Chapter 1
. . .
Your name is Tadashi Hamada and you're the epitome of sunny side ups and whimsical clowns. A frown has never graced your glowing visage—unless the event currently happening required you to do so (for instance, catching your eleven year old brother sneak out for bot fighting purposes). Your unconditional happiness and natural paternal ways are what surfaced above your many personalities, thus granting you the label Mr Golden Sun around the institute. Though referred to as a ball of happiness, there's a terrible amount of sadness that lingers underneath this mask you wear on a daily basis. You'd rather refer to yourself as the kabuki man rather than the precedent. This is why you've grown an interest to this short tempered Korean who just moved in town.
Her name is Leiko Tanaka, you've acquired this precious information when you were asked by the Professor to help sort out the new students. Other than it proves your point that no parent would name their daughter GoGo and a word play on the Japanese translation of egg, it also proves your theory that she's a kabuki man just as you are. Your interest on the said GoGo grows and it comes to the point where you find yourself itching to get her to talk (you've learned that she's a woman of short words and clipped tones from the school mascot—Fred). With that being said, you begin to sit next to her in classes you share; you begin to casually greet her with a warm smile every time you see her, the phrases good morning, good afternoon, and good evening becoming casual (albeit her replies are often in forms of snorts and rolls of eyes). The casuality of it grows into some sort of addiction and you curse yourself in times that you cannot make it to class for personal reasons.
It's just a habit, you convince yourself as another greeting of the like rolls from your tongue. It's nothing more than just a habit, you tell yourself as she gives you a snort and a piercing glare. So you shrug your shoulders and continue this habit for a couple of months, until one day she tells you to stop because it's irritating and you don't even know each other.
Instead of cowering down her intimidating stare and stance, you invite her for coffee, offering her company. She stares at you as if you'd grown an extra head and replies with why would you even want to spend time with me, which saddens you and also confirms your theory that this woman is wearing that damned kabuki mask. So you give her that one sided smile of yours that reaches your brown eyes before shrugging and pointing out the obvious.
"You're intriguing."
This proves that you're a person of many theories, as what you've concocted about her since day one is proven over two cups of bitter coffee and a plate of untouched brownies your Aunt had especially made for the girl.
Your friendship develops as time furthers on and becomes one of the reasons why your heart is beating healthily inside your chest cavity. She's also one of the reasons why you've stopped burning nicotine between your lips. The stench of sadness leaves your cardigan and olive green sweater as the faintest and the truest of smiles replace the kabuki mask you were so fond of years ago. Who knew fellow kabuki faced people could fix each other?
Your name is Tadashi Hamada and you've given different angles a try. This molded you into the person you are today; the person who was fixed by GoGo Tomago, the speed junkie everybody except the nerd gang seems to fear. But not all broken hinges had been fixed, you muse as you toss the calendar into the bin, glaring at the number that bears the date of your parents' death and coincidentally, your birthday. You don't open your Facebook and neither do you check your Twitter, knowing that they're already filled with direful birthday wishes from your friends. It's nothing out of the usual as you do this every year. A feast for sadness, a break from the happy facade you're always putting up.
It's not that you can't move on from their death, but because you blame yourself. The night of their demise was the night when those commercialized fiber glass robots debuted, the ones you've been going on and on about ever since the day you've seen the posters on the store. You didn't know about their venture, didn't expect them to go out of their way to buy you those damned toys (you wanted a model for your little project). After all, you were a patient child and knew where to place yourself. If told no, you wouldn't persist, knowing that it was for your own sake even at a very young age. They told you they'd be back so be a good boy and watch over your little brother with a gentle pat to the head and a sweet kiss on the cheek. You were too giddy to tell them you didn't need a gift (not right away, anyway), that all you wanted was to have them here. You were too focused on the heat on your neck, the goosebumps that told you you were getting those robots. So you followed their orders and watched over your little brother. You didn't expect it to stretch out to forever.
So you blame yourself. After all these years you blame yourself, thus the explanation why you deny yourself of happiness in that one day every year. Because you can't be totally happy, knowing how they died and why. You can't stomach it. You just can't.
For that day, you turn your phone off, knowing that it wouldn't be as calm as you wanted it to be. You want to be left alone, and so you lock your door and you force yourself to succumb into mindlessness. You aren't aware that GoGo has been trying to reach you, not until she wakes you up from that self blame.
"Hamada," there's a threat in her tone, nothing new really as she accompanies it with a persistent banging. "Open the damn door." You can hear her press her mouth into a thin line, but you don't pay heed, hoping she'd just go away along with the rest of the world.
You refuse to reply and you turn your back childishly from the bamboo divider as if that'd make it disappear. You scrunch up your nose as you wrap your head with your arms, your eyes focused on the olive green tint of the walls. You don't hear the door burst open, don't hear the divider going down, all you hear is your resolve breaking and the sobs your lips are making.
She's suddenly there, and you can hear her heart beat against your ear. It registers to you that she's managed to cradle you in her arms during your episode. She's murmuring something, but it's nothing like they often say. She tells you that it's okay to cry and so you do, shamelessly into her chest. The soft play of her fingers on your hair relaxes you and suddenly you find yourself telling her everything, no more secrets. In turn, she tells her story, how she ended up with the name and how her family sunk low because of unpredictable low and high tides. You then find out that your jagged pieces fit, and before you know it your lips are perfectly fitting into hers, gambling your three year friendship.
Your name is Tadashi Hamada and you're involved with Leiko Tanaka. You go on dates that are far more casual (strolls in the park, coffee at midnight, kisses in the alleys, something of the like) than spend thousands over a petty five star restaurant downtown. She doesn't like fussing over something, and you don't want to either. You're a hopeless romantic, but not a pretentious sort. You'd rather pour your heart out over an intimate cup of coffee, interjecting between conversations that never seem to bore you. You give her flowers daily, but they're not the ones you can hold, but they're from the words that roll off your tongue. You prefer cuddling in front of an action or sci-fi movie than mull over which dress shirt to wear for the evening. What you do assures her, and she promises that she won't run away. You don't like propagating your affections towards her, but enjoy stealing kisses when she's not looking. You don't over do it, but when you do, it's special. It's not because everyone's watching, but because you want them to know that she's yours and you're hers.
"Leiko," you're the only person allowed to call her that publicly (even Aiko isn't allowed), because she says you're special.
“Alpha nerd,” she quips back as that mischievous smirk of hers curls on her once stoic visage. She’s watching you with narrowed eyes, a hint of impatience beating in them. However special you are, no one has seemed to rid off that glint of impatience she bears.
You give her a smile as you hold out your hand for her to take. She hesitates, but curls her fingers on yours and pulls herself up from where she was previously seated. With no words, you lead her out in the open, the flurry of cherry blossom petals flowing around the gusty atmosphere, highlighting the slow sinking of the sun. Her stoic visage doesn’t change, the impatient glint still, but no words come as she follows you like an irritated puppy. You tug her enthusiastically; your eyes darted on the tree you often spent time at. A smile is stretched all over your goofy face as you reach the old bark.
“Now that you’ve summoned me from my midterm project, can you tell me what are you up to?” She raises a brow at you, her lips pursed a little to the side.
“Well, can you see if there’s something stuck on my back?” You try to reach for it, feigning struggle.
Her stoic visage transforms into a frown. “You interrupted me for this?” She complains even though she’s made her way behind you.
“Please,”
She rolls her eyes as she slides her hand beneath your shirt and her eyes widen. The silence she counters you with is enough for you to break the ice.
“So…?”
She closes her hand on the velvet box, trying to see if it is any real. “Are you sure?”
“What kind of a question is that? I should be the one asking you that.” You joke as you turn around to plop your calloused hands on her cheeks.
She smiles shyly. “You’re such a dork.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yeah,”
Your name is Tadashi Hamada and you’re engaged to Leiko Tanaka.