This is because the front page has only one Mizuki/Nakatsu pairing, and Nakatsu wants some attention. Also, this is based only on the J-Drama… since it's my only source of Hana-Kimi knowledge.
I do not own these characters that title goes to Hisaya Nakajo, and the Domyouji name belongs to Kamio Yoko. This isn't actually a cross over, just paying homage to Hana Yori Dango.
A soccer ball sat on her door step. Mizuki nearly fell down her porch steps trying to avoid it. It was an unassuming soccer ball, coming to a stop on her leg. She brushed her hair out of her face, and looked at it, examined it, puzzled over its existence. But despite the fact that there wasn't a soccer ball sitting on their porch last night, it seemed to belong. It was in no way out of place. She dusted her collared blouse off, and came to rest on her knees. Why this soccer ball was occupying this much of her thoughts, Mizuki did not understand. She placed her hand on top of it, pushing down slightly, and examined the stitching.
"SANO!" She cried out to the man inside the living room. "Why is there a soccer ball on our porch?" Perhaps this was something of his. Perhaps this was why it wasn't out of place. Silence answered her from the innards of the house. Asleep she supposed.
The soccer ball regarded her, and began rolling down the slight slope again. It wanted Mizuki to keep her eyes on it, as if this particular soccer ball had emotions. Mizuki laughed at herself. She had never over analyzed a soccer ball before.
Yuujiro yipped at her from his leash in the yard. The interview. This was why she had run out of the house and almost died on the steps. Grabbing her bag, Mizuki leapt off the porch and bolted down the street to the bus stop. No sign of the always late public transport. In a still bad habit from her high school days, Mizuki stuck her hands in her shallow pockets and rolled around on her heels. And the minutes began to tip by. The road was unusually quiet. Her stomach was feeling slightly unsettled. She wished her pockets were a little deeper. A lot of things were coming and going in her mind, none of which had to do with the bus.
Or the fact that it was now ten minutes late. Mizuki looked down the street in both directions. Nothing. Rolling onto her toes, Mizuki contemplated her surroundings. Her cell phone showed the time clicking by, and slowly the collected Mizuki was beginning to lose her cool; going from rolling back and forth to pacing around the bus stop.
The bus wasn't coming. She realized it finally as the twenty minute mark rolled by. The time she had allotted for the bus was becoming inconsequential. In fact, she had no choice but to run back home and beg Izumi for a ride. She readied herself for the run and the challenge ahead. A fist and a quiet word for her own encouragement and she was off.
As she leapt up the flight of porch steps, a clearly now awake Izumi stumbled into her vision. "IZUMI" she made her cutest face and pulled him toward her. He looked down at her dubiously. This was her 'I need something' face. This was her 'I need something from you' face. It normally didn't bother him, she did enough for him anyway, but right now he was running late. And hadn't it been her job to wake him up this morning? Why had she forgotten?
"If this isn't an apology for forgetting things Mizuki, we don't have much to talk about right now do we?" He politely hugged her, and hopped up the stairs, attempting to motivate himself for the day ahead. Ah, the life of an Olympic athlete. Mizuki stamped her foot on the floor, but realized that she had forgotten to do a few things in her haste for the day ahead. Not to mention that damn soccer ball. He had some sort of right to be frustrated.
"I'm sorry Sano!" she called up to him, "but I really need your help!" She kept the same cute face on, hoping for him to turn around. Which he did… like clockwork. If anything, she knew her love. "But the bus was late… or more specifically I was a little late for the bus…" she was quiet about the last part, not wanting to get reprimanded for a sure fire bet. "And my interview is now only 15 minutes away… and…" she trailed off, strong enough to keep eye contact, but not strong enough to say everything.
He looked up in frustration, he loved this girl, but god did she drive him crazy sometimes. "Ashiya!" this was the name of the past, and he only used it for pointed reasons. "I can't take you to your interview AND make it to practice in time!" But as he finished his retort he was already on his way up the stairs. She knew if he wanted to keep arguing, he would've stuck around. He had enough time to get to practice AND argue. He didn't have enough to get to practice, and argue, AND take her to her interview. A few minutes later he appeared completely changed, track bag over his shoulder and keys in hand. His perfect hair was slightly tangled, and the shower he wanted was a lost hope, but he'd be damned if Mizuki wasn't getting to her interview, even if it was her own fault. "I want you to remember this, Ashiya." Dashing out of door together, Mizuki hopped over the soccer ball, which Izumi proceeded to fall flat on his face over.
A groan escaped from his throat. That hurt. Wood wasn't as giving as one would expect. His face felt swollen. His nose was tweaked to the side. There was blood. He rolled over onto his side, and laid still. Mizuki was stifling laughter for a second before she realized he hadn't survived the fall as well as she had.
"Izumi!" She knelt down beside him, realizing this soccer ball was definitely not his. "Are you okay?" her first thought was never hospital, he was strong, he only needed himself, and her to be okay. But this didn't look like the standard obstacle. He looked up at her, with blurry eyes, and groaned again.
"Give me your keys." She demanded, standing up. She was going to have to drive him to the hospital, and drive herself to her interview. This was Mizuki, ready to get her boyfriend's nose set. This was Mizuki, ready to face this strange string of events. This was Mizuki, ready for whatever life threw at her.
Except driving. Izumi was the driver in their relationship. She had learned a bit in America, but Japan was a different story. It was all about public transportation. Not to mention a stick shift. What was this? Izumi groaned again, gaining his composure after 5 minutes of sitting with Mizuki trying to start the car.
"Mi…Mizuki." He tried to move his nose a little bit, but found that to be a bad idea. "I can drive." He spoke quietly, turning his head towards her. "But you are going to have to help me a little bit."
She looked at him, unsure of this idea. But she trusted him. He knew what he was doing. "Okay Sano." They exchanged seats, and Mizuki gave him his keys. "What am I doing?" She looked very sincerely at him, ready for whatever his request.
The car engine started quietly, and he looked at her with the same sincere eyes. "You have to watch lights and shift when I tell you to." The pain in his face was getting worse, since the shock had worn off. He needed this bit of help.
"Okay… Sano." Mizuki whispered her encouragement again, and kept her eyes glued to the road. This situation was getting progressively weirder by the moment. They pulled out, and onto the quiet street. These suburbs would be fine. It was the city she was concerned about. Nerves of steel. Izumi directed her shifting, and as they got closer to the city, it became more rapid. She thanked some deity above for the hospital being close. She could run to her interview, even if she was already running a minute late.
"First… second… third... first… second… first…" he slowly droned out the gears he needed, wincing anytime he moved his nose. "Neutral…" they stopped in a particularly nasty piece of traffic. The hospital was only an exit away now, but that was ten minutes in Tokyo. Mizuki looked at her watch, and ahead, and then at her watch, and then ahead again. She needed to call the office, but Izumi needed her attention. But the office. But Izumi. But the office… the office was for Izumi too. She needed this job. But Izumi. She looked at her cell phone, and looked at Izumi. "First…" he murmured to her, watching the traffic in front of him.
The car shuttered and turned off. Mizuki was still looking at her phone. "First Mizuki, not third." He started the car again, traffic now moving around them. She flushed a tiny bit and adjusted the gears. Unfortunately Izumi no longer had his foot on the clutch, and the car stalled again. He glared at her a moment while restarting the car, making a point of keeping his foot on the clutch this time. Mizuki couldn't help but notice that this day was not going smoothly.
They resumed the drive, Mizuki now contemplating her next move. She would be terribly late for the interview, but Izumi was more important. The training committee would certainly assist with this hospital bill, his renown as an athlete carried for a lot of money. Maybe she didn't need that job after all. But they had both agreed that it was important. Not only did she want to pull her own weight, but she needed to. Izumi liked Mizuki most because she was self sufficient. This turn of events for her being… irresponsible… was frustrating him. But this was the unnatural event, it would be fine.
The hospital formed in the distance, and Izumi felt like maybe this wonderful start to a day would come to a better conclusion. He pulled into a space in the lot, after nearly running over a median. Mizuki was already at his door, trying to help pull his weight. A quick walk through the emergency room doors, and the nurses were swarming him. They knew an Olympian track suit, not to mention his face, and it held true here as it does everywhere else; someone famous gets better treatment than the average Joe.
Mizuki paced around the emergency room considering her options. She could get to the interview in a few minutes if she ran. Izumi could handle himself. And she was doing this for him. And he had a car to get around. And he would be okay, it was just a broken nose.
With her mind made up, she began her sprint out of the hospital and down the busy streets of Tokyo. Not once had she called the office, but she figured showing up would be better than just calling to say she was still coming. After all, a broken nose was a good excuse for being late. She hoped.
Inside the emergency room, Izumi was getting his nose set to the sound of a few screaming nurses outside. They reminded him of the Hibari four. That was an uncomfortable thought. He figured Mizuki was already off and running to this interview she had already destroyed.
A few minutes later, Izumi emerged from the hospital, and video cameras were swarming everywhere. A broken nose qualified as excitement today in Tokyo apparently. He couldn't lie; he wished Mizuki was still here to break the line a bit. Why was his nose the center of attention? How, in the time he had been in the hospital, had this many news crews appeared? Izumi forced his way through the crowd, heading straight for his car, the news crews swarming behind him. At least they would have the decency to leave him alone once he was driving. He hoped.
But there was no way he could practice today. A broken nose shouldn't matter that much for high jumping, but he always rolled on the mats. His nose couldn't take any pressure. What the hell was that soccer ball doing on his porch? How had Mizuki known to jump over it? Why the hell hadn't she moved it if she knew it was there? Izumi fumed a bit as he pulled into the slightly lighter traffic of daytime Tokyo. He would waste the next hour and a half just trying to get to the track. Less than thrilled, he contemplated just returning home. But responsibility and his brother kept him going. He was truly thrilled at this prospect today.
A few blocks away Mizuki rounded her last corner to the office; a Domyouji investments building. It was only as she entered the lobby, and was approaching the help desk that she realized her lack of resume. The deal her brother made for her featured a resume in hand at the time of interview. Mizuki was beginning to realize exactly how bleak her chances of a warm reception were. She readied herself for what was going to be a long fight uphill.
'Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Zakitachi." She looked at the secretary with determined eyes.
"Floor 12…" The secretary pointed in the direction of the elevators. The walls shuttered as the giant weights shifted behind the doors. The tone to signal the arrival of her chariot startled Mizuki. She pushed the number and off the elevator went. The speed flattened Mizuki. Her stomach launched out of her body as it came to a halt. A deep breath, and the silver doors slid open again. Even though her nerves were raw, she pushed herself through the doors, and toward the desk of another secretary.
"Excuse me, where is Mr. Zakitachi's office?" She rested both hands on the high counter, using the same eyes she had earlier.
"Are you Mizuki?" The secretary looked up from her computer, sizing up the younger girl. Mizuki nodded and bowed to the women. "You are close to an hour late. Mr. Zakitachi is in a meeting until 1. After that he is on lunch and then will be in a meeting again at 3. You can wait in his office in the meantime, but he may only be able to see you between his meetings and lunch." The secretary handed her a packet and a few forms. "Fill these out in his office, and give them to him." She pointed down a hall of glass walls. "Third door on your left." And without another word, the secretary resumed whatever she had been doing.
Mizuki let the flood of information roll over her, and stood slightly stunned. She had been prepared for almost everything ever thrown at her in her life, but this was not something she was ready for. Her feet felt glued to the floor. The booklet looked like unabridged Crime and Punishment, and the secretary looked like she was capable of squashing a human with her stiletto. This was not a field Mizuki was even remotely familiar with.
Her feet managed to drag all the way to the door with Zakitachi written on it. The characters were bold. She reminded herself that she was bold too. Mizuki, water spirit, she would find a way to make this work. The door was heavy wood, like her porch. She sat down in a chair designed to make its occupant slightly uncomfortable, while giving the illusion of relaxation. This was a mind game. Mizuki didn't like mind games. But the best she could do was to try and play along. She cracked the spine of the booklets, and set into reading about the company and her potential future position.
The hours passed for both Izumi and Mizuki, one sitting in a never ending flow of traffic, the other wading through a never ending sea of paper. Izumi rested his chin on the steering wheel, waiting for another light to change. He had made it most of the way, and was now watching a few hundred cars cross between him and the three streets left to cross. Practice should have been halfway over by now, and yet no one had called to see where he was.
Sano Izumi, master high jumper, clearly didn't need their concern. At least that's how he felt. However, that didn't ever stop them from making sure he was alright. He clicked his tongue and leaned back again, flipping through his mental calendar. Something seemed slightly amiss. He just couldn't figure out what.
The lights changed and he was again on his way to the stadium. As he approached, he noticed a large amount of busses. That was very unusual. Busses meant lots of people. Why would there be a lot of busses at the stadium? Was this supposed to be a special day? The wheels slowly clicked around in his mind. Oh, deity above, it was. Today was the high school exhibition day. He was so unbelievably late.
As he nearly ran over a second median, his phone began to buzz against his leg. His father's name scrawled over the front screen. "Hello?" He answered somewhat sheepishly.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" A younger voice shouted over the line.
Slightly jarred by the shouting, Izumi paused, thinking of the best way to respond. "Shin, calm down, I broke my nose." He attempted to soothe the wild beast that was his always somewhat angry younger brother. "I'm in the parking lot, I'll be inside in a minute." He grabbed for his track bag. He grabbed for his nonexistent track bag. As his hand touched nothing but air, his head turned, and realized that in the broken nose daze, the bag had remained on the porch. His track suit was a good change in the morning while rushed, but all his gear, the important pieces, were still inside the bag. Izumi leaned back in frustration, and stared out the window at his especially reserved spot.
The national team coach sat on the bench, watching the team run the mile around the track. He only noticed Izumi as he sat down beside the coach. It had been a year since he had seen Izumi not prepared for practice, and looking so bedraggled. "You look like a bus hit you."
Izumi shook his head, and stared at his team mates rounding the approaching corner. "A bus named Mizuki." He leaned back into the bench, and crossed his legs. "I see the exhibition has gone well…" The better track students were running along side the team, and his high jump bar was set only a few centimeters below Izumi's personal best.
"There's some talent out there yeah." The coach turned his head toward the star high jumper, and pointed to the bar. "But I bet you noticed that already." Izumi nodded, and pointed to one of the students. "Pretty close, look one to the left as they round the last bend." Izumi nodded again, not surprised by either. "You want to show them what you're made of? Your brother is pretty adamant about you upstaging the competition."
That certainly explained why Shin was so irritable. Izumi leaned forward, and examined his track suit, and tested the bridge of his nose. "Nope, I don't need to jump today." Being injured was slightly more important than a few kids wanting to prove themselves. "Let Shin handle them."
The coach smiled. "Yeah, that's classic Izumi. Your brother already did actually." The runners finished the last lap, and began gathering in front of him, a few bent over in agony. Most eyes were glued to Izumi's nose. Not feeling particularly attached to the situation, Izumi got up and walked toward the locker rooms. He only hoped that Mizuki was dealing a little better with her situation.