;A Coming Together in Five Parts (or, Ohno learns that life changes but the whole world can be contained in an orange.)
;One-shot
;Ohno Satoshi/Ninomiya Kazunari
;Ohno could be sixty and his ideal date would still be to go to a deserted island with Ninomiya Kazunari.
;PG
;Heartwarming moments disguised as crack. Anyway, chaos ensues.
;A tad AU, in that Ohno and Nino first met in preschool.
;One cookie to Johnny Kitagawa.
;Props to misaki7chan, who translated this into Russian. Very cool. :3


1.
If Ohno were anyone else, he’d probably feel offended at how this kid has no qualms whatsoever about using his sempai’s bright yellow wax crayon, which he had sharpened into a perfect tip the night before. But, as it is, Ohno possesses a ridiculous amount of patience and a reaction time that’s probably fifteen minutes slower than the average human being’s, even for someone at the tender age of five.

So that’s why when Ninomiya-kun takes his crayon (without permission, no less), Ohno does nothing but look on with mild interest at the short, stubby fingers dragging the crayon across clean paper. By the time fifteen minutes have passed, Ohno is looking at Ninomiya-kun like he’s something fascinating on the Discovery Channel, because, surely, no preschooler can draw a giraffe with such detail and technique.

“I like your giraffe,” he says.

Ninomiya-kun looks up at him, with steely eyes and mouth set in a straight line.

“It’s the Tokyo Tower.”

“Oh.”

Going back to shading the Tokyo Tower bright yellow, Ninomiya-kun glares at him, and keeps his crayon for the rest of the day.

--

Ninomiya-kun submits his drawing, and calls it The Talest Billding in the World. He gets a C for good effort.

Ohno puts Dog aside (“A! Well done!”) and peeks over Ninomiya-kun’s shoulder at his drawing. He can’t help pouting because it was such a brilliant piece of work, and it would have scored an A if only Ninomiya-kun had named it “Giraffe” like he told him to.

His bottom lip starts to wobble at this travesty of justice.

Ninomiya-kun, on the other hand, grins proudly at his drawing, and turns to Ohno with an impatient tsk.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks. He reaches into his bag for an orange and thrusts it at Ohno. “Chubby Cheeks. Hey, Chubs. Here. Take this.”

Ohno looks at it with wide eyes.

“An obaa-san in my neighbourhood sells them on the street.”

“Thank you,” Ohno says, taking the orange and giving Ninomiya-kun a watery smile.

In the meantime, Sasaki-sensei starts distributing afternoon tea, and wonders why Ohno is crying when Ninomiya is the one with a C.

--

Before they break for summer vacation, Sasaki-sensei gathers all the students for a group photograph. Ohno winds up standing next to Ninomiya-kun, whose hands nearly poke Ohno’s left eyeball when he makes two peace signs and raises them into the air.

“Oh-chan,” Ninomiya-kun whines. “Don’t be such a poop.”

He reaches over for Ohno’s hand and starts arranging his fingers to form a peace sign before holding all their hands up and grinning widely at the camera.

To be fair, nobody had ever called Ohno “Oh-chan” before (and it’s a considerable upgrade from “Chubs”), and Ninomiya-kun can seem, well, cute, even though he always ignores his brand new Faber-Castells in favour of Ohno’s rapidly depleting set of wax crayons.

It almost makes him feel bad for playing connect-the-dots on Ninomiya-kun’s face with the sensei’s black marker during naptime.


2.
When Ohno graduated from preschool and left Ninomiya behind, when Ninomiya announced that he was going to leave the jimusho with Sakurai-kun and become a director (“I promise to cast you as the retarded kid who picks his nose.”) and when they met up again in Hawaii, he gave Ninomiya an orange.

He thinks it must be something symbolic, because Ninomiya did give him an orange as a truce back when they were drawing on each other’s faces. Or one of them, at least.

So just before their first concert, when each of them is dressed in transparent latex of a monstrosity and white shorts, he goes up to Ninomiya and gives him an orange.

He takes the orange, like he always does, and says, “I really dislike oranges.”

Ohno splutters. “But you always buy them from that obaa-san.”

Ninomiya rolls his eyes. “That’s because it makes her happy, not me, Ohno-kun. Gee-zus.”

He turns to talk to Matsujun, so Ohno makes his way over to Sho-kun, who’s covering his nipples in the corner.


3.
The stylist that jumped Nino in the greenroom once only to get shoved away roughly with a “NANDA-YO?” loud enough to have alerted security dresses Nino for the recording of Shukudai-kun. She puts him in shorts that end above his knees and socks that cover his ankles so that Nino looks all of twelve years old. Then she dumps him unceremoniously into a chair and slicks his hair into one pointed bunch at the front and another at the back of his head with an amount of wax that would take him five showers to scrub off.

Nino stands scowling in the corner of hair and make-up, but feels marginally better when Ohno joins him with a sun burnt nose and splotches of rouge on each cheek from his make-up artist’s attempt to give him a healthier complexion, wearing a bright red pullover.

Aiba walks by a while later in jeans and a t-shirt with cool graphics, his hair curling gently over his forehead. He does a double take when he sees the both of them.

“You two look like Astro Boy and Anpanman!”

“Fuck off.”


4.
Ohno’s obsession with clay seems to have taken on a whole new level when he turns up for work the next day and finds that he cannot get rid of the remnants of clay on his skin and under his fingernails.

“You look like you’ve been unearthed by an archeologist,” Aiba breathes.

“You’re not using him for A no Arashi so don’t even think about it,” Nino cuts in.

In a valiant attempt to save Ohno from incurring hair and make-up’s wrath (Nino knows), he yells for Jun’s help (“Yo, that motherfucker in the corner with the Sally Hanson’s and glittery pink, get your ass over here.”) and licks the pad of his thumb before wiping furiously at a smear of clay across Ohno’s cheek.

“You’re getting skinnier,” Nino remarks, pressing his finger into Ohno’s cheek. “Let’s go eat ramen later. I’ll even let you treat me.”

Ohno nods, and wants to tell Nino to keep it down before the others hear, but suddenly Jun is there with acetone and cotton pads and yelling, with evil satisfaction, “Riida is taking Nino out for ramen without us!”

Aiba pops in at the opportune moment, clutching his chest in mock devastation. “How will I live?”

Ohno grimaces, and shrugs apologetically. He can’t help it if he only has enough love for Nino.

He ends up taking everyone for ramen, and pays for six bowls instead of five because the rest of them forced an extra helping on him. Nino grins rather spectacularly as Ohno chews his way around a huge mouthful of ramen.

(“Missed you, Chubs.”)


5.
Ohno’s parents announced their divorce over shabu-shabu on Thursday evening.

Thinking back, Ohno never did ask for the reason for their divorce. Instead, he had asked whether they would have to live apart, to which his mother replied, “Your otosan will be moving into the garage, which he can help to clear up while he’s at it,” and scooped a generous serving of beef into Ohno’s bowl whilst doing so.

Now, as he helps his father pack his books and collection of stamps in cardboard boxes, Ohno asks why.

“Your mother bought juice with pulp. Again.”

Ohno pauses in the doorway. “That’s it?”

His father turns to him with a serious look. “Thirty years, Satoshi. Thirty years of marriage. That amounts to about seven hundred and twenty cartons of juice with pulp. A man can only take so much, son.”

He heaves a box of books and socks and walks past Ohno. “Chop chop! We don’t have all day, you know.”

--

The best person to call in such situations out of the four of them is, of course, Sho.

But Ohno had misplaced his cell phone, so he turns up at Sho’s apartment at 9 p.m., armed with bags of Chinese takeout.

“Riida!” Sho exclaims, smiling in surprise. “What’s up?”

“My parents are currently in a mid-life crisis, and I need to consult an expert to help me with this predicament.”

“Who told you to memorise that?”

“Matsujun.”

Sho shrugs sheepishly. “Ohno-san. I have to do a recording of News Zero tomorrow. There are still three different newspapers and TIME left to read.”

“Oh, it’s okay, then,” Ohno nods and pats Sho’s shoulder, narrowly avoiding jabbing him in the ribs with the pair of wooden chopsticks poking out of a bag. “Maybe I can try Aiba-kun.”

“He’s preparing for A no Arashi.”

“What’s he planning to do?”

Sho’s right eye twitches. “An experiment to find out whether pink flamingos can stand on one leg throughout a half-hour bus journey.”

“Nino should be home, no?”

--

They spread out enough food to cover the expanse of Nino’s dining table.

“No offence, Ohno-kun, but your parents aren’t divorced so much as they are sleeping in different rooms on the same plot of land.”

Nino takes out an old deck of cards from the kitchen drawer and takes out two cards as coasters for their C1000s. Ohno gets the King of Spades and he gets the Joker. Nino frowns. Ohno lets him swap.

“He did come over for dinner for the past two nights,” Ohno says. “But maybe it’s because we had yakiniku.”

“Itadakimasu.”

They eat in silence for a while, and Ohno mumbles how stupid it was to get divorced over fucking juice.

“It was actually over the pulp, if you want to get technical about it,” Nino pipes. He pauses, and examines a piece of orange chicken. “Maybe they stopped loving each other.”

Ohno looks at Nino.

“But they say true love lasts a lifetime.”

“They lied, Oh-chan,” Nino says, handing him the spring rolls.

Ohno ignores the grease-soaked carton in front of him. “Was that what your okasan told you?” he asks curiously.

“Okasan just says never love someone more than they love you. Why aren’t you eating the spring rolls?”

It’s a puzzling concept to grasp, especially for a man whose mother never gave him advise that went beyond “If it’s important they’ll call back.” and “When life gives you lemons, save them for sashimi.”

It’s also puzzling because Ohno likes permanence. It’s comforting, like how fresh sheets of paper and old jukeboxes and warm sake in February are comforting. He thinks of managers that come and go and married couples that sleep in different rooms and how the five of them used to have really bad teeth and not give a shit and for once Ohno wants something that’s constant.

--

Ohno could be sixty and his ideal date would still be to go to a deserted island with Ninomiya Kazunari.

--

“Go out with me.”

“Eh?”

Not the most eloquent answer, no, but Ohno is beyond caring.

“Go out with me,” he repeats.

Nino stares at him with owlish eyes, and winces when a mechanical voice booms “K.O.” in his hands. He sighs, and puts his DS away.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m saving lemons for sashimi.”

“Fuck, you’re high.”

Ohno laughs. “Kazu. Kazu.” He kneels in front of Nino, and it’s like having his crayons stolen all over again.

“We could go to Ginza,” Ohno says. “I will buy you truffle soba and you can wear those shoes with the pointed tips.”

Nino covers his face with his hands and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Baka,” and Ohno smiles because Nino just said Yes, I’d like that.

It’s not exactly a deserted island, but it’s okay. Ohno’s happy with okay.

--

On his way to Nino’s apartment two days later, Ohno stops by the frail old lady sitting on a bench by the park.

When Nino opens the door, wearing the shoes with the pointed tips, he takes in all ten million of the oranges Ohno’s carrying (“There’re only fifty-four oranges, seriously.”) with remarkable composure.

“I bought all that she had left, so she went home.”

Nino laughs, and tells him this is even better than flowers.


end.