Hajime no Insho
sho go.
“So. How was she?”
“Hm?”
“Your girlfriend. The one you met at the club. How was she?”
“I didn’t have sex with her, Kouyou,” chuckled the drummer, and he carefully avoided meeting the guitarist’s gaze just in case he was being glared at, as though he’d committed a mortal sin. “I danced with her for a while, got her phone number at the end of the night, and went on a date with her last week.”
“A date.” Kouyou deftly raised an eyebrow, as though the word was foreign to him.
“Yes, a date. You know. Took her out for dinner, got to know her, talked about different things. Took her home, kissed her on her porch.” He glanced up; Kouyou was still watching him as though he were alien, and the words, “A date,” begged to be repeated.
“I’d like to know how he ends up with a date when all I end up with is a hangover from hell and a sore-“
“Kouyou. Please. Do not finish that sentence.”
“Okay, fair enough. But seriously.” The guitarist looked over at Takanori, and he was half-glaring as he awaited more explanation.
Takanori shrugged. “Luck? I don’t know, man. She just kind of…found me.” He shrugged again, and he gave a small smile in the guitarist’s direction. And with one line, Takanori became just like every other young adult in the world; half in love with a pretty girl and taking shit from his friends for it. “And she’s a nice girl. A good girl.”
“Which is why you haven’t had sex with her.”
“Exactly.”
“But you will.”
Takanori rolled his eyes, chuckling as he rose from the studio’s couch, pulling out his cigarettes. “Keep wishing, Kouyou.” He gave a peace sign, and then he left the room, pulling a cig out, returning the pack to his pocket, and then fishing for his lighter. He heard Kouyou call after him, calling him a prude, and he shook his head as he leaned against the wall.
And then he heard a ringtone, and it took him a moment to realize it was his. Nonetheless, his free hand fished for his phone, and he flipped it open and answered with a curt, “Moshi moshi.”
“Takanori. Hi. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you.” Takanori smiled, and he shifted against the wall, returning the cigarette he had been about to light back to its pack. Smoking while on the phone with his girlfriend didn’t exactly sound like a good idea. “I know you’re with your band, so I apologize for calling, but-“
“No, Midori, it’s fine. What did you need?”
“I was only wondering…and your band practice is probably an awful time to ask, but…” She sounded like she was blushing, and Takanori only continued to smile, waiting patiently for her to go on. “Well, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out with me again. This weekend, perhaps. I know of a really good restaurant, and I’d actually really like to take you there.”
“I’d…really love that, actually.” He was blushing for sure, and he looked around to make sure that none of the band members were around to see it. “We could go Saturday, and I could come get you at around seven?” He bit his lip, and he closed his eyes, and he shook his head at himself for feeling so incredibly awkward after being with Midori for almost two weeks.
“That sounds good, hai. So I’ll, um, see you then, ne? Sorry once again for disturbing your practice.”
He chuckled softly. “Don’t be sorry; you’ve disturbed nothing. I’ll see you this weekend, okay, Midori-chan?”
“This weekend, hai. Mata ne, Takanori.”
He smiled to himself as he shut his phone and pocketed it, and he considered lighting up the smoke he’d left the room for, but he decided against it, and he walked back into the studio, giving the other members a peace sign and a grin. “Is the break over now?” He glanced around, laughing a little at the expression on Kouyou’s face, and he rolled his eyes as he realized that everyone had been waiting for him to come back in. “It was just a phone call. What the hell’s so interesting?”
“I can’t believe it. He’s got another date.”
“You could get dates, too, Kouyou.” Akira snickered, getting up to retrieve his bass, and he reached out and ruffled the guitarist’s hair, clearly amused by the glare shot in his direction, and he grinned. “At least, you could if you weren’t such a horny prick all the time.”
“You know what, Suzuki.” The guitarist huffed as he fixed his hair, and then he rose when the others did, and he slung his guitar over his shoulder, half of him wanting to glare the bassist into misery and the other half wanting to laugh it off and harass Takanori for more details. Nonetheless, his frustrated stare was met by the bassist’s cheeky grin, and he narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes, I really do hate you.”
Akira laughed, plugging the cord into his instrument and adjusting the strap just slightly, and then he reached out to ruffle Kouyou’s hair once more, grinning even though his attack was dodged. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I’m also the coolest person on the planet, so it balances itself out. Ne?”
Kouyou rolled his eyes, and he busied himself with tuning his guitar, and the bassist beamed as he realized that this time, he’d won. Granted, Kouyou wasn’t the greatest at the witty banter, but there was something to be said for trying.
“Okay, seriously guys.” Yui was snickering as he leaned against the wall, his guitar already slung over his shoulder, and he grinned as Kouyou looked up at him. “Quit being assholes and get ready, yeah?”
Akira made one last futile attempt at attacking Kouyou’s hair, and then he looked back over at the other guitarist.
“Yeah, Kouyou, quit being an asshole and get ready.”
“Fuck you, Suzuki.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
Takanori almost, quite literally, facepalmed. “Alright guys.” He looked over at Yui, who now seemed ready, and he grinned. “Let’s play.”
“Hm?”
“Your girlfriend. The one you met at the club. How was she?”
“I didn’t have sex with her, Kouyou,” chuckled the drummer, and he carefully avoided meeting the guitarist’s gaze just in case he was being glared at, as though he’d committed a mortal sin. “I danced with her for a while, got her phone number at the end of the night, and went on a date with her last week.”
“A date.” Kouyou deftly raised an eyebrow, as though the word was foreign to him.
“Yes, a date. You know. Took her out for dinner, got to know her, talked about different things. Took her home, kissed her on her porch.” He glanced up; Kouyou was still watching him as though he were alien, and the words, “A date,” begged to be repeated.
“I’d like to know how he ends up with a date when all I end up with is a hangover from hell and a sore-“
“Kouyou. Please. Do not finish that sentence.”
“Okay, fair enough. But seriously.” The guitarist looked over at Takanori, and he was half-glaring as he awaited more explanation.
Takanori shrugged. “Luck? I don’t know, man. She just kind of…found me.” He shrugged again, and he gave a small smile in the guitarist’s direction. And with one line, Takanori became just like every other young adult in the world; half in love with a pretty girl and taking shit from his friends for it. “And she’s a nice girl. A good girl.”
“Which is why you haven’t had sex with her.”
“Exactly.”
“But you will.”
Takanori rolled his eyes, chuckling as he rose from the studio’s couch, pulling out his cigarettes. “Keep wishing, Kouyou.” He gave a peace sign, and then he left the room, pulling a cig out, returning the pack to his pocket, and then fishing for his lighter. He heard Kouyou call after him, calling him a prude, and he shook his head as he leaned against the wall.
And then he heard a ringtone, and it took him a moment to realize it was his. Nonetheless, his free hand fished for his phone, and he flipped it open and answered with a curt, “Moshi moshi.”
“Takanori. Hi. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you.” Takanori smiled, and he shifted against the wall, returning the cigarette he had been about to light back to its pack. Smoking while on the phone with his girlfriend didn’t exactly sound like a good idea. “I know you’re with your band, so I apologize for calling, but-“
“No, Midori, it’s fine. What did you need?”
“I was only wondering…and your band practice is probably an awful time to ask, but…” She sounded like she was blushing, and Takanori only continued to smile, waiting patiently for her to go on. “Well, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out with me again. This weekend, perhaps. I know of a really good restaurant, and I’d actually really like to take you there.”
“I’d…really love that, actually.” He was blushing for sure, and he looked around to make sure that none of the band members were around to see it. “We could go Saturday, and I could come get you at around seven?” He bit his lip, and he closed his eyes, and he shook his head at himself for feeling so incredibly awkward after being with Midori for almost two weeks.
“That sounds good, hai. So I’ll, um, see you then, ne? Sorry once again for disturbing your practice.”
He chuckled softly. “Don’t be sorry; you’ve disturbed nothing. I’ll see you this weekend, okay, Midori-chan?”
“This weekend, hai. Mata ne, Takanori.”
He smiled to himself as he shut his phone and pocketed it, and he considered lighting up the smoke he’d left the room for, but he decided against it, and he walked back into the studio, giving the other members a peace sign and a grin. “Is the break over now?” He glanced around, laughing a little at the expression on Kouyou’s face, and he rolled his eyes as he realized that everyone had been waiting for him to come back in. “It was just a phone call. What the hell’s so interesting?”
“I can’t believe it. He’s got another date.”
“You could get dates, too, Kouyou.” Akira snickered, getting up to retrieve his bass, and he reached out and ruffled the guitarist’s hair, clearly amused by the glare shot in his direction, and he grinned. “At least, you could if you weren’t such a horny prick all the time.”
“You know what, Suzuki.” The guitarist huffed as he fixed his hair, and then he rose when the others did, and he slung his guitar over his shoulder, half of him wanting to glare the bassist into misery and the other half wanting to laugh it off and harass Takanori for more details. Nonetheless, his frustrated stare was met by the bassist’s cheeky grin, and he narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes, I really do hate you.”
Akira laughed, plugging the cord into his instrument and adjusting the strap just slightly, and then he reached out to ruffle Kouyou’s hair once more, grinning even though his attack was dodged. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I’m also the coolest person on the planet, so it balances itself out. Ne?”
Kouyou rolled his eyes, and he busied himself with tuning his guitar, and the bassist beamed as he realized that this time, he’d won. Granted, Kouyou wasn’t the greatest at the witty banter, but there was something to be said for trying.
“Okay, seriously guys.” Yui was snickering as he leaned against the wall, his guitar already slung over his shoulder, and he grinned as Kouyou looked up at him. “Quit being assholes and get ready, yeah?”
Akira made one last futile attempt at attacking Kouyou’s hair, and then he looked back over at the other guitarist.
“Yeah, Kouyou, quit being an asshole and get ready.”
“Fuck you, Suzuki.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
Takanori almost, quite literally, facepalmed. “Alright guys.” He looked over at Yui, who now seemed ready, and he grinned. “Let’s play.”