Love In Translation
* * * * * * *
I could have sworn it was Tuesday.
Tuesdays. Blissful, beautiful Tuesdays. Kai-yobi. The day when I could take my worries and my doubts, and shove them out the window with the refreshing fragrance of fresh coffee beans, the soothing taste of sweet mocha, and compelling sight of really, really hot waiters. Sure, there maybe some communication problems from time to time, but honestly, I was just there for the scenery.
And an o-i-shii matcha latte.
Such is my weekly indulgence. My Tuesday indulgence.
I probably could have this joy more than once a week.
But then I’d have to deal with HIM.
“Irashaimase!” someone greeted me when I walked through the door. “Welcome to Bishounen Ca”AH! G-CHAN! Ohisashiburi!”
Great.
Nino.
I nodded briefly in greeting when I entered the cafe, drowning the urge to turn tail and run. My blood rushed to my ears and my palms got sweaty like they always did when I felt uncomfortable.
I took a deep breath. He was right. It had been a long time since we had seen each other. At least two months. When Tuesdays were the days he usually had off.
So why was he here now? My personal torturer with the sarcastic smile and knowing eyes. I took another deep breath. Maybe today would be different. I could hope. I could pray.
“Konnichiwa, Nino-san. Genki desu ka?” I said slowly. My prayers went unanswered as I watched him in his barely contained puppy-dog excitement.
“OH!” he exclaimed loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the cafe. And as usual, there were a lot of people. “SU-BA-RA-SHI!! G-chan no Nihongo ga jousu, deshou?” he cried, clapping that awkward, slow clap. That annoying, awkward, slow clap. You know, like they do at the end of movies right after an outsider does something to finally gain the acceptance of his peers?
Yeah. That slow clap.
My Nihongo wasn’t as great as he seemingly wanted to imply, but it was good enough to know when he was mocking me.
God. There were times I absolutely hated being a foreigner.
Seven months ago I arrived in Tokyo, a starry-eyed wanderer, still unsure just where the hell life was supposed to go next, and still tentatively tasting my first breath of real independence. Let’s just say I was… unhappy with my life and I was looking for an escape. So, I packed my bags, hopped on a plane and headed to Japan to do the only thing I could do with absolutely zero Japanese skills and little job experience: teach English.
The first few days in Tokyo were a never-ending rush. I was hit with the sights of towering skyscrapers, lights that never faded, sounds that never died, and a constant sea of people never subsiding. I was meeting new people from all over the world, not just Japan, seeing new things, and experiencing a culture so similar and yet so different from my own. It was not until I settled into my new place and job did it hit me. Maybe this whole living abroad thing was too much for me to handle.
They say the effects of culture shock and homesickness come in waves and that first wave hit me with a force strong enough to drown me. Each day was overwhelming and I was relentlessly bombarded with some new failing. The students weren’t warming up to me. The staff at school wasn’t sure what to do with me. Buying groceries was a struggle. My tiny apartment, with its smelly tatami floors, was confining. I couldn’t seem to remember the simplest Japanese phrases. The days were long, but nights came early. I was alone in strange place and lonely for someone I had no business being lonely for. After a week of crying myself to sleep, I had almost convinced myself that I just needed to suck it up and go home. Running back to the reasons I left in the first place. It would be easy.
But I couldn’t. To do so that soon would be failure. And to leave would mean I hadn’t changed.
And it was at this low point, I discovered the Bishounen Café.
It was particularly bad day. Lessons just didn’t go well and I had gotten an email from someone saying how foolish I was and that it was time to come home. Not particularly keen on returning to an empty apartment, I wandered a different route. And there it was, nestled in a quiet side street some twenty minutes from the high school I taught at.
It was the sign that first caught my eye. Phrases written in Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and, thankfully, English.
Welcome to Bishounen Cafe where you meet your ideal man!
We have everyone’s type.
We only wish to please you with our aromatic hot drink.
Step inside, forget the stress and just enjoy.
Was this for real? I couldn’t help wonder out loud. A pretty boy café? Was this like one of those host clubs I had heard about? Seriously. Only in Japan.
Curiosity overrode common sense and I found myself entering. While I wasn’t exactly attracted to Japanese pretty boys- they always seemed too frail and girly for my taste- I was definitely lured in by stress-free drinks.
“Irashaimase! Welcome to Bishounen Café,” I was greeted at the door. Not just greeted, but blindsided. My original opinion of pretty Japanese boys forgotten. Here was a man that was neither frail nor girly. Kind dark eyes, a genuine smile, wavy dark hair, tall and lanky”no wonder women plunk down money for their ikemen idols. For a moment I was speechless.
“Ano… hitori dake desu ka?” he asked me.
“Huh?” I replied dumbfounded.
“Ah…eto… only one?” he held up his finger. Only one? Oh.
“Uh… hai. Just me.” Alone. Of course. Did that sound as pathetic as I thought it did?
“Just a moment please,” the pretty man said to me.
“OK,” I smiled weakly. I tried to make myself slightly more invisible to the curious eyes of random customers and waiters. And there were a lot of customers it seemed. All women.
On the wall next to me, I noticed, there were framed headshots of good-looking men. At least eight. Who were they? Famous movie stars? So-called idols? Nope. There were apparently the waiters, I deduced when I found the picture of the one who was at the door. His name was written in Japanese kanji- yet another aspect I was failing at- but also in Romaji below. Ka-wa-gu-chi Yo-shi-a-ki, I mouthed to myself. I looked at the rest of the pictures. Find your ideal man indeed. There were plenty of types to choose from. Cool types, girly, tough guys, a nerd or two. Even a couple of foreigners.
“Ah. You want one here?” I jumped as the waiter Kawaguchi returned.
“Sorry, gomen, one more time please?”
He motioned to the wall of pictures. “Anyone ok? Who you like?” I tried not to cringe at his broken English.
I shook my head. “Ah. No. Iiee. Um. Daijoubou. It’s ok. Anyone is ok,” I smiled apologetically for my even worse Japanese skills. He smiled brightly and I felt some of the tension that had been building up inside me melt away. This was going to be fine. Fun even.
“Kochira desu,” he bowed to me and gestured towards the tables. I followed him to a cozy corner window seat.
“I be your waiter,” he said to me. “My name is Kawaguchi Yoshiaki. Please call me Yoshi.”
“Yoshi?”
“Yes. Yoshi.”
“Ok. Yoshi. You speak very good English.” I heard a quiet snort. I turned slightly, only to meet the smirking face of another pretty boy waiter. He wasn’t typically pretty at all. He had a prominent, round nose and stubborn jaw. His hair was definitely styled better than mine. And his eyes… his eyes were clear brown. Piercing. Way too knowing, all too aware. But what struck me was the hint of disdain he had when he met my assessing gaze.
“Nino-kun!!” a girlish voice cooed. “Nino-kun, kochi kochi!” A woman, maybe a year or two older than I (with Japanese woman it was really hard to tell what their real ages were), motioned the waiter over to her table, patting the seat next to her. He tilted his head to me, still smirking, and sauntered over to the beckoning lady.
“Hai, Reina-sama!” he saluted her.
“I’m no good at English. But I want to talk more English,” Yoshi was saying to me. “Can I speak English with you?”
“Of course!” He was so eager, how could I refuse? I was very grateful that he wanted to try. “Maybe I can try Japanese with you?”
“Yes! Let’s try and do our best!”
“Gambarimasu!”
“Ah! Sugoi!” Yoshi clapped.
There was laughter from the neighbouring table. “Nino” was glancing over at us and saying something to make his customers laugh. I heard the word “gaijin”. Slang for foreigner. I frowned to myself.
“What is your name?” Yoshi asked me.
“Um... Watashi no namae wa Giselle desu.”
“Ji-se?” Sigh. My name always got completely butchered by the Japanese.
“Ji-ze-ru,” I pronounced my name slowly using Japanese sounds.
“Ah-Ah, Jizeru-sama.”
“Ah... sama... no... it’s ok. Not sama. Just Giselle,” I insisted. Wasn’t sama reserved for really important people? I’d feel weird if he called me that.
“Ji-se-ra.”
“Giselle.”
“Ji-ze-ru.” It was probably the best he could do.
“Yeah. Jizeru.”
“Jaa,” that Nino guy drawled loudly from where he sat. “Ji-chan desu yo?”
“G-chan?” I asked.
Yoshi went up to Nino and bopped him on the head. All the girls erupted into a loud giggling fit.
“Oi, yokunai! Ji-chan ja ne yo!”
They spoke in rapid Japanese and all I could do was blink Finally, Yoshi came back to my table, rolling his eyes.
“Gomen ne, Jizeru-sama.”
“It’s OK. And you know what, G-chan is ok. I know my name is not easy to say.”
“Hora!” Nino yelled out, pointing to me. He was turning out to be a bit of a brat, but his customers seemed to love it. “Daijoubou datte. Ji-chan kawaii ne?”
I understood “kawaii”. That meant cute. “Yeah. G-chan is cute. It’s ok. Makes me more Japanese, right?”
“Demo... Jizeru-sama... ji-chan... is ‘old man’.”
“Oh. Heh.” I laughed weakly.
I glared a little at that increasingly annoying waiter who was laughing and yelling something in that grating voice of his. Was he really someone’s ideal?
“It’s ok,” I insisted. “G-chan is still cute. You can call me G-chan. But only you, Yoshi. Because we’re friends.” I didn’t glance back at the bratty waiter whose eyes I could feel drilling a whole in my head.
Yoshi’s eyes sparkled and he nodded. “Hai!”
He took my order and we enjoyed a jumbled, broken, Japanese/English conversation. And the Bishounen Cafe kept its promise. That evening I forgot my stress and enjoyed my drink.
It was the start of a beautiful, caffeine-filled relationship.
I returned to Bishounen Cafe often. At first, it became my refuge when those waves of homesickness hit. But then it just became my personal indulgence. After all, it was a girl’s paradise. Good looking guys to talk with you, flirt with you and make you feel special, all the while satisfying your pallet with heavenly sweets.
Most of the time, Yoshi-kun was my waiter. He was patient with my lame attempts at Japanese and eager to try English with me. Sometimes we talked, sometimes he understood my need to just sit and read or study. Sometimes I engaged in light conversation with the other customers. I even brought another teacher with me from school or another foreigner from time to time. Slowly, I was making friends with some of the other staff as well. There was Ryo-san, the rather mysterious and very handsome manager with the possessive doctor girlfriend. There were also Hideo, the playboy, Ren, the shy college student, Bernardo, the sporty Brazilian, and Henry, the charming Australian. There were a few other waiters that I hadn’t had much opportunity to speak with due to conflicts in schedules. But they all seemed like a good bunch.
Except HIM.
His full name was Ninomiya Kazunari, but everyone called him by his nickname, Nino.
And he quickly became a giant pain in my ass.
Compared to Yoshi and the other wait staff, who were sweet, patient, kind, and courteous, he was loud and obnoxious. He teased and scolded the women he served, called them obachans, children, idiots even. He’d throw strange little fits about the smallest things like cellphones going off while he was taking orders. He’d pull the stupidest pranks like fake spiders in someone’s tea to send her squealing or setting off the emergency sprinklers. One time he even got his sister pretend to be his girlfriend. She came in and demanded he stop pretending he was single just so he could work there. That prank didn’t turn out so well because his jealous customers almost lynched the poor girl.
“Nino-kun can’t belong to just one girl!” they cried. It was ridiculous.
“How can Ryo keep him around?” I asked Henry, who was serving me the day Nino pulled the girlfriend prank. Ninomiya calmed the women down with promises of personally feeding them strawberry cheesecake. His sister got all the chocolate cake she wanted- on Nino’s tab of course.
Henry just shrugged. “He’s not really that bad a guy. He’s pretty cool actually. Besides, we advertise for everyone’s ideal. And he is pretty popular.” He nodded to the happy customers vying for Nino’s attention. Nino looked at me and winked smugly, waving a fork with cheesecake in the air. I rolled my eyes.
But Henry was right. No matter how bratty Nino was, with his pouts and pranks, most of the females in the café adored him. “He’s like a little boy they want to take care of,” Henry guessed. “And he can be nice when he wants to be.”
“Hmm… yeah,” one of Nino’s English speaking customers confided in me once. “He can be a bit hard on some people sometimes… but when he’s nice to you and smiles… it’s like you’re just that more special that he notices you. You know what I mean?”
Yeah. I could see how women could fall that type of manipulation. I understood way too well.
What I didn’t understand was his hostility towards me.
Every time I came in he was there, waiting on his fan club. But despite his demand, I always found him lurking around or staring at me with those derisive eyes. He was never outright rude to me or said anything mean, but there was just always something in his voice and in his manner that was patronizing and slightly… antagonizing… I guess was the best way to put it. I had a feeling that he knew a little English, but he never tried to engage me in a conversation. Instead…
“KO- NI-CHI-WA, G-CHAN? O GEN-KI DE-SU KA?” He always spoke Japanese in a slow, loud voice- even the simplest sentences.
“Uwah! Your Japanese is so good!” he would gush to me condescendingly in Japanese when I graduated from the English menu to a Japanese one. He even cheered me on his way from the kitchen every time I spoke.
“ Sugoi, G-chan! Matcha! Cho-ko-re-to! Subarashi!”
And then there were the whispers. Every so often I could hear him, flirting with his usuals. “Gaijin,” he would say in a low tone. And I would know he was speaking about me.
And it wasn’t just about me being paranoid either. There was no misunderstanding. Nothing lost in translation. Because either I noticed Yoshi-kun or another waiter would wince and smile apologetically to me. Then they would say something to The Brat, who just brushed it off.
But whatever his reasons, I wasn’t going to let him get to me. In the few months I had been in Japan I felt that I had overcome too much, grown so much, to let one person ruin it for me. The Brat… or anyone else.
Then one day, it happened.
Ninomiya Kazunari became my waiter.
Yoshi had the day off and the café was busy. Nino had one table open. I rose to his silent challenge and declined the offer to wait for anyone else on the floor. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. As he sat me down at a table, I noticed the other waiters giving us wide berth. The other customers stopped talking for just a moment, but long enough to notice it. So much for a relaxing macchiato. I felt so tense that I was sure I’d snap at the slightest provocation. And from the look on his face, The Brat knew it. He spoke to me so politely and treated with me such courtesy that I almost didn’t recognize him. But that just made me more suspicious.
He grinned when I checked my vanilla macchiato for fake spiders and I sniffed my sakura chiffon cake for any extra “flavoring”. Tentatively I tasted.
“Umai?” he asked, watching me.
“Oishi,” I admitted. As usual it was delicious. I braced myself for some comment on my Japanese, but he said nothing. Instead he indicated with his hand the chair opposite of me, as though asking permission to sit. I felt my heartbeat nervously when he smiled shyly at me. What was he up to?
To my surprise, he talked to me in simple English.
“Do you like Japan?”
“Yes…”
“Nihongo de,” he waved his finger at me teasingly. I laughed softly.
“Sou desu. Nihon wa daisuki desu.”
“Do you have fun in Japan?”
“Hai.”
“Are you miss home?”
Do I miss home? I missed my family and my friends. Sometimes I missed things that were familiar to me.
“A little. Chotto dake.”
“Why you come to Japan?”
I paused. It was a question I got over and over again. What are you doing in Japan? Why are you here? And I usually answered the same. I love the culture, the food. I wanted an adventure. I was on a journey to self-discovery. But that wasn’t what he wanted to know.
Why did you leave home? That’s what he was really asking.
It was like ripping the bandage off a healing wound. I sat in silence.
“Ah!” Nino suddenly exclaimed, leaning close to me. I sat back, surprised. “Masa ka? Masa ka?” He exaggeratingly whispered in Japanese, “Are you looking for a boyfriend? Is that why you came to Japan? You couldn’t find love back home, so you came here?” I bit my lip. He was making fun of me again, mocking me with his eyes and his smirk.
Hah. Looking for love? That was my last reason for coming all this way.
After all, it was love that I was trying to escape from.
More specifically, escape from a long relationship with a man I swore I was in love with, but who could never say those words to me. To him, love was just a word. Marriage just piece of paper. Romance a passing fancy. It was just his way, I always rationalized. It was my first real relationship. He, the first man to see any real value in me. And for the longest time, it was enough that he wanted to be with me. I ignored that voice in my head that whispered that he wasn’t the one. I didn’t care. I would have willingly given up anything for him. My friends, my dreams, my very identity. Just to have him stay with me. Just to believe that he was really mine.
Only to one day to realize I couldn’t face myself in the mirror anymore because I couldn’t stand to see the truth of how pathetic I had become. I was in danger of becoming a mere shadow on the wall of someone else’s life. Someone who I knew didn’t love me, who was just content to have someone so effortlessly. I started to hate myself completely. And it scared me.
So I ran.
I told him I needed some time to be on my own. Give me a year, I said. He told me that if I left then we’d be over. We could never be friends. He wouldn’t wait for me. He wouldn’t follow. When I still insisted that leaving would be the best thing for me, he tried a different tactic.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you. I want to be with you forever. We’ll get married and have the family you want. Just don’t go.” Oh God, did my heart break. He was telling me everything I wanted to hear, the things I waited to hear all my life. But was it for real?
“Give me a year,” I repeated. Yes, I was testing his feelings for me. But it was the only way.
It didn’t take him long to retract what he said. He was wrong to say those things. I scared him and made him angry. I made him say things he never wanted to say. I made him act in a way that he hated.
I wasn’t in Japan too long before he found himself another girlfriend.
My heart was shattered and pride was torn.
Love. I laughed to myself bitterly. Love was absolutely the last thing I came searching for half-way around the world.
The sound of laughter and chattering voices brought me back. Ninomiya was there, still leaning in close, and searching my face intently, quiet assessing whatever was written there. Our eyes met and I stopped breathing at what I saw in his eyes. But the look was gone in an instant and The Brat returned.
He sat closer to me and took my hand in his. He looked around and I was suddenly aware of the audience watching us. Some of Nino’s regulars stared at me with sharpened daggers. Ren and Bernardo shrugged their shoulders at each other, unsure of what to do.
“Jaa,” Nino drawled lazily, rubbing the palm of my hand. “How about me? I think G-chan is very cute. I could be your personal waiter. I’ll quit this place for you. I would love you forever.” I couldn’t understand what he was saying word for word, but I got the gist of it. I was the butt of yet another one of Nino’s jokes.
And in that moment, I hated him. And I suddenly hated this place. I hated Yoshi and Henry and Ryo and all the others for creating these illusions of love, for giving these women false hope. And I hated these pathetic women for living in these delusions. And for the first time, I acknowledged how much I hated my ex. I felt the tears stinging my eyes and anger clogging my throat. I glared at Nino, who was taken aback. He realized his mistake. But it was too late. I shoved my cake into his face and threw the rest of my drink into his lap. While he was hopping around, yelping in shocking, I grabbed my stuff, tossed money on the counter and slammed out the door. Then I ran, tears running down my face.
Probably not my finest moment.
I didn’t return again to the Bishounen Café after that for almost a month. At first it was strange, as I had been going there almost three to four times a week since that first time. I still talked to Yoshi though. He never asked about what Nino had said or wondered if I’d come back. He brought news about our friends: Hideo had finally gotten a girlfriend- a new customer that he fell head over heels for- so he had to quit. He talked about a regular that was getting married. Ren was graduating from college. Bernardo’s brother just got into town and was hoping to work part-time at Bishounen. As he spoke more about the small community at the café, I realized how much I missed the Bishounen. But there was still one problem. I didn’t think I could be in the same room as The Brat anymore.
Then one afternoon…
“Nino takes Tuesday evenings off now,” Yoshi texted me.
So, just like that, Tuesdays became my usual day and all was right with the world again.
Until this moment.
“I’m surprised to see you, Nino-san,” I glared at Yoshi, who was sneaking away to the back. “Aren’t Tuesdays your night off.”
This time, he didn’t even blink when I spoke to him in Japanese, which was coming to me easier every day now. Instead, he winked at me.
“Why? Have you been avoiding me?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re surprised?”
Nino smiled secretively, but nodded, conceding my point.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” he waggled his eyebrows at me.
That startled a laugh out of me. “Honki da yo?” I snorted in disbelief, to which Nino chuckled.
He bowed to me and guided me to my usual spot by the window.
“Yoshi-kun will be with you in a minute, G-chan.” Nino handed me a menu, and walked away whistling. I stared at his back, my eyes narrowing. Just what was he up to now? I knew I had a right to be suspicious, but I didn’t want to stay angry.
“Gomen ne, G-chan,” Yoshi pouted and made puppy dog eyes at me. “Ren called in sick and Nino was available.”
“Ii desu. It’s fine. I’m not going to let him…” Before I could finish that sentence, the doors to the café burst open.
“Leave me alone!” It was Reina-san, Nino’s most loyal customer. Everyone stopped and stared. A man, older, with lightly graying hair and a thick waist, followed her in. He grabbed Reina-san by the arm and started yelling at her, trying to drag her from the café. She resisted violently, hitting the man on the arm.
“Hanashi da yo!” she yelled frantically, telling him to let her go. Yoshi and I looked at each other, and we both stepped forward to help her. But before we could reach them, someone seized the man by the shoulder with a tight grip.
It was Nino.
“Uresai yo,” he spoke in a low, even tone. His face was more serious than I had ever seen it. There was a glint of danger in his brown eyes. “Why don’t you let the lady go? Then you can have a nice cup of coffee. De-caff.”
The man laughed and shook his head. He let Reina go, raising his hands in the air. He made the move to leave.
Only to swing his fist in Nino’s direction. Then everything moved so fast. Somebody screamed. Nino ducked the man’s fist and grabbed his arm, holding him from behind. Reina started to cry and I took her arm and lead her away. Worried, we watched as Nino held the struggling man. Yoshi held the door open while Henry and Nino “escorted” the man out. I took Reina back to her table and listened to her crying, jumbled words.
From what I could make out, she and the man had been dating for a few months. She thought it was true love”only to discover that day the man was married. She broke up with him and he got angry. He followed her here.
“Baka desu yo?” Nino had returned with a steaming cup of tea. I winced at his lack of tact, calling the poor woman an idiot. But before I could scold him, I noticed his bruised cheek. It looked like Reina’s ex had landed a punch after all.
“Wah!! Nino-kun! Gomennasai!!” Reina wailed, burying her face into Nino’s chest, her arms going around his waist. I felt a strange twinge in my chest.
Maybe too much excitement for one day.
I put an elbow on the table and leaned my cheek into my hand, watching as Nino patted Reina on the head affectionately. “Maa maa. Daijoubou. Daijoubou.” He sighed and looked at me, exasperation on his face.
“Nino-kun kakkoi!” I heard some of the girls whispering excitedly.
Nino saluted me, that ever present cocky smile on his lips.
I laughed, rolling my eyes. Very cool indeed.
The police had been called and arrived soon afterwards. Pretty much everyone had been detained for questioning. By the time the last few statements had been made and the property damage assessed”a couple of broken patio pieces from the scuffle that had taken outside”it was late. Yoshi had offered me a ride home, so I waited around while they finished cleaning and closing up.
The night was warm and quiet, so I ventured outside to wait. As I stepped out, the soft strains of a melody being played on guitar danced in the air. Curious, I followed the sounds to where they were coming from. And there he was, around the corner of the café, sitting on the back entrance stairs and playing an acoustic guitar.
Nino.
And he was mesmerizing.
He sat illuminated by a single light. His hair glistened and his skin softened and the bruise on his cheek more prominent. His nimble fingers plucked and strummed a delicate tune. His eyes were closed as he listened intently as though the song was being played from some secret place and he was just playing along to catch up to it.
I clutched my shirt as my heart beat furiously. What the hell was going on? This was Nino! NINO. The Brat. My nemesis. The enemy. I couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. I couldn’t have feelings for him. That would just be stupid.
But dammit… a guy with a guitar…that had always been a weakness of mine.
And Nino was no exception.
I tried to control my heart and my breathing. I was afraid he could hear them both and find me spying on him like some perverted peeping Tom. I took a quiet step back. Or what I hoped to be a quiet step. I ruined that by stepping onto a piece of glass that crunched and cracked, echoing throughout the night. Nino stopped strumming and looked around.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
Figuring there was no way out, I stepped out of the shadows.
“Oh, G-chan,” he seemed quite surprised and embarrassed. A first. “Were you listening?”
I prayed he couldn’t see how red my cheeks had gotten.
“Yeah. You’re pretty good.”
“I look pretty cool, don’t I?” he preened.
“Yeah. You’re just a regular J-idol, aren’t you?” I teased him.
“Oi! Everyone knows J-idols have no real talent!” He waved a finger at me. “They’re only popular because they’re good-looking.” He had that arrogant look on his face again. “Maybe you think I’m good-looking. What do you think? Am I ikemen enough to be an idol.”
Most definitely.
Now where did that thought come from?
“Nah. You’re too skinny,” I retorted instead. “Why are you out here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be closing up with the others?”
“I’m hiding,” he said shushing me.
“You’re terrible.”
“Oh, I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”
“I’m sure.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Chuckling, he played a few more cords. I couldn’t help but stare. He couldn’t help but notice.
“Do you play?”
I shook my head no.
“Do you… do you want to try?” He stared at me with earnest eyes. I felt flushed again and still a little breathless.
“N-no, it’s ok.” I needed to leave before I made an ass of myself. “I need to find Yoshi-kun anyway. Otsukaresama desu!” I turned to walk away.
“Matte!” he exclaimed. “Chotto matte kudasai!” I stopped and turned back.
He was standing up, motioning me to stay. Struggling with something on his mind, he opened and shut his mouth a couple of times. I waited.
Finally, he blurted out in English, “Please teach me English!”
Now THAT I wasn’t expecting.
“You want to learn English?” I asked in Japanese.
“Hai. Er. Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and muttered something in Japanese that I couldn’t quite understand.
I hesitated, “I don’t know…”
“Onegai!” he shouted. “Onegaishimasu! I’ll teach you the guitar!”
“Hounto?”
“Yes.”
I thought about it. I’d always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.
But spending extra time with The Brat may prove to be a bad idea.
“No pranks,” I warned him.
“Okay.”
“No more making fun of my Japanese.”
“Okay.”
“And you have to call me ‘sensei’.”
He looked at me strangely. I don’t blame him. I don’t even get the kids at school to call me that. But I just couldn’t resist making fun of him. “On second thought, call me ‘shishou’.” It meant Master.
When he scowled at me, I grinned. “Let’s hear you say it.”
“Dame da.”
And for the first time, we laughed together, awkwardly, our voices ringing out in the night.
And so, Tuesdays then became English lessons with Nino.
“Try it again.”
“Ra-bu-ry.”
“Ya gotta put your tongue-- see, watch me-- put your tongue here. Top of the mouth. La-La. Lovely. Love-ly red locks.”
“Ra-”
“La-”
“Murii.”
“It’s not impossible. Difficult. Not impossible. Get through this and then we’ll work on some vocabulary.”
“Hai-- er. Yes.”
He’d meet me at Bishounen after I had some time to just relax with something to drink. We’d go over pronunciation, grammar, sentence structure, casual phrases. We’d practice with free conversation, asking simple questions and talking about things we did during the week. He had the basics, it seemed. What surprised me was the intensity to which he took to the lessons. I expected the whole thing to be a joke to him and he’d waste our time, but in the end, he was serious about learning English. That wasn’t to say that the lessons weren’t fun. What he lacked in skills he made up for with enthusiasm. He loved learning the nuances of different words and phrases-- and testing them out on his co-workers and customers.
“Your curves are lovely,” for example, got a better response than, “It’s OK you’re fat. I still like you.”
And he never failed to laugh at his mistakes.
“Nino-kun, it’s, ‘That shirt looks nice on you.’ Not, “That SHIT. SHIRT... dude, it’s not that funny.”
But what surprised me even more, was his patience with me.
I’d come to the cafe every Thursday evening and after his shift, Nino would offer to close up and we would stay, strumming away. Only I didn’t turn out to be as good a student as Nino, shy as I was about my inabilities. I was always self-conscious and afraid he would belittle me, but he never did. Even when I kept making the mistakes over and over again, he’d point out what I was doing wrong and show me the right way. He even re-strung and tuned up an old guitar just so I could practice.
“You have to hold your wrist like this and press down hard here. It hurts because your skin is soft there. It’s not used to it.” He showed me the calluses in his hands. Hands that were a lot stronger and steadier than I would have originally given him credit for.
“Good, now keep a firm grip on the pick. Up and down. Switch the positions. Very good. Hmm. Maybe you should be calling me Master.” I rolled my eyes and shoved his arm.
Somewhere along the way, we became friends and I started to look forward to meeting with him. I wanted to be around him. He told the truth about not being that bad once I got to know him. Though, he did lie to me about one thing though. Although he made promises, he did continue to make fun of me, pulled pranks and generally gave me a hard time. He was still childish, loud and obnoxious. But it wasn’t like when we first met. For one, I learned to give as good as he gave.
He’d patronize me on my Japanese, I’d call him things in English that he wouldn’t understand. He’d put salt in my tea and I’d give his phone number to the more obsessive customers. He’d flirt outrageously with me… and I’d get all flustered then punch him in the arm.
I guess I still wasn’t comfortable with all the pretense of good-looking guys romancing girls. I accepted that was part of the charm of the Bishounen Café, and that some genuine relationships exist between the waiters and their customers. They may not be truly romantic, but they were warm and good friends.
But I was slowly realizing something I had been denying for a while- my attraction to Ninomiya Kazunari. And I didn’t need him adding fuel to that particular fire with his flirtatious nature. I couldn’t afford it emotionally, falling for a guy who wouldn’t feel the same for me. No, it was better to keep my heart safe.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be curious. And something had been nagging me for a while.
“Why,” I started to say, keeping my eyes firmly on the guitar strings I was lazily strumming, “why were you so mean to me when we first met?”
“I’m mean to everybody.”
“You were particularly mean to me.”
He continued to strum on his guitar, as though he didn’t hear me. Thinking that maybe it was better to keep the peace rather than bring up the past, I went back to practice the cords he had shown me.
“I dated a foreigner girl once. In high school. American.” I looked up and Nino stared straight into my eyes. “She was an exchange student. My first love.” He started plucking at the strings. She was sweet at first. But as time went on, all she did was complain and complain about the things she hated about Japan. On and on it went. She’d make fun of all my friends and she would say rude things in English, but smile sweetly. I didn’t understand what she said, but I understood what she meant. And she only kept me around because she liked making girls jealous.” Nino leaned back in his chair sighed. “So my first impression of foreigner women wasn’t exactly a good one.”
No kidding.
“Souka,” I nodded, packing up the guitar. “I hope I’ve helped improve the image of ‘gaijin’ women for you.” Suddenly I felt shy, wanting to know his opinion of me.
But Nino just smiled. “Maybe,” he said coyly. “Depends if you buy a me a beer. We’re going to an izakaya tonight. I’m starving.”
“What? You miser! No way! I paid last time!” We left the café still arguing about who was going to pay.
If only things could stay simple.
But that wasn’t the way of the world.
“G-chan! Earth to G-chan!”
“Hmm?”
Oi! Baka!” I felt the slap of a plastic menu on the back of my head. “What is that piece of paper you’ve been staring at all evening? Yoshi-kun is worried. You haven’t touched your cheesecake. He baked it especially for you.”
Now that was a lie. The cheesecake was for everybody.
“G-chan!” Nino started hissing. “ If you don’t start paying attention to me, I’m going to kiss you in front of everybody and you’re going to have to deal with my entire section.”
That would be nice.
Huh? Wait? What?
“Wh-what? No. What? Don’t do that! Do you want to see me killed?” I could already feel female claws trying to rip me apart.
“What are you looking at?” Nino repeated more slowly.
“Re-contracting papers.”
It was a decision that I had been putting off for quite some time now. My original plan was to stay in Japan for only one year. I had been here for 10 months now. My company was now pushing me to make a decision about staying or going. I was still torn. I missed my family and my friends. While some had managed the trip to Japan for a visit, most I hadn’t seen since I left. And I always knew that I would return, find a decent job, maybe meet someone knew, start a family. Something I never thought I’d want to do in Japan. But I loved my life in Japan. And, I had to admit to myself, there were certain people I wasn’t ready to part with just yet.
“Are you leaving?” Nino spoke so quietly that I almost didn’t hear him. I glanced up at him. His eyes were veiled, revealing nothing. “Are you going back home?”
“I-I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. My plan was only for a year. But…” I left the sentence hanging.
“When? When would you be going?” he gripped my hand.
“If I go… in two months maybe. I haven’t decided.” I sighed, my eyes on those re-contracting papers. “I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Don’t”“ My heart jumped unexpectedly at the intensity of Nino’s voice, “Don’t”“
“Nino-kun! Oh Nino! You’re neglecting us!” A table of his regulars was calling him.
Feelings bubbled and burst inside of me as I watched him take a frustrated breath before letting go of my hand and donning a bright smile.
“Hai, hai!” Off he went.
I clenched and unclenched my fist, trying to calm myself down. Just what was Nino about to say to me? Don’t go? Don’t stay here? Don’t forget to write?
I watched as he disappeared into the back. My head felt full and heavy. I was restless. Unable to stay sitting, I gathered my things and paid for my drink and half eaten cake. Saying good-bye to a worried Yoshi, I all but ran out the door.
“Matte!” As my feet hit the pavement outside, someone grab my hand.
Nino had followed me outside.
“You’re going already?”
I swallowed, seeing my hand grasped into his. “Yeah. I have stuff I need to do.”
“Oh.” He didn’t look directly at me, staring instead at some point beyond my shoulder.
“I… can I talk to you? For a second.”
I coughed to clear my throat. “Yeah.” I let him lead me to back around the café- where I first spied him playing guitar.
“Why did you leave home?” My head shot up and I met his gaze.
Trust me, he pleaded silently.
And for some odd reason, I did.
I did more than trust him.
I loved him.
I couldn’t even deny it anymore. Without even realizing it was happening, I fell in love with The Brat.
I fell in love with his unexpected kindness. His zest for life. His strange, annoying humor.
I fell in love with Ninomiya Kazunari.
My heart aching, I told him everything about why I left home. About my own disappointment with love. As I spoke, not once did Nino let go of my hand.
“Do you still love him?” he asked me when I finished speaking.
I shook my head. “I don’t think I do. No. I don’t love him anymore.” I love you, I wanted to blurt out. But I couldn’t get the words out.
“So you wouldn’t be going back to him.”
“Of course not,” I laughed without bitterness.
“And if you stay, it’s not because you’re running away anymore.”
“No. I wouldn’t be running away.” I’d be running to something. To someone.
“Souka,” Nino said softly.
Silence fell over us like a blanket. Neither speaking. Neither moving. Just staring at each other.
He was close. Very close. His eyes were on my mouth. He shuddered when I bit my lips nervously. The roaring in my ears getting louder. My eyes fluttered shut as he bent his head towards me.
“Nino! Nino! We need you inside!” Bernardo was calling from the front entrance of the café. Nino and I froze.
Hesitating for only a second, Nino walked away without a glance back.
Slowly, I released the breath I was holding.
I wasn’t sure if things just got less or more complicated.
After a sleepless night, I came to a decision.
I needed to stop being a coward and tell Nino how I felt about him.
Would I stay if he felt the same? Would I go if he didn’t? I didn’t know. I just had to know if we had a chance together.
So I waited for him at Bishounen the next day. Sat there at my usual table with my hands twisted in my lap, nervous like a junior high school student about to confess to her first crush.
But Nino never came. Not the next day for his shift. Or the day after that.
When Tuesday came around I figured he’d show up for our Tuesday lesson, but I got a text message from him apologizing, but that he couldn’t come that night. He never responded to my text message asking if everything was all right.
When Thursday came around, I sat at the café with my guitar in hand. Only to have Ren tell me that Nino had taken an indefinite leave of absence.
“You don’t know when he’ll be coming back?” I asked him.
Ren just looked around nervously and shrugged.
“Is everything okay with him?”
“I don’t know. All I know was that he told Ryo he needed some time off. You have to get in line though about asking Ryo about it. Nino’s customers are getting anxious,” he huffed, on his way to his own fanclub.
Indefinite leave of absence? Was he sick? Was someone in his family sick?
“He told us not to worry, G-chan,” Yoshi whispered to me after Nino hadn’t come into work for almost two weeks. “He just needed some time off. Personal reasons.”
Was it me? I wondered, my chest tight with pain. We hadn’t talked since that almost kiss behind the Bishounen. He never returned my messages. Was he avoiding me? Did I scare him off already? Was he embarrassed? Maybe it was one of those heat of the moment almost happenings that he now regretted. Maybe this was he way of being kind to me. Or maybe he was just full of shit.
All that was clear was Nino didn’t share the same feelings for me I had for him.
Now all that was left to decide was if it was really time to go home. Or could I make a life here knowing the man I loved didn’t love me back? I gave into my need for tears.
A few days later, the decision was made for me.
“G-chan? Doushita? What’s wrong?” Poor Yoshi panicked when I walked into the Bishounen. It was no wonder. I was up all night, a wretched with worry, tired from tears. I must have made a frightening picture when he saw me.
“Oh Yoshi-kun,” my voice broke when I said his name. Tears welled up in my eyes. “It’s my mom. She’s really sick. My brother just called me from the hospital last night. They’re not sure what’s wrong with her. But it looks bad.” Everything felt all jumbled and mashed up inside. Yoshi-kun hugged me and took me to my chair. He served me tea and chocolate cake. Then he knelt down in front of me.
“You’re leaving us, aren’t you?” he asked sadly.
My breath shuddered. “Yeah. I have to go home. I need to be with my family right now. I want to go home and take care of my mom. But I’ll miss you and everyone so much.” I gave up the struggle and cried earnestly and loudly, not caring about the rest of the customers. Yoshi held me and stroked my hair until my tears subsided. I’d been a regular crybaby these days.
“That baka,” I heard Yoshi mutter under his breath. I looked at him questioningly.
“Nondemonai,” he said, wiping my tears. “When are you leaving?”
“In two weeks,” I replied. “It’s sudden, but I wanted to go as soon as I could. There are just some things that need to be taken care of before I go.
“It’ll be ok,” he reassured me. “We’ll meet again, someday. I know it.” I wanted to believe his words. “But in the meantime, we need to give you a proper send off. A ‘Not Quite Farewell Because We’ll See You Again Someday’ party.”
I laughed tearfully and smiled at him thankfully.
“And I’ll make sure EVERYBODY comes.”
My smile dimmed.
Nino.
I didn’t know if I wanted him to come or not. I didn’t know how to act if he did show up. I didn’t know if I could take the heartbreak anymore. But I figured one thing. The Bishounen Café would get one of their star waiters back the minute I was on that airplane leaving Japan.
Without wanting to though, I kept an eye on my phone, paranoid he would call or message me and I’d miss it. After all, Yoshi probably told him I was leaving. Wouldn’t he feel some obligation to at least say good-bye to me? I did still have his guitar. But no call came. No messages left for me.
It was over. I had to put Nino out of my heart and focus on the things at hand.
Oh, it was good in theory. Just more difficult to follow through.
Nino wasn’t there the night I showed up for my farewell party. Swallowing my disappointment, I tried so hard to keep myself from scanning the faces in the crowded café. He wasn’t there. Suck it up and enjoy yourself, I chastised myself silently.
I plastered a happy smile to my face as I chatted with friends and well-wishers. They gave me presents and cards and envelopes with money for good luck and prosperity in my future. Yoshi and the guys put together a photo album of memories in the café. I couldn’t look through it with dry eyes. Especially when I came across a candid shot someone took of Nino and me studying English. I was leaving my heart in Japan. My heart that was filled with love and gratitude for the wonderful people I had the chance to get to know. All the people I got to know.
I would leave with no regrets.
Well, maybe one. But I would take care of that.
Just as I was about to hand Yoshi a letter I had written for Nino, Ryo called everyone’s attention.
“Giselle-san, there’s one more person who has a gift to give you before you leave.”
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the crowd parted. There, with his guitar in hand, was Nino.
As I stood there, with wide eyes and mouth dropped open like an idiot, he started strumming a soft, lilting melody. The same one from when I first heard him play.
And then, in English, Nino began to sing.
“Hey lovely lady,
Did you know?
When I made you mad, you drove me crazy
With your sad eyes and restless heart.
I wanted your secret smiles for me.
You spoke nonsense
I did too.
But somehow we just knew.
Oh, beautiful girl,
Do you know?
I want to take your hand in mine
And walk forever by your side
I swear I’ll love you for everything you are.
It’s not just a whim.
No flight of fancy.
This isn’t a dream you’re afraid to wake up from.
My love,
It’s just what you are to me.”
While he sang, he held his heart in eyes and his soft smile kept me captive. I swear, a bunch of women around me had swooned to the floor. I couldn’t blame them.
Seriously, was there anything hotter than a guy with a guitar serenading you?
No, I didn’t think so.
Bittersweet tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I rushed to him, throwing my arms his neck, guitar and all. I didn’t care that we had an audience.
“Baka,” I cried, kicking him lightly in the shins. “You’re lyrics didn’t even rhyme.”
He held me to him tightly. “Oi! I tried my best, you heartless woman. I needed more English lessons!”
“You stopped coming for English lessons, remember?”
“I know.” He sighed into my hair. “I wanted to finish the song. At first, I wanted to finish the song and ask you to stay. Then you’re mom got sick and you decided to leave. And then I needed to finish the song so I could tell you how much I love you.”
“But I’m leaving. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll be back.” I could hear the cracks in my voice. Nino took me by the shoulders and looked straight into my eyes.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” I glared at him through my tears, but he just laughed. “I love you, Giselle.” I melted when he said my name. “I’ll wait for however long it takes. A few months, years, if I have to.”
“Really?”
“Well, after a couple of months I’ll probably get impatient. So I’ll just follow you. Wherever you have to be. Because now that I’ve found you, I won’t ever let you go.” The vice around my heart finally eased, full of such intense happiness I could barely speak.
“Nino”“
“Call me Kazu.”
“Kazu.” He beamed joyfully at me. “You’re still a pain, but aishiteru. Sugoku aishiteru.”
We both chose to ignore the collective “Awws” and cooing sounds surrounding us.
“If you two are finished talking, we have a bunch of loyal, paying customers who would like to see at least one kiss between you,” Yoshi chided from the counter.
Nin”Kazu leered at me, that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. “What kind of waiter would I be to deny his customers anything?”
I raised one eyebrow at him. “You do realize that at this moment, you’re no longer qualified to be a waiter at this café?”
“Yes. I know that. And do you realize that you’re going to be lynched by an angry mob the minute you leave my side?”
“Good point. Maybe I should rethink this whole thing,” I smirked, taking a step back. Scowling, Nino pulled me to him.
“Brat,” he murmured before our lips met. Kazu held me as my knees went wobbly with his kiss. His deep, heady kiss that tasted like chocolate and mint. A kiss that told me undeniably and irrevocably, I was loved. That’s the great thing about kisses, I thought. They don’t need a dictionary to be translated.
With Kazu’s lips against mine, I smiled.
Meet your ideal man.
I was trying to escape love when I found myself in the strange, unpredictable streets of Tokyo. Little did I know love would find me between a café latte and a strawberry torte in a tiny corner of the world called the Bishounen Café.
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Shortcuts: Hong Kong | Japan | Korea | Taiwan | Original Fiction |
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Written for "One-Shot Challenge #5: Stars Come Across AFF"
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Reviews: 8 | Table of Contents | - Text Size + |
  [Report This] Warnings: Fictional Character(s) Hits: Disclaimer:
Any famous people in the story are not my property. No money is being made by my interpretation of their lives. OCs are mine, but really, they've got a mind of their own and I can't always control what they say or do.
I am not fluent in Japanese, not even close, but I try. Author's Chapter Notes: Yabai... this thing got long. Really long. Chapter End Notes: Are you still reading? Somehow these characters decided they needed a whole year of their lives told. That's why it's so long.
Japanese Translations (Not 100% accurate) Baka desu yo: Are you stupid? Chotto matte kudasai: Wait a minute please Daijoubou: It’s ok Dame da: Not good Demo: But Gambarimasu: I’ll do my best Genki desu ka: How are you? Gomennasai: I’m really sorry. Honki da yo: I’m serious/ Are you serious Hounto: Really Ikemen: good looking guys Irashaimase: Welcome, can I help you? Izakaya: Japanese bar Jousu: Being good at Kaiyobi: Tuesday Kakkoi: Cool Kanji: Japanese written lanuage using Chinese characters kochi kochi: Come here Kochira desu: This way Konnichiwa: Hello Maa maa: Well Masa ka: Can it be? Matcha: Green tea Nihongo: Japanese (language) Nihon wa daisuki desu: I really love Japan. Nondemonai: It’s nothing Obachan: Old lady Oishii: Delicious Ohisashiburi: Long time no see Onegaishimasu: Please Otsukaresama desu: Thanks for your hard work Romanji: Japanese written language using English alphabet Sou desu: That’s true Souka: I see Subarashii: Wonderful Sugoi: Great Sugoku aishiteru: I love you a lot. Tatami: straw mat flooring Umai: Good (usually used by children or guys) Uresai yo: Shut up Watashi no namae wa Giselle desu: My name is Giselle The End. Silent reader, please review! Your feedback is very important!
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