Mercurial Dreams – Chapter One

Author: tashiichaan
Type: Long, full-fledged story
Rating: T
Genre: Romance, angst, humour
Featuring: SAKURAI SHO
Pairing: Sakurai Sho x Original Female Character (Model: YUI)
Banner designed by: tashiichaan
Summary: Hiroki never holds expectations for anything. She never expected to be promoted just 6 months into her job; she never expected her housemate to be a little more sane; but of all those damned unexpectations, she didn’t expect to find herself drawn into the life of Sakurai Sho. She didn’t expect to fall in love with him. And it all starts with a can of Coke.
Comments: I know I shouldn’t start this story when I’m not done with FI2 yet, but it just feels right to publish it 今日 since it’s Sho-chan’s tanjoubi! XD

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Mercurial Dreams
Chapter One

Public Relations and Social Communications class lecturer.

When people pressed on about this ‘glamour job’ Hiroki was holding, she would reply in a dangerous voice that it was boring, uninteresting, difficult, ask anymore and you’ll never step into my house ever again. That proved how much she didn’t like talking about this, as her ambitious family put it, ‘exciting new prospect’.

It wasn’t like Hiroki hated her job. In fact, she had her days when she could say she enjoyed it. But it was the cruel facts surrounding her job that bothered her, like:

1. She wasn’t a university lecturer as many assumed (well, not at twenty-three years old).

2. She taught at a high-end exclusive company which – of all blasted profession – scouts and nurtures young boys to be popular male idols.

3. That’s her job: to teach the newly-recruited pretty boys on public conduct and ground rules set by the company.

4. Did she need to mention that her students, aside from choosing a non-educational career functional based on their popularity, had the knack for exaggeration?

“Takeru! When I said ‘keep eye contact with the interviewer’, I should add ‘neutral eye contact’, because your stares are going to scare the life out of him,” Hiroki snapped.

Several boys snorted at their classmate’s sheepishly smile. Takeru and Nakamitsu were acting out a mock interview session at the front of the classroom, with Nakamitsu as the interviewer, and the only person aside from their teacher who wasn’t particularly amused by Takeru’s joke.

“Try to talk as casually as you always do with a friend, you’d want to let your interviewer know you’re comfortable,” Hiroki advised, before adding sternly, “and no playing. Nakamitsu, repeat your question.”

Nakamitsu nodded and turned his serious face to Takeru. “Takeru-san, have you gotten into trouble before?”

Takeru knitted his eyebrows in deep thought, then answered, “There was once, when I was eight years old. I broke my mother’s favourite vase while playing soccer. You could say my butt never felt the same again.” Takeru touched his bottom in mock pain.

Now that sneaky boy had the whole class roaring with laughter. Hiroki rolled her eyes, but resisted a smile at the class joker’s antics.

“Takeru, one more time…!”

“Gomen, gomen, sensei! It’s just a joke!” Takeru exclaimed hurriedly, holding his hands up in surrender.

Shaking her head, Hiroki glanced at the clock above the white board. “Class over!” she announced over the noise, “This Thursday I want all you of prepared with your mock interview sessions. Fail, and you’re doomed to night classes. You’ve been warned.”

Hiroki smiled triumphantly at the childish groans she received from her students. She gave a meaningful glare to Takeru before returning to her desk, hoping to jot down some notes in her notebook. However, said notebook wasn’t found anywhere.

Her important notebook, almost battered from constant abuse, was completely filled with notes and comments on each of her students’ performance. Its disappearance would mean a whole month of individual reports to be submitted to their managers, gone!

Hiroki rummaged frantically through the mess on the desk and in her bag. Still no sign on it. She went on to search through the drawers, and even moved on to check the students’ desk for the notebook. In panic, she scanned the classroom for any hint of it, and looked to the small group of boys who had hung back.

“Kitaro,” she called out urgently, “have you seen my notebook? It’s quite thick, with a purple cover and my name written on it.”

The smallest boy shook his head. The lean boy next to him, Izami, stood out and tried to be helpful. “I think I saw Sakamoto-san holding one just like Hiroki-sensei’s. We thought of asking him about it, but he disappeared off just as class ended.”

Sakamoto, eh… that new Junior had only attended her class for a couple of weeks and already been a handful with his horrible attitude, not to mention that sneer of his he constantly showed. But to steal Hiroki’s notebook was definitely crossing the line.

Hiroki cast a grateful smile to the boys and thanked them, and darted for the hallway with blood on her mind. It took no longer than five minutes before Hiroki spotted a pointed-chin boy crouching beside a vending machine on the main hall, his head buried in a thick book that looked all too familiar to her.

Hell, someone was definitely going to be stuck with cleaning duties for the rest of his pretty Johnny’s year.

“Sakamoto-kun.”

The boy jerked his head up in fear, and his eyes widened at the sight of his murderous sensei standing above him. Quickly, he tried to make a run for it, but Hiroki grabbed the collar of his jacket and flattened him against the vending machine.

“I want to know what you’re doing with my notebook,” Hiroki questioned quietly, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“J… Just wanna find out Hiroki-sensei’s comments about me!” Sakamoto argued hurriedly, struggling with Hiroki’s fists around his front, “nothing wrong with taking a look!”

“Not if you can’t tell stealing is a crime!” Hiroki growled, “There’s nothing wrong with asking me for advice, you twerp. Now why -”

“What’s going on here?”

In blind rage, Hiroki turned her death glare at the intruder, but only to be caught completely off her guard by a slightly tall man, whose narrow eyes cast down at her in suspicion. Hiroki knew that famous face almost by heart, having shown many of his interview videos in her classes. To meet him for real…

“Sakurai… san…” Hiroki murmured incredulously.

Sho looked at this unfamiliar woman on the verge on beating the crap out of a small boy, and asked again cautiously, “What’re you doing to the boy?”

Regaining what’s left of her fury, Hiroki ignored Sho and turned back to Sakamoto. “I want you to apologise and promise never to do something as stupid as that.”

“Sensei…” Sakamoto stubbornly pleaded. He was determined to do anything to weasel his way out of this mess. He turned to Sho and cried out, “Sakurai-senpai, please tell Hiroki-sensei to stop! She’s scaring me!”

Tears were welling up in Sakamoto’s eyes now, and Hiroki was surprised by his acting skills. If she thought she had him so predictable by his poor socialising skills, she should consider that image seriously when Sakamoto had those pathetically wet puppy eyes and pitiful look.

Sho looked from the crying boy to the fuming young woman, and then jiggled the coins in his hand as he replied casually, “If you could just move over a little… I’m here to get some drinks for my friends.”

Hiroki glared at Sho, knowing she could only burn herself to ashes with her immense anger, now wholeheartedly directed at Sho. “Well forgive me for being such selfish, but I’m not moving until I hear an apology from this boy,” Hiroki said coldly.

“It would be easier for that,” Sho said matter-of-factly, pointing at her, “if you aren’t gonna kill him on the spot with those hands.”

Hiroki didn’t realise she still had her death grip tight on Sakamoto’s shirt. She loosened her grip and massaged her white knuckles, but only after grabbing her notebook from Sakamoto. She closed her eyes to calm herself down, and said softly, “Just… don’t be so foolish next time, okay?” she opened her eyes and tried to smile, which she ended up wincing.

“I… I’m sorry, sensei,” Sakamoto apologised as quietly and grudgingly as he could, and scrambled off as fast as his short legs could take him before Hiroki could utter another word. For a while Hiroki just stared blindly at the corner Sakamoto had turned to, wondering if she had tackled this problem a little too roughly and unprofessionally.

“If I were that boy, I wouldn’t think twice about quitting your class tomorrow,” Sho’s solemn voice broke the silence.

Hiroki pursed her lips at Sho as he inserted the coins into the vending machine. “You don’t know Sakamoto,” she said, “he’s new, and probably an air-headed brat who thinks an idol’s life purpose is to sing, dance and look cute.”

“Don’t assume someone’s dumb before even knowing him,” Sho refuted, staring at her in impatience as he punched the button for an energy drink, “do you think it’s what we do, sing, dance, and look cute all the time?”

“I did not say that!” Hiroki exclaimed, stung with that accusation.

“I’m very sure that’s what you think – I can read it all over your face,” Sho decided nonchalantly, scrutinising her with an unreadable expression.

Hiroki bit her lip, speechless. It was true, what Sho said – she never respected any of the idols because of their job, because it wasn’t a career built out of intelligence, but pure hunch and creativity. She held on strongly to her belief that education was everything to success in her future, something she was taught from the day she enrolled into kindergarten.

“Also, it’d be nicer if you controlled that temper of yours,” Sho added.

Hiroki broke out of her reverie and gave dirty looks at the smirking man standing in front of her. “Who’re you to tell me about my temper when you can’t even control yours?”

Sho broke his smirk and slowly anger formed in his face. He glared at her with a piercing gaze and asked, “What do you mean by that? Who’re you to tell me about my temper?”

It was Hiroki’s turn to smirk at Sho as she crossed her arms. “I should mention that I’m from the PR department, and I’ve read some of you pretty boys’ files. You don’t come off as a very nice person, as I was told.”

“Gossip,” Sho said with gritted teeth, “is the very last thing I need from a know-it-all like you.”

“Thank you for acknowledging my intelligence,” Hiroki sneered with sarcasm, “at least, one of us has that.”

Sho brandished the energy drink he held at her, advancing closer in one furious stride, “Do you even know my education background? You can’t have missed it if you’ve read this interesting file on me.”

“I don’t care, because you’re just like every cute pretty boy under this goddamn company, Sakurai,” Hiroki retorted, thrusting her chin up at him stubbornly.

They were now throwing daggers at each other with their eyes, animosity quite clearly forming between them. They weren’t even aware that they were only a feet apart, which was something an audience from the end of the hall noticed.

“Sho-chan?”

Sho’s anger diminished almost immediately at Aiba’s voice behind him. The gleeful guy practically bounced over and grabbed the energy drink from him. “Who’s that girl you were talking to, Sho-chan?” Aiba asked with a grin.

“Some idiot…” Sho told him, and turned back to introduce Miss Stuck-Up to Aiba, but was surprised to be greeted only by her absence. How did she vanish so fast?

Sho shook his head to shrug this odd Hiroki off his mind as he followed Aiba back to the studio.