Note: Originally this was the second half of Chapter one, but since it was so long, I decided to chop it into two separate parts, to keep you guys from getting bored of the rediculously long chapter. Here's the second half of Chapter 1, or rather, chapter 2. This story is an Alternate Universe.
♪ Baby get on this ride with me
Baby come on sit next to me
Baby get on this ride hold on tight
Cos we've got all night
Baby get on this ride with me
I wanna feel you next to me
Baby get on this ride
Hold on tight
Buckle up right now
Baby come on ♪
"Mom! I'm home!" An excited voice rang through the small household, causing Mrs. Fukisku to look up, slightly startled at the loud declaration. Her eyes strayed from her tax filing to the door of the kitchen just as a spiky, hyper brunette raced through the door, backpack in hand and ready to be thrown wherever the carrier felt suitable at the moment. Her lips turned up into a warm smile as he gave her his traditional hug and kiss on the cheek, happy to have such a polite son.
"How was school?" She pondered loudly, so that the boy, who was now rummaging through the cupboard stubbornly looking for a snack, could hear her, "Did you get your History test back? Do I dare ask?"
Her son, without pausing in his cabinet-slamming, simply let out a disapproving grunt at the thought of school after the time it was supposed to be away from him. His mother gave a frustrated sigh, her eyes never leaving the spiky brunette head in front of her.
"You didn't fail again, did you? Oh, Sora, how many times do I have to tell you? History, as well as all the rest of your subjects are very important to your future as well as your academic history in general! You have to do well!"
Sora sighed, finally plucking a large box of chocolate pocky out of the cabinet, his eyes downcast and disappointed as he slid himself from the countertop. As his feet hit the floor, he glanced back up to his mother, his eyes large and watery as he clutched his pocky as though it were a cuddly teddy bear. Sasha raised an eyebrow, shaking her head at her son's utter nonsense actions. Picking up a rather large envelope in her petite hands, she motioned for Sora to come towards her, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
"Come here, you dunce. You received a letter today, and I'm anxious to see what's in it. Open it before I'm forced to invade your privacy and open it myself."
Sora's eyes regained their natural look before misting over in confusion. A small smile graced his face at the thought that somebody had written to him, and he bounded across the floor in the direction of his mother, mouth set in an excited grin.
"Do you think it's from dad?" He cried, his voice excited and his eyes lighting up like Christmas trees at midnight. Sasha shrugged, truly unsure, and held the letter out to him, laughing softly when he snatched it right out of her fingers, plunking himself onto a chair rather roughly and staring at the envelope as though it were his first present on his birthday. Sasha felt her heart race as she took in the envelope's front, a smile adorning both of their faces as they observed it with great care. Perhaps it was from her husband, who had been away for two years on business in the United States and had yet to return home.
"Sora, look!" Sasha gasped, her eyes widening as they glanced at the return address, "The return address is written in English typing! It has to be from America, where your father is! And look, the flag of the United States is on the stamp! Open it, quickly!"
Sora didn't need to be told twice. The second he'd heard his mother's quick fact about the address, he had begun to rip open the elvelope carelessly, uncaring weather it was able to be recognized after he was through with it. His grin stretched far across his face at the thought of hearing from his father, and he wasted no time, tearing the last of the envelope to pieces as he pulled out the documents that happened to be inside.
Sasha's eyebrows knitted together as she surveyed the papers inside the envelope, her excitement falling slightly as she glanced a large, yet slightly smaller than the original, blue, cardboard envelope and a letter. She picked up the cardboard envelope carefully, uncertainly examining the front cover and seeing nothing but a red, white, and blue eagle stretched patriotically across the front. No lettering, no label. Her hesitant smile disintegrated as she carefully opened the expensive-looking envelope, finding another piece of stiff-feeling paper inside, in the shape of a ticket.
A plane ticket.
Her eyebrows drew themselves together once more in confusion. The ticket was written entirely in English, and another language she believed to be Spanish underneath. There was a rather confused mumble from the chair next to her, and she tore her gaze away from the ticket, her eyes landing on her son, who looked equally baffled at the letter he was reading.
"What does it say, Sora?" She inquired, her voice hushed for reasons she was unsure about, "Is it from your father?"
Sora shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as though it would help him think. He continued to stare at the paper, as though searching it for clues to a mystery he couldn't quite solve, before giving up and looking in the direction of his mother.
"I don't know, mom." He stated, sounding rather defeated and helpless, "The entire letter is in English. My English is just about as good as yours."
Sasha pursed her lips, frustrated to hear this fact. She had been so sure is had been from her husband, so ready to hear from him...
"Sora, you know I don't speak any English." She stated, her voice wavering with annoyance and slight tearfulness. "It's one of your subjects in school that you attend almost every day! You must know something! Can't you figure out what the letter says?"
Sora looked rather ashamed; his cheeks turning a strange red color and his eyes turned themselves regretfully downward towards the tiles. He felt horrible for not being able to help his mother, and he was just as disappointed as she that the letter had not been from his father, possibly more so.
"Well, mom... I kind of... failed that class as well." He mumbled these words; half praying his mother didn't hear them and half hoping his mother wouldn't care. He kept his eyes on the ground, clutching the letter like a lifeline and refusing to look up at her disappointed face. She had already been disappointed enough, finding out the letter was not from his father. He heard her chair scrape the floor as she got up, her small blue shoes making their usual tapping noise on the hard floor as she left the room. Sora felt his shoulders slump forward, and he clutched the letter tightly, disappointment and anger taking their places as his main emotions inside of him. Who were these people? How dare they write to them, an obviously Japanese family, in English? How dare they get his hopes up like that! How dare they upset his mother!
BANG!
Sora looked up from his fuming, eyes wide as a gigantic monster of a book was slammed down onto the table in front of him. Briefly he looked upward, wondering if the book had fallen from the ceiling, before his eyes caught sight of his mother, standing and staring him down with a stern air. Sora's eyes wandered to the book, to which he had never seen any quite as large, before landing on his mother once more, his mouth agape and his eyes wide and curious.
"M-mom?" He questioned, not liking the look that was adorning his sweet mother's face at the moment, "W-what's this?"
Sora's mother smiled, a devious smile that proved whatever she was planning was no good for anybody, but especially Sora. She pointed her short-nailed index finger towards the book, eyes shining with mirth as she opened her mouth to speak.
"This, Sora, is an English to Japanese dictionary. You know your romanji, very well in fact. Therefore, you will look up every word in that letter until you can figure out what it is the people in that letter are trying to tell us. Now, I'm going to make dinner."
Sora's astonished eyes watched as his mother, his sweet, kind, gentle mother, stormed past him and into the cooking part of the kitchen, his eyes never leaving her as she got out all of her pans necessary and began to remove the propor ingredients from the refrigerator.
"Sora, I had better see some progress by the time dinner is finished, or no dessert for you!" Sasha's muffled voice came from within the refrigerator, and Sora immediately turned around in his chair, flipping the gigantic book open and chewing on a long piece of pockey, trying to think of where to start.
'Well...I suppose I should read the first line, then find the first word of the line.' Sora decided, getting up his courage and looking over the letter. It was hard to read, considering he had no understanding of the language whatsoever. The entire document all looked like a gigantic blur of letters and small markings that he didn't quite understand. He felt a headache beginning to form, but nonetheless he began.
'Dear Mr. Fukisku...' Okay, I can jump to conclusions and figure out that they are writing 'greetings, Fukisku-sama!' Ha ha, 'Fukisku-sama'... now that would be cool...' Sora grinned, imagining they really were calling him 'Master Fukisku', before moving onto the next line reluctantly. 'We are pleased to inform you that we have received your demo tape in the mail, and we find that you are a fantastic star in the making.'
Sora blinked, unsure of where to start in that line. He glanced at the word 'demo', uncertain weather they were mixing Japanese and English, or weather that meant something different in this language than it did in Japanese. Why were there so many letters together that shouldn't be? How did they pronounce all these words when none of the letters sounded right next to each other? He shook his head, feeling as though he was solving a mystery of life, before getting back to the dictionary.
'Okay, first word. 'We.' Let's see. Find the letter that looks like it...aha. Found, 'Wad'. 'Wad'? What the heck is a 'Wad'? ...Oh, I see. Hey, this thing's pretty cool! Maybe this won't be so hard after all! Okay, now to look for 'We'. 'Wave, 'Wax, 'Way, 'Week... Hey wait a second, shouldn't 'We' have been between 'Way' and 'Week'? I may not be smart, but I do know a thing or two!'
Sora's eyes crossed slightly as he tried to figure this out. Why wasn't the word in the dictionary? Should he look again? Now what was he supposed to do? Should he skip it? How could he? The word appeared three times in that line alone! He groaned in false agony and frustration. Why did they have to use it so much if it didn't exist? Crazy Americans, why couldn't they use real words!
'Forget it, Sora. Just skip it. Go onto the next one.' Sora nodded and moved on, still slightly peeved about not being able to find the first word when it was used so much. Perhaps it was a large part of figuring out the meaning! What if, without it, he would never know what the letter said? 'Next...'Are'. Okay, it starts with A, so I go to the front, right? Okay, flipping, flipping, flipping...aha, A. 'Architecture', 'Archive',' Arctic',' Area'... Oh no. Don't tell me it's happening again! 'Are' isn't in the dictionary either! I give up!'
Sora felt his lips pursing in annoyance, and found himself being reminded of what his mother must feel like now. Why couldn't he find any of the words? How could this dictionary be so big and not have any of the words he needed in it? Why did it seem as though every word but the ones he needed were in the stupid book! He willed himself to calm down, deciding that he would try one more word.
'Okay, last word, then I'm going crying to mommy. 'Pleased'. Well, it's not as short as the other two words, so it must be in here! Yes, stay optimistic, Sora! We will find this word!' Pausing momentarily, Sora wondered why his mind referred to itself as a separate party than himself, but chose not to think on it. He had more important things to worry about. He simply had to find at least one word! 'Okay. P. That's a lucky letter, I see it! Starting off – 'Pace'... why is there three different Japanese words for that one simple little English word? Oh, there's six Japanese words for that one little English word. How do they know which meaning they're talking about when they say that word?... Moving on. Let's see, 'Playwright', 'Plea', 'Pleasant', 'Please', 'Pleasure'. Well, 'Please' is a few letters away from 'Pleased', maybe they mean the same thing. Okay...it's like, asking for something politely. So they are asking me for something politely? Why would I give those bastards anything?'
Sora decided then and there that it was definitely time to stop thinking. He grunted tiredly, unsure how anybody could truly learn the entire English language. How did his classmates manage to get such good grades on the tests? Did they explain why none of these words were in the dictionary? Did they teach you to pronounce them the right way? Sora resound that he would from here on in pay attention in English class. He truly was stupid when it came to languages.
What was he to do now? He wondered, unsure. Should he tell his mother that he failed, therefore disappointing her once more? He didn't think he would be able to see that crestfallen look upon her face one more time. He glanced at the small clock hanging from the wall, his tired eyes taking in the minute and second hands. It was nearly four-thirty. What was he going to do? He wanted to show his mother he wasn't a screw up, but how when he couldn't find any of the words in the dictionary? How could he translate an entire English document without a clue of how the English language works? Who would be willing to help him, who actually carried such a knowledge?
Light bulb.
Glancing once again at the clock, Sora jumped up from his chair, his eyes bright and excited once more as his idea flipped over and over in his mind. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? It seemed so obvious now!
"Mom!" He called, knowing his mother heard him loud and clear. It was, after all, a rather small house. "I'm going out. I'll be back, I don't know when. Wait dinner for me!"
Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door, not bothering to grab his coat, letter and ticket clutched in his gloved hand. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, knowing exactly where he was going and just hoping that he made it on time. He felt his lungs burning as he didn't bother waiting for the 'Walk' signal at the crossing, barely missing getting hit by two very large eighteen-wheeler trucks in the process. His legs felt as though they would collapse any minute – he did live slightly far from his destination, but he insisted on running – until he saw it.
Kyoto High School.
Grinning, Sora surveyed his school in all its glory, the gigantic building seeming to loom over him as though it was grinning back. His eyes swept over the large staircase leading to the entrance hall, his head tilting sideways slightly as he spied a lone, blonde figure stepping rather quickly down the steps. His heart started to beat rather quickly, and he started to run again, this time in a larger hurry than before. If that man left his plan would be ruined!
"Sensai!" He called, his voice softer than he would have liked. He decided to take up the volume a bit, "Hunt-Sensai! Hunt-Sensai, wait!"
The man, who was rather tall and lanky and carrying a large black briefcase, stopped in his tracks on his way to the parking lot. Cautiously he looked over his shoulder, as though expecting a bomb to be in place of a person simply yelling his name. Seeing it was only Sora, he stopped and turned, his eyebrow raised in curiosity and amusement as he waited for the boy to catch up. Once Sora was in front of him, however, he was quick to speak.
"Well, if it isn't Sora Fukisku... why, I had no idea that you even knew my name, the way you pay attention in my class." He said all this slowly, as he always spoke, with a horribly strong accent that nobody truly could figure out where it was from. "What can I do for you? I'm afraid to tell you that there's nothing you can do to salvage your already failing grade, so if you've come to ask for extra help you are far beyond it."
Sora blushed slightly at his teacher's words, but refused to be beaten.
"Hunt-Sensai , I need your help. You can read English, can't you?"
Mr. Hunt raised an eyebrow once again, finding that it was the only sensible thing to do in the presence of such a boy. He felt his mouth twitching upwards, and he let a small chuckle escape his throat as he spoke.
"Well, Sora-kun, I am an English teacher..."
Sora felt a pout coming on, and he succumbed to it rather easily, letting it take over his face as he glared the teacher down. He did not come here to be made fun of, he came for some decent help. He shook off the urge to snap a comeback and rolled his eyes, holding up the letter.
"Sir, I need your help. I received this letter in the mail today, along with this strange American plane ticket. They are both written entirely in English, and I can't read them. My mother told me that I had to figure it out as a punishment for failing English class. I'm also quite curious as to what it says. Will you help me, sir?" He put on his best basset-hound eyes and looked up at his teacher, his pout still in locked in place. The best way to a teacher's heart was definitely brownnosing. "Please?"
Mr. Hunt, no matter how much of a strict man he tried to be, could not help but fall for Sora's pathetic, helpless look. He shook his head, feeling deafeated, and took a step closer to the boy, his eyes giving Sora a one-up.
"Allright – what have you gotten so far?" He asked, trying to peer at the letter that was looking rather squished in Sora's right hand. Sora sighed in relief and handed him the letter, biting his lip as he did so.
"I tried looking up the words in the English to Japanese dictionary, but the only one I could find was the word 'please'. I think they're trying to ask me to do something, politely of course." Sora declared proudly, happy to have known even that small tidbit of information. Mr. Hunt gave him a small look of approval before glancing at the letter, his eyed beginning to skim it. He felt a small drop of water touch upon his eyelid, and he blinked, looking up at the gray sky with a slightly annoyed look. Apparently, his look was enough to burst something up there, because as soon as he tilted his head upward the skies opened up , pouring bucketfuls of water upon both himself and Sora. He heard his student's startled cry and felt the letter being wrenched out of his hand by its owner, hastily being covered and stuffed into his pocket.
Giving a small annoyed groan, Mr. Hunt grabbed Sora's small arm and dragged him at a run towards the teacher parking lot, glad that Sora had taken the hint and followed him so he hadn't had to literally drag the boy. He led his student over to a small black convertible, top down, leather interior getting rather soaked. Mr. Hunt reached in and pressed the 'top up' button, watching as the top made itself slowly to cover the car. He signaled for Sora to go around the other side and get in, which Sora did, rather quickly in fact, not waiting for the teacher to get in before him. Mr. Hunt rolled his eyes and got in, face and hair dripping and the seat making a strange 'squeejee' noise underneath his body as he moved. He turned towards Sora, a small smile flitting his face, in turn trying to catch his breath back.
"So, is this customary for you Americans? Bring your young, unsuspecting students into your car for a good time?" Sora questioned bitterly, upset about getting wet and nearly having his letter get washed away. He glanced at his teacher underneath his now sopping wet, flattened hair, eyes annoyed and mouth set in a rather large pout. Mr. Hunt stopped struggling with his briefcase, which he had been trying to force into the small, nearly nonexistent backseat, and raised an eyebrow, a trait in which Sora was beginning to match with the man.
"Oh, come now Fukisku-san. Stop giving me that look – you look like an irate kitten." Sora let out an angry, aggravated noise of argument, but Mr. Hunt didn't wait for him to finish, "And furthermore, if you paid attention in my class you would know a thing or two about the countries in which speak English. I'm not from America. In fact, I've never been to America. I'm from Britain."
Sora, still slightly peeved at the 'kitten' comment, continued pouting and didn't move, nor apologize.
"Yah, so?" He countered, his tone irritated, "What's the difference? They all sound the same to me."
Mr. Hunt looked slightly insulted, furrowing his eyebrows and giving Sora a thoughtful look.
"Yes, well, they would, wouldn't they? After all, you don't pay attention in my class; therefore you didn't learn how to distinguish between them. You also wouldn't know that many British people like myself get rather miffed when compared to those from the United States. We are a large ocean apart from each other with entirely different types of English dialect. We have different opinions and slightly different lifestyles. We believe in much different beliefs and have slightly different laws. No, my dear student, they are definitely not the same."
Sora made no move that he had even heard the speech, and continued staring ahead, his eyes focused on something far away in the distance. After a few seconds, his hand slipped into his pocket, emerging clutching an authorized-looking paper that was clearly the letter in question. He carelessly shoved it at his mentor, raising his eyebrow in a slightly mocking fashion and motioning for him to read it.
Mr. Hunt raised an eyebrow of his own and took the letter, letting his eyes roam over it quickly, stopping at the bottom and bringing his eyes over it once more, his pace much slower than the first. Sora's eyes never left his teacher's face, glued to his current facial expression, which was flickering between smirking, smiling, and looking rather astonished. The curiosity was killing him, but since he was asking this man for a favor, he couldn't be too rude...
Oh, hell. He'd never been polite before, why start now?
"What's it say, Hunt-Sensai?" He blurted, leaning forward in his seat, so he was uncomfortably close to his teacher, "What does it say? Is it from my father? What do they want? Why are they writing in English!"
Mr. Hunt grinned and looked up from the letter, grin faltering slightly when he was aware of just how close his student was to him. He shifted rather uncomfortably, waving Sora away and twitching slightly as he only moved closer, trying to read over the older man's shoulder. He used the back of the seat as a balance and tried to get a glimpse, despite the fact he himself couldn't actually read it. He felt himself becoming wobbly, and, to make sure he didn't fall over his teacher and look like a fool, quickly put his hand down to keep himself sturdy.
"Sensai, what's taking so long? Can't you hurry up? I thought you could read Eng-"He was interrupted by a loud, high pitched yelp, coming from somewhere in the car. Sora looked around, confused as to where such a noise had come from. Did Mr. Hunt have a dog, or an animal of some sort that could make a noise like that? Was the radio on and he wasn't aware? What could possibly –
"Sora..." His thoughts were invaded by the uncharacteristically soft, rather uptight voice of his teacher. Sora looked to his side, to where his mentor's face met his gaze, a slightly strange look in his eyes and his mouth in a tight line. Once their eyes met, his teacher's eyes darted downward, before moving up again, giving his student a meaningful look that he hoped he would understand. Sora, taking the hint, looked down as well, taking in the position of just where he had put his hand down to steady himself. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment, and quickly retracted his hand, averting his eyes.
"Heh, heh...S-Sorry sir..." He managed to force out, moving his body backwards against the passengers' side window in an embarrassed flurry. There was silence in the car, to which Mr. Hunt uncomfortably cleared his throat, shifting his position slightly before looking back towards the letter. The silence and tension was thick, and Sora began to feel more awkward than he believed to have ever felt before. Finally, after a few more agonizing moments, he spoke again.
"So... is it from my father?"
Mr. Hunt didn't respond, handing the letter back to Sora and starting up the car, the keys somehow managing to appear in the ignition without Sora noticing them. With the speed of somebody who had been driving for many years, he put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking space, glancing towards Sora while doing so.
"First, where do you live?" He asked, heading towards the exit of the parking lot, "There's no way I'm letting you walk home in this madness."
Sora felt strangely touched at this gesture, and told him his address. Mr. Hunt nodded in recognition and turned from the parking lot, heading the direction of Sora's house as though it were an ordinary part of his everyday schedule. Sora stayed glued to the passenger's side window, still trying to recover from the embarrassing experience he had just encountered, but was shaken from his mortification by the voice of Mr. Hunt.
"So – what's your father doing in America, anyhow? Why are you so anxious for word from him?"
Sora blinked, taken off-guard by his teacher's forward attitude. He himself thought that Mr. Hunt was being rather bold in his questioning, but he did not express this opinion as he pondered how to answer the question.
"Well..." He started, unsure of just how much he was willing to share with one of his teachers, "My father is in America on business."
Mr. Hunt nodded, and Sora relaxed, thinking that the interrogation was going to stop there. However, he was sorely mistaken.
"What type of business does he do?" Came the uninterested voice of his mentor, and Sora was silent for quite a while, not answering the question. Mr. Hunt glanced at his student briefly, before repeating his question, more forcefully this time. "Sora? What does your father do?"
Sora frowned and avoided his teacher's look, instead looking towards the car floor below him as though it were quite fascinating. He established that Mr. Hunt would most likely keep asking, so begrudgingly, he answered.
"I...don't know what he does, sir. Sorry." He stated in a soft declaration, uncharacteristic and a drastic change from his usual spunky attitude and voice. The Englishman frowned, his eyes darting from the road to Sora, who looked rightfully depressed after that statement. He shook his head regretfully, cursing his foolish curiosities.
"I'm sorry, Sora. I didn't mean to pry. I was just letting my curiosity get the best of me... Out of all of my students, you are the only one who has not come to know me as less of a teacher, and more as a friend. I try to understand my students so I can sympathize, but I suppose sometimes I go a bit too far. I apologize." He truly meant his apology, as well. He felt horrible for bringing up something that so obviously bothered his student, and wanted nothing more than to make it up to him somehow.
"Oh, don't worry Sensai, it's allright. I suppose it is sort of weird, isn't it? My father has been gone for two years and I don't even know what he's doing while away. Pathetic on my part, no doubt." He gave a small smile to show he wasn't bothered, but Mr. Hunt, being a High School teacher, could see right though it.
"Does he write often?" He questioned, trying to take Sora's mind off of the fact that he was kept out of the secret that was his father's employment. Sora shook his head, his still-drying hair sending a few water droplets on the wet leather of the car seat.
"About three letters a year, I suppose. However, it's nearly April, and we still haven't received anything from him. Our feelings are a bit too impatient, mine and my mother's, I guess, but he tells the greatest stories in his letters, about all the people and the places he sees in America. You've never been either, but it sure sounds cool! He says he saw a Golden bridge, and that where he is they have a fabulous party called Marday Grease where people dance in the streets and play loud music all day!" Sora grinned at his explaination, happy to know something about his father's work. Mr. Hunt grinned as well at Sora's enthusiasm, happy to have gotten his mind onto a topic a bit more cheerful.
"I believe the name is pronounced 'Mardi Gras'. Your father must be in New Orleans, in Louisiana." He watched as Sora's face showed no regards or recognition to that name, and he once again sighed at the boy's lack of attention in his class. "Have you ever seen any movies where there have been Cowboys in them? Louisiana, that's where the Cowboys are, so I hear." He cast a grin at Sora, whom he was pleased to notice was also grinning rather widely. At his mention of Cowboys, Sora chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with wonder.
"You think my dad might be a Cowboy? Chasing bad guys and robbers on his horse and wearing a ten gallon hat?" He laughed, trying to imagine his dignified father acting like one of the American cowboys he had seen in the movies, finding the picture rather hilarious and mood lifting. He found it odd that he was enjoying the presence of a teacher, and even odder that the teacher himself was rather... normal. As they engaged in conversations of movies and scenarios for the rest of the ride, Sora found that once they pulled up to his house, he was rather reluctant to leave. He turned to his teacher, ready to say his goodbyes, when Mr. Hunt held up his letter, as though reminding him of his main deed.
"I think it's time you finally found out what this meant." He stated, eyes glinting mischievously in the dim lighting that the grey skies provided, "And before I tell you, I would like to say, congratulations, and I hope that you have a safe trip. I always knew you had something great inside of you, Sora, just waiting to be let out and exploited. I am truly proud of you."
Sora, kept carefully in the darkness, had absolutely no clue what his teacher was talking about, and looked at him rather strangely, now remembering why he never conversed with teachers outside of class. They were so bloody confusing. Cautiously, he approached the situation.
"...Sir...?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow in a mirror action of his older companion. The teacher smirked happily at his student, shoving the letter into his hands and pointing to the first line.
"We're going to go over it line by line, so you can see how each line is supposed to be pronounced, okay? Too bad, you're going to do it anyway if you want to figure out what it means. Okay, first line. This says – "
" – I've gotten accepted into a band! Mom! Mom, where are you, look at this, I've found what the letter means! I've been accepted into a band! Mom! Mom!"
Sora's excited cries rang through the practically empty house as he bounced through the door, his eyes and smile brighter than incandescent light bulbs in the middle of the night. His bright yellow shoes led him quickly to the kitchen, where he glanced around, not seeing his mother anywhere. Still grinning, he dashed up the steps, sprinting through the entire upstairs, discovering he still couldn't find his mother. Running down the stairs to the kitchen once more, he looked about, his large blue eyes spying a small pink slip of paper tacked magnetically to the refrigerator. Blinking, he slowly made his way over to it, spying his mother's loopy handwriting adorning the paper.
'Sora –
I have brought dinner at Mrs. Finny's. When you get home, go there. She's just made fresh cookies and wants you to try them!
Love,
Your mother
P.S. I'm sorry for being so pert and irritated earlier, forgive me?'
Sora blinked once again, but obliged with the note's command, still excited about his letter's true contents. He grabbed his coat, hastily pulling it on and walking hastily out into the still-pouring rain, not bothering to look both ways before crossing the street to Mrs. Finny's small ranch house, shaking himself off once underneath the small overhang that protected her front stoop from getting wet. He didn't bother ringing the doorbell, instead choosing to go right in, taking his shoes off as he did so. Though the age-old tradition was ignored in his mother's and his own household, Mrs. Finny was a fairly old and traditional woman who would find it very insulting if he were walking on her rugs with his sneakers. Once they were off, he walked calmly onward in his socks, wanting to yell for his mother but knowing that he had to be proper in the presence of an elder such as his neighbor.
He took another step forward, greeted with the soft laughter of his mother wafting through the doorway to the rather large kitchen and dining room. He made his way towards the sound, rewarded with the delicious smell of chocolate cookies and his mother's rice.
"Mother?" He questioned in what he liked to call his 'indoor voice', calling his mother in a polite manner, as Mrs. Finny approved of none other. He peeked into the room tentatively, as though requesting entrance, and smiled as his eyes caught the two. The scene before him was a warm site, his mother and Mrs. Finny conversing over a plate of cookies and hot tea, his own dinner they had saved warming on the stove for him and the two women laughing heartily at what must have been an inside joke. He didn't want to interrupt, but his excitement was getting the best of him, and he felt as though he were going to explode from the news. "Mother, I've figured out what the letter says! You'll never believe it!"
Sasha slowed her laugher and took a small sip of her tea, her eyes landing on her son standing politely at the door, waiting to be invited into the room. She motioned for him to come in and sit, standing herself to fetch Sora his plate of food that had been warming in wait for some time. She gave her son a soft smile, darting her eyes towards Mrs. Finny and inclining her head to remind Sora to mind his manners. Sora, understanding, turned his attention to his neighbor, giving a small bow as a sugary sweet smile adorned his face and his eyes became large and innocent.
"Good evening ,..Finny-dono . How are you doing?" He asked, receiving a kind, warm smile in return for his thoughtfulness.
Mrs. Finny was a traditional woman in every sense necessary to be one of the most educated and respected elders of the city. She was tall, but not overly, just enough to look down upon naughty children and look sternly up at equally naughty adults. She wore traditional kimonos every day, no matter what the occasion, proving she had either come from a very wealthy family, or that Mr. Finny had been a very prosperous man. Her hair was long and dual colored, a strange but beautiful mix of black and grey, and always up in a conventional bun, holder sticks in place to make sure it never faltered. It appeared she knew all, and nobody in the city said differently, as on many occasions, she had proved that she just might. Either way, she intimidated Sora, a less-than-traditional boy who often forgot to say 'excuse me' after he burped.
"Good times are upon us, young Sora, very good times. However such good times may not be upon my weary bones. The years are taking its toll, my boy. Enjoy your youth while you still can."
Sora nodded respectfully, taking her words with heed, and bowed once more. Mrs. Finny nodded and gestured towards the third chair at the table, to which Sora sat gratefully, eager to tell his news.
"Mother, you'll never guess what the letter was about!" He started, watching as Sasha put the plate of food in front of him, which he pointedly ignored in favor of telling his story, "It wasn't from da- father, it was from some corporation called V.A.L. Industries. They say they received a tape of my singing that somebody sent in, and they liked it enough that they want me in their singing group!"
Sora said all this very fast, but his mother clearly understood, her eyes widening in surprise and her body suddenly sitting down in her chair rather heavily. He blinked, wondering what was the matter, before continuing his story, too excited to stop just yet.
"You won't believe it – the letter was a letter of acceptance telling me that I'd gotten in, they chose five boys internationally and I've gotten chosen! The plane ticket is a plane ticket to Los Angeles, in America! I leave in a week! Isn't that amazing? I'm going to be a singer!"
There was silence from the table, which Sora pointedly ignored as he picked up his chopsticks, because Mrs. Finny didn't believe in forks, and took a small bite of fish, chewing thoroughly before speaking again. He paid no mind to the fact that his mother's eyes looked ready to fall out of her head in disbelief, and Mrs. Finny's forehead was rather scrunched due to the furrowing of her eyebrows.
"I mean – this is unbelievable – how could they pick me! I don't remember sending in a tape – Do you think that they might have confused me with somebody else, mother?"
He looked towards his mother, whom had stopped her imitation of a corpse and was now shaking her head, though weather it was to Sora's question or the situation in general, he wasn't quite sure.
"Um...mom –mother-, are you all right? Do you need some more tea?" Sora questioned, slightly worried that his mother was choking or something equally life threatening. She continued to shake her head, heightening his curiosity towards the situation, "What is it? What's wrong?"
Sora's mother said nothing, instead looking as though she were deep in thought about something only she could ponder. Mrs. Finny leaned forward slightly, touching her soft, smooth hand to his mother's arm in a comforting manner, large, concerned brown eyes boring into Sasha's.
"Your son asked you a question, Sasha. Perhaps it would be best if you answered him." Her soft, wise voice rang through the silence gracefully, and forcing Sora's mother out of her reverie. She shook her head once again and looked to her son, who was bearing a face that was a cross between worried and confused.
"Oh Sora," She started, trying to put the words together properly, and failing miserably, "I was the one who sent in the tape... I never thought...I never dreamed that you would actually get accepted... Not that I don't have faith in your abilities, but the world is a rather large place, and... well... I can't believe it..."
Sora grinned and got up from his chair, dinner forgotten. His mother stood also, and he wrapped her in a large, forgiving hug, not feeling angry at all at the fact that his mother had sent in the tape, and instead feeling elated beyond belief. He was truly going to be a real singer! Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, wooshing and swooshing through his brain and out his ears, but finally, one reigned high above the rest.
'I've got to pack!'
------
A dark figure, clearly male, was sitting mysteriously on a large, comfortable looking office chair. His face was shrouded in shadows, and his tuxedo blended perfectly with the same essence, the only feature being notably bright in his ensemble being a small, blood red pin tacked neatly onto the suite jacket's left side. The pin itself was the size of a silver nickel, in the shape of a perfectly balanced, well done and rather squishy-looking heart. His eyes, which were unseen, were lost in darkness as his head bowed and his hands steepled on the base of his large desk. The man in front of him, a rather fidgety man by the name of Mr. Sakano, appeared nervous as he looked on to his boss' contemplation.
"Sakano." The deep voice of the powerful man boomed through the room, seemingly amplified by hundreds simply with the knowledge of whom the voice belonged to. The summoned, Mr. Sakano, looked nothing short of a panic attack as he stepped forward, fidgeting with his fingers behind his back as he did so.
"Y-yes, Mr. Valentine, sir?" The unstable producer asked, his voice shaking and his hands doing much the same. His brown eyes stayed glued to the face of the man before him, though he could not lock eyes due to the looming shadows covering the superior man's features. There was silence for a few moments, before the rather intimidating voice spoke once more.
"Is my international talent search over and done with?"
Mr. Sakano breathed a small sigh of relief, his fingers running themselves through his already disheveled black hair before answering, clearly less tense.
"Why, yes, sir, it is. We have three from different parts of the United States and two from the small island of Japan. They'll be flying here in about a week to make sure that their voices will harmonize well with each other, and to meet the rest of their band mates. If all goes well, we shall start recording in two weeks time at the latest.
Mr. Valentine kept his position, and Mr.Sakano couldn't help but wonder if he could quite possibly be talking to a statue, or robot of some sort that wasn't trained to do anything but speak. He rather preferred to see the people he spoke to, but to make a demand to Mr. Valentine would be to throw a noose around his own neck. Not wise, and pretty damn stupid. He gave a small twitch as Mr. Valentine began to speak again, never liking the power the man's voice had over him.
"Two boys from Japan? ... For such a small place they sure do have a lot of talent. We'll have to keep an eye on them." Mr. Valentine un-steepled his hands, throwing away Mr. Sakano's ideas of the boss being replaced by a statue, but leaving him with the slightly immobile robot idea. "Now, these...foreigners..." The boss continued, picking up a rather expensive looking pen and twirling it in his slender fingers quite gracefully, "Do they speak fluent English?"
Mr. Sakano's eyes widened slightly, darting left and right quickly before answering.
"Um...sir, Mr. Valentine... is such a skill required?"
Mr. Valentine's fingers stopped spinning the pen, and for a moment, nothing could be heard but the sound of their breathing. Mr. Sakano looked slightly nervous, but said nothing, instead averting his eyes from the figure in front of him to the side wall, almost as though he were examining the art hanging there.
"... Of course it is, Sakano, why wouldn't it be? We are in the United States, after all. "Mr. Valentine's voice had taken a rather threatening edge, as though he knew Mr. Sakano had screwed something up and was only waiting for him to become aware of it. Indeed, Mr. Sakano had become aware, though his loudly beating heart and furiously racing mind did nothing to sooth his anxiety.
'One of them hasn't been checked – the second from Japan, Sara...no, Sero...no, that's not it... Sora! Sora Fukisku hasn't been checked, what if he's language-incompitant? How will I live with myself? What will the boss do with me? How will I live this down? I knew I should have told Mr. Sunazaki to check the Fukisku kid while he was there... why me, why me, why me!'
"Mr. Sakano." Mr. Valentine's voice penetrated his mental beating, sounding stern and reprimanding, and at the same time, holding a hint of amusement. "Is there something you would like to share with me?"
Mr. Sakano gulped visibly, sweat starting to form on his brow as he throught of just the right words to use in a situation such as this. Finally, he gave up and decided to wing it, knowing he was going to make an idiot out of himself no matter how he spoke.
"Well... sir... we might have a slight problem... "He started, and was unable to finish, due to the insane, rather loud laughter coming from the desk in front of him. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward slightly, uncertain of whether his boss wasn't laughing at all and in reality choking on a candy or something similar. Instead, he saw his superior's shoulders shaking, clearly due to laughter, as the man once again leaned forward and steepled his hands once more, the smile adorning his face still clearly obvious to his producer. Mr. Sakano opened his mouth to ask of the man's health, whether it be mental or physical, when Mr. Valentine spoke, his voice laced with the laughter he had just sprouted.
"Oh this will be interesting... yes... "He leaned backwards once more, comfortably settling himself in his chair and waving Mr. Sakano away with a simple flick of his wrist, "Very interesting indeed."
------
Spinning about his room in a flurry of excitement, Sora just couldn't believe his luck. He had been chosen to be in a singing group! Him! Sora Fukisku, ordinary teen from Kyoto, the kid who just yesterday thought the most exciting moment in his life was the upcoming school dance. He fought back a squeal of delight as he didn't bother to pack, instead falling to his messy floor, watching his bedroom spin above him in a blur of colorful pictures and posters.
All of these posters were of one person, and one person only – the one person who would forever be his idol, and longtime gigantic crush.
Riku Citrell. A 5'11 god-sent with the body of a demi-god and hair of silver. He was never sure of weather the pop star's hair was naturally that beautiful, fantastically amazing color, or weather he had dyed it that way once he had started singing. Sora didn't care either way. His Riku was beautiful. His Riku was perfect.
Standing up, he glanced at his Stereo, eyes automatically locking on the four 'Riku' CDs which took up the limited space on the flat top of the player. Each one featured a picture of Riku, and each one was perfect in its own way. Riku never stayed with just one type of music, and more often than not branched off into different varieties. However, it still all came down to his beautiful voice.
His wonderful voice.
His magnificent voice.
He knew that in his wildest dreams he could never make it to the degree of stardom to which his idol possessed. No matter. He believed that if he could, just once, reach the same talent level as Riku, his career, as well as his life in general, would be complete.
As he switched his CD changer to one of the earlier 'Riku' tracks, admiring the posters that were lain so thickly the wall was not visible, only one thought crossed his mind, almost as though on 'repeat'.
'I will be like Riku.'
---
Music used in this chapter is not mine. It is the property of their owners and writers. The first song was put in for humor purposes only. It is NIN – Am I Sexy. I have never listened to NIN and never will.
The rest of the music used, and all the music used in this fanfic, are my personal favorites. You know, the ones I listen to on repeat for hours and hours and never get sick of them?
The song at the beginning of this chapter is "Ride" by Darren Hayes.
The song that Sora changes to after his mother gets sick of the song is "Riddle" by Nsync.
The song that Sora sings when his mother records him, and Tidus also sings while driving is "Falling at Your Feet" by Darren Hayes
The song Tidus sings while Auron is listening is "Ghost of You and Me" by BBMAK, though the lines that I used don't go in that order. I wanted to signify that he was still singing while Auron contemplated – therefore breaking up the song slightly and taking phrases from farther down in the song.