Sukisho Fan Fiction ❯ 10 years ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Ten Years

 

By Sapadu

 

A/N: I know I should be updating my other fics. I really do... but I can't help it... This just... happened. And, I know, I swore that I would never write Sukisho fanfiction, because I could not make myself do that. But, really, I'm sick of seeing all the other fanfictions where they act so blatantly out of character- at least call each other by the right names...

 

Oh, and I don't own them. Hell, even my own dvds don't seem to accept that I purchased them.

 

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"Well, that's it for today. Anyone who has questions, come by the math room after school." Hashiba Sora closed his book, put it in his briefcase, and left the classroom, hearing the students mutter behind his back as he left.

 

He'd become significantly uncomfortable with the integration of girls into the school- mostly because it meant he had to deal with girls acting admiring and sweet, which was much harder to turn down than the prepubescent boys- but didn't really see much difference.

 

For some reason, he only remembered student's names for seating chart purposes. It wasn't on purpose or to be mean- he'd just started to get very tired of how predictable the students always were. It had started, he figured, when Seii, Shiina, and Kitamura had graduated.

 

'But at least I don't have to remind him every single day not to call me 'Sora-niichan' when he was in class...' Sora figured. It had always felt singularly awkward, having to lecture Seii to call him 'Hashiba-sensei'.

 

Hashiba Sora was very... bored with life right now.

 

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"Gochiso-sama!" Sora only said it out of habit. Even though Nanami's cooking was still perfect as ever, it somehow had lost it's... uniqueness. He ate with Nanami and Shinichirou every night before going back to his own apartment, but... it wasn't as comforting anymore.

 

It seemed... very play-like. They only seemed to be acting. Not that Sora was sad or depressed... but he wasn't happy or angry or... anything... anymore, it seemed. Life had gone gray, and he didn't feel... anything, really.

 

"Hashiba-kun, you're sure everything is alright?" Nanami asked, as he picked up the plates and took them into the kitchen to clean. Sora shrugged.

 

"I'm fine, Nanami-chan. There's just not a lot happening right now." He grumbled, stretching a little. Shinichirou cast him a look.

 

"Sora, the student's exams are coming up." He scolded, sternly. Sora stopped himself from yawning- he knew that Shinichirou would take that to mean he didn't care, and no good would come of that.

 

"Yeah, but it's not like it's swamping me with work. Besides, I mostly just have to grade papers and tests when it's over, not anything REALLY difficult." He said, while Nanami puttered in the kitchen- presumably cleaning dishes and getting out dessert, as the nurse never served meals in a single course.

 

Maybe it was that his teen years had been so filled with drama and action which had made adult life so mellow. No mad scientist back to torture him? No split personality throwing him out a window? No roommate out for revenge from a years old grudge? Then life was good.

 

"Are you seeing anyone new, Hashiba-kun?" Nanami asked, reentering the room with portions of castella on two plates. Sora noted that, of course, it meant that Nanami would be feeding Shinichirou from his own plate just as he brought that topic up.

 

"Nah... I'm taking a break from that for a while." He said, politely beginning to eat the dessert put before him.

 

"Did something happen with Hiromu-kun?" Nanami continued the conversation, dotingly spearing a piece on a fork and lifting it to his lover's mouth. Sora ignored them.

 

"No... we still talk and stuff. It's just... we don't feel THAT strongly as before..." Sora muttered, almost sullenly, his gaze shifting towards the window. Shinichirou finished chewing then started to talk.

 

"Sora, these last ten years, have you felt strongly about ANYTHING at all?" He challenged. Sora shot him a dirty look.

 

"I can too feel sincerely, Niichan- not like you, who used to molest me and my classmates for sleeping during class, omae ero-jiji." Sora spat back at him. Nanami held up his hands, trying to pacify the ensuing argument.

 

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"Then again... maybe Niichan's right..." Sora muttered to himself as he walked back to his home for the night, "Matsuri's the only one who I really talk to... Ichikawa and Nagase went and eloped somewhere... and Fujimori hasn't even sent a letter or called, even though he said he would..."

 

Sora hated to admit it, but he missed it, kind of.

 

"I wonder where everyone is now..." He mumbled, looking up at the sky. The glow from street lamps, the wires on telephone poles, and the branches of trees planted between the sidewalk and the street all obscured his vision of the moon and stars, but he kept staring.

 

What he needed was some way to get drunk. It was the weekend tomorrow, anyway- he could afford it to have a little hangover to sleep in over. It would make this weekend at least a little different- they'd been becoming so monotonous.

 

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One six-pack and he was under the table. No way that he was getting that old...

 

These were Sora's first thoughts upon regaining consciousness in his bed. It was the same time he'd normally wake up, and a hangover was in full force. His mouth tasted like alcohol- and not drinking alcohol, but the kind Nanami used to sterilize thermometers and the like- while it felt as dry as cotton. Hell, even Toushizou smelled like sake.

 

Sora wanted to stay in bed, until the phone rang. He groped for it, before finally knocking it off the hook, so it fell from it's perch and landed next to his head on the pillow.

 

"...moshi mosh..." Was all he managed, before he heard Matsuri's voice.

 

"Sora? You sound horrible! Are you okay?" Of course, leave it to Matsuri to fuss, ask too many questions at once, and be loud at the same time.

 

"...Matsuri... it's too early..." He muttered as best he could. Long sentences hurt to put together right now.

 

"Sora? Sora??? Are you drunk?" Matsuri's voice sounded shrill over the reciever.

 

"...I was... last night..." Sora managed, slowly. Matsuri made a noise as though he understood, and immediately started pestering him to get some water, something to eat, and various cures for hangovers. With every word that came through the phone, Sora vowed to hang-up as soon as Matsuri paused to draw breath.

 

This was, of course, assuming Matsuri would do so.

 

"How've things been with Hiromu-kun?" He then asked. Sora groaned and wished he had a tape recording of the story every time someone kept asking- for some reason, people seemed to keep forgetting that, yes, Sora was human and, no, just because you love someone doesn't necessarily it means forever and eternity with them.

 

"We broke up about two weeks ago..." Sora managed, getting to his feet and assuming a more human pose as he walked into his kitchen to get some water and maybe crackers. Matsuri sighed over the phone.

 

"So-ra~a... When I told you that sometimes relationships end, I didn't mean you can go from person to person without caring about them." His friend whined. Sora's vow to slam down the phone was suddenly amended to if he heard another weird noise come out of Matsuri's mouth.

 

"I DON'T." He argued, feeling a bit of deja vu come over him, and trying to forget exactly when he'd heard the cold comfort of 'sometimes relationships end' from the money-making schemer, "You were also the one who told me 'sometimes feelings for the people who you thought you loved change'."

 

"Sora... you haven't had a steady relationship for the last ten years. That's not feelings changing." Matsuri's voice was taking on a lecturing tone that seemed to have been adopted from Minato-sensei.

 

"You make it sound like I've been hopping from man to man every week." Sora grumbled, plopping some ice cubes in his cup, "Hiromu and I were going out for about a year- that's longer than Fujimori and I even KNEW each other." Well, technically, that wasn't true, but it was all that Sora could remember that they'd known each other. Matsuri gave a pained sigh, as though he was thinking along similar lines.

 

"...I just don't want to see you hurt again, okay?" Matsuri said, and Sora's horrible headache seemed to disappear, just enough for him to hear how sincere the sentiment was.

 

"...I'll be fine... don't worry." Sora reassured him, taking his water back to his bed, "I'm thinking of just not dating anyone for a while- I mean, it's not like I'll die if I don't have a boyfriend or anything... You don't..." Matsuri sighed on the other end.

 

"But that's because Sora and Nao-kun are my friends and our eternal friendship gets me through!" He piped up. Sora rolled his eyes.

 

"Fujimori hasn't written or called in ten years." Sora reminded him. Matsuri was quiet on the other end for a long moment, before speaking again.

 

"...Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then!" He said brightly, and when Sora's memory faltered, explained, "We're meeting for lunch tomorrow, remember?" Sora blinked at the phone, as suddenly the dial tone sounded, which said that Matsuri had hung up.

 

"What the hell?" Sora muttered to himself, "Matsuri no aitsu... he shouldn't hang up on people before they can answer..." Placing the phone back in it's place and drinking his water, Sora curled back up under his blanket, hugging Toushizou, and attempting to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

 

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Sometime in the mid afternoon, Sora woke up again and found his way out of the apartment just for a healthy dose of sunshine and fresh air.

 

It was that which led to him stumbling against the person who he met on the street. For a moment, he turned around to grumpily ask they watch where they were going, only to spot a very familiar head of pink hair. Almost on instinct, Sora reached back and grabbed the wrist of the person.

 

"Fujimori..." He blurted out. The head snapped around to show a very familiar face.

 

"Hashiba? What are you doing here?" Asked the puzzled Fujimori Sunao. Sora wrinkled his nose and let go of Sunao's hand.

 

"I was just taking a walk- I should be asking you, though, since we haven't seen each other in ten years." Sora snapped. Sunao made a huffing noise- one which still sounded like the bratty Sunao that had been Sora's roommate a little over ten years ago.

 

"So, we see each other again, and immediately you start complaining? Maybe it should have been eleven years." Sunao snipped, wiping his sleeve off as though Sora had gotten it dirty. Now that Sora thought about it, Sunao had changed a great deal- he was taller, for sure and his face had become a bit more thin, yet still looked like a girl's face. He'd cut his hair, but it was still long enough that he had a short ponytail in the back, held back with the usual red ribbon. But what struck Sora was how nicely he was dressed- a lavender suit jacket with khaki pants and a black button-up shirt. Hell, he was even wearing a tie, which matched his pants.

 

A far cry from the mismatched jogging sweats that Sora was wearing.

 

"Who's complaining? You were the one who didn't keep in touch even though you said you would." Sora shot back. Sunao just crossed his arms and huffily snapped his head in the opposite direction- just like he always used to whenever Sora had a point and he didn't want to admit it.

 

"I've just been busy, Hashiba- I actually work hard and earn my living." He replied, not saying it, but still heavily implying that Sora didn't. Sora bristled, but kept his head.

 

"So what's so important that you can't even find time to even call once in ten years?" He demanded. Sunao looked Sora right in the eye as he replied.

 

"Research." He bit. Sora froze and immediately his mind reverted to a memory of a laboratory and men twice his size in white lab coats.

 

"...Fujimori... are you... okay?" Sora asked, cautiously, after a long pause. Sunao blushed a little before turning away.

 

"Not THAT kind of research, Hashiba- I just spend a lot of time in libraries and the like, conducting surveys, analyzing statistics, things like that. Don't treat me like I'm child who needs to be taken care of." Sunao grumbled, irritably. Sora felt his ears go red for misinterpreting what Sunao had said, before bristling again.

 

"I'm not- I just wanted to be sure that you weren't at a job you didn't like, that's all." He returned. He had a feeling that if Matsuri were here, he'd comment that there was so much denial going around in the air, you could cut it with a knife.

 

"Are you still talking about that? It's in the past, Hashiba- I've gotten over it, already, why haven't you?" Sunao replied, but without any real venom in his voice- it wasn't shaking or anything, but it just sounded very bland, like Sunao was trying to hide something. Sora swallowed hard and managed a reply in the same bland voice.

 

"I have so gotten over it. But since I haven't heard from you for so long, I didn't know if YOU had." He shot back, having a feeling that they could circle this topic for hours if given the chance.

 

"Well, now you know, so stop bringing it up." Sunao said, with finality, walking towards the crosswalk. Sora pursued him, stubbornly.

 

"Oi, matte, Fujimori! I thought you were dead or something for ten years- we're going to talk." He called. Sunao only paused for the light.

 

"No, we aren't- I've got to be somewhere, now." He replied. Sora huffed and crossed his arms.

 

"Then I'll come with you." He insisted. Sunao's head snapped around and he glared at Sora.

 

"You can't- I have to meet somebody." Sunao said, quite sternly. Sora glared back.

 

"Who?" He demanded. Sunao's gaze softened, just a little, but it made his next words even harsher.

 

"My fiancé." And as the light changed, Sunao walked off briskly, leaving Sora standing shocked, staring after him.

 

Translations:

 

Gochiso-sama- polite saying after eating, usually taken to mean "Thanks for the feast"

 

Castella is pound cake- the yellow kind with the layer of brown on top- that we always see in animes. I'm pretty sure that it's a Nagasaki specialty, but don't quote me on that.

 

Omae ero-jiji- Sora's essentially calling Shinichirou 'You perverted old man'

 

moshi moshi- Telephone greeting. But that's, like, the ONLY time you ever hear it, these days...

 

Matsuri no aitsu- Matsuri, that jerk. (Aistu is also a very informal way of saying 'he','him', or 'that person' when used by itself.)