ambition;

[sunshowered]

Tuesday came.

“Sena?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Izumi bit back even as he walked down the crowded city street, head high and gaze piercing. He didn’t even need to voice the complaints of ‘You’re in my way and you’re in my way’ for people to recognize that he was one pretty boy they did not want to mess with, moving to the either side to clear a path for him. Damn right. Besides, he had other things to focus on, like the call he’d initiated rather spontaneously. “So?”

“So… what?” Chiaki intoned into the phone, apparently totally befuddled. Izumi could already imagine the way that his brows were furrowing, his head tilting – god, he really needed to hang out with this moron less.

“So did you get the job?”

Cutting right to the chase.

The hesitant silence that followed after spoke volumes.

“Oh.”

Even Izumi could tell you that ‘Oh’ was not a common phrase coming from Chiaki – not unless it was followed with an excited ‘I understand now!’

But there was none of that, only the sound of shuffling and a gentle, confused ‘Sorry, excuse me’ because apparently even when Chiaki got called out on his failings, he was still polite.

“Hey, are you paying attention to me?” Izumi snapped, if only to pull Chiaki back to the conversation.

“Of course I am,” Chiaki spoke again, though his voice was considerably less certain than usual, less firm. Could it be that this is what happened when the Hero of Justice finally encountered his own limit? “Sorry, I didn’t expect your call so I—”

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“Um—”

“You know that running away from your problems isn’t going to solve anything?”

“Right, but—”

“I didn’t dedicate my time to help someone who’s just going to waste it all?”

“Sena, I—”

“Honestly, did you think that this would be easy—”

“Sena.”

“Don’t interrupt me!” A shadow blocked Izumi’s view of the path in front of him, getting him to snap his head up and immediately bite, “Get out of my way, ass—”

“Sena,” Chiaki sighed down at him, his brows furrowing and head tilting as he did so, just like Izumi had imagined. His thumb pressed to hang up the call, his hands then setting on his hips, “Be careful or else you’ll run into someone?”

Sure, it took a second for Izumi to recover, surprised as he was to run into Chiaki on a busy street out of nowhere, but that didn’t stop him from picking up right where he left off.

“Do you listen to what anyone tells you? I told you not to change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

It took another second for Izumi to really observe Chiaki, to meet his eyes and realize that the other’s seemed to possess something as complex as mixed emotions.

Who would’ve thought?

Izumi knew a thing or two about gazes – not because he actually cared about other people’s feelings, okay, but because it was important to know how much the eyes could convey in a photo shoot – and in Chiaki’s there was strange combination.

Frustration, exasperation, and…

Fondness?

“I’m… really not,” Chiaki repeated again, this time more softly as he ran a hand through his hair and his lips curved into a sheepish smile, wiping away whatever flash of bittersweet thought had permeated his thick skill, “But uh – maybe not here?”

Well – alright. Izumi could give him that. He wouldn’t want to talk business in the middle of a crowded street anyway. A quick glance around found them by a café, to which Izumi gestured for about half a second before taking initiative and walking there, automatically assuming that Chiaki would follow. He did.

Except Chiaki also sped up the last second to hold the door open.

Of course he did.

Then Chiaki did something else – he stepped ahead of Izumi in line too, ordering easily, “I’ll take a matcha green tea, please!” A glance to Izumi, a smile and then turning back to the cashier, “Plus an alkaline water?”

Izumi raised a brow.

It was only after Chiaki already paid – Izumi wasn’t about to pass up a good deal for him, why bother? Chiaki had multiple jobs, it wasn’t like his wallet was hurting, probably – that his companion spoke up, “You remember what I drink? What if I wanted something else?”

“Oh, then I’ll—”

Izumi also couldn’t believe that he had to reach out and grab Chiaki’s sleeve before the other fell right back into line.

“No, it’s fine, you already ordered it.” Izumi huffed, not bothering to mention that… yeah, that’s what he would’ve ordered anyway. “I just didn’t expect you to remember. Didn’t you say that you only remember sentai shit or something?”

As they picked a random booth, Chiaki hummed. Then, facing Izumi with an easy-going smile and a tilt of his head that was probably charming to other people (and only other people), he chirped, “I remember important things!”

Ugh.

“Liar,” Izumi spat, eyes narrowing.

It’s not like cheap words with zero thought in them could make him happy or anything. It was more embarrassing that Chiaki had the nerve to just continue on like that. Obviously.

“It’s not heroic to lie!” Chiaki laughed – and then turned his attention to the waitress who brought them their drinks, giving her a smile too. Izumi questioned his life choices if he found himself regularly in the company of someone who smiled so much. It really did manage to remind him of his stupid king at times. Gross. They were really some of the most annoying types of people.

Still though, he had to scoff. “Is it any more heroic to keep dodging the reason why I bothered to call you in the first place?”

Chiaki definitely almost spilled his drink in his surprise, apparently still not quite used to being called out so easily and immediately. There was a long moment where he looked at Izumi with wide eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Really, this guy managed to get away with everything up until now, didn’t he? It was like he’d never had his paper-thin façade called out before.

“You said that you weren’t changing the subject, right? Well it’s not like anyone’s going to bother eavesdropping here,” Izumi pointed out even as he reached for his water. The tables surrounding them were empty; he’d made sure of that. “So you didn’t get the job – now what?”

There was another flash of hurt in Chiaki’s eyes, but Izumi didn’t budge.

This was just ripping off the band-aid. They’d gone over Chiaki’s history before and it was impressive, even if Izumi didn’t want to admit it. Not many people manage to successfully clinch their dream job right out of the academy, the lead of a tokusatsu program, and even getting side work for a local station’s program on top of that – both without an agent. From there, he’d continued to be invited to most of his jobs, even if they were often in similar realms. It was still steady work. Chiaki was an uncanny, bumbling success story.

Which probably made this his first defeat.

“So now…” Chiaki hesitated, trying out the words – and then lifting his head to meet Izumi’s gaze in the next second, a megawatt smile already in place. “I keep trying! I can’t allow this to get me down!”

- is what he said.

Except Izumi watched the way that Chiaki’s fingers kept adjusting their grip on his drink instead of annoyingly clenching his fist in determination, how his eyes didn’t crinkle in the same way that they did when he was excited.

This Chiaki was very different from the bright-eyed, hopeful one that he’d seen on New Year’s Day.

“I thought you said that heroes don’t lie. Hasn’t this already gotten you down?”

To which Chiaki startled again – and Izumi wondered how he was any sort of actor when he wore his emotions on his sleeve so easily.

“Well… Disappointing news would manage to get anyone down, wouldn’t it?” Chiaki’s eyes searched Izumi’s, as if he was actually asking for confirmation. As if he was asking for permission to feel sadness. “But even so…”

“Even so what?” Izumi prodded once the pause had gone on for a little bit too long.

“Even so… I must keep persevering,” Chiaki nodded at his own words, as if that would make them truer. “That is what I have always believed!”

It was so annoyingly simple.

“How?”

“Um… How?” Chiaki stalled again.

Izumi grit his teeth, irritated. “You’re like dealing with a child, you know? You can’t just say that you’ll persevere and keep doing what you have been – don’t you realize that you’re not good enough as you are yet?”

There was a raise of Chiaki’s brows at that, otherwise stunned into silence.

Hm, had he gone too far?

Even if there was hurt in Chiaki’s eyes, it wasn’t alone. There was something openly contemplative, something quieter than the loud and proud red-hot moron that Izumi had been acquainted with for years. Had he always been capable of that?

Yet when he spoke, Izumi felt disappointed. “Why… are you telling me this, Sena?”

“You’re not going to make me spell it out for you, are you?” Izumi frowned even as he lifted his drink to his lips. “Are you really that much of a moron?”

To which Chiaki’s quick retort, sharp as a razor, was – “Are you changing the subject?”

Izumi raised one thin eyebrow. He could’ve cut himself on that question, surprising as it was.

“I’m telling you,” Izumi started, if only out of some respect that he hoped wasn’t misguided, “because apparently no one clues you in on anything. Probably because they think you’re too stupid to understand. Anzu will do her job and try to get you more auditions. I’ll probably be sticking around to because I don’t leave a job unfinished, but do you really think you can be sitting around and doing nothing? Words mean nothing without practice. Right now you’re not the actor people are looking for – fix that.”

Fix that, he said.

As if it was that easy.

And he knew it wasn’t. It would be impossible for him to think that, after years of modeling. Natural talent took him far but there were still some incredible scrutinizing photographers, who would say things like, “Can’t you still lose a few more pounds, Sena-kun?” when he already only had water for lunch or “Have you been out in the sun? Your skin isn’t as radiant” when he maintained a skin care routine that took longer than his homework.

But that’s what was demanded of them as idols.

Had an imperfection? Retained a personality flaw? Not cut out for the casting call?

Just fix that.

Did Chiaki Morisawa have what it took to answer to such a demand? Izumi couldn’t help but think that he should’ve determined that before he agreed to helping out this debacle.

Still, the story of failure wasn’t an entirely unhappy one – Chiaki was good at what he did even if it boggled Izumi’s mind. So what if he didn’t answer his new year’s resolution? That would just make him one of the many who started something and didn’t follow through. In a way, it wasn’t the worst possible ending. Even if he built himself up to be like some kind of fictional hero, it just meant that Chiaki Morisawa was human.

Well, probably.

Right now he still looked boggled, as if he was trying to figure out his emotions like some kind of cyborg.

“Fix that…” he murmured in thought before drinking more of his green tea, probably more caffeine than he needed, Izumi thought.

Sighing, Izumi reached for his phone. Maybe he should just leave and let the moron process. Who knows how long that would take—

“Understood.”

Or not.

“Understood?” Izumi echoed, raising a brow as he put his phone back down on the table.

“Heh!” Chiaki smiled sheepishly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head, “I don’t understand a lot of things, I guess… but I understand you’re trying to help, right?”

Izumi immediately wanted to retort that no, definitely not but – well, isn’t that what Chiaki asked him for on New Year’s?

“I’m just upholding my end of the deal.” Yes, that’s what he settled on instead.

“Right! And so you’re not giving up on me, right?” Chiaki tilted his head, eyes imploring. Really, it was such a pain in the ass how expressive his gaze could be sometimes, Izumi thought.

“Not yet,” he threatened, not sure where Chiaki was going with this.

“So you believe in me!” he declared, apparently deciding on that on his own. “And therefore, as long as you believe in me, I can’t let you down.”

There was a long pause.

A very, very long pause.

“You’re a moron,” Izumi sighed, placing his hands on the table as he moved to stand, “This has been fun but—”

Chiaki’s fingers curled around his wrist, halting his movement and getting Izumi to shoot a sharp gaze at him – though what was unexpected was that Chiaki had a determined look of his own.

In a way, it was a meeting of fire and ice.

“Wait, Sena,” Chiaki held onto his arm, gaze bright despite the fact that he had just been told that he wasn’t good enough as he was. “I mean it. I do – and I think I understand what you’re saying. I’ll look into improving my acting so that you won’t be wasting your time, because that would be unforgivable after what you’ve done for me so far.”

Even as Chiaki’s gaze foretold his hope, his newfound determination, there was still something sad lingering in it. Chiaki’s spirit may not have been broken, but at the very least it had suffered a fracture.

Possibly more by Izumi’s words than the rejection itself.

He almost felt bad – almost.

“So maybe you’re not a completely lost cause,” Izumi started, pulling his hand back and moving to sit down again, staring at Chiaki and looking over him. Was he trying to cover up his own sadness again? For a few seconds, he searched for tells—

And for some reason he only found that inexplicable fondness in the other’s expression.

“I don’t want to be a lost cause,” Chiaki managed then, his hand coming up to the back of his neck. “That’s pretty unfitting for a hero, isn’t it?’

“You don’t have to be a hero all the time, you know.”

“Ah. With all due respect… I think that’s where we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Was that really the thing that got Chiaki to put his foot down, after all of this?

Izumi continued to observe, watching the other finish off his drink and then move on to prattling on about something else – now he was changing the subject – and… well, Izumi let him.

Sparks of energy slowly returned to Chiaki, mostly through hand gestures and smiles that reached his eyes, and Izumi wasn’t sure where that strength came from.

The other had suffered a rejection, followed by Izumi stomping on his attempts at recovery. Sure, it had a point – everything Izumi had a point, he would say – but he’d heard that Chiaki was also a rather terrible crybaby. It’s not like Izumi wanted to deal with tears, but he was half-expecting to.

Except-

‘Have I ever seen him cry?’

It took Izumi a moment to realize that the answer to that question is no. Even during Eichi’s rise to the top, even when Chiaki had been quiet during their first year (and sometimes Izumi still doesn’t quite believe that the two were the same person), it wasn’t as if he ever saw the other cry for his own sake.

No matter the mockery, the disdain, or the merciless rejection of his ideals.

By the time that Izumi finished his own drink and said his goodbyes to Chiaki (or rather, let Chiaki say goodbye as he offered a wave of his hand) the only remnant of sadness was in the fact that Chiaki’s smiles were still just ever so slightly more restrained than usual.

For how many years had Izumi missed that small, impossibly annoying tell?

Apparently there was actually some depth to him.

--

“I can’t believe there’s actually some depth to that moron,” Izumi recounted into the phone tucked against his shoulder as his hands pushed through the coats on the rack.

“Is there a reason why you’re sharing this with me, Sena-senpai?” Tsukasa cautiously asked from the other end of the line.

As the years had gone by, it was funny how the other only grew more and more comfortable with speaking out to his upperclassmen, even if he never quite grew out of the habit of referring to them as his upperclassmen. The young man had become the King in his own right by now, leading the latest incarnation of Knights confidently – though it would help that their cute child still had the former King wrapped around his finger, asking for a new song now and again to add to their fierce repertoire.

It just reminded Izumi of what a little shit Tsukasa could be.

“What? Are you telling me that you’re not interested in my life anymore, Kasa-kun? How cold! Has this world made you so jaded? Are you casting me aside?” Izumi huffed into the phone, though the irony of his own words was a little funny even to him.

The whole point of bullying his underclassmen was to prepare them for the harsh reality of idol life, after all.

“Please don’t be so dramatic, Sena-senpai.”

As if saying it in English made him seem any less pretentious.

“You’re so rude.”

“I was just saying… I’m inviting you to the graduation ceremony and then you tell me about your love life as if Narukami-senpai didn’t beat you to it…”

“He what?”

“—Is it really that odd to believe that the Former Ryusei Red-senpai might have more to him than what meets the eye? While I agree that that person seemed like he was very focused on justice and nothing else when I met him… he was a Leader in his own right, yes?”

Well, he had a point. Even when he was acting as temporary leader, before he managed to flub even that and it had to be passed on to Arashi, there was a lot to be considered when leading a unit.

But it’s not like Izumi could let Tsukasa know that he even partially agreed with him.

“Tsukasa… Don’t tell me that you forgot his last name.” Izumi was sure his smirk was audible through the phone.

“S-Sena-senpai… it’s been two years…!” It was, of course, said in a tone that sounded very similar to ‘Stop bullying me!’ Ah, some things never changed. “A-Are you done now? Can you give Sakuma-senpai his phone back?”

“Can’t,” Izumi hummed into the phone that had a red and black color scheme far too goth to be his own.

“And why not?”

“I lost him about ten minutes ago, he probably fell asleep against some of the fur coats.”

“Ah…”