Dakaichi OS: Miso soup with love...

Miso soup, with love...

Hot studio lights, call sheets, a million wires entangled every which way on the floor, a challenging role. Takato was in heaven as he leafed through script pages and someone fussed with his makeup. Heaven reminded him of angels… just one, if he was being honest. Chunta…The assistant director hailed him, and he walked up for the next scene after thanking the makeup artist.

As he delivered his lines, he thought of Junta again. He hadn’t called all day. True, he had an outdoor shoot and he did call the night before. They both had busy schedules as always. But never too busy for him to not call… Slightly worried, Takato placed a call to Junta between shots.

“Takato San,” he sounded pumped as always, “Did you miss me?”
Takato ignored the blush that warmed his cheeks and replied in trademark curt fashion, “Why didn’t you call today? Are you alright?”

“Just a bit of cold, I think.”

“Huh? What do you mean, cold,” all his feigned nonchalance gave way to concern and outrage. “Why aren't they taking care of you?”

“They are. My outdoor shoot included rain. Remember they made it rain in our first drama…” his voice was soft as he trailed off, nostalgia making him smile.

“You got drenched shielding me from the water,” Takato felt a bit nostalgic himself. And then :  “hold on, whom did you shield this time?”

Another soft laugh from that end. “Ah, are you jealous?”

“In your dreams,” he muttered.
That cheered him up a bit more, “Oh in my dreams you-"

“Shut up. When are you coming home?”

“Soon. I –” a pause, a sneeze.

“Oi, Chunta,” Takato was seriously worried now. “Come home. I don’t want you falling sick…”

“I'll be home soon,” he assured Takato. “My flight arrives tomorrow at noon.”

“Noon.” Takato calculated the time from his set to the airport. If he began shooting a bit earlier or took a break... he hated inconveniencing people though. If he sent Sasaki San…Better idea. He could finish up early and hurry home in time to catch Junta.

“Takato San?” He could imagine what went through Takato's little head. “I'll get home myself, don’t cut your shoot or trouble Sasaki San.” Junta didn’t like the idea of not bringing Takato home himself, which was bad enough, he’d hate it if Sasaki San weren’t there either. “Takato San, are you there?”

“Yes, I am here. Why would you keep working if you had a cold?”

“So I could finish soon and come home to you,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Chunta...” Exasperation and affection warred within. Takato couldn’t censure him when he himself was used to pushing limits when it came to illnesses. “Just come home,” was all he could say.

“I will.”

“Take care.”

“I miss you, Takato San.”

“I – ” he swallowed. “I miss you too.” Takato hung up quickly before he said something uncharacteristic and incredibly mushy. He had plans to make. He found Ayagi on his contact list and hit dial.

“Saijo San..” Ayagi chirped into the phone, a little too exuberant for Takato. “Did you finally decide to dump that irritating angel and come to me?”

“Shut up, Ayagi. I need a favor. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Oh, anything for you, Saijo San,” he replied cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”