Arigatō gozaimasu – Thank you very much (formal)
Oyasumi nasai – Goodnight
Oki o tsukete – Take care (can also be used when saying goodnight)
Honto ni gomen ne. Moushi wakenai – I am really sorry. I feel terrible.
Ohayou – Goodmorning.
Arigatō – Thank you (casual)
If there are any mistakes in the translations, please let me know. Thank you and Enjoy~
When they arrived at the hotel Asuka thanked Shinsuke for the wonderful dinner as well as bid him goodnight.
Before she could take her leave of him in the lobby he swiftly grinned in that sheepish manner again.
"What is it now?"
"I wasn't able to book my room, remember?" he explained, one large hand twirling his ponytail almost nervously.
He wanted to share her room with her?
If she thought her face was red before, she felt like it was a furnace now.
She had seen him half naked before on several occasions since they were both signed to NXT around the same time (okay she had only seen him without a top). Of course the man was attractive. But she never batted a lash about it then.
So why now was she so aware of him to the extent that it affected her like this?
In an attempt to appear more irritable to mask her shyness, she blew a lock from her face with the breath she had been holding since he had made his inquiry.
"You can sleep on the couch," she said, trusting her voice to sound steady.
Shinsuke bowed deeply, adding an enthusiastic, "Arigatō gozaimasu~"
Up in her single room they took turns using the bathroom to get cleaned up and changed for bed. She had intended on wearing her usual sleeping shorts and tank top, but now that she was sharing space with a man, she decided on some pajama pants and a loose-fitting t-shirt she had packed.
Her roommate was dressed equally as modest in a simple pair of sweat pants and a shirt of his own.
They were in the middle of some relaxed small talk, her from her bed and Shinsuke from his spot on the the couch, when Asuka felt that dreaded rain cloud rear its ugly head again. Its sudden reemergence seemed to drain her completely of what energy her time with the man at the other side of the room had given her. She felt so very heavy and tired.
Slipping on the remnants of her noh-smile, she stretched, yawned, and told him that she was growing tired. He readily agreed that the hour was getting late and that they should get their rest.
"Oyasumi nasai," she said, switching off her bedside lamp.
Shinsuke plunged the rest of the room into darkness. "Oki o tsukete."
Cocooned as she was in her blankets and tired as she felt, she expected sleep to overtake her fast.
It didn't.
No, something else overtook her and before she knew it and could stop herself, she was crying.
It began with hot, silent tears then devolved into uncontrollable sobbing.
Looking through bleary eyes she dimly realized a light had been turned on. There was a fast rustling of fabric and the patter of hurried steps.
She faintly felt a hand on her shoulder through the padding of the comforter.
"Asuka," Shinsuke shook her gently yet insistently, "Asuka!"
Her only response was to sob harder and curl into herself.
What was wrong with her?
Why was she acting like a complete mess and in front of Shinsuke? She thought she had escaped her personal rain cloud, but now it was embodying itself through her with this outburst.
And she couldn't even understand why.
Surely her roommate thought she was being a complete idiot. That thought only made her crying all the more distraught.
Shinsuke made a sound, maybe he said "Ah," as though in some comprehension – but she couldn't be sure when she couldn't get a grip on her own awareness – then he scooped her up, blanket and all, and hugged her against his chest like a small child.
"W-What are you doing?" she managed to sputter between sobs, her head the only part of her body free from confines of the comforter.
He held her tighter, dropping a barely-there kiss to her temple before pressing his cheek there.
"Comforting the sushi roll."
She hiccupped, "S-Sushi r-roll?"
"Well…that's what my father had called it when I was little and needed comforting." he clarified, hand now stroking her hair soothingly. "He'd wrap me up in my blanket, just like a sushi roll, and hold me. No matter how big the problem, I always felt better."
Asuka let this little peek into his life sink in, imagining this steadfast man as a small boy in need of some consoling.
She immediately ceased fighting against it in both mind and body and let him hold her. Her face came to a rest face against the crook of his neck. He smelled of pine and the ocean.
The solidity of his body against hers, strong arms holding her so tenderly, the calming scent that clung to him, they all served as a balm to her weeping soul. Soon her sobs settled down into soft sniffles.
Her misery was receding, and yet, she couldn't forget the sad wistful tone with which Shinsuke spoke of his father.
"Your father," she asked tentatively when she was finally able to again speak with a semblance of coherence. "Is he…?"
Shinsuke's head shifted against hers in a silent nod.
She suddenly felt incredibly bad for prying. "Honto ni gomen ne. Moushi wakenai."
This time his head shook in the negative. "Don't worry about it," he assured. He shifted her so they were more eye to eye. "The pain doesn't go away," he gave a small smile, "but it does ease a little with time."
A quiver began in Asuka's lower lip and she felt her eyes mist over anew with sorrow. Sorrow not for herself, but sorrow for this man and what was taken from him too soon.
"Really, Asuka, I am—" he started.
She shushed him, moving around in his arms and rearranging the blanket. "Get in the sushi roll with me, Shinsuke."
He opened his mouth as though to protest, then closed it. When she raised an eyebrow at him he silently relented and climbed inside the blanket with her. She wrapped it around them both and hugged his large, gangly frame as best she could manage with her diminutive one.
Shinsuke was stiff in her arms at first but gradually relaxed against her, letting her in enough to display his own vulnerability. His chest released a deep breath as though he had been holding it for a very long time, perhaps in some measure, an eternity.
"Arigatō," he whispered so sincerely it ached her heart.
She could only brush her fingers along the side of his face, breathe the same words in return and hope that they meant as much to him as his thanks did to her.