The Tragic and Perfect Triumph of Lady Vengeance

She sits alone in her princess boudoir. Custom-made, expensive, and absolutely perfect for the person she had been.

She sits alone, and methodically tears roses off of the canopy of her bed.

She spares a fleeting thought for her old room at the restaurant, glancing quickly off the thought of her (lovely departed) adopted guardians. The thought is an iceberg, and she returns to her methodical tears.

Her floor is covered in a canopy of roses torn from the canopy covering her bed. It is immensely romantic, and she walks over the flowers to exit the room. Her next job is soon.

The flowers are pressed and distorted beneath her feet.

--

"Your next shoot is in half an hour at Inokashira park, then you'll have to go straight to Roppongi for a promotional photoshoot. You have guest appearances on three variety shows in the next two days. I've booked your ticket to Aomori for the next location shoot. Switch magazine wants to do an interview and photoshoot about your next project, I'll squeeze that in sometime this week. You're the cover story for Gyao next month, and I'm in the process of arranging the interview and shoot for that as well. The ratings for the last episode of your drama fell slightly to 16.2 percent; we're sure it will pick up again next week for the pivotal twist."

Kyoko listened to her manager describe her schedule for the next week dispassionately. She was always busy lately; constantly in demand for interviews and appearances. All part of the promotional process for her latest drama. She rarely had free time anymore; she was the most in-demand actress of the time.

"I've got it; let's go to work," she replied to her manager, smiling her gorgeous fake smile.

--

She sits silently in the backseat of her chauffered car, holding the awards for Best New Actress and for Best Lead in a Drama.

She sits silently, and listens to the new Fuwa Sho single playing on the radio. She is better than him, she is more famous than him, she has had her vengeance. There is nothing left.

She walks silently into her princess apartment, and walks silently through the roses in her bedroom to sit and memorize her script.

--

"Hello, Tsuruga-san," said Kyoko, smiling brightly. "How did your photoshoot go?"

"It went very well, thank you," Tsuruga replied. He smiled with a touch of sadness.

"I'll see you later at the 24hr TV meeting, ok? I've got to run, I have an interview to do."

Kyoko waved cheerfully and went on her way. Ren watched her go, melancholy and regret in his eyes. She has surpassed even him; her cheerful and bright façade has not cracked once since the incident. She is the perfect actress, and he knows she will continue to rise. There is nothing else left for her to do, after all.

--

It is two in the morning, and she is finally able to rest. She will be up again in four hours, but for now, she is able to sink into beautiful oblivion. She will not think about the past, and she will not think about the future. For now, there is only now.

Her dreams betray her. They always do. She sees again and again, she sees her triumph as she wins her first award for best leading actress, she sees her satisfaction as she reads her name above Fuwa Sho's in a popularity ranking. She sees her perfect vengeance as she smirks at Sho and brushes by him without a word.

Her dreams betray her. She hears again, on the night when everything was perfect, she hears Tsuruga Ren, the one man she had looked up to and trusted above all others, she hears Tsuruga Ren confess that it was all a lie. She sees her fairy prince that had kept her going through so many hardships collapse into pieces. She sees the man she thought she knew become someone completely different.

Her dreams are kind tonight. She does not dream of the accident, the one that forced her to move, the one that destroyed the second family she had, the only family she had, for really, the Fuwas were less than the family at Darumaya.

She wakes, and for once, she does not have tears in her eyes.

--

Kyoko walked into the studio where she would be taking Chinese classes for her next project. A famous Chinese director wanted her in his next film; it was the perfect opportunity to gain a foothold internationally. Kyoko was the most famous actress in Japan, but outside of Japan, only a few knew her name.

As she walked through the corridors, she ran into a familiar face.

"Kyoko," sneered Fuwa. "What is the almighty actress doing in a recording studio? Have you come to see me? My newest single is number one again, I guess you know."

Kyoko smiled politely at her old friend. "I'm here for Chinese lessons. Congratulations on your single. I believe I did hear it on the way back from an awards ceremony a few nights ago."

Fuwa frowned. "What are you taking Chinese lessons for? If you want to branch internationally, wouldn't America be better? Obviously I'll be aiming for the American market soon."

"It's for a Chinese film, yes. It will be distributed internationally. Good luck in America. I have to be going now," Kyoko replied, smiling and waving goodbye.

Fuwa continued to frown as she walked away. Kyoko had been nothing but unfailingly polite to him ever since she rose to number 1 on the popularity charts. He was sure he hadn't imagined the smirk she had given him after tossing him the magazine, backstage after that first awards show. She had seemed like her old self then. Something must have happened to make her this way. He was sure she would be rubbing her success in his face at every opportunity, but instead she simply always smiled this radiant smile that he was sure was fake. She never rose to his taunting, and he found he missed it. She was untouchable now.

--

Her dreams are less kind as she naps on the train back to Tokyo from the Aomori location shoot. As she wakes, somewhere in the realm between nightmare and reality, she finds herself reaching for her cellphone and searching for a number no longer there.

She wakes fully. She stares blankly at her phone for a moment, before shutting it and putting it away. She surreptitiously wipes the tears from her eyes.

--

"Cut! Perfect!" yelled the director. Kyoko and her fellow actor relaxed, and headed off the set while the director called instructions for the next scene.

"I'm so glad I've had the opportunity to work with you, Kyoko-chan," said Suzuki Junya, the actor playing her rival and love interest. "I didn't really believe all the hype, but you're a pleasure to act with."

"Thank you, Suzuki-kun," replied Kyoko. "I'm enjoying working with you as well. I admired your work in Aizora."

"Haha, I'm surprised you even noticed me in that one! Acting with Tsuruga Ren back then was certainly an experience for me. I was just starting out, and he terrified me with his skill! It's good I've grown as an actor, because you are definitely on par with him."

Kyoko put on a brilliant smile. "You praise me too much, Suzuki-kun! I'm sorry, but I have to go to makeup now. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok, see you." Suzuki watched as Kyoko made her way to the makeup trailer. He couldn't help but be a little awed by her, despite his own reputation as an actor second only to the legendary Tsuruga Ren in Japan. The way she completely immersed herself and became the character, letting nothing break her concentration and never forgetting her lines, was simply amazing. Her reputation as the number one actress in Japan was certainly deserved. Yet there seemed to be something a little off about her. She almost seemed too perfect. She was never upset or angry at anything, and she was polite to everybody she met. She threw herself into the role with absolute dedication, she knew of her own reputation, and yet she never even acknowledged it. For a while there had been rumors that she was seeing Tsuruga Ren, but after she accepted her first two awards that were the launchpad to her current fame, she was barely ever seen with him. As far as Suzuki knew, she never really kept in touch with anyone outside of strictly business matters.

--

The roses are still on her carpet, and she lays herself down on them. Fairy stories are after all only stories, and she is simply a girl crushing cloth roses under her weight. She will rise, and she will rise, but she will always be an ordinary girl and there will always be ordinary roses. There is no magic. There is only a girl, who has everything in the world but nothing that matters.

There is only a girl, surrounded by fake roses and fake stories, with a fake heart.