SOMETHING I'LL NEVER KNOW SERIES: The Year Shishido Didn't Smile
DISCLAIMER: PoT does not belong to me.
-oOo-
"You should really smile more." She always reminded him
"You're more handsome when you smile." That would usually work; it never fails to turn that frown upside down.
"You'll look older than you really are if you don't start smiling really soon." She always said that with such a sweet smile on her face.
A horn brings him back to reality. He was almost hit by a car crossing the busy streets of Tokyo...again. It's the third time this week. He gives off a deep breath before continuing his phase on his way to work.
By the time he got there the receptionist would greet him with the same plastered smile on her face, like every single day, doesn't she ever get tired of smiling? He would often ask to himself as he nods and walks pass her making his way to the elevators. Then, like every other morning he would be greeted by an energetic pat on the back by a narcoleptic friend from Middle School, who for some unexplained reason is able to keep his job despite being asleep half the time. And much to his amazement the same friend from Middle School would fall asleep on their up to the 16th floor and like clockwork wake up just before the doors open.
He could not begin to count the number of times he sighed that day and morning work hasn't ever started yet. He walks pass his secretary who tried to give him a smile and a warm greeting, a warm cup of tea included and a pile of paper works that he had to finish reading. He was never a good reader, he never liked reading, and he never wanted to spend his life every single day reading tons and tons of documents. He was a good listener; that he was good at. After all having a cry baby for a doubles partner in Middle-school helped him to practice his listening skills a lot, with all the complaining and ranting and just plain blabbering during morning practice, during lunch, during afternoon practice, on the way home, over the phone on weekends...he was a pretty good listener. He wasn't complaining he was a great friend and teammate; it's just that he's such a cry baby.
"Aren't you going to finish reading that case file?...You're not in the mood are you? Want me to read that for you so you can finish your work?" she'd pick up that file folded and read away, even when she never really understood what she was reading.
The morning was slow, as always, he would pace his office trying to understand the files he was reading. Why did he have to work here? Of all the smaller offices in this city, why did he choose to stay here? Sometimes he regrets even stepping into the doors of this empire. He could have just settled for a small firm somewhere is a suburban setting, it would have been more peaceful, definitely not earning as much as he was here, but definitely more peaceful. He may even have been a happier lawyer than he was now. Oh, and here he comes, just like every Monday mornings he would grace him with his presence. He never changed, bigheaded like when they first met in Middle School, maybe tamer than before, thanks to that wonderful woman who tied a leash on his neck, and I guess to those rambunctious twins that they have that he likes to call kids, but he prefers to call clones. If he didn't witness his wife's pregnancy, and had he not been there when she gave birth, he could swear, those twins were clones of their father. And he goes on and on and on about everything and anything, as always. And he has to painstakingly listen, to every single pitiful, despiteful word that will come out of his mouth. Of all the professions of God's great earth, why did he chose to be a lawyer? He could have been a professional tennis player, but no, he had to listen to that cry baby doubles partner of his that he was built for this job. He snaps back to the present and irritatingly listens to the flashy figure pacing his office. If he wasn't an old friend and his boss, he would probably have strangled him.
"You know you should try to see the better in people. People we're all created good, and pure. This world corrupted us. It's a choice to make on how we deal with them, and how we open our hearts to them." She always gave the most reasonable advices.
After all his flashing and walking around his office the tall arrogant figure will give him a look that says something he would rather not mind, then finally leave to give back his peace and quiet. Then he would go back to his desk and scribble a little, open his laptop and type some more before finally standing up to walk out the door to get some coffee. He knew it was bad for him, he was already having hyperacidity from all the caffeine he was throwing into his body, but he just needed this right now, after listening to that brat of a boss he had he needed this. His secretary would still try to stop him, or maybe offer that she get the coffee for him, but she never wins, nor will she ever win. He would stare at the pastry tray in the table think twice or thrice if he would pick one up of not. Then he would trip over a familiar body on the floor. Always. Always. He never learns. He pushes himself up and picks up the cup on the floor, making a mental note to tell her secretary to call for someone to clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. Then he would try to pick up the lazy body on the floor shaking him profusely desperately trying to wake him up, until he finally does, says his sorry and walk back to his own office. And again he wonders how his narcoleptic friend gets any work done at all.
"You now it's amazing how you think people never get anything done, remember, just because they don't get it done the way you would have, doesn't mean their means isn't as effective." She always kept him grounded.
He drags himself back to the four walled prison he calls an office. His secretary will call out certain phone calls that he may want to return. But he never does. Well, maybe today was an exemption. A certain smiling tensai from a previous rival school left a message; maybe today he will return a phone call. But then, he gets trap in the dungeon with four walls, and everything else fades to gray. He continued to struggle to find the meaning of life, or living it. He remembers how he use to know what it meant and why he was living it, but like the time that fades away and the papers that seem to pile up one after the other, he forgot. He was like in an ocean drowning and asking himself how to survive, and why he would want to. But the vibration of the cell phone in his pocket snaps him back to earth. Just as always, the crybaby would send an SMS asking if they were going to spend lunch together. He asks himself what the point of eating is, if only to survive, when he doesn't even know why he was still breathing, but he would spend lunch with him like always.
"Friends are gifts from God. Treasure them, never forget to communicate and spend time." Sweetly she would kiss his forehead reassuring him that he was not spending less time with her, but that she was happy that he still had time for friends.
He would grab his coat, leave everything else behind, say something to his secretary that he wanted done by the time he was back from lunch. And like always, he would bump into his arrogant boss and his wife who would be on the way to lunch as well. Had he not helped him before, he would probably not stand his presence in the same room. He would let them go ahead, pass him by, like he has every opportunity to make sense of it all. He would ride the next elevator out of that suffocating empire. By the time he reached the lobby, his crybaby friend would already be there waiting for him, along with three other familiar figures. He would be amazed at how his blue-haired friend ended up becoming a surgeon, the most sought after plastic surgeon, and here he was thinking that he was the vane one. He never thought his genius in the court would also equate to the genius he was on the operating room. And of course how could he not notice the frantic jumping of the hyperactive gymnast who now owns a famous bakeshop, he did always have a sweet tooth, and owning a sweet shop is definitely not healthy for him, especially when he bounces around like that. And the heir to the buchou's throne, how could he forget him, still stoic as always. He wonders how his crybaby doubles partner survived having him for a best friend since elementary. And that gentle angelic face with a smile plastered all over, that, that crybaby, has always brought sunshine, he was glad he had them, at least for a few hours he would be sane.
"I admire you for that, your tender; you just hide it under all that 'manly man' façade." She would giggle each time because he always had the same facial reaction each time she would say that.
They would eat at the usual place, he couldn't believe they did, after all he was the hot-blooded opponent when they were in Middle School, but he sure makes the best sushi in the country. He was home somehow with them around. He remembers a phone call he had to return and excuses himself from the group. He walks out to dial the tensai's number, he went straight to voice mail, he must be busy, so he left a message. He looks back at his friends, and lets out another sigh. His crybaby partner would notice him looking at the group, like always, and he would walk up to him. Staring at him, he understood what he wanted to convey, the message was always clear, always, even on the darkest storm he would hear that message. It was amazing how they developed such a friendship after all the drama in middle school and him cutting his hair just to get back on the regulars. If he could rewrite everything, maybe he wouldn't be as melodramatic as he was. His hair has grown back, but the scar will always be there.
"Whoever said you weren't beautiful?" she said as she brushed her finger through his long brown hair.
Then it would be time to go back to his cage, he would have to wait until tomorrow to experience sanity again. He would walk back to work, like always, every single afternoon when they separate, he walks those lonely streets of Tokyo, at least to him it was lonely. Every day he would pass by the same route, meeting the same people walking along him, across him, some maybe bumping into him. And he would always stop at that same spot, looking into that same window, with that same face staring at him without moving an inch. He use to know him as the buchou's sidekick, but now he was a well established jeweler. Something about those sparkling diamond on display gave him butterflies in his stomach. He would feel like that every day, and yet everyday he would walk the same road. He didn't mind the sharp pinch in his chest every time he did walk that same routine. Every day he did it.
"It's a cycle, the fruit fall from the tree, the seed implants on the ground, it sprouts, it gets sun, wind, water. It grows into a tree, bears fruits, the same cycle repeat. That's life." Simply wisdom that she imparted lasts for a life time.
Then he would enter those doors again, looking at his watch, counting how many hours he would have to spend in this desolate place. He would take the same elevator, respond the same to his secretary, and ignore the same phone calls. Read through the same pile of papers, type some more, write some more, dial a few numbers that he needed to, not that he wanted to. Until finally, finally, he would see signs of the sun setting, finally he could have some peace and quiet, finally, he could be somewhere else than here. Every day the same SMS from his crybaby doubles partner, every day reminding him to watch his way home, especially when crossing the street. How many times has he been almost hit by a car, thrice right? Yes thrice this week, that doesn't include all the previous weeks. Sometimes he wishes he was, but then a certain crybaby doubles partner would slap him silly, until he takes back he ever said that.
"A best friend is special, because he's the best of all your friends." And she wonders why he loves her so much.
He would enter that same door that he doesn't want to exit from every morning, turn on the same lights that can't seem to brighten this house enough for him to see clearly. He knew every nook and cranny of this place, yet he seemed so lost in its cold embrace. The same white curtains would brush his cheeks as he looks out the dancing lights of the city. The microwave would make the same sound as he pushes his meal to re-heat it. And the same delivery boy would ring the bell, at that same time every night, and the same package of food would come with a note from his arrogant boss that says he knows he would never get a decent meal when he got home, he hated it, but would eat that delivery anyway. The same phone will ring at that same hour with the same crybaby on the other line checking if he got home alive. He didn't really mind, he didn't really care at all. He would walk out the same patio, sit on the same chair, drink form the same mug, eat with the same chopsticks. Sigh for one last time that day and close his eyes feeling the warm summer air, or cold winter air, or whatever air there was blowing.
"You don't see it, but you feel it right? There are things you don't see, but you've got to believe…that's faith Ryou." She always prayed, for him, for everything.
He would take that same shower, brush his teeth the same way he does every single day. Change into the same pyjamas and lie on the same bed, hug the same pillows, dream of the same dreams. But all they ever will be are dreams. But today there was something different, just as he was closing his eyes his cell phone rang. It was the smiling tensai from a previous rival school, informing him that he had a package for him, which he will hand over on Saturday. He sighs again, and realizes that he said to himself he sighed his last for that day, then finally closes his eyes.
"What is waiting? When what you're waiting for is worth every second on waiting?" those were worlds that will immortalize her in his eyes.
His week was over, finally he could be alone, like he always was, but at least no cage to go to. He didn't need reminding of what that Saturday was. He didn't need reminding what day it was. But it seems the world around him keep finding a way to remind him of everything he wanted to forget. He met the tensai who handed the envelope, he says the spectacled buchou, the cheerful gymnast and the mother-hen figure who was now the sought after cardiologist in Japan sends their regards. He never thought he would share anything with these people, except the rivalry they shared in Middle school. But then, here they were, all friends and worried about each other's betterment. Or so they were about him, he, he was not particularly expressive.
"You have to let it out sometimes…Ryou, look at me. Say it." She somehow hypnotizes him, and with her all her defenses were defenseless.
Every Saturday he made his way to that same solitary place, the quietest place he could find. He would stop by the same florist, buy the same bouquet of flower. He would sit on the same grass, rest his back on the same stone, and whisper the same words. Relieving everything, everything that he wanted so much to grasp in his hands and never let go.
"I'm really nervous about being here today sir, and I really don't know what to say to you." with his hands shaking, he holds out a small black box to the fatherly figure before him, "I bought this for her, and, I wanted to give to her, if only I knew that you would approve. I, I wanted to as you first before I asked her." He kneels and bows before the silver haired man in spectacles. "If she accepts, please let me marry your daughter."
The fatherly figure was silent for a moment, he glanced at his wife who smiled at him, "Welcome to the family Ryou." He embraced the man he had known since his middle school years.
"I guess you're stuck with us now, Shishido-senpai. Welcome to the family giri no ani." His silver haired doubles partner hugged him, and he never felt more at home than he ever was.
That same breeze blew on his face. That same lonely breeze that reminded him of the emptiness in his life.
"Cheiko, you've been there every step of the way, and although me and Choutarou have had our petty quarrels, you stood by me without hurting your oto. Cheiko, thank you for everything, thank you for making me see how beautiful life is. For teaching me what faith was. Cheiko…will you marry me?"
The same cold tears flowed from his eyes, the same cold tears he swore to himself to be held back forever. But he guessed forever hasn't come yet.
"Choutarou, I'll never do anything to hurt her. I promise to be a good husband to your Neechan. I'll provide for her, keep her safe, you don't have to worry about her. I promise you that Choutarou."
The same birds chirped the loneliest song he had ever heard. The same song that he hums every single day.
"Moshi-moshi, Fuji, I was wondering if you could photograph me and Cheiko for the pre-wedding pictures and on the wedding day as well? Doesn't matter the cost, I want the best for my bride."
The same rumbling of the gardener's cleaning cart was heard emphasizing the solitude he was in.
"This one would look lovely on you Cheiko. Any wedding dress will look lovely on you. You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen."
The same regrets come to the surface, he wipes the tears and pulls his long brown hair to cover his face as he burried his head on his knees.
"Can't someone else do that? We're getting married in a week. Cheiko, can't you say no to your boss? Please."
The seasons change, the months reminded him of how the emptiness will never be filled. Never be filled by the one he longed to fill it with.
"Shishido-senpai…"
"Choutarou, did your tux arrive yet? The wedding is in three day...what's wrong Choutarou?"
"It's about oneechan…"
He screamed from the top of his lungs, he screamed but he could never be heard. Never will his cries reach the ears of the one he was screaming for.
"Shishido, do you need anything? You know we're here for you right? We are Hyotei, and we will always be here for you."
"It's okay guys, just, leave me be."
He opened the envelope the tensai gave him, something different from his regular routine. He said something about giving him the package earlier but never being able to find the right reasons to do so.
"She was the prettiest bride…would have been the prettiest bride. She was your princess sir, but she was my queen. She was my everything."
In his solitude, firm warm hands held his shoulder, the cry baby was now the comforter, and the comforter the one crying. For the first time in the longest time he heard what anyone said.
"Shishido-senpai, it's time to let go. She was your fiancée, but she was my sister. You were with her when you fell-in-love with her, I was with her all my life. I hurt as much as you do. I want her here as much as you do. But it's time to let her go. It's time to give her the peace that she deserves. She loved you very much Shishido-senpai, and she wouldn't want to see you like this."
He wiped his eyes, looked at the pictures that the tensai gave to him, looked intensely at their pre-wedding photographs. The last capture of her beauty, of her gentleness, of all the things that she was, all the things that made him fall-in-love with her; all the things that gave him a reason to live.
"Shishido-senpai…"
He shook his head, breathe deeply, lifted his head to the sky. Summer has never been this cold. He turns to his kohai and asks a question he's been asking himself for the longest time.
"Why today? Why did she have to die on my birthday? Why was I not given a chance to show her how much I love her? Why was I not given a chance to spend the rest of my life with her?"
Bitterly he screamed, bitterly he longed for the one thing he will never have, never again.
"I cannot answer those questions senpai, but I know oneechan can't answer them as well."
He grabbed his kohai, searching his eyes for answers he know he will never find, then throws his arms around his doubles partner and would have been giri no ani.
"Let go senpai, let oneechan rest in peace."
For the longest time, he heeded his kohai's plea. He knelt before the rock that only reminded him of her, in the only place where he could be with her. He whispered one last time.
"Cheiko…Aishitemasu…I will forever love you."
He wept for what seemed like hours, and his kohai patiently waited standing beside him as he poured all his emotions to the air, to the sky, to the heavens.
"Time for me to live again Choutarou, that is what Cheiko wanted."
His kohai nodded and walked with him, back to the city, back to the place he called home, back to the people who cared for him when he didn't care for himself.
"Shishido-senpai…Happy Birthday."
"Arigato…gozaimasu…Choutarou."
For the first time, in the longest time, he felt the warmth of summer, he heard the birds sing a happy song, his world had meaning, he existed again.
-oOo-
I adapted the Cheiko from my other story Hana as Choutarou's sister.
