CHAPTER 2

NATSU GA HAJIMARU (When Summer Begins)

I can't promise a full length story — yet. But I thought I'd like (and maybe you would like) to see how Naoki felt about Kotoko's leave taking. So treat this is a one-shot spin off of When The Sakura Fall or is it better called a "two shot" now? The previous story received only 5 reviews and most were from anonymous guests so I apologise I am unable to respond personally. I also don.t know how much interest this story has generated — but authors are a self-indulgent lot so I thought I'd try and see if I can drum up some sympathy for Naoki in my brain.

DISCLAIMER : I do not own Itazura Na Kiss or its characters. The copyright to this particular story is mine and no infringement is intended.

WHEN SUMMER BEGINS – A SAKURA STORY

NAOKI POV

There was something missing. There was a certain lack of some undefinable, ineffable, unnamed something — and the fact that he could not identify what it was bothered the perfect Irie Naoki.

After the Yuino, after their respective families had left for home, Sahako had invited Naoki to attend a piano recital by a favorite artist of hers. Like everything he did with Sahoko, the evening at the concert had been perfect – changing out of the elaborate kimono she had worn to the Yuino, Sahoko had reappeared in a demure yet understatedly elegant dress, she had been soft spoken, modest and quiet, her commentary (expressed only during the appropriate breaks during the concert) intelligent and non-controversial, her demeanour exemplary — expressing only her displeasure at the man seated in front of them who had had the audacity to fall asleep during the performance. Unbidden, a smile had fought its way to his lips — a flash of his imagination calling to mind a picture of someone who would have done the same.

In truth, he himself had been bored but was too well bred to do something as uncouth as fall asleep in the middle of a performance. It was not that he hated it — it was more similar to the way the sound of running water at first calms you, then makes you feel lethargic or until you block it out and it ceases to impinge on your consciousness. He supposed that to be fair, he had more or less enjoyed attending the performance but it did not really rouse strong feelings inside him. It was pleasant, it was something the well-heeled Tokyo urbanite was expected to do, and it proceeded in the linear, well-ordered manner it was expected to. No surprises No drama. And this was what he wanted right?

Glancing at the paragon of young Japanese womanhood by his side, Naoki realized that the same things could be said about Oizumi Sahoko. To the casual spectator, they were the perfect couple – young, well dressed, clearly well-off and dignified for their age. Naoki expected no less from his chosen bride. He was no stranger to perfection and sought it in all things. The perfect silence of a quiet life. The perfection of a grade well deserved. The order and predictability that had been absent in his life for the last four years. He should be happy.

And he WOULD be happy, he told himself. They would marry. They would buy a comfortably sized house which Sahoko would furnish tastefully and he would come home every night to a smiling, perfumed, impeccably dressed wife who would serve him a perfectly prepared, healthy dinner. Eventually they would produce the requisite two children who would be as perfect as their parents while he succeeded his father at Pandai. He could see his life laid out before him — in an impeccably straight line. Everything perfect. Everything as planned. No surprises. No drama. How could anyone NOT be happy?

And he was - In a calm, composed, perfectly civilised way.

Yet in the rare moments when he allowed himself to doubt, he wondered why there was something in him that felt empty.

The house was eerily quiet, not in the way that slumbering homes were usually quiet, where the silence was occasionally broken by the sound of shuffling feet or the creaks and groans of the heating system, or the sound of the wooden floors settling. Instead, it seemed dead and lifeless. Like a home that had been left empty too long. Lonely. Even the air seemed stale and overly warm after the crisp spring evening air he had left outside.

Naoki shed his shoes at the foyer, wondering why Kotoko had not yet made an appearance — the way she did every night that he had gotten home since the Aiharas had moved in with his family. The silence seemed to echo – and he realized he had not seen her since breakfast the day before and he had not spoken to her since the night before that. Perhaps she was still sulking in her room he thought, or she had not heard the door (although she had always seemed to have a sixth sense that alerted her when he arrived or left).

Reaching down for his shoes, Naoki opened the shoe cabinet by the door to put them away as was his habit. He was pleased to note that the floor was devoid of other people's footwear – it perpetually annoyed him how that girl would never put her shoes away, cluttering the foyer with her tiny, frilly, girly footwear — how many pairs of shoes did one girl need anyway? And his mother was just as bad — buying her even more shoes just because they were "Cute".

Opening the large hall closet, the young man was momentarily taken aback by the fact that no little shoes fell on him as they usually did if he ever made the error of hastily opening the closet. And as he looked closer, there were now two empty shelves where Kotoko's various pairs of shoes used to be stored. Her shoes like her – were usually stored haphazardly, piles of colour spilling all over each other like a cascad of pastel and bows and flowers and frills constantly threatening to overflow and trespass unto the shelf where his kept his own immaculate, highly polished, perfectly aligned two pairs of dress shoes, two pairs of casual shoes, two pairs of athletic shoes and the winter boots which he would store in the attic as soon as the barometer signalled the beginning of summer — all in the safe, practical colours of black, brown, navy or white.

It seemed to him that it was like a metaphor for the way she had invaded his home - her noise and commotion, her dramatics and overzealous enthusiasm for everything always threatening to invade his orderly world.

He heaved a sigh of relief — it had been a long day and he felt strangely deflated. He wondered if this was how a newly engaged person was supposed to feel, but then he quickly brushed the thought aside. It was only logical that he would be tired after all the events of the past days. And at least he wouldn't have to deal with tidying up Kotoko's mess in the hall closet tonight or dealing with her drama.

Still wondering when she would finally make an appearance despite it being almost midnight, Naoki headed for the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, stood at the kitchen counter taking long sips until the bottle was drained. He was just taking a break he told himself, he wasn't waiting for anyone.

It was still so quiet.

Turning off the kitchen lights, Naoki headed upstairs to the room he shared with Yuki. He supposed he would need to speak to his mother at some point about the housing situation after his wedding. He wondered if it was time to bring out those architectural plans he remembered tearing apart because at the time, the house expansion plans were made based on his mother's clumsy and overbearing plotting that he share the new room with Kotoko. He and Sahoko would need a room of their own once they were married though, but then he also considered the idea that it would perhaps be better to find a home of their own — fairly certain that his mother would not give Sahoko a warm welcome.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he was about to turn into his room when he noticed Kotoko's bedroom door ajar, a mellow light spilling out a strip of light into the otherwise dark hallway — telling himself she must have fallen asleep waiting up for him, he went to close it. it was certainly not to see her. Or speak to her.

Quietly walking down the hall and to the open bedroom, he rapped quietly and paused – hearing no response, Naoki smiled sardonically to himself — the baka must have fallen asleep with the lights on again he thought, slipping in quietly intending to turn off the lamp. He would leave the small hall light open he thought, the baka had night blindness and he wouldn't want her to trip and fall going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. it was not that he cared. He had been sleeping late the past few days – and he just did not want to be awoken by her usual commotion..

The room was empty.

The room was bare.

The bed was stripped of the pink frilly bedspread his mother had bought for Kotoko when she had first moved in, the princess canopy bare of the filmy, gauzy stuff that had once hung over it and the frilly pink curtains had been stripped from the windows.

The desk was empty, the big photograph of their graduation was gone and except for a forlorn looking stuffed rabbit that he recalled winning for her at some stupid claw machine she had badgered and nagged him to get during one of the times the family had gone out for dinner at the mall, the room looked almost the way it had been when it was Yuki's room. As if a small, noisy girl named Aihara Kotoko had never lived and cried, rejoiced and daydreamed and laughed in it.

The room was empty.

Noticing that the closet door was ajar and Naoki walked quickly, opening it — it was empty as well — and without really understanding why, he felt his chest clench, as if an invisible fist had reached through his body and clutched a tight grip upon his heart.

The sudden opening of the closet door rattled the empty hangers — all that was left was a paper bag in the corner of the closet, containing what looked to be Kotoko's high school uniform. On top, he saw the framed photograph from their high school graduation still in its elaborate frame. A folded note sat on top of the photo, and despite half-fearing what it would say, Naoki opened the piece of paper.

Obasama,

I apologise for leaving these things for you to dispose of, but I could not bear to see them in the trash so I could not put them there myself. Perhaps the uniform can be donated somewhere Obasama? It was very special to me but I need to start letting go of these things to start my new life. Maybe there is some needy student in Tonan who could use them? I took such good care of this set that this is in the best condition — perhaps it will bring luck to someone else, because even if my own ending was not happy, I was wearing this on one of the most memorable days of my life.

By the time you find these, otousan and I will have gone and I am sad that I could not say goodbye to Ojisama and the family in person, but perhaps it is best this way that we leave quietly from the house and your life so that things can go back to normal for everyone.

I am writing this to thank you and Ojisama for welcoming us into you or home and into your life for the last three years — I did not realise that when I lost our home, that I would find something more precious — because I did not know then that the same meteor that took away our house would give me a mother. Gomawo if I am presuming too much Obasama but I wanted you to know that in my heart, you are my mother and I could never properly tell you how much it meant to me that you treated me like your own despite my stupid mistakes and my clumsiness. I am so grateful to have been a part of your life even if it was just for a short while.

Please don't worry about me for I will just be nearby. At the end of it all, all I wanted was for Naoki to be happy and I realize now that this is still my greatest wish with all my heart even if it means that it is not with me. So Obasama, please smile on his wedding day and give them your blessings.

I will be sending all my love and best wishes from wherever it is that I will be.

Sayonara,

Kotoko

Carefully, Naoki re-folded the letter, swallowing against a painful lump that seemed to have formed in his throat, and gently placed it on top of the school uniform where he was sure his mother would see it right away. The young man then lifted the frame lying just beneath the letter, it was smudged, a tiny fingerprint still etched over his face — not knowing that almost exactly twenty four hours before, gentle little fingers had traced the outline of his face the same way his were slowly tracing the outline of the girl in the photograph.

"Onii-san."

Naoki turned to see Yuki standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light, a questioning look on his face.

"She is gone…she and Ojisan left this morning. Didn't you know?"

"You saw them? You knew they were leaving?" Naoki asked his little brother, his voice as calm and steady as always, though the turmoil of emotions swirling within him were quite the opposite.

"Only briefly – but she told me last night, you guys were still out shopping for Oizumi-san's gifts. They left in the morning soon after you left for the Yuino. But I'm sure Okaasan and Otousan knew they were leaving, I overheard Ojisan talking to them last week." Yuki replied, watching his brother closely, wondering how he actually felt.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked curiously, normally Naoki had avoided this room like the plague.

"Ahh nothing. I thought the baka had left the light on again and now..I'm just cleaning out the trash she left behind." Naoki replied, striving for nonchalance, his face impassive though Yuki could see the tension in the hands that gripped the picture frame tightly. "You'll be happy to get your room back, ne?"

Yuki nodded.

He had always idolized his oniichan, in his eyes, his older brother could do no wrong and he strove to emulate him in every possible way he could. Yet, for the first time in his 13 years, Irie Yuki wondered if he still wished to grow up one day to be exactly like his brother.

"It will be awfully quiet around here now that Kotoko is gone…" he said (wondering when it was exactly that he had started thinking of her as "Kotoko" or "Onee-san" instead of "Baka").

"I saw her last night — before she left, she gave me something — I'm sure you don't want it but…anyway, just in case, I am leaving it here ok?" Yuki continued.

The serious eyed boy then placed a small pink envelope on top of the pillow still reposing on what had been Kotoko's bed, next to the bedraggled stuffed bunny she had also left behind.

"Are you really going to marry that girl Oniichan?" Yuki finally asked, almost afraid to hear his brother's response. In so many ways, his admiration of his idolized older brother had always been mixed with envy — but tonight must have been the night for surprises, because for the first time, Yuki did not feel the same.

"Sahoko is good woman Yuki-chan. When you get to know her better, you will understand." Naoki replied, his voice sounding dead and tired and old to the younger boy.

Not trusting himself to speak, though his heart shouted at him to ask why, to understand why Naoki was doing this when he, Irie Yuki knew, had seen with his own eyes, the depth of emotion in his brothers eyes that day in the hospital when he had caught Naoki kissing the sleeping girl.

"But what about…" Yuki started, then closed his mouth.

"What about what?" Naoki asked, turning sharply, his eyes shuttered and his expression forbidding.

"Nothing." Yuki said, turning away in defeat. He knew his brother. And he knew that swaying him from something he had decided to do was pointless. "Oyasumi — I'm going to bed now."

Naoki stood still in the dimly lit room for many minutes after Yuki had left, his eyes shifting back and forth from the photograph in his hands and the letter Yuki had left on the pillow.

Eventually, with feet that felt like they were dipped in lead, Naoki made his way to the bed, and placing the picture frame carefully on one side, picked up the letter. He did not open it yet and instead lay down, the pillow cradling his head and then very carefully, he opened the letter, it felt so fragile in his hands and he was careful not to tear the thin paper. He was expecting it to be full of mistakes, to be messy and splotchy just like her schoolwork — but to his surprise, it was perfectly written in Kotoko's distinctive childish round characters.

Dear Irie-san,

My name is Aihara Kotoko from Class F. You may not know me but I know you. I remember the first time I saw you, it was at your opening speech on the first day of our first year in high school. I have always admired you since then and I know that you will someday achieve many wonderful things. Today is the first day of our last year in high school so I decided that I wanted to confess to you how I felt as we may not see each other again once the school year ends. Although I know you may never return my feelings, I wanted to tell you that I love you and even if you do not feel the same way about me, I hope we can be friends.

Aihara Kotoko

He had never read this letter before and Naoki had no idea she had kept it all these years. From the way it looked, it had been kept somewhere safe and special, though the envelope still bore the faint trace of dirt where his shoe had smudged it as it had been blown by the wind from her hands.

Naoki remembered the day well – how he had refused to receive this letter all those years ago. He remembered how earnest and scared she had looked as she came up to him at the school gates. Were he just to close his eyes, an avalanche of memories would overwhelm him he thought — and though he realised that with his extraordinary memory he could catalogue the gamut of each and every look, each and every expression that crossed her face, tonight, the memory that kept re-surfacing was of the last time he had spoken to her.

Finally, he closed his eyes letting his mind replay his last conversation with Kotoko and like a movie reel, he could see it so clearly in his mind, and how he should have realized that that night, she had been saying goodbye for good. He recalled how her eyes seemed so huge in her little face, brilliant with the tears she had forced back, and his mind's eye caressed the lines of the brave smile she had plastered on her face. And when he remembered her words, his heart clenched at the realisation that when she had said goodbye, he had seen the same look of determination and resolve on her face that he had seen all those times when she resolved to do something, pouring every atom of her being in accomplishing the goal - and he felt fear because when she had that look of determination, he knew that she usually succeeded.

He felt cold and alone in the darkened room, but finally Irie Naoki understood why perfection felt so empty.

Setting the letter down on top of the photograph, Naoki turned his head into the pillow, wondering why he could not cry.

And though the pink flowery pillowcase was gone, the pillow still smelled faintly of cherry blossoms.

Author's Note : Please drop me a review and we'll see if enough interest exists to continue this. Love, Daphne.