Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, as simple as that.
Blissful
by
MissKaro
Sighing, Kotoko opened the suitcase that she had left in her bed and started putting on it the garments she had previously folded. Once again, she had left the task for the night before the flight, and the sleep was getting the best of her. Doing things like that, she got mad with herself for acting as the irresponsible girl she once was, when she saw the world with rose-colored glasses.
Well, she really hadn't changed a lot in that last point, her fans would say. The story she started writing in her senior year was a bestseller, to her and her acquaintances' astonishment, who didn't believe the repeated plot of the silly girl in love with the genius guy would have good results.
However, in present days she knew that funny stories of impossible love with a happy ending fed the illusions of many girls—like her—, who remained hopeful of their love interest taking them into account.
But with a little more self-respect than my hero, she thought and chuckled. Perhaps the fame of her story was due to the conviction of the protagonist, with her immeasurable strength to keep fighting for a man in her one-sided love, facing the obstacles that constantly crossed her path.
Her Itazura Na Kiss still was a success, and the tour that ended that day was the proof.
Although she couldn't help but wonder if she would have done everything she forced her main character to do.
And she would never know.
Probably it was for the best, that she had thrown herself into doing the best of her, in her story, and not in the love of the genius in her generation, Irie Naoki.
Of course, it wasn't until after graduating from college that she published her book—with all the corrections she made to it thanks to the skills provided by her difficult years of study—. Had she become a nurse, wife, and mother at twenty-six, her current age?
She shrugged sighing again. Why was she thinking of all that?
It was because she'd go back to Japan after eighteen months of absence. Though also she was answering again the question made by a fan about what inspired her to write her two books. If only people knew…
As if it were a coincidence, it was the turn of the brown coat in which her inspiration was kept. She reached into the pocket and smiled sitting up in bed, taking out the letter she wrote eight years ago, the one she made to confess her love to Irie. She didn't need to open it, she perfectly knew its content; she had thoroughly checked it countless times during the sleepless nights in which she didn't know how to conclude the second part of her work.
Somehow it had been her good luck charm, but not anymore. She had other upcoming projects, very different from her first two books. It was time to get rid of the letter.
"But that will be in Japan." Her voice broke the silence of the Australian hotel room. "Where everything started…"
With renewed spirits, she jumped out of the bed to keep packing her belongings, which she did with the enthusiasm his fathers and friends knew of her.
She had tried to mature all those years, but in certain moments she behaved so cheerfully that she doubted having achieved her objective. With much effort, she had tried to improve her grades; she didn't have the opportunity to be in the top fifty, but she got a place in the university. Her culinary skills weren't perfect but allowed her to survive alone. She had a job, perhaps unusual, but she could maintain herself.
And all of that had been done for her, not for an unrequited love.
In the depths of herself, she kept special attention to Irie for being her first love, but she was sure she could see him in person without feeling her breathing and heartbeat accelerating, her palms sweating, her face blushing and her mind going blank. If all went well watching him on the news for his role as the vice president of his father's company and model student of the University of Tokyo, to have him face to face would change nothing.
Time and distance had done their job. She was grateful that meetings between her father and Mr. Irie occurred when she wasn't there, or she would've been forced to see him.
Knocks on the door shut off her thoughts.
"Miss Aihara, here is your dinner," said a voice from the other side of the door. The words were in English, which had cost her so much to learn and which she was still battling with today.
"Just a second," she replied in the same language, closing her robe before she opened the door to let the employee in. By the looks of the cart, it'd be another abundant dinner, her agent to blame.
After giving a tip to the employee, she was alone once again, the least she liked.
Kotoko sat down to eat her food, lost in the sounds the fork made while cutting the meat. Without realizing it, loneliness had taken its toll on her, and she had become a little quiet. Actually, she was used to being alone; back home, she lacked her father's company due to his job, and her friends also had their own lives, even if they found time to gather. Jinko and Satomi were married with children; surprisingly Kinnosuke was married too, after having overcome her love for her.
Just then she thought she should have found someone to settle down, but hadn't met the right person.
"Unconsciously, you compare potential candidates with the protagonist you invented, you silly," she grumbled swallowing a piece of meat. How pathetic of her part, fictional characters weren't like real people. Falling in love with one of them was a waste of time, but it fed her soul.
She sipped her wine and frowned, she had to set her feet on earth.
Stepping on Japanese soil, she would throw away the letter.
Her next book would be a teenage romance with a man she wouldn't be clouded with.
Yes, in Japan she would throw away the letter that was never delivered. It never reached the hands of its addressee due to the shooting start she asked signs to help her decide whether to give it or not.
She was convinced, it was time to say goodbye to that letter.
«...»
Kotoko combed her auburn hair looking at the window of the train, wincing at the sight of the apparent bags under her eyes, as without makeup they were pretty notorious. At that point it didn't matter, she was exhausted, and all she wanted was to get home, take a bath and lie in her own bed.
Later she would announce her unanticipated return to her acquaintances; she wanted to recover her strength before delivering the gifts which, as her landlady told her, arrived by courier on Monday.
When she arrived at the station, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and went out of the train smiling, knowing the way to her place was short and she would arrive soon. She hadn't wanted to take a taxi, she would rather walk. She preferred her walks to her house. All her life she had done it and her legs were strengthened and used to it.
She missed those days when she didn't have big concerns for the future, when she could spread her arms and feel the cherry blossoms at the beginning of the school year, falling on her when the wind blew. She would do it one of those days, taking advantage of the season.
"Oh." She was so immersed in her fantasy she didn't notice that she had spread her arms and had collided with a person.
She quickly made a bow to apologize. "I am sorry," she muttered embarrassed observing the black shoes of the man she had collided with.
But there was another thing, a mobile phone.
She swallowed and opened her eyes in disbelief, she had been a fool.
Hastily, she took the phone and raised it over her head so the person could grab it. "I'm sorry," she tilted her head again, "if I've done some damage, notify me and I will pay you immediately."
She waited a few seconds until she heard the man's sigh; she tried to tilt her head to see him but decided against it fearing it would offend him.
"Be careful. I am sorry, too. The call distracted me." The man's voice was firm, very masculine; it was educated but empty, devoid of emotion even though it seemed to belong to someone young.
She began daydreaming, imagining the kind of life of its owner.
Maybe he was a busy man, a lawyer with a major case that required his attention; or perhaps he was a recognized businessman who had gone for a walk before a meeting of great…
"You can lift your head," he said with a hint of irritation. How much time had passed?
Blushing, she stood to see the face of the man she had collided with but she got tongue-tied.
The cold eyes of Irie Naoki observed her with disinterest, his lips formed in a straight line.
In person he shows the same lack of feeling as in the images, Kotoko thought staring at him while he offered her a slight bow apologizing for colliding with her. She regained her composure by the time she had his light brown hair before her eyes.
"Irie Naoki?" she whispered. When he stood up, he raised an eyebrow with lightness and… arrogance. He was probably used to being recognized and admired.
Amused, she smiled, realizing her heart was the only one that showed signs of nervousness, but nothing more. She chuckled and picked up her suitcase to move forward, imitating him, who surrounded her to head for a train.
Pressing her purse to her chest she stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at the man who was walking with elegance but with the appearance that the world belonged to him. Reaching into her purse, she found what she was looking for.
"It's now or never, Kotoko." She plucked up courage and ran towards Irie, stopping behind his broad back under the gray tailored suit he was using. "Irie?" she called and he turned, raising an eyebrow in question.
She smiled for taking him by surprise and extended the small envelope for him to grab it. Its old and worn appearance was the factor that made him ignore it.
"This belongs to you," she declared and chuckled when Irie accepted the letter with a puzzled look, preparing to open it with narrowed eyes.
It was not time yet, so she did what she thought would never do.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him; looking to conclude something that never had a beginning, but that was needed to continue with her life, to leave behind an old love and not to be with the "what if"… to end with the real story of Irie Naoki and Aihara Kotoko. She kissed him with the few skills she had, extending the moment far enough, feeling that he was responding her despite the stupefaction. She didn't care what would come after that if Irie found out her identity (or sensed it, and most likely got right); she just wanted the kissed they didn't share in the past, the one which would end her teenage crush.
With her heart beating wildly, she broke the kiss and spun around to run, thanking the athletic club she joined in college and the adrenaline running through her veins after her boldness.
She didn't look back in case he followed her, nor expected him to do so when she lifted her suitcase to flee. She hadn't even looked at his face once the kiss was finished.
She just left him there, without feeling mortified by her actions.
Goodbye, Irie-kun.
Releasing a laugh full of joy, she opened her arms to the future; not having expectations to pronounce:
And all started with a kiss.
Hi!
This is my first attempt writing one of my fics into another language. It would've been easier to write something original in English, but I wanted to translate this one.
Some would think the idea of Kotoko writing about "her life" was copied from another fic (because I read it), but I didn't do it. It's an idea I had when I saw INK and decided to wrote it down.
Anyway. Hope you like this oneshot (or at least endure its lecture). Be kind if you leave any comment, remember we're here to learn and enjoy. I accept critics, don't worry.
Thanks for reading; have a good day.
Karo.
