~ Chapter Two ~

Ichigo had never been in a photo shoot. The lights were blinding, cameras perched on every end of the venue. The moment rehearsals were finished, Ryou had swept her away to the next appointment, which entailed spending half an hour being plucked and preened by a team of professionals – even though the only thing she was modeling for was a perfume. The clothes she wore felt thin and revealing, but there wasn't much that could be said – not when, according to Ryou, 'such an opportunity was tossed in her direction'.

She stretched-out on a sofa for the first ten minutes, the photographer flitting around her and adjusting her skirts, the pillows, and every other miniscule detail that would be in the pictures. It took a great deal of willpower to lie still while his restless hands darted over and around her. Ryou waited at the rear of the room, his hands in his pockets while he watched in mild amusement. When they returned home, she'd have to smack that smirk off his face. She wasn't getting paid near enough for this and his attitude.

The silk felt cool on her legs, and her mind drifted as the light began to flash. Her thoughts dissipated in the brief glow, drifting until they merged in distorted images. She could feel herself falling into that light until she materialized back on the stage. Ichigo could nearly sense the weight of the microphone, the thrum of nerves as the piano melted into the intro. She was there again, the voices rounding the stadium, the bead of sweat rolling down her spine.

And then in another flash an image broke through her visage – a pair of honey gold eyes, too sharp, too clever to be existent. They pushed through her line of vision, and Ichigo nearly lost her breath as she struggled to come back to the present. She blinked rapidly, lifting a hand to rub her forehead. The photographer let out a frustrated growl, and she flushed hotly as she realized she had been wearing makeup. The team that had worked on her face and outfit staggered, their faces identical masks of horror.

The drive home would have left Ichigo alone to her thoughts if it wasn't for her manager. Ryou didn't opt for silence, instead falling into the routine of voicing his exasperation and discontent with her mistakes during the day. She never had the opportunity to reminisce her own faults because he was always revisiting them for her, and today was no exception.

"I don't understand you. I'm a good manager, aren't I? I book gigs for you, I squeeze you into opportunities that no one else could possibly attain – thanks to my limitless resources. I give you a roof over your head, food to eat, and, for God's sake, professional guidance! What have I done wrong?"

She rested her chin on the door, the tip of her nose touching the window. The glass felt cool. When she breathed the perspiration warmed the surface, forming a fogged circle.

He didn't wait for a response, "When I found you, you were a lump of hopeless, untouched talent. You were a speck on that shrinking blot of a town – and do you remember what you said to me?"

She knew that he'd tell her – for the millionth time. She almost hated her past self now.

"You said, 'For music's future, I'll be of service!'. You sounded like an idiot. But it was something in the way you said it, or maybe in the stupid way you acted like you had everything you wanted within reach – but you were different, Ichigo."

She drew her finger over the window, forming a cat face in the quickly fading circle.

"That's why I chose you. The music industry is constantly changing; people get bored with the same ideas being recycled to them from various artists. I couldn't afford to invest in someone that wasn't special."

The trees and cityscape was a smear of color and lights. When she looked at the road, she could see how fast the car was going. A beat of heavy silence swelled between them, and then she felt his hand on her arm. It was warm, his skin scarred but smooth, fingers calloused from a lot of time on the computer. Ichigo didn't want to look at him – if she did she knew only two things would happen. She'd either give in to his flattery and blue eyes, or she'd lose her temper. The latter was the most likely.

"Ichigo," She could feel her chest constricting, from irritation or elevation she wasn't sure, "There's going to come a point where you can't keep acting like a child. The public wants to see something – the same thing that I saw when I first heard you sing. Potential will only carry you so far before you'll finally have to rise to it."

She waited until they had pulled-up to the curve of the driveway before she responded. It was better to say what she wanted then have somewhere to go, rather than be stuck with him and his temper in that confined space. In a way it was only proving him right about her childishness, but she didn't care.

"When you become a great role model for maturity, let me know."

Akasaka was waiting at the door. It was as though he always knew when to expect them, whether he had notice or not. She didn't speak to him, instead taking the steps to her room two at a time. Ryou was right behind her, yelling up the staircase as she slammed her door. She could still hear him afterward, barking about how stupid he must have been to take his client into his home – even though she was his only one. Ichigo knew he was upset about the photoshoot, and he had every right to be. She had completely ruined the whole thing when she smeared her makeup – a mistake that took another half hour to remedy. The photographer had been angry, and Ryou had taken most of the blame.

It wasn't easy to be a manager. She had seen the way some stars treated theirs, and their managers didn't even give them half the things Ryou gave her. When Ryou had offered to take her as a client, he had sat and spoke with her parents about the requirements. She'd have to do her schooling on the road or at their house on the few occasions they'd be there, and she'd only be able to visit on every other weekend. Mew Project was a blooming company, and since she was one of Ryou's first stars, she would be the face for representing it in the years to come.

She missed her parents. She missed her friends, and she missed being a normal girl. But she wouldn't give this up for any of it. They were necessary sacrifices for achieving her dream. She could still remember drifting into the living room while the TV was on, and hearing his voice for the very first time. He had been her inspiration, the real motivation for why she had even wanted to sing. Ichigo sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching over to her nightstand. She found the CD with an ease that hinted at familiarity. The title was worn now from use, but it still played, just as it had a hundred times. She traced the name, feeling the same ache that it always ensued from thinking too much about it.

The Blue Knight, international pop sensation and the true reason behind her need to be a singer.

His sharp blue eyes were downcast on the cover, fair hair cinched back in a flowing ponytail. There was a mystery to him, something that was left to be questioned. No one knew who he really was outside of that façade; his real identity had yet to be unveiled even after two years. But his music was captivating, with a voice that had been only described as 'angelic' by critics worldwide. Someday she was going to meet him, as a real star and not just a fan. Until then she had a long way to go to reach that level, even if it entailed suffering through Ryou and whatever other obstacles rose.

Ichigo fell back against her pillows, the album snuggly pressed to her heart. The fan circulated overhead, and distantly she could still hear Ryou grumbling. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd have to wait at least an hour before braving a conversation with him. He took forever to cool down; sometimes their tempers were so closely alike that she could predict how and when to approach him. The longer she lived with him, the harder he was to understand. It made her wonder who Ryou really was when she wasn't there, who he had been before the incident had happened. She could still recall the resentment, the bitterness and evenly restrained revulsion that had been in his expression when he spoke of Deep Blue Records at the rehearsal. It left her with the question of why he felt that way toward them; it had to be something much more than company rivalry to draw a feeling like that.

Her thoughts flitted from Deep Blue Records to their band, Cyniclon. Now that she could look back on it, she felt a leisure irritation with the lead singer, Kisshu. She couldn't believe she hadn't disputed his flirtatious behavior. He was attractive in a way she couldn't pinpoint, like a predator might be beautiful. There was a light in his tawny gaze that foreboded danger and mischief. It had followed her to her photo shoot, and now that she thought about it, that boy had been the reason for her ruined appointment.

She had only been angry with Ryou before, but now it was focused toward that Kisshu. The next time she saw him, things would be different. She couldn't afford to be weak with someone like him if she wanted to achieve meeting Blue Knight.

Akasaka had gone out to apologize to the driver for Ryou and Ichigo's dash to the house. He tipped him for his generous wait in their driveway, following leaving a tray in front of Ichigo's door with a square of fresh tiramisu and strawberries. He slipped a little note under her door that said, 'He can come off as a bully, but Ryou has good intentions.' She cracked open her door, spotting the tray on the floor. A soft smile found its way to her lips at the strawberries that had been sliced to form kitty ears and a cute face on the tiramisu. Akasaka really did know how to treat a lady.

She came down some time later, after calling her parents and telling her mother about the rehearsal and photo shoot. Her father was far more concerned with her schooling, and she assured him that Akasaka had been making sure to provide her with textbooks and help her through getting organized homework done. It was aggravating that other pop stars didn't have to do this, but she had to compromise to be away from home – another necessary sacrifice.

Dinner was delicious, as it always was. Akasaka was an outstanding cook, considering that he ran his own bakery when he wasn't at home and tending to Ryou. She shared a grateful smile with him over her tilapia for the surprise left at her door. It was common for the man to sneak sweets to her around meals without Ryou knowing. While her manager was driven and brilliant when it came to the business, he wasn't exactly the most nurturing. If it wasn't for Akasaka, she wouldn't have been able to live away from home – not even for stardom. Ryou was enough to handle without there being someone to pacify him, and the Ichigo bickered with him all the time.

After eating she went back to her room, where she sank back against the headboard and called a close friend. Lettuce was more than a friend, really. She was Ryou's primary costume and wardrobe manager for Ichigo – and once he had other stars in his company, most likely them, too. She was talented with sewing, even though she and Ichigo were the same age. Her reserved, caring nature had led to them being immediate friends, and with Ichigo's hectic lifestyle she didn't make friends often. It was still a wonder that the man had found her at all. Lettuce answered the phone with a cheerful, albeit quiet greeting.

"Hello, Ichigo-san. How was the rehearsal?"

She would have usually been surprised that Lettuce knew about it at all, but Ryou almost always kept the few crew members he had updated.

"It was long and stressful. Ryou was a pushy, arrogant jerk again, and we got into a small fight."

Lettuce paused for a moment, "I'm sure he has the best intentions."

"Maybe he does, but he has the worst way of showing it."

"Well, what happened?"

It wasn't hard to tell her everything; Lettuce was very easy to talk to. The hard part was reliving everything verbally, and before she mentally reviewed what she was saying, she ended-up telling the girl every detail about the day. Not excluding Cyniclon and the odd way that Ryou had been speaking about them and their company. She told her about Kisshu and their meeting, not withholding the distaste in her tone. By the end of it she felt like she had just poured the entire day on the girl.

"It does sound odd," She admitted about Ryou and his reaction, "But isn't Blue Knight signed on with Deep Blue Records?"

Ichigo swallowed thickly, a bubble of anxiety expanding in her stomach. There was no way. She couldn't have missed something like that, not when the very company she was in rivaled that label. She reached for the album, her hand finding it like it had a million times before. Her eyes scanned the back, over the sponsors until it found the record label.

Deep Blue Records.

Something in her chest released, like a blood vessel bursting. It was painful and brief, and Ichigo stared numbly at the cover. The familiar planes of his face blurred, and she could vaguely hear Lettuce in her ear.

"Ichigo-san? Ichigo-san, are you alright?"

This wasn't possible. How could she ever know someone if they were her enemy in the industry? Cyniclon was with that label, but not Blue Knight.

Please not Blue Knight.

"I heard Deep Blue Records is participating in the music festival next week. Their artists are going to be doing a meet-and-greet with other contributing acts."

Ichigo straightened.

"Is Mew Project going to be in it?"

Lettuce didn't respond at first, and she was afraid she might have sounded too excited, too eager.

"You would have to ask Ryou."