And Then, They Fell in Love

“UNO!”

The boy in front of Sara smirked, his eyes twinkling from behind his card. “Do I win?” he asked.

“Not yet. You still have to lose that card.” Sara looked at the card he had played. A green four. Just her luck, for she had neither. Ignoring the chuckle from across the table, Sara began collecting her cards, realizing that Ken not only had ever green in the game, but every four as well.

Such was life.

A snort came from the couch. “Ken is kicking your ass, Sara.”

Sara sent Osamu a look that told him exactly where he needed to go. He raised any eyebrow, shrugged, and returned to reading his book, but continued watching from the corner of his eye.

Ken finished her off quickly, begging for another game. When he challenged her to a game of Monopoly, Osamu laughed out right.

“Ken’s the best Monopoly player in our family. I have no idea why an eight year old kid is good at real estate, but who cares. If you want a challenge, he’s good.”

“I think I’ll pass. I lose anyway.”

“Such confidence.” Osamu placed his book on the couch, and stared at her momentarily. “That’s fine. I need you anyway. We have to leave in a few hours if we’re going to make it on time.”

Ken perked up from his spot at the table. “You’re going somewhere? Can I go too?”

Osamu silenced him with a look. “No. You aren’t going to tell Mom and Dad either. Got it?”

Ken nodded.

Osamu stood from the couch, and waved toward Sara. “This way.”

He led her to the last room in the hallway -- his room. As Osamu led her in and closed the door behind them, Sara took a quick glance around the bedroom. Unlike other rooms she had seen, Osamu’s was completely different. No pictures of swimsuit models, or superstars. Instead, his walls were almost bare, pictures of family and friends scattered in random places. His bed was elevated, complete with a ladder that led to the top. His room was unnaturally clean for someone his age.

“Not what you expected?” At her shake, Osamu shrugged. “My room is clean. It stays clean. I like knowing where my books are, what order they are in. . .things such as that. Blame it on OCD.”

“OCD?”

“Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I have a mild case of it.” Osamu pointed toward a chair by the computer. Sara took that as an offer to sit down. “You are still up for the party tonight, right?”

Sara nodded.

“Good. Listen carefully. I am going to give you Japanese etiquette in fifteen minutes. We don’t shake hands when meeting, we bow. Teenagers are better about this than the adults, but it’s polite. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The majority of the people there will speak limited English, but very few are fluent in it. I’ll be with you to help if you need it.

You are also going as my girlfriend. Remember this. We’re different than Americans. We don’t touch, or hang all over one another. Unless you’re drunk, but I don’t expect that to happen. Stick by me and you’ll be okay.” Osamu stopped and took a breath. “Oh. I’ll also be fixing you up.”

Sara blinked. “Fixing me up?”

“Hair. Make-up.” Osamu laughed as she scowled. “I promise, I’m not bad. I used to do Itaria’s all the time for competitions and such. I might be male, but I now what I’m doing.”

“I can’t just be myself? I have to be your girlfriend, but I have to look like a clown too?”

“You won’t look like a clown.”

“Oh. So looking like a prostitute makes it better?”

Osamu rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the chair. Without a word, he pushed her out of his bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall.

An hour later, he turned to show Sara his work. To Sara’s surprise, Osamu had been right. She didn’t look like a clown or a prostitute, much to her relief. The make-up was not heavy, and she didn’t look fake. Instead, she looked almost natural, with a little added color.

Osamu was grinning at her. “Good?”

“Are you sure you’re male?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I sure? I can prove that if you want.” At her shocked expression, he laughed. “I’m joking, I’m joking. Japanese aren’t shy about sex, by the way. It’s a fact of life. Everyone does it. Why be ashamed?”

“Ever heard of something called modesty?”

“I didn’t say we walked around screwing everyone we meet.”

Osamu was blunt. Uncomfortable, Sara tried to change the subject. “Where are we going?”

“It’s around two hours from here. A friend of mine is turning eighteen, and wants everyone he knows to come. It’s supposed to be a rather large production, but I have my doubts. If you have a good girl image, Sara, I would suggest you throw it away now. There aren’t any parents, and there will probably be alcohol.”

“I thought your culture was supposed to be focused on studies? When did sex, alcohol, and parties get thrown into this mix?”

“We’re human too, you know.”

Sara took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. We’re going to a party two hours away. I’m posing as your girlfriend. And this party. . Do your parents know about this?”

“Nope.”

“Oh that makes me feel better. We’re going to a party that your parents don’t know about, and probably wouldn’t approve of. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Osamu grinned at her. “All part of my charm.”


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Osamu’s fame, Sara found, was not excluded to a certain area. An hour later, they stopped in a store to stretch their legs and get something to eat. Within five minutes, whispers were gathering around the store, and before long, people were lining up for autographs. Osamu was friendly with the adults, smiling and being friendly, but he lit up with the children.

“Would you please makeup your mind?”

Apparently, Osamu had broke away from his adoring fans, and was watching her scan the lip glosses. Sara gave him a smile, and returned to looking through the flavors. “This is a major decision.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt choosing a flavor of lip glass is going to determine anything important. They all taste the same.”

“You would know this because. .?”

He ignored her. “Just pick one already.”

“Like you have anything better to do.”

“I do. It’s called a party.”

Sara resisted the urge to crack up laughing. Osamu looked so serious that she should have been fooled -- she wasn’t. “I think you’re enjoying this.”

Osamu looked amused now. “Do I? Oh yes, choosing a flavor of crap that will go on your lips is so thrilling. Just a note for Miss-I’ve-Never-Dated . . Dragging a teenage boy to the make up isle to decide lip gloss is not a turn-on.”

The banter between them continued as they left the super-market, and continued on their way. To her surprise, when Osamu wanted to be civil, he could actually be fun. She could tell Osamu was naturally a boy who loved to joke around. Years of interviews, media, and probably paparazzi had hardened him and made it hard to trust anyone.

“Itaria said you dated.”

The abrupt change in conversation seemed to startle him, but he nodded and kept driving.

“How long?”

Osamu’s eyes rolled up in thought. “All together, about a year. It was an off and on thing. We broke up for good about half a year ago. The fame bothered her, and we couldn’t go anywhere without someone flashing pictures.” He sighed. “Most girls seem to be bothered with the fame. It’s not like I can help it.”

His voice sounded weary.

“How long have you been famous?”

“Since I was a kid. In second grade, I was helping sixth grade math students with their homework. Little things that probably should have gone un-noticed.” Osamu sighed again. “To be honest, I think the only reason I’m still famous is not for my intelligence. It’s my looks. That bothers me.”

Sara grinned. “You could always get a really bad case of acne. . Or let Ken cut your hair sometime.”

Osamu snorted. “To be honest, I still don’t think that would work.”

“Date someone ugly.”

“That didn’t work for Katie Holmes, did it?”

It took Sara a moment to get his meaning. She sent him a look (he laughed at it), and rolled her eyes. “You’re a bastard, you know?”

“I do my best. Honestly.” Osamu flashed her a smile. “It keeps people away.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” Sara felt juvenile asking him questions. “All the money and fame in the world can’t replace friendship.”

“What are you? A fortune cookie?”

“Experienced.”

Osamu made no reply, and was quiet for the rest of the trip. Afraid she had offended him, Sara didn’t attempt to restart the conversation. Before long, she found herself outside a large apartment building, wondering for the hundredth time how she had been talked into this.

Everyone knew Osamu. Of course they knew Osamu. Who didn’t? True to his word, girls flirted with the boy left and right, offering him things that made Sara blush. He glanced backward and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at her discomfort.

“Hitori desu ka?

The question startled Sara out of her thoughts. The boy to her left was giving her an odd expression, waiting for an answer. “I . . um. .” Lord, she felt stupid. “I don’t speak Japanese. I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Then you will forgive me for horrible English?”

“I can understand you. That qualifies as good.”

He laughed. And bowed. “Kouji. Are you here alone?”

Sara glanced toward Osamu, who was ignoring her for the most part. That was just like him. Bring her to a party to use her, and then leave her stranded. Wonderful.

“I came with someone. . But he doesn’t seem to really care.”

Kouji raised an eyebrow. That looked familiar. “Good. Then he will not mind my entertaining you.”

Sara smiled. “Lead the way.”