As the Bell Rings
-Prologue-
At that time, I felt that I was on top of the world… with her. I remember that day clearly. It was mid-afternoon. There we were, lying down on the cold floor of the school roof, looking at the sky above us. On one hand I had my high school diploma; on the other, her hand. She giggled as she pointed at every shape because of whatever ridiculous creature I said it resembled. It was such a trivial thing, her laughter, but for some reason, I enjoyed it.
The more I spoke about the clouds, the tighter her soft hands clasped mine. She was upset. I knew her too well.
I picked my back up and sat up. I turned to her and observed. Her chestnut hair sprawled out over the floor, the opposite hand was over her torso, and she was still staring at the sky, but I knew that was not why she held my hand tighter.
I saw the trickle from her eye.
"You're not crying, are you?"
"No!" She said getting up while wiping her honey brown eyes of any evidence. "The sun was just blinding me a bit."
I reached over and helped her out. She blushed a bit as the pad of my thumb wiped the last of her tears. I made a small smirk. She is too cute when she's embarrassed. She released her hand from mine as she brought her legs up to her chin. With one arm keeping the legs to her chin, she used one hand to bring the loose strands of her hair from her face by tucking them behind her ear.
"So you graduated from high school," she started looking at the ground, "What…what are you going to do?" She paused perfectly, hinting how skeptical she was of our relationship's future. "Are you still planning on studying abroad?"
"In America?" I asked for confirmation. She nodded still without looking at me. "I'm scared to go. I mean, that means I will be away from my family and friends." I looked over at her. By this time, the brace of her arms and knees already buried her face. "And especially you." I added in a joking voice while softly pushing her. She didn't look up at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I'm going to miss you." She said in a muffled voice through her arms.
My eyebrows furrowed together. I crawled up to her. I sat opposite of her and placed my hands lightly on her shoulders. "Look at me." I said as gently as I could.
She shook her body side to side. I almost forgot. She didn't like confrontations. "Com'on, Mimi, look at me." I repeated.
She slowly raised her head and stared at me. She was really bad when it came to hiding her feelings, especially when you look at her in the eyes. And I have to admit, it was painful to look at them. "I really do care about you. I would never mean to hurt you, but this is something I want to do."
She nodded. "I understand." She smiled for me. I knew she was about to cry at that moment. I quickly wrapped my arms around her. One hand rested at the bottom of her back, and the other on her head as it caressed her hair.
That's one thing I refuse to see: Tachikawa Mimi crying.
She was still for a moment. She slowly brought her arms to return the embrace. When I heard her sob a little louder, I held her tighter. "I love you." I said plainly.
She embraced tighter, "I promise to support you as long as you love me." She buried face on my shoulder, soaking that part of my uniform.
I thought that was the last time I would see her hurt…ever.
As the Bells Ring
-Chapter 1: December 19-
PART I
"So, it's Christmas time and I bet you're all thinking of buying presents. Well, music is a hobby everyone shares, so I thought maybe we can grab some insight of the today's music industry." The woman said with a smile while switching the position of her legs. With a graceful motion, she flipped her golden blond hair back so that her hair was away from her face. "Here today we have our favorite critic and my friend, Michael Washington."
On walked the blond shaggy haired man with an olive-green blazer over his faded yellow shirt and jeans. His beaming smile caused the women in the studio coo and scream with their adoring applause. He walked up to the hostess and gave her quick peck to her cheek. Once he sat at the chair opposite of the hostess, the women continued to cheer louder.
He laughed a bit at the attention that the female population gave him. "Why hello, ladies," he gave a wink towards the camera causing the women to swoon.
Once the hostess recovered from her giggles, "the flirt you are!" She fixed her hair again. "Okay, welcome back, Michael."
"It's a pleasure to be back."
"So let's get down to business," She said straightening her posture. "We have a ton of interesting artists out there. One of the recent favorite ones is the band Teenage Wolves." As the band's name was mention, their cover album appeared on-screen and the audience cheered, "I see we have some fans here today." The hostess chuckled, "Okay, Michael, the Teenage Wolves; love them or hate them?"
"Honestly, I love them." Michael said straight forward. "Their music is what this generation is looking for. I mean their message is great too. I believe that's what sets them apart from other artists out there in the market."
The audience applauded to his fine words.
"So how do you feel about the rumors about their Yamato Ishida and how he's possibly thinking of branching out as a solo act?"
On cue, a modeled picture of Yamato came on-screen. His strong stare geared directly at the camera with the light behind him highlighting his blond locks. His hands were in his pockets which angled his shoulders to prove of how strong he was under the modeled shirt and zip-up hoodie.
"My, he is handsome." The hostess giggled as the rest of the audience laughed.
"I feel that the rumors might—just might—be true." He added emphasis hoping that the crowd would not be too unpleasant with him. Unfortunately, the boos from the audience told him otherwise.
"Now, now, he's entitled to his opinion." The hostess said making hand gestures telling the audience to lower their voices.
"If you think about it, it makes sense. He does not make any appearances with the rest of the band. And lately, he's been making appearances that only promote himself, which puts him in a negative light." Michael said with his hand gestures. "Quite honestly, he needs to start, you know, making those appearances with the band, show some humility, or else it is gonna be a very short-lived career for him.
"Okay, I see what you are talking about." The hostess folded her hands. "We're going to take a quick commercial break. When we get back, we're gonna get more reviews from Michael. Stay tuned for My Special: the Christmas Edition."
"Bullshit." Yamato muttered as he turned his TV off. He got up from his couch, tossed the remote back on the couch, and watched as the remote bounced on the leather cushions. He fixed his black turtleneck by tugging the bottom down to cover the waist of his jeans. He walked towards the kitchen and got his morning coffee ready.
'Who does he think he is? Criticizing me like that… He's a music critic of all things, not my mother.' He wrinkled his eyebrows as he poured coffee into his mug. He watched his black coffee fill slowly to the rim. Once he finished the small pot, he waited for the ripples of his coffee even out. Yamato pulled the drawer located under the counter top of the kitchen island open. He took the small packet of stapled papers out with one hand. He skimmed through the text.
"A solo career with another company," he muttered to himself before taking a sip of the dark caffeine.
He was not in the music industry long, but he knew what the other company was offering him. Due to his growing popularity, was it right of him to even consider it so early?
"Ishida-san?" Yamato shook his head hearing the familiar voice come in. Yamato quickly placed the papers back in the drawer and rolled it closed.
In came the red-haired assistant, Izumi Koushiro. With bags in his hands, Koushiro stood in front of Yamato with his gray winter jacket covering his red cheeks signifying the cold weather outside. Yamato nodded at his presence.
"Good morning," Koushiro bowed making his way towards the kitchen. Koushiro crouched in front of the fridge as he started to put its contents into the cold case. Whie filling the fridge, Koushiro took the newspaper from the bag and raised it high signaling for Yamato to take hold of it.
Passing by, Yamato grabbed the bundled paper and walked over to the opposite of the counter sitting on one of its bar stool chairs. He placed his mug down and opened the paper. "So why were you late today, Koushiro?" Yamato asked half-interested.
Koushiro closed the fridge. As he got up, he turned his heel to Yamato and side-patted his hands clean. "I was getting my plane tickets." He said moving to clean the empty coffee pot towards the sink.
Yamato placed the paper down to eye his red-head assistant. "You got what?"
Koushiro turned on the faucet on the sink to wash out the pot. With a sponge on hand, he scrubbed. "My plane ticket," he said. "I'm going back home for Christmas."
"Home?" Yamato laughed, picking up the paper again. "You practically live here in New York. If you wanted to go home, you could take a taxi."
Koushiro laughed dryly as he wiped the pot dry with a kitchen towel. "I wasn't thinking of my apartment home. I was talking about my home—country home. You know, Japan?" Koushiro placed the pot back in the coffee maker.
"When did you tell me this? I don't remember you asking me for days off." Yamato scoffed, putting his focus back to the newspaper.
Koushiro glared at his boss, "it's common for employees to have Christmas and New Years off." Koushiro crossed his arms, "Sorry, but I don't care what you say. I'm taking the 2 weeks off. "
The agitated Yamato growled. "Whatever." He simply said as he kept flipping the pages of the newspaper.
Koushiro rolled his eyes as he removed his jacket and lightly tossed it across the couch.
"Closet." Yamato stated without looking at Koushiro while taking a sip of his black coffee. Koushiro rolled his eyes again as he moved towards the closet. Koushiro scoured for a hanger inside the jumbled mess-of-a-closet as Yamato continued to read the paper.
Once his coat was hung, Koushiro turned back to Yamato, "where are the bags I left with you?"
"In my room," Yamato replied taking another sip, eyes still glued to the paper.
Koushiro walked into Yamato's bedroom to retrieve his belongings. After a few minutes of silence, Koushiro entered the room again with his luggage in hand. "I'm coming back the 4th of January—"
"Koushiro," Yamato called folding the paper.
Koushiro sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, Ishida-san?"
"I need to do more public events." Yamato hopped out of his seat and shuffled his feet towards the sink with his empty mug of coffee.
"Come again?" Koushiro raised his brow turning to Yamato.
"Yeah," Yamato said putting his mug away, "I should get involved more. Put my face out in the public." He said putting on his fake model smile.
"Well," Koushiro started as he placed his laptop on the coffee table, "Your band mate, Tatsuya-san, is going to a soup kitchen to help distribute food. Maybe you can join him?"
Yamato wrinkled his nose. "I'm a celebrity, Koushiro. I have to make worthy public appearances." Koushiro rolled his eyes as his computer started up. A ring came from his phone. Koushiro grabbed the company cell phone and read the name of the caller. "Ishida-san, your manager is calling."
Yamato's face scrunched together like a pug, clearly showing his distaste in dealing with the overbearing man.
Koushiro flipped the phone to receive the call. "Heh-llo? Ahh, Tanade-san." Koushiro's sudden change in facial expression caught Yamato's attention. "Tatsuya-san's father is in the hospital? And you need Ishida-san to replace him…?" For a moment, Koushiro's eyes locked with Yamato's. Yamato's eyes widened as Koushiro released a devilish smirk. "Of course!"
Like a raging bull, Yamato ran to his assistant and tackled the red-head down. The two engaged in a small wrestling match, dominating each other for the control of the company cell phone. Koushiro crawled out of Yamato's hold and reached for the phone that fell on the hardwood floor. "He'll—"
Koushiro's voice quickly faded as Yamato grabbed hold of the boy and pinned his arms down on one side with one hand. Yamato grabbed the cell phone with his free hand. "Tanade-san? Sorry abou—"
Koushiro quickly moved his body to bite Yamato's wrist causing the blond singer wince in pain. Koushiro took the cell phone off the floor and rested it on the area between his neck and shoulder. Koushiro placed his hands down on Yamato's wrists and straddled him. Before Koushiro could even say a word, Yamato kneed Koushiro's lower regions, causing the red-head to drop the phone and roll over.
As Koushiro cradled to his crotch, Yamato took the phone into his hands. "Tanade-san?"
"What the hell is going on there?!"
"Nothing, Tanade-san." Yamato huffed and puffed trying to regain his breath. Who knew that Koushiro had so much fight in him? "I would have to regretfully tell you that I cannot go." Yamato nodded trying to pick himself off from the floor to rest on the couch.
"Well, someone has to do it. The rest of your band mates left the country for the holidays."
Yamato turned around to see Koushiro's luggage in the middle of the living room. Idea — DING! "I'm going to spend Christmas at home."
"You are?!" Koushiro asked despite the pain in his lower regions.
"You're spending Christmas where?"
"Home." Yamato repeated plainly. Yamato's eye squinted out of annoyance when he heard laughter from the receiver.
"Home?" He heard Tanade say, "If you're spending Christmas home, why won't you be able to attend this public event? It's not far from where you live."
"I meant back in my hometown, Odaiba." Yamato said plopping on his couch. "In Japan?"
"You're going back? You haven't been back for years."
"Surprise." Yamato said with a weak smile. His vision focused on the slowly recovering narrow-eyed Koushiro.
"If that's the case, I'll try to see if any other artists within the agency are able to do it."
"Thank you, Tanade-san," Yamato said with a smile. "And have a very merry Christmas." Yamato looked at Koushiro. Yamato leaned back on the couch with crossed arms behind his head and crossed feet over the table.
"You better book me a ticket too." Yamato said with a ha-I-won attitude, ignoring Koushiro's glare.
First class was starting to get kind of dull. Yamato was usually pleased with the leg and arm room, the comfortable chairs, and even the attention-to-detail flight attendants. So what was so bad about it now?
Yamato looked around to see Koushiro on his right, working on the laptop as usual. Bored out of his mind, Yamato rested his chin on his fists and stared at his assistant. Koushiro gently closed the metallic case and curtly turned towards Yamato. "May I help you?"
"I'm bored." Yamato whined. "I just remembered why I hate plane rides back home."
"Why did you even decide to come with me then?" Koushiro arched one of his brows.
Yamato chucked. "Let's say," he sighed adjusting his chair to allow him to lean further back. "I feel like I have to take some time off from success and fame."
Koushiro's confused look instantly turned to a glare. "Please do not tell me that you wanted to come back only because of the event Tatsuya-san couldn't go to."
"Of course not!" Yamato exclaimed with a smile as he crossed his feet. "Man, it's gonna be a long flight."
"You did, didn't you?" Koushiro sighed. Yamato sat back, pretending that his assistant did not say a word. However, he snarled, feeling Koushiro's repetitive tapping on his arm. He was in no mood for Koushiro's interjections. He rolled over to face his back toward Koushiro, signifying his want to be left alone. "I'm saying this as a friend, but you're really different from when I first met you in college."
"Course I am." Yamato asked without looking at Koushiro with a smile.
Koushiro rolled his eyes, "You don't get it, do you?"
"Oh, I do." Yamato's grin became bolder. "I'm just saying I'm not old."
"You're impossible." Yamato heard Koushiro say. He opened one eye to see what Koushiro was doing. Koushiro had reopened his laptop to continue his work. Yamato smiled to himself as he placed his earphones on. He switched stations till he heard a familiar song, his song. With a wider smile, he swayed his head side to side, synchronizing with the beat of the song.
"Yamato." Yamato heard a small whisper through the music. Yamato brushed the sound off. He then felt a couple of taps on his knee. It's probably Koushiro again.
He felt his ear plugs being removed. "Wha—?"
"Yamato!"
Yamato jerked as if a spasm took control of his whole body. He violently got up and rotated his head, trying to find the source of the vicious attack. He turned towards right to see an unfamiliar face. This man had outlandish blue hair and dark eyes through his black rimmed glasses. He had an odd crooked smile. Dressed in a dark blue cardigan over a white shirt and in matching pants, both his arms and legs crossed. "Hello." He greeted.
Yamato hesitated. "Hello." He nodded slowly. "Can I…" He paused momentarily. This guy's smile was starting to become a little unusual. "…help you?"
"I should ask you the same question." He said.
Yamato raised his brow. "Koushiro…?"
"Yeah?" Koushiro asked peering at Yamato. The blue haired man moved slightly to allow Yamato to see his assistant sitting next to him. Yamato made the don't-you-see-this-guy-next-to-you look. Koushiro raised a brow. "Are you okay?"
Yamato fixed his chair so that he was sitting on the upright position. He looked at his lap and hands. He quickly patted his cheeks. 'Maybe I'm just imagining things.'
"I don't think you are." Yamato ignored the blue man's comment. "It's okay. I think its best that you listen,because you tend to ignore things you don't want to hear. I mean you would probably pay more attention if I said something you value would die because of your selfishness."
"'scuse me?" Yamato said with his hearing perked with attention.
"Oops..." The man widened his eyes as his smile suddenly turned into a frown. He looked at his wrist to glance at his watch. "My, my, look at the time. I should get going." The blue man said as he got up from his seat.
"Hey, wait!" Yamato exclaimed.
"Ishida-san?" Koushiro asked looking at Yamato. Once Yamato took notice of Koushiro's presence, it seemed like any trace of that strange man had disappeared. "Are you okay? Do you want a drink or something?"
Yamato stood from his seat. His knee rested on the cushion of his chair as he scouted the surrounding area. Ignoring the curious stares of other passengers, Yamato had no blue haired man in sight. "Yeah," he gulped, wondering if he lost his mind. "Didn't you see the blue haired guy sitting next to us?"
"Ishida-san, this is first class. There are only two seats per row per column." Koushiro spoke as if Yamato was starting to lose all sense of logic. "There has never been a blue hair guy sitting next to us."
Yamato laughed a bit to himself. "You're-you're right. I guess I need to go to the bathroom. Maybe wash my face or somethin'." He said making his way towards the nearest restroom.
Koushiro peered out of the row to watch Yamato run into the lavatory. Koushiro turned his attention back to his laptop and continued to type. "Poor man is losing it." He sighed.
Hello, everyone! I'm back (temporarily) with a Christmas piece! Hopefully it will be done around the holiday season (smiles). As you may know, Digimon does not belong to me, but to those who rightfully owns this series. This is expected to be a short piece, hopefully (laughs). Lovely reviews are appreciated as usual. Look forward to the next update!