Disclaimer: I don't own 'Full Moon' or any of its characters.

CHAPTER THREE

The funeral was a large one, befitting the daughter of a company president. Izumi endured it without expression. He wasn't really Suzuya's son, so what did it matter what he felt? At least that's how it seemed to him. The words of condolence were all for his father.

Suzuya's own father didn't speak to Izumi's dad until after everyone else had gone home. They went into Father's study, and Izumi heard angry voices again for the first time since Momma left.

Suzuya's dad stormed out of the den with a set look on his face, and left the apartment without acknowledging Izumi's presence. Izumi never saw him again.

Father lost his job with the company that night. They moved to Shimonoseki where Father got a position with a shipping company. They moved around a lot after that, always to port cities. Izumi never had a chance to make many friends. That was fine with him. He kept himself busy trying to frantically keep his grades up after each move. Having to contend with new teachers, new school rules, and new expectations proved to be a full time job. He rarely saw his father. Father stayed late each night at the office, working furiously to get ahead with his new company.

His new boss didn't have any children.

Finally, father worked his way up the corporate ladder again and was granted a position in Tokyo in 1973. Izumi moved back to the city that had once been home near the beginning of his last year of high school.

One of his teachers liked his writing style and stuck Izumi on the staff of the school newspaper. Izumi always hated after school clubs and extracurricular activities, and tried to avoid them, but the newspaper suited him. The editor, Matsudairo, gave him his assignments and left him alone to write his articles. That was how Izumi liked it. Sometimes Matsudairo was so lazy that he'd have his second in command, the quiet, bespectacled Tokiwa, give out the assignments.

One day he was assigned to interview the school tennis team's girls' singles champion.

"Matsudairo-kun wanted you to have this assignment, Izumi." Tokiwa told him. She gave a small smile and looked down at her notes. "He thinks very highly of your writing," she went on softly and handed him the paper with Matsudairo's suggestions on it. "Here."

Izumi glanced down at the paper and absorbed the relevant information. Glancing up, he saw that Tokiwa was still there, and appeared to be waiting for some kind of response.

"Thank you, Tokiwa-kun," he said, then turned away, his mind already on the girl he was supposed to interview the next day.

Her name was Hitomi Yamaguchi. Izumi caught up with her after a match at another school's tennis court. She'd won, and hadn't really wanted to leave her adoring teammates, but her coach ordered her.

They walked toward the tennis court's parking lot along one of the many drainage canals that bisected Tokyo. Izumi thought that taking the scenic route might make her more inclined to talk. Hitomi was one of the most popular girls in school. She was half a head shorter than he was, with light brown eyes and hair stuck up in a ponytail. She still wore the short-skirted tennis uniform of her team, and kept her arms folded as if she didn't know what to do with them without a racket to hold.

Every school had its crowd of golden students – the clique everyone envied and admired. Izumi learned to keep away from them, for these golden ones tended to bully the other students. Now, however, he had a job to do, so he dutifully got out his notepad and asked her the standard questions for a sports interview.

Hitomi kept her arms folded as they walked and answered as briefly as possible. She was really very pretty, but not very animated. She'd seemed more alive on the court.

At last Izumi ran out of questions. They came to the edge of the parking lot. His car was parked by the end, so he set down his school bag next to the rear wheel, and stuck his notepad in the side pocket of the bag.

He turned to thank her for the interview, and stopped dead.

Hitomi had dropped her arms to her sides and was staring at his car, eyes shining in admiration.

Reluctantly, Izumi glanced at it as well. It was his birthday gift from his mother. It was an American car, this year's model, a 1973 corvette stingray. It was red, a two-seater, with smooth lines that angled up and then down over the front wheels to a sleek edge at the front end of the hood. Unlike most cars, there was no bulky chrome bumper at the front, and that gave it a very distinctive look. It was flashy, up to date, and sophisticated. Izumi hated it.

Momma's gifts always seemed to be the sort of things she would have bought for herself. Each birthday she sent expensive, flashy things, along with a parcel of whatever records were popular in America that year. Izumi dutifully listened to all the songs once so he could write a proper thank you note, then stacked them away in his bookshelves to allow them to gather dust. Music reminded him too much of Momma.

"Is this your car?" asked Hitomi breathlessly.

"Um, yes. Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Hitomi wrenched her eyes off it to look at Izumi. "Like it? It's wonderful! Where did you get it?"

Izumi found himself telling Hitomi about Momma. He didn't usually speak about himself or his past. He was the reporter. He asked questions, people answered, and he wrote about what they said. It was unheard of for someone to ask anything of him.

Talking to Hitomi was different than talking to any of the other students on the newspaper staff or in classes. She seemed to hang on his every word.

It seemed like a natural thing to do to offer to drive her back to school so she wouldn't have to take the school bus with her friends. When they arrived, Hitomi's friends from the popular clique were waiting there for her. Wincing inwardly, Izumi did as she asked and pulled up to the front of the school, rather than parking his car at the far end of the parking lot around back near the staff parking lot. That's what he usually did so as not to draw attention to himself.

When he opened the door for Hitomi, she got out beaming joyfully, and even grabbed onto his arm to keep him there as her friends crowded around.

Somehow, she got him talking about the car. The girls dragged Hitomi away to whisper and giggle, while the boys started asking him questions about the car.

Izumi relaxed. This was something he could speak about with authority. He'd memorized the owner's manual that came with the car. Even Owata-kun, the undisputed leader of the golden clique, seemed impressed with his answers. Izumi found himself invited to tag along with the group as they went out to eat. At the restaurant, he sat by Hitomi, and drove her home afterwards.

Somehow, Izumi became part of the 'in' crowd. He ate with them at lunch. Since he usually stayed late working at the school newspaper office or in the library on his schoolwork, and Hitomi stayed late for tennis practice, he found himself driving her home more often than not.

One day Hitomi was quieter than usual. Most of the time she'd talk his ear off about what happened at tennis practice. Izumi rarely had to talk at all, which was OK with him.

They were stopped in traffic when Hitomi looked over at him and blurted out, "Izumi, are you my boyfriend?"

Izumi's hands tightened on the steering wheel, as he looked over at her. "What?" Immediately he cursed himself. He was a writer, he should be able to come up with a better response than that.

Hitomi crossed her arms. "It's just that we're always together, and the other girls on the tennis team asked if you were my boyfriend."

Izumi tensed. "What did you tell them?" He waited to hear her say that she only liked him because of his car, or because his father was now a rich company vice president. He waited for her to deny him.

"I told them yes." Hitomi bit her lip, and played with the edge of her school uniform skirt nervously. "I like you, Izumi. I want you to be my boyfriend. So will you?"

A rude honking noise alerted Izumi to the fact that the signal light had changed while he and Hitomi were talking. He turned his attention to the road ahead and gunned the motor. It served to hide the huge, unbearable joy radiating out from his chest. Hitomi liked him. The prettiest, most popular girl in school liked him, and wanted him to be her boyfriend. His heart swelled. He just hoped he was up to the challenge. He'd have to work hard to deserve a girlfriend like Hitomi.

For the first time since his mother sent him the car, he blessed it.

"I like you too, Hitomi," he answered simply. "I'll be your boyfriend."

And just like that, Izumi found someone to love.

o-o-o

Outwardly nothing changed, yet inside everything changed for Izumi. He still opened the car door for Hitomi when he drove her to and from school. He still sat by her at the lunch table, and hung out with her friends, even though every hour spent with them meant an extra hour past his bedtime so he could be sure his grades didn't suffer.

Now however, he watched over her. She was his girlfriend. He wanted her to be happy, and that instead of grades became the focus of his life. He even let her play whatever music she wanted on his car radio. She always chose rock music. Though it reminded him of his mother, he hid his feelings and let the music play on. Good boyfriends should be willing to sacrifice for their girlfriends.

When tennis season was at last over, he took her to other school events – games, dances, any excuse to be with her. He was happy when he was with her. Happiness wasn't something he was used to, and each time he saw her, the rush of joy that came over him took him by surprise.

"Ah, Izumi-kun." Matsudairo was making another rare appearance in the newspaper office, and waved Izumi over to where he and Tokiwa were hunched over a desk, pouring over the next edition's layout.

Tokiwa stood up straight and pushed her glasses back up her nose where they'd slid down. Her long hair was pulled back by two plastic barrettes.

"I need someone to do an article on the next school dance, interview the band, and all that." Matsudairo said.

Izumi tensed. "I'm sorry, Matsudairo-kun. I'm going to be attending that dance with a date. I won't have time to do interviews."

This dance was going to be special. Izumi was going to ask Hitomi for a kiss afterwards when he drove her home. It would be their first real kiss. Everything had to be perfect. He'd found out what color dress she planned to wear so he could get her a corsage that matched it. He'd ordered it days ago, tiny yellow roses with baby's breath and feathery sprigs of fern. The florist assured him that it would be beautiful. It had to be beautiful to be worthy of her.

Matsudairo's mouth hung open. "You? Date? What?"

Tokiwa pulled at Matsudairo's sleeve. "Izumi-kun is going out with Hitomi-kun. I told you before, remember?" She glanced at Izumi and blushed.

Mouth snapping shut, Matsudairo began to look annoyed. "Who is the editor around here anyhow?"

Izumi cringed inside but held his ground, refusing to drop his gaze submissively like he usually did when he wanted to avoid attention. He opened his mouth to answer, but Tokiwa beat him to it.

"I'll do it," she told Matsudairo decisively.

He blinked and looked at her. So did Izumi. Tokiwa never spoke in that sort of tone. Her words were always nervous-sounding suggestions, shy little questioning statements, as if she wasn't sure of anything, or was afraid of offending someone.

Tokiwa blushed and went on. "If Izumi-kun doesn't want to do the interviews, I will do it for him. I would be happy to."

Matsudairo scowled. "You're the assistant editor. You shouldn't have to go out on interviews, you…"

"You're always saying I need more experience, Matsudairo-kun. This is a good opportunity. Maybe Izumi could look over my article when I'm done to see if it's OK?" Tokiwa's voice went back to its usual self-deprecating tone. "If he wouldn't mind, I mean."

"Well, the paper isn't due out until several days after the dance, so I guess that would be alright," Matsudairo said grudgingly. "But if Izumi can't pull his weight around here, he can be replaced." He glared and stalked away towards the bathroom.

Izumi found himself trembling with rage. How dare Matsudairo imply that he wasn't pulling his own weight? Izumi always got his articles in on time.

A slight tug on his sleeve reminded Izumi that Tokiwa was still there. He forced his expression to soften as he turned to look at her.

"Matsudairo-kun didn't mean that, Izumi. He just gets upset when things don't go as planned."

Izumi shrugged. "Thank you for volunteering to do the article for me, Tokiwa-kun."

"It's nothing." She glanced down at the ground. "I'm happy to help you in any way I can, Izumi."

The clock on the wall told Izumi it was time to go meet Hitomi. "I've got to go. Thank you again, and goodbye," he told Tokiwa, and left.

As he passed through the newspaper office doorway, he heard Tokiwa's voice saying 'goodbye' as well, and thought for a moment that it sounded sad. Brushing it off as his imagination, he kept going. Hitomi was waiting.

o-o-o

The dance was loud. A newly formed teen rock band called the Rascals was playing. Izumi found it hard to hear himself think, let alone talk. The Rascals were composed of the worst of the worst students in school, the ones who came with their uniforms all torn or dirty because they'd been in fights. They were the bad boys, and they knew it.

Hitomi wore a yellow dress, with Izumi's corsage pinned to it. She was beautiful. Izumi was proud to be with her. He danced with her up until the 'ladies' dance' when the band directed only the girls to dance out on the floor of the gym. The lead singer, in jeans, a black t-shirt and a bandana wrapped around his head like Jimi Hendrix, had the girls clustered around the stage.

The singer's headband was yellow like Hitomi's dress. He must have noticed her because of that, for he began to sing while looking straight at her. It was the only slightly melodic song in the band's repertoire, and when it was over, he threw Hitomi a rose. He threw other roses into the crowd of girls as well, but Hitomi caught the first one.

She held onto that rose for the rest of the night. Feeling headachy from the noise, Izumi wanted to cut the night short and go home, but Hitomi insisted on staying until the very end.

After the last song, an original one called 'Love Ain't Fair', the band's lead singer pulled his bandana off, making his shaggy layered hair even more unkempt, and spoke into the microphone.

"We're the 'Rascals' and we're having a concert next Saturday night at the Sporting Samurai restaurant. Come and see us!"

The students cheered wildly, especially the girls, as the Rascals left the stage.

Hitomi was quiet in the car on the way home. Izumi was glad to see she'd left the rose in her lap, and wasn't clutching it anymore. She was probably tired. The golden crowd usually left the dances early and went out to eat instead. Of course, there'd never been a real rock band at a school dance before. He wondered how the administration had allowed it.

When he pulled up to her house and stopped, Hitomi didn't react. She just leaned back against the seat with a dreamy expression on her face, staring out of the window.

Izumi planned to wait until he walked her to the door, but she looked so lovely that he couldn't resist. He leaned over and pressed his lips gently against hers.

Hitomi reacted immediately, pushing him away. "What are you doing? I didn't say you could kiss me!"

Izumi pulled back, hurt. "I'm sorry, Hitomi…" he began.

She glared and shoved open the car door, getting out on the sidewalk before he could open the door for her. Izumi got out too and stared at her helplessly across the top of the corvette.

"I can't believe you did that, when I was…" she trailed off.

Izumi sighed. She obviously wasn't ready to be kissed yet. They'd only been going out since a little before tennis season ended. "I'm sorry," he said again, trying to put as much of his contrite feelings into his voice as he could. "It's just that, you're my girlfriend, and I love you."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he cursed himself for jinxing everything. All the women he'd loved before left him. Momma, Karen, Suzuya, even Mrs. Iwata – who'd acted like more of a mother than Momma ever had, were all gone. He tried to push away the notion that loving Hitomi would cause her to go away as well.

He must have been showing his feelings on his face because Hitomi's expression softened.

"No, I'm sorry, Izumi. You just took me by surprise is all. Look, we're both tired. I'll see you in school on Monday, OK?"

Izumi nodded and watched her walk to her front door. She got her key out of her purse, opened the door, and waved to him with the hand holding her rose before slipping inside.

As Izumi got back in the car he saw the corsage he'd given her on the floor. It must have come undone when Hitomi pushed him away. He'd throw it away when he got home. He wished he could go back and throw away the memory of how he'd wrecked the evening too, but that wasn't possible. He wondered if Hitomi could ever forgive him.

Turning the key in the ignition, he gunned the motor and drove away.