Kis-My-Ft2, I Hate This Love Song

Title: I Hate This Love Song [Kitayama/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Fujigaya never sleeps well in strange places, and Kitayama sleeps just about everywhere.
AN: For flailinginlove‘s birthday, with a bunch of detail research about Kisumai’s pre-Ft2 tours and hotel arrangements from omoikkiri and enshinge. I want you to also know there was originally a line about Yokoo lending condoms to Sanada that snowqueenofhoth made me take out, so you can place blame properly for that. Also it’s worth knowing that Sendai was the venue during first tour that Senga was missing because he was too sick to leave home. Title from the Big Bang song, “Love Song.”

I hate this love song, I’ll never sing it again
So I can stop thinking of you, so I can finally forget you
I hate this love song, I’m going to sing it with a smile
In order to cure your loneliness, I’m going to you now

We were so beautiful, you know
You taught me what love was, hello
–“Love Song”, Big Bang

I Hate This Love Song

~August, 2003: Arashi’s How’s It Going Tour, Osaka~

After the concert adrenaline wears off, every part of Fujigaya’s body starts to ache. He’s too exhausted to get up and do anything about it, but he can’t sleep properly in a strange place either, and sharing an Osaka hotel room with Kitayama Hiromitsu definitely counts as a strange place, so far as Fujigaya is concerned.

Everything about Kitayama Hiromitsu is weird, Fujigaya thinks, heaving a sigh. He lets his head flop to the side and eyes Kitayama in the light coming from the bedside lamp he hasn’t bothered to turn off yet. Joined too late, too old, no lessons, and yet here he is, in just the same place as Fujigaya. It’s enough to drive a guy crazy.

“If you even get a unit first, I’m going to kill myself,” Fujigaya says, assuming he’s talking to nobody since one of Kitayama’s other talents is falling asleep anywhere and everywhere with no fuss at all, while Fujigaya himself often counts sheep into the thousands.

“Could you wait until after tour?” Kitayama’s sleep-rough voice asks. “It’s just that re-learning symmetry is such a bitch.”

He rolls over to meet Fujigaya’s eyes across the gap between their beds, and Fujigaya has the decency to feel embarrassed at least. A little.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you really,” Fujigaya says. “I figured you were asleep. Like always.” He can’t keep the last couple words from being rather sour.

“Fujigaya-kun can’t sleep in strange places, right?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya heaves another sigh. “You try jerking off?”

Fujigaya glares. “What?!”

“To relax, you know. You’ve really never tried? Knock you right out, I swear.”

“I’m not doing that with you right over there!” Fujigaya splutters. “And you better not have been doing that this whole time!”

“As if I have to,” Kitayama snorts. “I’ll do it too, if it makes you feel less weird.”

“How is that less weird?” Fujigaya hisses. “Then I’d just be listening to you…” He trails off as Kitayama throws back the blankets and gets out of bed. “…what are you doing?”

“Helping you,” Kitayama informs him, coming to the edge of Fujigaya’s bed and eyeing him up and down, scrutinizing. “Since you clearly aren’t going to either shut up or take my very practical advice. Move over.”

“Helping me do what?” Fujigaya demands, clutching his blankets tighter to his chest. “What part of me not wanting to listen to you get yourself off says to you I want you doing it in my bed?”

“No, idiot,” Kitayama explains, as if Fujigaya is the slowest Fresh Junior alive, “I’m going to get you off, not me, ideally in mutual fashion. Easier with someone else, right?” Fujigaya’s jaw drops and Kitayama raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look so scandalized, like you’ve never done it before. There’s no way you’re going to convince me that Johnny’s do it with each other less than my soccer team does. And don’t claim you like girls either, it sure isn’t like you’re rejecting any of Sho-senpai’s advances.”

“OI!” Fujigaya snaps, but can’t come up with anything snappier than that. “That’s not…you! Hey, quit it!”

Kitayama ignores all his protests and climbs into bed anyway, sturdy frame and soccer muscles more than enough to overcome Fujigaya’s passive-aggressive resistance. He reaches for the front of Fujigaya’s sweatpants without any further ado, and Fujigaya can’t stop the low noise from spilling out of his throat when Kitayama wraps a hand firmly around him.

“Thought so.” Kitayama says, so matter-of-fact that Fujigaya wants nothing more than to punch him right in the face, but he’s pretty sure he can’t get away with that like Kamenashi-kun and Ueda-kun. “Touch me too or it’ll take a lot longer.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya grumbles, cheeks bright pink, but he complies, hoping it’ll at least be over quickly. Kitayama’s cock feels weird in his hand, different than his own, shorter but thicker, and he feels hotter as well, or maybe it’s just that his hands are cold because all of his blood is rushing towards either his face or his dick.

Thankfully, Kitayama doesn’t tease any further or talk at all; he goes about his task efficiently and, Fujigaya is forced to admit, with no small amount of skill. Kitayama’s hand feels good and strong on him, and it’s a little bit of a challenge to jerk him off at the same time instead of just losing himself to the feel of it.

“Close?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya nods, not trusting his voice. He wants to lean closer, the heat radiating off of Kitayama’s skin feeling good on his sore muscles, but resists the urge. They’re not doing it because they like each other, after all.

“I’m…” he starts.

“Just a little more,” Kitayama urges, hips snapping into Fujigaya’s grip, and then Fujigaya feels a hot rush over his hand, the shivering of Kitayama next to him. Kitayama lets a long breath out through his nose, then gives a satisfied little groan. “Mm. You next.”

He squeezes Fujigaya’s cock just that much tighter, works him just a bit harder, and when he thumbs the little dent in the underside of Fujigaya’s head, Fujigaya comes like he’s been called, biting down on a groan.

“There, see?” Kitayama asks, wiping his hand off on Fujigaya’s sheets.

“Ew,” Fujigaya complains, but he’s doing the same thing himself, and he does have to admit, his eyelids feel suddenly heavy, his limbs relaxed.

“Oh, shut up,” Kitayama says, shoving the sheet with the worst of it down to the bottom of the bed and rolling over onto his side, back to Fujigaya. “Don’t start talking again, you’ll just ruin the effect. Go to sleep.”

Fucking weirdo, Fujigaya thinks, rolling onto his own side in the other direction, and then he’s out like a light.

It doesn’t always happen, after that, but it doesn’t never happen either. The closest they ever come to talking about it is the second time, when Kitayama appears next to Fujigaya’s bed just as he’s reaching for the light, and Fujigaya asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“It’s easier than listening to you toss and turn half the night,” Kitayama says with a shrug, and after that they don’t talk about it again. When Kitayama crawls into his bed, Fujigaya lets him, lets him do as he wills without protest every time it happens. Kitayama takes him at his word, or lack of it, and doesn’t waste any of their time asking for permission twice.

By spring they both have a unit, the same one because the universe likes making Fujigaya’s life difficult, and a spot on the Tackey & Tsubasa tour, but as hard as Fujigaya’s favorite senpai work them during the day, at night Fujigaya still needs a helping hand more often than not. Fortunately, or not depending on his mood, Yokoo and Iida came as a matched set, leaving Fujigaya with his usual roommate.

It’s not love, it’s not even a crush, and during the day Fujigaya spends half the time wanting to strangle Kitayama, but there’s a familiarity about what happens between the two of them when they’re alone and in a strange city. At least, it’s familiar until Kitayama leans over in the middle of their usual chain of events, and kisses Fujigaya square on the mouth.

Fujigaya freezes, eyes snapping open, and Kitayama chuckles as he pulls back.

“Sorry, is kissing against the rules?” Kitayama asks. He looks amused, but he isn’t exactly teasing, just clarifying their arrangement. “You’re just pretty damn cute sometimes.”

Kitayama has his own appeal, sure, but damned if Fujigaya is going to admit that. Still, the compliment is nice enough, especially considering the source.

“It’s fine, I guess,” Fujigaya says. “But it’s not any different than the other stuff,” he adds after a second. “It doesn’t make this a thing.”

“I’m totally uninterested in having a thing with you,” Kitayama assures. He works fingers into Fujigaya’s hair and tilts his head up for a better-angled kiss before Fujigaya can come up with anything else to say.

Fujigaya doesn’t regret his choice; in fact, he wishes a little that they’d gone for this earlier, because Kitayama is a hell of a kisser. Making out with Kitayama sends fire chasing through Fujigaya’s veins, heat blossoming over his skin, and suddenly instead of twisting his fingers in the sheets, Fujigaya finds himself with his hands on Kitayama’s skin instead, tugging him closer.

More than that, Kitayama takes Fujigaya’s consent to mean that he can use his mouth for other things as well. He starts to talk, murmuring encouragement and the occasional direction, lips brushing over Fujigaya’s jaw and ear as he says how good it is, how good Fujigaya looks and feels against him.

In the light of day, sometimes Fujigaya catches himself thinking about it, catches himself watching the way Kitayama moves or tosses damp hair out of his face or rolls his hips, and it makes Fujigaya’s skin itch. He certainly hasn’t told anyone about it, and the effort of keeping it in, of worrying at it silently, makes him snappish and abrupt with anyone who has the bad luck to be standing there when Fujigaya starts thinking about it.

“Why do you always have to be such a crank, Taipi?” Kawai wants to know when he ends up in the line of fire more often than not. “First you whined about not having a unit, now you’ve got one and you’re whining about that! Take a breath once in a while, huh?”

“He’s just so…” Fujigaya makes a wordless noise of frustration, gaze wandering towards where Kitayama and Totsuka are talking easily, no matter how much he tells himself it’s not like Kitayama’s got anything worth looking at.

“Aw, picking on the new guy?” Kawai asks, cheerful, tracking Fujigaya’s gaze. Kitayama’s hardly ‘the new guy’ by this point, but Fujigaya doesn’t bother correcting him. “I think he’s delightful, not spoiled in his youth like the rest of us. I bet he’s even kissed girls, yeah? You should ask him about girls.”

“I should NOT,” Fujigaya snaps, too grumpy to realize that he’s only giving Kawai more ammunition, terrible at hiding his real feelings like always.

“No!” Kawai pounces immediately, grin sharp. “You kissed him! You totally did!”

“I didn’t!” Fujigaya tries to backpeddle, but it’s useless, Kawai already cackling in glee. “Shut up, I did not!”

“You did! You,” Kawai eyes Fujigaya’s rising blush, “oh man, you did way more than that, didn’t you? You did, you dog! B? C? You were the girl, weren’t you? It’s okay, you can tell Fumi-kun—”

“WE DIDN’T DO THAT AT ALL,” Fujigaya bellows, expression threatening to murder Kawai if he so much as utters one more word. “Shut up! We’re in public!”

“Don’t worry, Taipi,” Kawai lowers his volume, voice soothing. “Being in one of those units, there’s a definite up-side. If Kis-My-Ft needs some advice or demonstration, A.B.C.-senpai is more than happy to help~.”

Fujigaya pounces on Kawai with a howl of rage, the two of them rolling and scuffling across the floor until the choreographer shouts that if they don’t grow up and knock it off right this second, they’re all getting demoted to A.B.C. Jr.

The pretence that this whole situation is just a sleep aid thins precariously by the time they’re backing for V6 in the summer. It’s too hot to sleep anyway, so they end up keeping each other up half the night, skin slick where they’re pressed together, until Fujigaya feels like he’s melting from the inside out. And trouble sleeping sure doesn’t explain their extra round in the morning.

When Kitayama suggests they go just that much further, Fujigaya agrees carelessly. And why not? All of Kitayama’s suggestions have turned out mutually beneficial so far.

“Why does it not surprise me that you know what you’re doing?” Fujigaya asks, mostly as a distraction for how Kitayama’s fingers are stretching him, making his eyes water just as much as it’s making his toes curl. “Did your team actually play any soccer? Or were the training camps specifically for fucking?”

“You should be glad I’m such a talented multi-tasker,” Kitayama answers. He laughs in that low, quiet way that he often does when he thinks Fujigaya is being particularly cute but would never say out loud. Fujigaya almost wishes that he hadn’t decoded that laugh, because sometimes during the day Kitayama does it as well, and Fujigaya can’t exactly help the way his body responds automatically, the blush that streaks his nose at the sound of it.

When Kitayama pushes inside with a low groan, murmuring praise and encouragement, when Fujigaya can’t tug him close enough or wrap his legs tight enough around Kitayama’s waist, when Kitayama brings him off in a skin-scorching burst only a few seconds before pulsing hot inside him, when they collapse in a sweat-soaked, clinging heap, Fujigaya comes to the hazy realization that maybe, just maybe, they are actually having a thing no matter how much they say they aren’t.

But then, just as their thing reaches an intensity where Fujigaya feels like they must be teetering on the edge of whatever comes next, suddenly on KAT-TUN’s Kaizoukuban tour, their lives and hotels are full of A.B.C. Jr., and then not so long after that, not so unpredictably, Fujigaya’s unit doubles in size, the privacy of his hotel room cut by four hundred percent. It’s not just the number of people, but the whole dynamic of their group that changes, and Kitayama and Fujigaya can’t shove at each other nearly so openly as before. More practically, once Iida leaves, Yokoo asks if they won’t mind the extra roommate, and both of them agree without hesitation, effectively putting an end to their usual arrangement.

Eventually Kitayama begins to room regularly with Miyata and Tamamori instead, and if Fujigaya goes back to struggling with sleeping soundly in hotel rooms, the weird thumps and noises that come from the other side of the wall make him wonder if he’s not better off after all.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Yokoo asks, just the once. “I know you and Kitayama…”

“It’s fine,” Fujigaya interrupts, shaking his head. His smile is small, but real. “Watta’s a good roommate. It’s most important that we rest properly when we’re so busy, right?”

And so it stops, the thing between them, and they never do talk about it. Sometimes Fujigaya catches Kitayama watching him a certain way when he’s dancing, and sometimes Kitayama’s low laugh still sends a ripple of goosebumps down his arms, but Fujigaya knows better than to chase impossible things. He takes Kawai’s advice (or at least some of it) and focuses his energy on the unit that he has, and the sometimes equally impossible things they all want.

And if it’s not the same kind of intensity, at least Fujigaya’s more sure that this won’t burn out so suddenly.

*****

~October 2009: Kis-My-Ft ni Aeru de SHOW Tour, Sendai~

Fujigaya is looking forward to a peaceful night in Sendai, roommate absent, just him and a book he’s been trying to finish for six months, when the adjoining door eases open and Kitayama’s head pops in.

“Aha,” Kitayama says, coming in the rest of the way and shutting the door behind him. “Watta spending the nights keeping ghosts away from Nika-chan?”

Taipi snorts an affirmative; Yokoo had been completely weak to Nikaido’s uncharacteristically cute begging in the face of spending a whole night in the dark alone without his precious Kenpi. “What do you want?”

Kitayama shrugs. “Thought you might have trouble sleeping.”

His traitorous body flushes warm right away, knowing exactly what that means. It’s been a long while since the last time, years, but it seems his body remembers well enough.

“It’s been awhile, yeah?” Kitayama chuckles, clearly on the same wavelength. “Given our current roommate arrangements.”

“Speaking of that,” Fujigaya stalls, “I’d have thought Miyata and Tamamori would have tired you out more than well enough by this time of night.”

“They’ve been unexpectedly serious of late.” Kitayama shrugs a shoulder. “I was part of the previews, but I got the feeling that I’m not the target audience for the whole movie.”

“So you figured I’d be an easy roll in the hay?” Fujigaya asks, a touch of venom to it. He picks his book back up. “Get lost, you.”

“Because you make it so easy,” Kitayama snorts. He crosses the room to stand right beside Fujigaya, resting his fingers on top of the book a moment. “You used to let me, though.” He pulls the book gently out of Fujigaya’s hands; Fujigaya doesn’t resist. Kitayama sits it on the bedside table. “Those glasses are still really cute.” He tugs the glasses off too, and sets them on top of the book.

Vision now blurry, Fujigaya closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the headboard. “Because it’s too much trouble to fight you, when you always win. You’ll get what you want in the end anyway, so go on.”

He waits for Kitayama to kiss him, to crawl into bed, something, but after a handful of very long seconds, still nothing has happened. Fujigaya opens his eyes with a frown, squinting to make out Kitayama’s features.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Fujigaya demands.

“For you to tell me what you want,” Kitayama says, “or even if you want it. You always make me guess, make it so I can’t be sure.”

“You’re the one coming in here uninvited!” Fujigaya accuses, uncomfortable with the ring of truth that Kitayama’s words have.

“And the next morning you get to pout and sulk and pretend I’m bullying you,” Kitayama continues, his voice sharp too, much sharper than usual. “You get to gossip with Kawai while I keep our dirty little secret. Don’t pretend you don’t know you’re doing it. So I’m asking, really, tell me you want it. Just this once and I won’t keep asking, I’ll play the jerk all you want, if that’s the game you want. But just this one time you have to say whether I’ve got it right, or…” Kitayama glances back at the door he came through, “…they won’t make me guess. You’re the only one who does that.”

He waits, longer than Fujigaya would have guessed that he would wait, then he gives a small nod and turns to go.

“Wait,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama freezes with his fingertips just above the doorknob. He looks over his shoulder, too far away for Fujigaya to make out his expression without squinting. He doesn’t want to look Kitayama in the face anyway, so he looks away. “It’s…I…”

Giving up on words, Fujigaya holds up the edge of his blankets.

Kitayama comes back across the room, but doesn’t get into bed just yet. Instead he cups Fujigaya’s face in his hands and tilts Fujigaya’s face up for a kiss. It’s slow, at the same time familiar and tentative, and Fujigaya’s breath hitches at how much it’s like their first few. When the kiss breaks, Kitayama doesn’t pull back, and they stare at each other a long moment.

“Is it so hard,” he asks, “for you to just say?”

“I…” Fujigaya draws a slow breath and lets it back out. “You weren’t wrong. You never did anything I didn’t want you to, back then.”

“And now?” Kitayama presses.

Fujigaya looks to the side, unable to keep meeting Kitayama’s gaze so directly. “Sometimes I miss it. The thing.”

“The thing we weren’t having?” Kitayama gives that low laugh, and it gets under Fujigaya’s skin the way it always has, making him shiver. “Good. Me too, so, good. I wondered, when I stopped pushing it and you acted like nothing had changed, if I had it all wrong the whole time.”

“I could have stopped you,” Fujigaya points out. He draws back, so that his face slips out of Kitayama’s hands. “Just get in, okay? Talking about it makes it weird.”

Kitayama obeys the direct instruction, humming in pleasure as he gets under the warmed blankets. He laughs when he reaches for Fujigaya and gets a handful of well-worn sweatpants. “This was a lot easier when you used to run around hotels naked, you know.”

“Aren’t I worth the effort?” Fujigaya wants to know, tilting his head and fluttering his eyelashes.

“At least this much,” Kitayama says, slipping a hand inside Fujigaya’s sweats and wrapping a hand around him. “Hmm, this feels about the same, anyway. Also the fact that I have to tell you to hurry up and return the favor already.”

“Jerk.” Fujigaya’s eyes are already slipping shut at the feel of Kitayama’s hand so warm and tight around him, but he forces his own hand to cooperate and works it into Kitayama’s boxers. He strokes a few times then twists his wrist, grinning when that move still makes Kitayama’s breath hitch. “Hey, you know, kissing isn’t against the rules.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kitayama says, taking advantage of the opportunity. He curls his free arm over Fujigaya’s waist, hand coming to rest on the small of Fujigaya’s back, and urges him to slide closer. “Mm, hey, come here.”

When Fujigaya lets himself be tugged close, Kitayama shoves his sweats and his own boxers down, and then wraps his hand around both of them at the same time. Fujigaya ends up letting go of Kitayama entirely to wrap arms around his neck instead, rolling his hips up into Kitayama’s grip and groaning into his mouth.

It’s not as intense as how they used to fight against each other, but it’s good how easy it is between them for the moment, Fujigaya’s skin flushing steadily warmer, rocking their hips together in an accent dance that Takizawa only wishes he could get on stage. Kitayama rolls them over suddenly, settling his weight on top of Fujigaya, and Fujigaya moans sweetly at the change in pressure.

“Oh, I remember that noise,” Kitayama says, dragging lips over the edge of Fujigaya’s jaw. “That means I’m doing something really, really right.”

“Quit fishing for compliments,” Fujigaya grumbles, but he can’t stop his head from tilting back for more as Kitayama grazes teeth over his throat.

“I’d have come prepared, if I had known you’d let me have my way so easily,” Kitayama teases. He hitches himself up on his elbows, even though that means he has to let go of their cocks, but Fujigaya is so close that just Kitayama’s weight pressed against him is almost enough.

Kitayama presses their mouths together, swallowing Fujigaya’s noises, and Fujigaya hooks a leg over one of Kitayama’s to pull him into just the right spot. As if he knows it’s coming, Kitayama pulls his mouth away in time to hear Fujigaya’s low groan of release.

“Sounds so good,” Kitayama tells him, sending aftershocks down Fujigaya’s spine.

Still shivering and limbs feeling warm and heavy, Fujigaya tells Kitayama to hurry up and come already, fingers combing through Kitayama’s hair, leg still wrapped tight around him.

“Kiss me again,” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya complies, tasting on his tongue the moment when Kitayama gives in and shudders out against him.

For a bit they don’t move, long enough that despite Kitayama’s weight, Fujigaya is half-asleep by the time Kitayama leans up on one elbow and looks him over.

“You gonna fall asleep on me?” he asks.

“Wasn’t that the point of the whole thing?” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama laughs and says he supposes that it was. But when Kitayama shifts to get up, Fujigaya grabs his arm and tugs him back down, rolls over on his side while still pulling so that he ends up with his back tucked firmly against Kitayama’s chest. It’s easier, once he’s not looking Kitayama in the eye, to say, “If you wanted to stay, I wouldn’t mind.”

There’s a puff of air against Fujigaya’s shoulder that’s half-sigh and half-laugh. “Be thankful I know you so well.”

Fujigaya is thankful, because asking directly is totally beyond him, where Kitayama is concerned, but despite that Kitayama is relaxing against him and showing no signs of going anywhere. It’s not picking up where they left off, not even close, but if this happens once in a while, Fujigaya supposes he could live with that.

So long as none of the fans, or the kouhai, or Duet staff, ever find out, ever.

A while later, the sound of the door opening wakes Fujigaya up enough to make out Yokoo’s silhouette in the doorway.

“Fuck, you too?” he says, sighing as he shuts the door. Fujigaya just grins, Kitayama’s even breaths ruffling the back of his hair.

“Finally get the baby to sleep?” Fujigaya wants to know.

“As if. I dropped him off with Miyata and Tama, since they were hardly sleeping anyway.” Yokoo snorts, kicking off his pants and crawling into his bed. “If I find out you exchanged fluids in my bed, you know I’m going to murder both of you, right? I’ve got shit in my bag to do it, don’t think that I don’t.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Watta.” Behind him, Kitayama stirs into half-wakefulness, mumbling to find out t’fuk s’gonon.

“I’m the only one not getting it off with anybody in this whole hotel, is what the fuck is going on,” Yokoo says sourly. “If I had known I’d be digging condoms out of my bag in the hallway for Miyata fucking Toshiya, I’d have just asked you two to let me in on your messed-up games right at the beginning.”

There’s a short silence while all three of them digest that.

“Tell me again why we never thought of that?” Fujigaya wants to know, throwing a sharp elbow back, making Kitayama grunt.

“Tell him to come over here and find out,” Kitayama says, moving not a single centimeter. “Oi, Watta, can we borrow some condoms?”

“Borrow, he says,” Yokoo throws his pillow at them, “like I’m going to want them back. I’m telling the fans on you two, and the kouhai, and Duet staff!”

But eventually he has to come retrieve his pillow, and he doesn’t resist that hard when Kitayama and Fujigaya yank him down as soon as he’s within reach. They each steal a kiss from him before he can make his escape, promising death and other unpleasantries to any perverts who try to sneak into his bed during the night.

“You’ll notice he didn’t say anything about the morning,” Kitayama whispers in Fujigaya ear, and then when Nikaido voice comes through the wall, echoed by a wail from Tamamori, both of them can only shake with laughter, curled up tight together, while Yokoo pounds on the wall and hollers that next tour he’s going to demand not only his own room, but his own hotel.

Surrounded by idiots and ruckus, in a strange bed made even stranger by Kitayama being curled up against him, Fujigaya yawns a huge yawn, and his eyes fall shut easily. Seems like there might be something to Kitayama’s trick after all.

Not that he’ll ever tell Kitayama that. If Fujigaya admits that it works, what need will there be to keep proving it over and over?