How to Date Japanese Idols (The Tenshi Series)

by Cilia Jaspers

  “Tenshi has been together for over ten years. Our fans are the reason we exist. We will continue to be Tenshi as long as our fans support and love us.” His own words cut him. Sano quickly stepped in and Gakino didn’t hear the rest of what was said.

  When the interview was over, he was the first one to leave. If he stayed too long, the guys would try to cheer him up. He wasn’t in the mood for his normal trip with them to have a beer. He couldn’t make small talk or even discuss upcoming projects. They had all stopped trying to act like everything was normal and, for the most part; they left him to his own thoughts. Occasionally, Ryo would try to penetrate his gloom with questions about Eloise or by criticizing Gakino’s own role in the wall that seemed to sit impenetrably between them now. Shun had quickly stopped asking Gakino what he thought about their song set for their winter concert and never mentioned Eloise’s name. Hiro, typically a man of few words and quiet understanding, simply patted him on the shoulder in passing every once in a while. So far, Sano defined his role as keeping track of Gakino without trying to engage him in discussion, so it was Sano’s texts and calls that reminded him where he should be every morning.

  All he wanted was to go home, but even that place felt cold and lonely now. Every time he walked in the door, all he could see was Eloise walking back out. The one time she had come to his apartment, and she had left what he’d given her on the table by the door, coming no further.

  Gakino stared at the small sofa in the dressing room as he pulled his bag up from where it sat, not even bothering to change his clothes or take off the make-up the stylist had put on him. It would almost be better just to sleep here.

  In the past, more work would have been the answer to his problems. In the past, his friends would have been an easy solution, getting him to forget and feel better for a while. Now, he’d lost his appetite for work. The lights, the questions, and the schedules all seemed dry and aggravating. Time with his friends was more painful than helpful. Where their smiles had been a balm to pain in the past, now they were the temporary bandaid that kept ripping the wound open again.

  Worse, he felt their own sadness for him. He felt their worry. It made him angry--angry at Eloise, angry at God, but, mostly, angry at himself. He was angry he wasn’t enough for Eloise. He was angry he couldn’t be enough for Tenshi. In losing Eloise, he’d lost the ability and the desire to be much of anything to anyone.

  His brother was right. He’d been trained. But without his trainer, he didn’t know what to do or how to live.

  Gakino ripped his jacket off of the peg on the wall, not bothering to put it on, and mechanically shoved it under his arm. In Tokyo it was starting to get cold, but maybe the coming winter would shock some feeling into him.

  *

  She didn’t want to, but Eloise couldn’t help herself. She started to follow Tenshi even more than she had at the height of her fangirldom. Before Gakino had come storming into her life, she had been content to let Tenshi things come to her randomly. She didn’t buy new magazines. She didn’t search for the newest downloads, and she certainly wasn’t in such a hurry that she would watch untranslated or unsubbed files. She still didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to know how Gakino was.

  What Bethany suggested haunted her, left her cold. Watching him on TV was hard at first because he felt so far away, but then she noticed he didn’t seem removed just from her. He held himself back from the other band members, too. He was usually so in the center of the action, but now he hung back, uninvolved. She waited, each week, as another episode aired for there to be a change, but, if Gakino changed, it was for the worse. He grew sadder, and she had done that to him. She missed him, and he missed her.

  Sitting on her couch, her feet were cold. It was becoming winter now in Taiwan, and Gakino wasn’t here. Just a little while ago, he had sat on the other side of her couch, with her feet snuggled in his legs, messaging her calves because she had been standing all day. Gakino had always done whatever he could to make her life easier, to help her be happy. Was she really going to let things go on as they were?

  Before she could over-think it, she picked up her phone.

  __________

  From: Eloise <886-4-2539-5011>

  To: Gakino <81-3-5330-5250>

  Fan Complaint. An official request from a Taichung Fan Club Member: Tenshi’s number one angel needs to smile more. His smile makes his fans smile, too.

  11/28/2013 18:41

  ___________

  She pressed send and threw the phone away from her on the couch. Damn, now she was anxious about his reply. She didn’t want to open it all up again, but she realized now that if he didn’t reply at all, she would be devastated. She needed to smile more, too, and this might have been a disastrous move.

  __________

  From: Gakino <81-3-5330-5250>

  To: Eloise <886-4-2539-5011>

  A smile? You’ll have to come and get it.

  There was a picture attached, Gakino’s eyes peering above a scarf he held over the lower half of his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled up in a hidden smile.

  11/28/2013 19:46

  __________

  *

  Gakino’s fingers tapped the edge of the lounge arm he was sitting in. The dressing room the men of Tenshi had been assigned at the KM headquarters was empty. Everyone was busy for the most part. Shun was taping his new rom-com drama while Ryo and Hiro were off filming a segment of their new episode of Tenshi’s TV variety show. Gakino was actually killing time for once, instead of willing time to reverse.

  Gakino had spent the last few days thinking about Eloise’s message to him. He hadn’t told his friends because he didn’t know what to say. What did the message mean? She had finally responded. She had told him to smile, complaining as a fan. She had never been just a fan. She knew that.

  He felt like the Earth had started moving once more with only the slightest push from that text message.

  “What are you thinking about? You look happier than you have in a while.”

  Gakino looked up at Sano’s quiet entry. Sano always came quietly into a room, careful with every movement..

  “Eloise texted me.”

  “Did she?” Sano’s voice was neutral, his body language casual as he moved to sit on the arm of the couch opposite Gakino.

  “Yeah. Three days ago. She wants me to smile more.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yeah. She said I should smile more for my fans.”

  “She texted you to tell you that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How does she know you aren’t smiling?”

  “Good question.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her she would have to come get it herself if she wanted to see it.”

  Sano laughed.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what it means.”

  “I think that’s pretty clear.”

  “It’s kind of foggy for me.”

  “I don’t think it is. I think you’re just afraid to believe it. But,” Sano held up a hand to halt the conversation, “I came in here for a reason.”

  “What?”

  “I just saw something in the news. Eloise’s father...he died. A few days ago.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I thought you might want to know. Maybe you should send her a smile.”

  *

  It had been a week since her father’s death, and she was grateful that her phone didn’t ring and that the news media had no real idea where to reach her. The occasional reporter, who had managed to find her school’s number online, was stopped by the beautiful ladies in the administrative offices and were told that she was busy and did not have time to come to the phone. At one point, Headmaster Don Gilbert yelled at a reporter from the Atlanta Journal Constitution who had started to phone in every hour, calling the reporter a dog with a bone and insisting that he hired people to teach not to jabber on the damned phone! In fact, Dr. Gilb
ert had instructed the secretaries to not tell her when calls came, trying to shield her, but she heard him yelling at them anyway because her classroom was adjacent to the office. Whenever the reporters asked for her home phone number, they were given no answers, and since her cell number was purchased in a group for the school, even reporters who dug deep for information would never find a number registered in her name.

  Still she answered the phone in Chinese, so she didn’t risk alerting reporters to who she was. So far, her phone remained silent. No calls in seven days, minus the first one from Anne. Most days, when she finally remembered about the Senator, she wasn’t sure if it was real or not. Distance had cushioned her from the worst.

  The phone rang. She smiled ruefully, wondering if she had been congratulatory too early. Flipping it open and hitting answer, she mumbled, “Wei?”

  “El-chan?”

  She was silent, unsure what to say, too surprised to speak. She knew that voice. It was achingly familiar and one she had not dared to hope she would hear like this again.

  “Eloise? El-Chan? Hello?”

  “Gakino?”

  “How are you? I heard about your father.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He was silent for a while.

  “Thank you for calling.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No. Thank you. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Can you hear the hug in my voice, Eloise?”

  She almost cried, and pulled the phone away from her mouth for a moment, so he wouldn’t hear a change in her breathing or the whimper of surprise that came when he asked the question. Such a Gakino question to ask. Of course, she could hear it. “Yes, I hear it. Thank you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “You love me, too.”

  She looked around her room, all things put to right. All things ordered and in their proper place. The few things she owned stacked up neatly. She used to have one of everything: one spoon, one plate, one fork, one glass, one cup, one bowl, one towel, one robe. Now, for now at least, she had two.

  “You love me, too,” he repeated.

  “I know.”

  “You loved your dad, too, right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Whatever you felt. He knew it. Even if you weren’t there. He knew. Just like I know.” He sounded so sure, and his tone grew more solid with every word.

  “I guess,” she said, her voice impossibly and uncomfortably high, her throat too tight.

  “He knew, so you shouldn’t have any regrets.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You’re not the one who chose to live here, right, to leave your family?”

  “No, I am. I chose to move away. I wanted as much distance as I could get. You don’t get much farther away than a 12-hour time difference.”

  “If you chose it, then why do you have regrets?”

  “I don’t, not really, but I keep thinking it’s not real. I will wake up, wondering if that phone call really came and feeling like I should call Anne and make sure it’s not a lie. I have even gone online and googled it a few times, but later, I can’t remember if the call was real or the online stuff. Then he dies again and again. And each time, I just—I just—feel terrible. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the reason I have a job and an education. I left his home almost a decade ago and I haven’t even talked to the man in five years. I haven’t heard his voice and he hasn’t heard mine. In five years. Every day, I just forget and I’m hit with it again and again, and each time I am just not sure and it starts all over again. Tomorrow, probably, I'll wonder if you really called.” She stopped the torrent of words to take a breath.

  “No, you won’t. I promise. You’ll remember. You’ll remember this. And you’ll remember me, and you’ll remember what I said. Everyone you love knows you love them. Your love touches people, changes people, Eloise. He was different because of you, too. He knew. He knew and he was grateful, just like I am.” His words, so much like Bethany’s not too long ago, stole any words that might have come a moment before.

  She was glad to be speechless. The comfort in having the right to silence was rare.

  “Good night, Eloise,” Gakino whispered after a time and hung up.

  “Good night,” she returned, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

  *

  When he hung up, Gakino set his cell phone in his lap, his finger idly turning it slowly on his thigh. He was lost in thought, trying to grasp onto all that had just been said and not said. The door opened back up quickly enough that Gakino wondered if Sano had been simply waiting outside of the room.

  “Ready to go? The van is here to pick us up.”

  Gakino nodded and grabbed his jacket, joining Sano at the door. They walked companionably in silence down the hall and then down the stairs.

  “Did you clear up any of the fog you were talking about?” Sano held the door open for both of them. Gakino stopped in the doorway and met Sano’s intent gaze. It was as close to probing as Sano came most days. They’d known each other for over ten years as members of the band and just as long as friends. As much as Gakino valued his privacy, Sano valued it even more for reasons of his own. If he was asking, it was a sign of how worried he was.

  Gakino smiled. Sano nodded. Gakino zipped up his jacket and climbed into the van that was waiting for them.

  CHAPTER 19

  Since his last conversation with Eloise, Gakino had been racking his brain for what to do next. She’d texted him a few days ago, concerned about how he was feeling. Then, when he heard about her father, they’d actually spoken. At the time, as sad as it had been, her family’s tragedy had seemed like the catalyst that might bring them back to each other. But after their phone call, she hadn’t texted or called again.

  But she had admitted that she still loved him.

  Rubbing his hands through his hair, he made a mess of the work the stylist had done. He needed to talk to his brothers. He was getting nowhere on his own. They were all in a van heading to a photo shoot. Gakino occupied one of the two middle seats, and Sano sat next to him, a small aisle between them. Sano, in typical fashion, had moved his seat close to the one in front of him, his knees spread wide to give Hiro room behind him. His opposite, Gakino sat with his long legs stretched out, his seat pushed back as far as it would go to accommodate his height and, admittedly, without a care for Ryo’s comfort. Shun was in the passenger seat up front, like always. Gakino wondered if this was the right time to ask for their advice.

  Shun, his recently permed hair was pinned back so that it looked cut short, was busy talking to the driver, but he always networked like this. Even if he liked their chauffeur, he’d make time for Gakino. Leader had eyes closed, but his brow was furrowed, so he might be up to listening. Ryo was working a pair of dice around in his hands, which meant he was bored, and Sano could always be trusted to help. Besides, they were confined together for the time being, and there was no time like the present.

  “She loves me,” Gakino said.

  “What?” Sano asked.

  “She loves me,” Gakino repeated, louder this time.

  “Are you practicing lines from your drama or something back there?” Shun asked.

  “No, I’m talking about Eloise.”

  “You really are a fan of the obvious,” Ryo said.

  “So she loves you. Congratulations,” Shun grumbled.

  “And, apparently, even with all our help, you’ve managed to mess it up.” Ryo added, nudging the back of Gakino’s seat with his foot.

  “But things have improved,” Sano offered. “And you’ve both picked up the phone and tried to help each other last week. That’s a good sign. Plus, you told me that she said she loves you, right?

  “The problem is that it’s not enough,” Gakino lamented.

  “Why not?” Hiro chimed in, seeming to have forgone his usual car nap.

  “She says I’m not normal enough for her.”


  Shun snorted from the front seat.

  “What?” Gakino asked.

  “They don’t get more average than you,” Shun answered.

  Gakino opened his mouth to snap back at Shun, but then quickly closed it again. Shun was right in a way. Out of all of the members of the band, he was probably the least special. He had grown up in his parent’s restaurant and had terrorized his high school teachers, too bored to pay attention for long. Sano, on the other hand, was from a prominent Japanese family and had been educated in the country’s best schools. If he weren’t in Tenshi, he’d be running his family’s business or running for government office. Hiro, too, was incredibly talented. Though he seemed to ride the line between laid back and laid down, he was actually a skilled dancer and choreographer, and his singing voice was known throughout Japan as one that transcended pop music. Ryo, too, was musically gifted, writing songs for other artists. And Shun was the exemplary idol. Even his hair was a strategic and professional decision. He knew everything and everyone there was to know in their industry. In another twenty five years, he’d probably be managing KM himself. By comparison, Gakino was average. Outside of Tenshi, he was a nobody.

  “I am normal. You’re right. I am.”

  Gakino laughed, and Sano looked up at his eager acceptance. Usually Shun’s snarky comments would spawn a lively exchange of complaints and insults between them. They argued for fun. And they were almost never really annoyed with each other. But neither of them ever just let an insult go.

  “Well...good.” Shun answered cautiously, the leather seat creaking as he turned to look back. Gakino wondered if Shun thought he was going to jump out of the van in self-hatred.

  “I just mean I am normal. I’m perfectly normal. She just can’t see that for all the feathers.”

  “Oh God, not the feathers again.” Ryo moaned mockingly from behind him. “It’s been peaceful without feathers for such a blessedly long time.”

  “No, no. Listen. How do I convince her to see me as normal? Should I leave the band?”

  “No good. That would just make her angry. You tried that one.” Sano recalled.