She watches blond and black hair intertwine as the black-haired man bends his head to whisper into the blond's ear. Only the low susurration of the voice reaches her ears, but she finds meaning embedded in the blond's shifting expressions. The mobility of his face is what makes Natori Shuuichi, her castmate, such a good actor. Though, perhaps, Natori wishes even now that his expressive face could be as composed as his dark companion. He can be stunningly private at times, she knows, but his face always betrays him.

Or maybe she knows Natori well enough to decipher his expressions. After all, Natori Shuuichi and Naoki Hisae are Japan's most beloved actor and actress. They had even starred in many a film together—an iconic duo. But even after this long together, there is still an insurmountable distance between the two. Oh, he is very friendly and charming but there is an emptiness beneath that facade that does not invite further interaction. In fact, look at him now! He and his brother hold off to the side from the set. Natori does not even introduce his brother to the others. As if he could not bear this infringement on his professional life by his personal life.

"Of course, onii-sama," Natori says, clear and audible. There's a curious inflection on the suffix. Hisae would almost characterize the suffix as a joking formality, if not for the resignation imbuing the suffix. It's also an odd usage since she's fairly sure that Natori is the older brother ("My little brother," he had said with lips that twist, "is very particular."). His brow has minute furrows running through that belie the conviction in his voice.

Natori's brother—Matoba Seiji, she finally recalls—separates from Natori. An alien expression crosses Matoba's fine-boned face. A smile tilts up the corners of his mouth with a chilling mechanical precision. It could just be that Natori's brother is just socially awkward but maybe, there really is nothing underneath that lovely flesh and bone. Her meager observation of him sends chills down her spine. She cannot comprehend how Natori could have grown up with that .

Hisae watches Natori who stares after Matoba's retreating form. A tension she had not noticed (it rankles to see how unknowable Natori can be) eases off Natori's shoulders. He lets out a little exhale and his eyes wander away until they meet Hisae's gaze. A blinding smile lights his face—a luminescence that warms the air around him. He runs a hand through his hair and sets off a few giggles from the huddle of female extras gathered off to the side.

Hisae arches a brow and sidles up to him. "Onii-sama, hmm?" she says. The most refreshing thing about Natori is that she never has to beat around the bush with him. She doesn't have to charm him because any efforts are futile.

Natori laughs. It is not one of his pretty, charming laughs that enthrall, but rather something rough and gnarled like lightning-struck oak. "When we were kids," he says wistfully, "Seiji could never abide by being the younger one. He was a spoiled brat—still is. Used to throw tantrums. Always had to get his way." The fond reminiscence turns into a brotherly disdain that reminds Hisae of her own contentious relationship with her siblings. But there is something darker lurking in that tone of his—the repression of memories arising with each recollection.

Hisae prides herself on her intuitiveness and her people skills. It takes more than beauty and acting skill to get as far in her career as she has. It takes intelligence—emotional intelligence to successfully navigate the perilous acting world. The people who applaud you will just as easily mock you. She thinks Natori has experience with that phenomenon—too much experience.


A/N: Actually posted on Nov. 24 on AO3. I'm more active on AO3 and tumblr. I'm also tunnelOFdawn on both. I take prompts on my tumblr and post fic previews and drabbles. On AO3, I post author notes indicating chapter amounts or other commentary.

Prompt was: Can you do Matoba Seiji&Natori Shuuich? Anything is fine