So, another chapter. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed - you've encouraged me more than you know. For this chapter, I will again let it be known that I am only writing this for fun; so little to no research has been conducted, and I doubt I will go back and edit this. There is one single original character - I'm usually adverse to them, but he was needed. I hope this isn't too confusing, and I will try to make this deviate from canon as little as possible.
It was the dead of winter, and Shou found himself pondering. Little things, like the strings of his guitar that needed replacing, the heavy black chain that Shouko had given him (he would have to find the appropriate present to repay her), what brand of beer would replace the current one he had stocked in his refrigerator. For a moment - the barest second - his thoughts turned to his maid, a year and a half gone. He even remembered the ring he had given her. Silver, with a tiny garnet instead of a diamond. The lie that went with the ring was more hazy in his mind, but it had served its purpose. Kyouko had always been gullible, and the ring had swayed her, even when she had protested against leaving Kyoto.
There was no doubt in his mind that she had returned there, to live out an obscure, dull existence. Fitting, of course. She had always been an obscure, dull person. Better for her to be in Kyoto, a place that suited her, instead of here where she would be overlooked, like a mote of dust.
"Shou," said Asami, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Pay attention."
"I am paying attention." He smirked, tapping a pen idly against his lips.
"Oh? Then I assume you know the name of the last girl who just walked in, and poured out her soul to you."
"Name…Megumi, age nineteen, dances ballet for a hobby."
She smiled. "Good to know you're awake. Should we sent in the next one?"
"No. It's time for a break."
"Shou! There are still forty more girls - "
"And they can wait. Where's Shouko?"
Asami heaved a sigh. "In the lobby."
The lobby was quieter than his office, and he was able to slip away without causing a scene. There were lines of women; he felt searching, hungry eyes slide over him, but willfully ignored the feeling, and fortunately for him, no one noticed him. Singers and actresses and models - as well as some of the lower bottom feeders of the entertainment industry - had all come here at his beck, but certain necessities came first.
He found Shouko in the back of the lobby, bathed in the light of the tall windows. Beyond the windows, there was a stunning view of tall glass skyscrapers and blue, cloudless sky. But Shou only had eyes for Shouko - or rather, for the elaborate bento that was laid out on the table before her. She always knew when he was hungry.
His manager was skimming through some fashion magazine, and she flipped a page, not even bothering to look at him. "Long day, Shou?"
Shou merely grunted, taking up a pair of chop sticks.
"I've researched two girls I think might be a perfect fit," she said, "but that still leaves the other two slots, Shou. And there isn't much time before we shot this thing. Have you made any decisions?"
He hadn't. Shou had a particular look in mind for his P.V., and none of the girls he'd seen (even some of those tall, well proportioned models with faces of perfection) had possessed it. Since his mouth was full, he gave her another grunt.
Shouko understood. "Time is of the essence, Shou. If you don't find two girls before tomorrow, I'll have to choose them myself." She folded the magazine close. "The director won't be pleased if things are delayed."
He nearly snorted. Sho couldn't care less about that short, pig-eyed little man - this was his P.V., and he was calling the shots.
He was fully prepared to swallow what food was in his mouth, and tell Shouko exactly what he thought of the director, but the cover of Shouko's magazine, of all things, caught his eye.
It was different from the standard magazine cover (not that Shou made it habit to look at women's magazines, or anything) - a woman in a white kimono, silvery blonde hair stirring in some breeze, a dark smile reflected in eyes of deep violet. The kimono was far from traditional - it looked to be of the thinnest silk, barely reaching to the woman's waist - and beneath it, the woman wore a string of sapphires around her neck, and a bikini as white as the kimono.
Shou snatched the magazine up. Shouko blinked at him.
"Who is this?" Shou traced his fingers over the cover, half-expecting to feel the smooth fabric of silk, or the soft caress of skin…
"Why?" Shouko asked, her voice low.
He flicked his gaze up at her. His manager was looking at him, her eyes wide with…fear?
No, that couldn't be it. "My PV. I want her. She has to be in it."
"Shou, I don't think…that would be a good idea. Or at least a plausible one."
"And why not?" he said, irritated.
Shouko continued staring at him, as though she were terrified. "She's one of the top models of Japan. There's just no way…"
Shou smirked, slowly leaning over the table, to touch Shouko's cheek. "And I'm the top singer in Japan. I'm sure we can work something out. Am I right?"
Shouko nodded reluctantly. Because in the end, Shou always got what he wanted.
She lived a double life. A portion of her time was devoted to putting up a front, for the sake of the President - she showed up at LME as she always did, and attended the acting school on a semi-regular basis. Every night, she never failed to make her way to Tsuruga Ren's apartment to cook dinner, so Yashiro was pleased, and she gave neither man any cause to be dissatisfied with her work.
But the rest of her day was spent at White Shogun Enterprises. Her make-up artist would re-do her, taking her hair - now so pale it sometimes looked like strands of snow - and adding extensions, until it curled down her back. Then her cheeks were brushed with subtle hints of blush, contacts were popped into her eyes, and her make-up artist somehow - somehow - reworked her face, until she looked like a completely different person. Then she was off to a photo-shot, or to a runway, or, rarely, to a movie set. Today, though, she was making her way to see the Head.
The entire top floor of White Shogun Enterprises served as the Head's office. But unlike the President, the Head's domain was not a palace-like place of extravagance; here, it was dark, with cool shadows dotting the floors of smooth wood, and the very air felt subdued. Still, there was a great deal of movement - this was a place of business, and the Head did not waste any space with decadence, opting, instead, to allow the use of this floor to anyone who had need. She passed dozens of models, and even saw a man whom she suspected was the CEO of a large, well known firm - though for the life of her, she couldn't begin to guess why he would be here.
Ironically, the Head was not sitting at his desk, sunbathing before the tall, tinted windows of the floor's east wing (as he was wont to do) - but rather, he was conducting a photo-shot.
She waited off to the side, silently watching. She had heard that the Head's first passion had been photography, but she had never actually seen him engage in it. The model he was shooting stood almost perfectly still, making only tiny changes to her stance, her blue eyes growing more sultry with each passing second.
Kyouko released a breath. It was…beautiful. That was the only word she could ascribe to it. She had witnessed numerous photo-shots, and had herself participated in countless others, but she had never seen something so…intimate. So divine. It was almost like she had walked in on a private moment - a moment of unspeakable loveliness.
After a time, the Head idly snapped his fingers, and rose to his feet. The model blinked, shaking her head, and slipped out of her stance. It was over.
"That was finely done," the Head murmured to the model. The woman blushed, and gave him a slight bow. "I expect the same tomorrow."
"Yes, Head," the model said, bowing again.
"Get some rest," the Head said, and waved as the model turned to leave. His eyes fell on Kyouko. "Ah, Kyouko-san. Walk with me."
She followed him, and he led her to a large room with black couches and a soothing aquarium built into the room's wall. She stared at the aquarium's multitude of colorful fish - and was that a shark in there, too? - while the Head sat down onto one of the couches, and lit a cigarette.
"So, my dear," he said at last, breathing out a slow cloud of smoke, "how is the life of a model treating you?"
They always started their conversations this way, with the Head asking the same question, and Kyouko giving him the same answer. "Extremely good, Head."
"It seems that I've made a splendid investment in you. You've risen to the pinnacle of fame in less than a year. A record, I think." He lounged back over the couch, his eyes narrowing. "I believe it's time to push things up a notch. How would you like to be one of the faces of White Shogun Enterprises?"
"I…" For a full moment, Kyouko was speechless. Did the Head really mean it? "What would the position entail?"
The Head grinned. "Good girl. That's what I like about you - you think things through. The position won't be a difficult one, in theory. You'll be representing our line of up-and-coming models to the world- the face of new blood, as it were. Your presence will be required at certain events and conventions, and you will have to attend every major fashion show - as one of the lead models, of course. It will be a lot of work, but I'm sure you're up to it."
Outwardly, she nodded. "Yes, Head." Inwardly, however, her mind was a swirl of chaotic thoughts. It took a great deal of effort to keep herself focused on the Head's words.
"Tomorrow night, there is going to be a charity function spear-headed by the President of LME," the Head said, his gaze darkening slightly. "It will be insane. Utterly insane. That dolt Lory couldn't do normal to save his life. Still, I have to attend. And you'll be coming with me."
It was obvious that she didn't have much of a choice, so she said, "I would love to, Head."
"You will love it," he said slowly, a smile crinkling at his eyes. "It's time to show those folks at LME just how far you've come with your hate."
The way he looked at her, like a proud parent, made Kyouko feel warm inside. And she smiled too, thinking of Tsuruga Ren and Shoutaro. Had it not been for them, she would have never gotten to this place. She owed them so much.
And it was time to repay.
Yashiro thought himself a good judge of character. He did make mistakes, but rarely; whenever he pegged someone as having a certain attitude, a certain air, he was usually correct.
It was a vital skill to possess, especially when one worked among celebrities. But it was also something of a double-edged sword; the people who he did misjudge, he misjudged badly.
Somehow - somehow - he had misjudged Kyouko. She was a good, quiet girl, and dead helpful; whatever the need, whenever the time, Kyouko was there, and anything he asked of her she would do gladly. But he had thought, when he'd first met her, that she'd possessed spunk, a hidden fire within her, the spark of something intriguing.
And he'd been wrong. Kyouko was, simply put, rather docile. She did her work quickly and efficiently, spoke politely when addressed, and otherwise kept her head down, and remained out of sight. If Yashiro didn't sign for her check every other week, he might well have forgotten about her.
Which, he thought with a grimace, is completely unfair. The President told me specifically to keep an eye upon Kyouko, and I'm not doing a very good job of it.
Well, there was no time like the present to rectify things. "Kyouko-san, could I speak to you for a moment?"
The girl's eyes flicked up at him in surprise, and she straightened. "Certainly, Yashiro-san."
The kitchen was dark save for the oven light. Pans of food - grilled fish with steamed rice, perfectly seared steak layered with egg, cutlets of pork with stewed vegetables - lined the countertops. Kyouko had really outdone herself this time. Yashiro envied Ren (who, no doubt, would only eat a small portion of the food Kyouko had cooked, leaving the rest to waste).
Not for the first time, Yashiro wondered if this was a suitable situation for Kyouko - she worked so hard, but most of her efforts went uneaten, and unappreciated. He knew Ren didn't do it purposefully; the man was eating more now than he had before Kyouko, and, to be honest, Ren did to try everything she prepared. In the end, Ren just wasn't a huge eater. But Kyouko, for her part, never complained.
They sat in Ren's living room. There were fading bands of red-gold sunlight filtering from the windows, as evening gave way to night. The warm light slid over Kyouko's skin and face, over the plain work-clothes she had taken to wearing, and into her amber eyes. Looking at her, Yashiro could think of only one word.
Ordinary.
He fought back another grimace. It was an unkind thought, but he had to be honest with himself. Kyouko possessed average looks, and an average temperament. It wasn't her fault, of course. But it made things harder.
Truly, Yashiro wanted nothing more than to see Kyouko get her big break. The President had prevailed upon him to evaluate Kyouko, and with Yashiro's years as a manager of celebrities, he had thought the task would be simple. And it was, in a sense; tonight, when he had a chance to report back to the President (since the man had been dropping none too subtle hints for Yashiro to do so for a while now), Yashiro would tell him the truth.
Kyouko wasn't star quality.
It hurt for him to admit it, even inwardly, so Yashiro forced himself to smile. "Kyouko-san, how would you like to come to the President's charity function?"
For a second, Yashiro could have sworn he saw Kyouko's eyes flicker. "A charity function? Isn't that tomorrow?"
"Yes," he answered slowly. "It's scheduled to start in the evening. Would you be interested in attending?"
Kyouko said nothing for a time, her eyes lowering. An uncomfortable silence stretched, and Yashiro struggled to keep from fidgeting like a child.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "I have never gone to any of the events hosted by LME. What would the President say?"
"He would be delighted that you were there. After all, you're one of his trusted employees."
The girl looked up. Her amber eyes were brilliant, and slightly moist, and the smile that bloomed over her face was inexplicably sad. "Yes, I'm sure the President would be happy, wouldn't he? But I don't think I can come."
When Kyouko offered no explanation, Yashiro simply nodded, and smiled back. It really wasn't his business to pry, and Yashiro was well aware that Kyouko was a private person. "I'm sorry to hear that. I do hope that you'll consider coming to the next event, Kyouko-san," he said, before quickly changing the subject. "So, how is the acting school coming along for you?"
They talked for the next fifteen minutes. Then night fully fell, the sky properly dark, and Ren arrived home, from a late filming for one of his new dramas. Kyouko's gaze snapped in Ren's direction, like a startled rabbit. Quickly, she excused herself from Yashiro, and all but scurried into the kitchen.
Yashiro frowned. Is Kyouko afraid of Ren?
The two of them rarely spoke to each other, for all that Kyouko worked in Ren's apartment for a good portion of the day. Yashiro had never really paid much attention to when they interacted. As Ren's manager, Yashiro had always been of a mind that the man was something of a lady-killer - he was the top actor in Japan, after all, and women all but tripped over themselves to be in his presence. But Kyouko…
Yashiro watched the girl hurriedly put the pans of the food she'd cooked into the refrigerator, then hastily said a polite goodbye to both himself and Ren. When Kyouko left, she was nothing but a blur, the bright bandanna she wore over her hair flashing crimson as she disappeared through the apartment door.
Ren settled himself on one of his pale couches, and idly turned on his television. Yashiro stared at him. "What was that all about?"
Ren didn't even glance at him. "Isn't it obvious? The girl doesn't like me, Yashiro."
And you're okay with that? "Shouldn't you, um, do something, then?"
"And what would you suggest?" Ren asked, with a brilliant smile.
Suddenly, it was Yashiro who was terrified. "N-nothing. I'm sure it will work itself out," he said lamely.
Ren's smile dimmed. "If you think so, Yashiro."
There were times when Shouko just couldn't believe her luck. If someone had told her that she would meet the very person she'd been trying to contact for weeks here, at some over the top charity event, she certainly wouldn't have believed them.
Since things were finally working in her favor, Shouko didn't dare waste any time. "My client, Shou, is working on a PV. We were thinking that you would be an excellent fit."
Long fingered hands wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. "I'm afraid I'm not an actress, Shouko-san," said a voice like cool honey.
"That won't be a problem," Shouko said quickly. "Shou isn't an actor either, nor are the two other girls we've signed to participate in his P.V. Or, at least, the two girls aren't professional actresses, yet."
"I'll think about it."
Shouko felt a flash of dismay. Shou absolutely wanted this woman for his P.V. - he wasn't going to take no, or an I'll think about it, for an answer.
Luckily, Shou came striding to the rescue. The boy looked rather dashing, in a long, dark blue jacket threaded liberally with thin chains of silver. Shouko hoped, for his sake, that whatever ever came out of his mouth would be just as impressive as his clothing.
The model - no, Shoko amended, the super-model - turned her violet-eyed gaze on Shou. Shouko was reminded of nothing more than a predator; a beautiful, patient leopard, waiting for hapless prey to coming within striking distance. And Shou was the gazelle, unsuspecting and completely ignorant of the danger.
Shouko held her breath. Shou was usually quite professional, and she could, most of the time, trust him not to make a fool of himself. But this woman had become an obsession for him - Shouko had seen him gazing at photos of her before and after song rehearsals, and he had let slip that she was his inspiration for his newest ballad, Princess In Snow.
Shou's eyes were dark - even from where she stood, Shouko could see his pupils were disturbingly large.
"I don't think we've met," he said. And, to Shouko's horror, Shou gave the woman a slight bow. "Fuwa Shou."
The model, for her part, gazed at him so long that Shouko began to fear for Shou. Then she smiled - and in an instant, grew immeasurably more lovely - her violet eyes glittering. "Kyouko, representative of White Shogun Enterprises."
"Kyouko," Shou murmured, and Shouko knew he was tasting her name on his tongue. "I knew a Kyouko, once. You're nothing like her."
"Really?" she asked, her smile becoming a touch colder.
Shou smirked. "Yes. She was a childhood friend. A bit forgettable. Not like you."
The model, Kyouko, didn't react to Shou's flagrant flirting; she obviously wasn't like most women, who had a tendency to stammer and blush under Shou's regard. She inclined her head, her violet eyes half-lidded, and her incredibly long, white-blonde hair cascading down a shoulder. "Interesting. I remember there was a man, some time ago, who thought I was very forgettable."
Shou leaned closer to her. "He was a fool."
Feeling suddenly very anxious, Shouko spoke up. "Uh, Shou, I think we should get back."
The model blinked slowly, almost languidly. "Shouko-san is right. I've been gone for too long. I should go."
"Shouko and I will come with you," Shou said.
The walk back was exceedingly awkward for Shouko. For the first time in a while, she realized that Shou, for all that he maintained a smooth, confident air, was still very young and inexperienced. An older man, Shouko knew, would have been able to hide the hungry look that lingered now in Shou's eyes. An older man would not have betrayed himself so easily to a woman, would have smothered the blatant desire that Shou couldn't help but show over his face.
Is this what it feels like to be a third wheel? Shouko wondered, a little dazed.
And then they were back in the throng of celebrities, beneath lights of gold and orange and red. The President of LME, in rare show of restraint, had stopped short of transforming the resort hotel into a traditional Chinese palace - only this area, the resort proper, had been touched by the LME President's hands. Shouko, for one, was rather overwhelmed by the random Chinese warlords gallivanting all over the place, astride galloping, snorting horses - horses, indoors! - but everything else, she supposed, was tolerable. The walls had been padded with brocaded, darkly crimson silk, and an enormous fountain, with a towering, twisted golden dragon spewing water from its mouth, stood center. There were children playing around - and in - the fountain, at least; as for the throne, a monstrosity of gleaming jade and gold, Shouko looked once, and decided never to do it again, lest she permanently blind her eyes.
Shou stayed close to Kyouko, and Shouko, deciding that now was as good a time as any to grab some dinner, made her way to the long buffet tables.
She hoped Shou would remember to convince Kyouko to star in his P.V. - because if he followed Kyouko around for the rest of the night (which Shouko had no doubt he intended on doing so) and didn't get her for his P.V….well, Shouko would let him stew in his own mess.
I feel a headache coming on, she thought, gazing at a line-up of decadent looking cakes. Maybe some chocolate will help…?
More of this charity function to come. As always, forgive any typos and errors.
