors are all scared shitless of him–and me by proxy, as if I carry Cooties Of Koichi around.” Go makes a sympathetic noise, and tactfully does not say anything about how the Juniors never visit Kinki’s dressing room, not only because Koichi is aloof and scary and eats Juniors alive, but also because Tsuyoshi has a habit of insulting their hairstyles, often without meaning to. Hair, being what it is within the company (i.e. 55-80% of an idol’s composition), if insulted usually leaves the Juniors irreparably scarred for life. “He just goes on and on and on about uncertainty principles and dead cats and photo emissions. Hair-stylist-san was ready to burn him with the curling iron yesterday. I don’t know why she didn’t.” Tsuyoshi pokes glumly at his soba, and then, grudgingly like each word causes him physical pain: “F1 was—preferable.”
Okada replies with something probably meant to be sympathetic, but it emerges (like all Okada-isms) manfully stoic instead. Tsuyoshi rolls his eyes. He calls Okada things like “emotionally vacuous” and “lump of granite” and other such abuse acceptable only between old friends. When that gets old, Tsuyoshi changes the subject: care and feeding of ancient tropical fish, the number of frets on his new Caparison, his stylist’s current and somewhat disturbing fascination with tulle. They detour a little into company gossip (“Heard Joshima-Leader walked in on some couple in the costume closets again. Scarred him pretty bad, apparently. Taichi can’t stop laughing.” “What was he doing in there in the first place? No one actually goes in there except to—I mean, obviously, it’s not like he’s going to–” “You know how Leader likes to sulk in there.” They pause and nod at each other, remembering how Leader used to live in closets, back in the day. “And the couple? Was it some Juniors again? Man, why are they so young these days?” “I heard it was those kids in NEWS. Tegoshi and the, um, y’know—the surly one.” Another pause. Yes, they know Tegoshi and the surly one.) Eventually, they say goodbyes after lunch, Kamisen off to find the rest of V6, Tsuyoshi hoping to spend the afternoon hiding from Koichi and his ramblings on the nature of particle physics.
Of course, Ken and Go a) are married, b) are evil, c) have never actually quite hit puberty. They interpret warnings not so much as messages of caution as messages of invitation. Moreover: Inohara drew purple peanuts all over Ken on their last tour, which demands retribution. Revenge, they muse, creepily giggling their way down the hall, has a way of working itself out.
They find Inocchi in the V6 dressing room. “Hey,” says Go, settling into the seat next to their bandmate, Ken on the other side. Inocchi looks up from the schedule on the table and smiles sunnily at both of them.
“You know,” says Ken, casual, “have you seen Koichi around lately? I haven’t seen him since Countdown at all. D’you wish him a happy birthday yet? Wouldn’t you like to talk to him?” (Ken does not believe in ‘subtle’. If you had a face like his, Go says, you wouldn’t either.)
“It’s SHOCK season,” says Inocchi with mild bemusement. For one, Koichi doesn’t talk much with Kamisen and has never been particularly close to Go or Ken. There’s something strange here. “SHOCK season,” repeats Inocchi, which is the second strange thing of Ken’s comment. “No one, except maybe Tsuyoshi and MA, see Koichi.” This is true. Koichi basically lives at Teigeki in the early months of the year.
“I think you should go visit him. Say hi to him for us, for V6. Ask him how he’s been lately. What he’s been up to. If there’s anything he’s interested in. ” Go blinks calmly at Inocchi. (Go does not believe in ‘subtle’ either. If you had a face like his, Ken also says, but different, you wouldn’t either.)
“Build up the inter-group-ai and all that,” Ken adds, beaming with puppyish charm.
Inocchi regards them with suspicion. They’re up to something, of course; Morita Go and Miyake Ken are always Up To Something. “What did you do?” Inocchi asks, eyes narrowing. “Do I have to apologize to him for anything the two of you did? Did you make someone cry again? MA?” though that last one is highly improbable. Musical Academy are sort of hardcore and scary (especially Yonehana’s face). “You didn’t make fun of Tsuyoshi’s hair, did you?” because the basis of Kinki’s relationship with each other is some sort of exclusive sadism that Inohara doesn’t quite understand. Koichi makes hideous fun of Tsuyoshi’s hair and style, and Tsuyoshi snidely comments that at least hehas hair and style, and things go downhill very rapidly from there; but it’s a Kinki thing and no one else is allowed to scratch at Tsuyoshi’s furry beanies or tug at his turbans.
“No, no, no,” Ken insists. “Of course not. Koichi’s not mad at us.”
Which, Inohara figures (pathologically disbelieving of Go and Ken), means that Koichi is pissed. Inocchi has never actually seen Koichi pissed–Koichi’s temper is the product of long years of utter humiliation on national television, which is to say that very little upset him these days, and like all bullied leaders in the jimusho, he’s gotten very good at self-deprecating acceptance of life. Still, seeing how the juniors are all in semi-religious awe of Koichi, of good deal of which is likely comprised of fear, Inohara figures the Wrath of Koichi is something pretty spectacular.
“You…” but he doesn’t really want to vocalize the rest of so horrible a prospect. “You–didn’t do something to his car, did you? Scratch its paint job?”
If anything happened to Koichi’s car, Inohara is pretty sure that Koichi might kill someone. With torture instruments. Over the course of several days.
Ken rolls his eyes hugely, tells Go: “He doesn’t believe us. He doesn’t trust us. After all these years as bandmates–”
Go nods in martyred agreement and says with guileless hurt, “We just thought maybe Koichi is lonely, and maybe it’d be a good idea for you guys to catch up and–”
And Inocchi would have called them little liars and continued prying into What Morita And Miyake Are Up To, but Mom and Dad come into the room at that moment, forestalling further discussion. Sakamoto sits down without a smile–he’s probably the least bullied leader in the company (aside from how V6 enjoy making him scream like a sissy girl) due likely to his Terrifying Mask of Sternness. Reaching over, he takes the afternoon schedule from Inocchi. Nagano, meanwhile, glances around the room and does a silent headcount, like a mother hen with her chicklings. He comes up short one, and asks, frowning, “Where’s Okada?”
“Around,” says Ken, disinterestedly. “He’ll show up eventually.”
“Mm,” agrees Sakamoto with a grunt. “Let’s start,” so Mom sits down too. Later, twenty minutes into the meeting, Okada does show up, materializing silently from out of nowhere. “Where’ve you been?” asks Sakamoto.
“….here,” says Okada, straight-faced. V6 decide not to ask. Okada’s skills for appearing out of nowhere is sort of ninja-like, yes–but also really sort of frightening.
After the meeting, Sakamoto tells Go and Ken to stay behind, something about “your suspicious inquiries around the company for mousetraps, what the fuck is that about?”, which is followed by Go’s perfectly serious reply of “There’s a rat infestation in this dressing room,” and Ken shouting “There! There!” and Sakamoto’s subsequent wail of terror. Inocchi, outside in the hallway, rolls his eyes and makes a mental note to draw purple polka dots all over the Evil Two next time V6 goes on tour.
Still, their comments about Koichi aren’t entirely wrong. Inohara hasn’t seen Koichi around lately, not since Countdown at all. It’s probably not a bad idea to check in on him, and it’s never a bad idea in the company to ask if Koichi’s eating properly. ‘Feed Koichi’ is sort of an implicit company initiative.
He sends a text, tapping it out on his phone as he makes his way down the company halls to a rehearsal studio. Tiny juniors scramble out of his way.
Hey, he writes: Kou-chan. <3 How’ve you been? Let’s go for dinner sometime.
-
The reply comes at two-thirty in the morning, when, presumably, Koichi gets off work:
Ok.
–
Which is completely unacceptable.
Inohara calls Koichi the next afternoon, in between shoots for some variety show that Okada never watches, a fact which V6 find hilarious and so spend the majority of their time not promoting their new single and making Okada feel as awkward as possible instead. Okada’s complete lack of expression (which Inohara chooses to interpret as bland, bland repression of fury) does not prevent him from emanating a general air of homicidal intent. This prompts Go and Ken to cackle and then poke more fun at him. Inohara reflects philosophically, waiting out the dial tone on the phone, that some of his bandmates have absolutely no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.
“Eh?” says Koichi, upon answering his phone, the most retarded greeting ever. He sounds half drunk and half asleep; standard Koichi, then.
“Kou-chan! Kou-chan!” Inohara beams. “Kou-chan!”
There is a significant pause, while Koichi audibly thinks about how to respond. His confusion in the face of such effusive affection is palpable. “….Oh. Inocchi.”
“Kou-chan!” says Inocchi again. Most of his phone conversations with Koichi begin this way: repeating Koichi’s name over and over, half a cajoling attempt at conversation, half some sort of demented mating ritual. Mostly, because Inohara is actually very fond of Koichi. Underneath that great natural reserve which the company tries to sell off as stoic elegance but is really just social awkwardness–beneath that, Koichi is actually completely batshit insane. (Inohara is very fond of the crazy ones.)
“Kou-chan, when are you coming out to dinner with me?”
“Ehh….” says Koichi, obviously stalling as he contemplates things like leaving his apartment and i>eating</i> and leaving his apartment to eat. “Next month?”
“Are you eating properly?” Inohara asks. He imagines that must be a standard phrase among the managers: “Is Koichi eating properly?” right next to “Good morning,” and “Otsukare.”
“….yes?” offers Koich, and then, more proudly, “Gained half a kilo yesterday.”
(In the background, Inohara hears someone–probably MA–yell, “And lost three today!” before the sound is quickly muffled.)
“Koichi,” sighs Inohara, “I’ll tell Leader about this.”
“Sakamoto?” asks Koichi, sounding confused.
“Joshima,” says Inocchi. “And then he’ll invite you on Ai no Apron again and you’ll have to eat–”
“Okay, okay!” laughs Koichi. “Next week. Isn’t there something gathering next week? You can take me there.”
It takes a little while longer to bully Koichi into a promise of attendance, but Inohara knows what he’s doing. Even better, Nagano has noticed Ken and Go’s teasing of Okada and is frowning gently. Inohara expects a massive and magnificent guilt-trip in the very foreseeable future.
All in all, it’s been a productive day. Whistling cheerfully, Inohara drops by the Kinki rooms before dinner to see if he can corner Tsuyoshi and bully that recluse into attending as well.
–
Jumanji 55 in Roppongi isn’t a place Tsuyoshi frequents: the pink fluorescent ’55′ above its door is too glittery and clubbish. Still, the seafood paella that Inocchi keeps heaping on Tsuyoshi is good, and Tsuyoshi is long overdue to meet up with company friends. Meanwhile, Koichi, who’s not particularly fond of seafood paella or avocado salad and who would prefer not to be nagged to eat more, please, why don’t you try the spinach pasta, that’s a specialty–has hermitted himself in a corner, slightly behind a potted plant. Inocchi keeps an eye on him, to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep or slink away home–but Nagase is to arrive in a bit. Inocchi figures that things are about to get very rowdy and very drunk in Koichi’s corner soon, and so allows Koichi a few moments of quiet. Tsuyoshi, on the other hand, Inocchi feels needs cheering up.
“It’s a horrible idea,” says Tsuyoshi. (There had been some proposal within management of a company-wide assassin game. The entire way over, Kinki had bitched about it in the backseat. Ostensibly a promotional deal with Hakuhinkan, Tsuoyshi had distilled the entire thing into: 1) waterguns, 2) kindergarten games, 3) crazy stupidity, 4) soaking wet men. Koichi had distilled it into: Thumbprint of Johnny-san Everywhere.) “We’re all going to be paranoid within two days, and wardrobe is going to be so pissed when we soak each other’s clothes.”
Inocchi begins to reply to this but–
“BAM, BABY!” heralds Nagase’s arrival. By the time Inocchi turns around, Nagase is already standing on a table, beer fisted in one hand. He gives the room a once over, then spots a diminutive figures curled in the corner, looking vaguely sulky. “KOU-CHAN!” booms Nagase, jumping off the table. He barrels into Koichi with a laugh, exclaiming, “YOU CAME TOO!”
Inocchi turns back to Tsuyoshi, who rolls his eyes. “Terrible,” sniffs Tsuyoshi, but it’s a fond disdain. “The two of them are terrible together. Five minutes before they pass out drunk,” he predicts, obviously lying, because it’s common knowledge that Nagase and Koichi have crazy alcohol tolerances. Inohara smiles anyway.
“Okada’s coming in a bit too, I think, as soon as his filming for today wraps up. Isn’t this nice though, everyone in attendance? It’s far too rare that we get together like this.” Inocchi reaches over to pile more seafood paella on Tsuyoshi’s plate.
“Stop it, stop it,” Tsuyoshi gripes. “I can eat by myself fine. Go attack Koichi or something; retard keeps forgetting to feed himself. Idiot.” He grumbles with the disgruntled familiarity of long years. It is, thinks Inocchi, a little like Ma and Pa in twenty years, if Nagano was a little more gaudy and a little less gentle.
Tsuyoshi tilts his chin at something past Inocchi’s shoulder. Inocchi turns around to look at the potted plant corner again, where Koichi has shrugged off his usual reserve and is sprawled in his chair, beaming, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Nagase, too, is grinning like his face might break as he slams his beer down on the tabletop and launches himself at Koichi, reaching for the sides and stomach with tickling fingers. Koichi shrieks and flails and chairs crash over, but loudest of all is their laughter.
-
It drags into the small hours of the morning, but Tokyo does not sleep and neither do idols. Inohara finds himself sitting in formation with V6 at the bar counter. Ken, who has absolutely no head for alcohol, is whining about his socks– “Take ‘em off,” he mumbles to Okada, who blinks slow and blank. “My socks,” says Ken, then tugs at Go’s sleeve. “My socks, my socks, take off my socks,” and then Okada bends down, without comment, and obliges. Go snickers a little, but it’s halfway in the middle of a sip from his drink; the snicker turns into a snort and then a full-blown cough spasm. Ken turns around and sticks his tongue out; Go threatens to show Ken how to use that tongue. Inohara considers this for a moment, decides that he is not drunk enough yet for this, concludes that he will never understand Kamisen anyway. Sakamoto and Nagano’s heads are close together, their voices quiet; they sip their beer slowly, in no hurry, in no rush. Inocchi looks at them for a long moment, feeling suddenly a surge of sunlit affection, and decides not to intrude. He takes his beer from the counter and wanders away (only a little unsteadily) to go find TOKIO. TOKIO, who are probably playing strip poker or strip arm-wrestling or who are naked already perhaps; TOKIO, who always know how to have a good time.
Tsuyoshi is with them, eyes bright and animated—his hair is blue down the center tonight, rippling into purple on the sides, and it catches the light in a strange, pretty way. He holds court in a corner booth, at turns witty and charming, weaving stories into the shimmering air. Leader and Gussan listen, Gussan with good-humored cheer. Mabo beside them has pulled up a chair, slouching down low with long legs sprawling; he has won a bowl of peanuts from Sakamoto in the last poker round, and now sits eating it, alternately flicking one or two in Leader’s direction. Leader looks very put-upon and long-suffering.
Slightly outside their circle, but not far, Nagase has claimed the couch. His grins gleam white in the low light, irresistible; Koichi is next to him with quiet smiles and laughter like the pine winds. They are a strange pair, in size and temperament, but their edges fit, and this, Inocchi has never doubted, not since their Junior days. Every now and then, Koichi glances up, his gaze landing on Tsuyoshi—a brief glance, almost careless, but Inocchi is familiar with this too: Tsuyoshi’s alcohol tolerance, Koichi’s little gestures of strange loyalty, the inexplicable nature of a duo’s existence.
“This is really—you know, I think sometimes that we argue too much, or we don’t know how to work together, y’know—” Taichi has snuck up silently next to Inohara. His gaze is a little unfocused, but his words are coherent and clear still. Always the proper host, thinks Inohara with wry affection. “And I think, Guys, we have to work harder,–I mean, don’t you, Inocchi? We have to work harder, right? We can be so much more. But then—like this, and we’re all together, and everyone—” Inocchi looks over in alarm, to see Taichi a little wavery in the mouth, a little teary in the eye. “—There’s just so much love.”
Love. Inohara looks around, idols who have been the in the industry almost too long, who don’t sing about dreams and hope and flower fields anymore; perhaps not past their primes yet, but no longer the fresh-faced youths they used to be. And it’s all right, he thinks, he’ll trade all that for this, these friends, this easy comfort among them, their long histories of glittering costumes and year-end concerts and scripted banter, their long histories of rooming together and stupid pranks and getting locked in dishwashers and epic video game matches.
“Yeah,” Inocchi pats Taichi on the shoulder. Maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe he’s just getting old, but he thinks their sappy sentimentalism can be excused. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
He does.
