Note: Written for the LJ challenge community fanfic100. Updated 6-28-15 for some site-induced typo fixes, because the Pit loves to subtly trip us up.
A Manager's Devotion, Chapter 2: Who?
The shoot for R Mandy's next big magazine spread was to be done on location in a seaside park towards the end of Shichirigahama Beach's hotel strip. The morning's weather had chosen to cooperate for a few hours. It was bright, clear, and windless at the moment, but clouds were due to roll in around noon. The photography crew was under pressure to make the most of what time they had, and that urgency had spread to the rest of the staff and the models as well.
The models' wardrobe and makeup trailer had to be parked on pavement, which meant the men were forced to walk to the actual shoot location on the beach proper. Normally this was nothing remarkable, except this time someone had leaked the pertinent information to yet another fan web page. Thus, the simple 20 meter walk to the shooting site had been rendered into a roped-off gauntlet of already frazzled assistants and crew members pressed into guard duty, shrieking fans trying to overpower them, and those fans' ever-present instruments of evil: camera cell phones.
When Ren emerged from the trailer with Yashiro right behind him, the women exploded in an orgasm of joy, camera clicks, and cell phone brandishing. Ren gave them his cool smile and briskly walked down the roped pathway, calm and professional as always in his first set of R Mandy clothes. Yashiro followed two steps behind, his eyes scanning the fans thronging on both sides. That meant he was just close enough for the hem of Ren's long designer jacket to brush his legs as they moved, but what of it?
They had almost reached the safety of the location perimeter when a fangirl shrieked her battle cry over the cacophony, Kyaaa! Tsuruga-sama! I must touch you! and hurled herself forward under the rope, aiming directly for Ren. Her flailing feet caught the ankles of one of her fellow fans, making the other woman topple forward with a cry.
Yashiro darted forward and caught the tumbling woman against his chest, before Ren could pause to help and only make things worse. "Go, Ren!" he sharply ordered, and two guards hustled the protesting actor away. Yashiro caught a glimpse of Ren's face as he was pulled behind the shoot barrier screens and inwardly grimaced.
The mob of fans wilted once the object of their desire vanished, and a few mouthy ones yelled obscenities at the guards and Yashiro in particular. He chose to ignore them. For the moment, at least. Instead, he looked down at the woman he still held and was surprised to see her staring up at him.
Her face was flushed, she was almost crying, and her familiar forward-sloping wedge haircut was in disarray. A few strands were caught on her dark red lips.
Yashiro froze for a moment in recognition, then gently pushed her back so she could stand on her own feet. He kept his hands on her upper arms until she stopped wobbling, though her face remained bright red. "Are you okay, miss?" he asked, his voice warm with concern.
She managed a nod, sniffed a bit, and when he released her arms, gave him a thankful bow and moved two steps back.
When he raised his gaze from her to the milling throng, his manner completely changed, as if a switch had been thrown. Yashiro Yukihito had had enough. He coldly surveyed them all, his eyes glinting like sharp chips of ice. The crowds instantly fell silent, and the women closest to him involuntarily backed away. Even the OL he had just saved shied from him, a hand at her mouth and eyes wide.
"You all love Tsuruga Ren, yes?" His quiet voice cut through them, his manner made even more intimidating by his controlled tone. "If you love Tsuruga Ren, then you know him. And if you know him, then you know how important his work is to him. And you are interfering with it."
A gasp of dismay rippled through the fans, and Yashiro was darkly satisfied to see most of the faces flush with shame. He stared at them in iced silence for several seconds to drive the point home, his eyes moving over the crowd, noting how many of them averted their gazes. Only the OL he had saved met his eyes; the tears in her own finally spilling over to trickle down her cheeks. He nodded once at them all, then turned on his heel and strode the remaining distance to the shooting site.
He stopped behind the white reflective screens and took several deep breaths. It was done. The fans were out of his personal sphere for now, and hopefully they would be more respectful the next time they intruded again to stalk his client. "Adoring fans are the lifeblood of a celebrity," he whispered Ren's words to himself. "Consider their dedication as proof that you're doing your job well." He breathed deeply once more, then let it out and looked for Ren.
The shoot was already underway, and Ren was leaning back against a mossy boulder covered with a carefully placed sheet of clear plastic. Ren's long jacket had been unbuttoned to show the form-fitting shirt and black belt beneath, and the trousers slouched just right around the top of his leather boots. His hair was tousled so his bangs half-obscured his eyes, which looked up at the photographer through long, seductive lashes.
"C'est bon, Monsieur Tsuruga! Now cross your arms! Superbe! Magnifique! Lower your head a touch and really give me a powerful glare. Kyaa! C'est bon! Trés bon!" The photographer stepped back from his camera with a satisfied smirk on his face, waving at the makeup crew to go in and do some touchup. "You're in fine form today, Monsieur Tsuruga. Your stern expressions are particularly arresting! Trés formidable!"
Yashiro sighed. He could see what the camera crew could not—that Ren wasn't acting stern for the shoot, he really was angry. The consummate actor he was, Ren could hide it very well. But for those who truly knew him, the emotion was there. In his pressed lips, in how cords of his neck particularly stood out in the morning sun, in the way his eyes sparked beneath those sinisterly lowered lids. A frisson of foreboding shivered through Yashiro. When he caught Ren's gaze around the makeup artist's ministrations, he calmly faced the anger and gave Ren a nod of acknowledgement.
"Vite vite!" The photographer cried in his affected French. "Monsieur Marshall, join Monsieur Tsuruga now! Oui!"
Accepting a cup of coffee from an assistant, Yashiro sipped, consulted his schedule book, and with an occasional glance at Ren, patiently waited for the firestorm.
Ren's stony silence filled the LME car as they began their journey to the next job. Yashiro silently listened to the sound of the rain hitting the windows and the faint swoosh of the windshield wipers. Even the driver had picked up on the tension in the car, as Yashiro could see the man's knuckles where white where he gripped the steering wheel in both hands at the formal 10 and 2 positions.
They continued in silence for a good half hour of the drive back to the city. Yashiro was content to let Ren stew. He already knew what his client would say, and rushing Ren into it or trying to head him off would only upset the man more.
Finally, Yashiro sensed Ren shift as the actor pushed the button in the arm rest on his side to raise the barrier between them and the driver. Then, he spoke.
"Yashiro-san, there was no need to remove me from the crowd. It was because of me that woman was knocked over, and I should have been the one to help her. She was my responsibility." He had cooled somewhat, but the anger was still there.
Yashiro pushed his glasses up with one hand. "And you are my responsibility, Ren. I understand your pride as a celebrity. I know you care about your fans. I knew you wanted to help her, but in that particular moment, that particular situation, it was too great a risk. I couldn't allow you to take it."
"I can control my fans. They have never hurt anyone before, and I would not allow them to start now."
"You can control small groups of them, yes, but over 30 women? All of them shrieking and frantic just at the sight of you? What a disaster it could have been for you to play the dashing prince and save one of them. The others could easily have been consumed with jealousy and swamped you. They likely would have attacked that poor woman as well and ripped both of you to shreds. Her out of revenge, and you out of sheer desire and anger that you didn't save them. That one charging fan was already desperate for a piece of you and willing to do anything for it. Think what might happen if all of them had been!"
Yashiro saw Ren clench his fist on the seat between them and turn his head away to glare out the window. His manager took a breath and calmly continued, "What you said yesterday is right, Ren. Consider their dedication as proof that you are doing your job well. That 'you' extends to both of us." He reached out with his near arm to grip Ren's shoulder and give him a shake. Ren's body was so tense it felt like trying to move a bronze sculpture. "You've been doing your job so well that fans lose their minds when they see you. You drive them crazy and make them forget themselves. They love you so much, they'll risk bodily harm just to touch you. A handful of crazed fans are easy to deal with. But a mob? They may be small women and girls half your size, but Ren! They could seriously injure you en masse!"
He leaned over to Ren and shook the man's shoulder again, gratified to feel some of the tension had left Ren's body. He was listening.
"I saved that woman from falling in your stead. I did it to protect her, yes, but in truth, I did it to protect you.That's my job as your manager, Ren. Understand that, please."
With a sigh, Ren relaxed against his seat, and Yashiro was able to give his shoulder a real squeeze.
"Who was she? The woman you saved."
Yashiro felt a stab in his gut. He removed his hand. "I don't know. I didn't ask." It was his turn to stare out the window.
Ren made a resigned noise. "Was she injured?"
"No. When I asked her if she was okay, she said she was." In a flash, Yashiro suddenly remembered the tears that had streamed down her cheeks after he had verbally slapped them all. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I recognized her. She's been following you for at least three days, and likely more," he admitted. "She even came all the way out to Shichirigahama."
He heard Ren shift to look at him, and he glanced over to catch Ren's eye.
"If I see her again, I'll find out who she is."
Ren smiled, a bright beam of thanks in the gray afternoon. "Thank you, Yashiro-san."
Yashiro forced himself to give him a casual smile in return and glanced away. "It's nothing, Ren."
"Tsuruga-san, in Scene 4, why did you have Katsuki pause outside the door, without looking in, before entering? The script mentioned Katsuki paused after seeing Mitsuki was in the room." Kyoko removed Ren's bento box from the large handkerchief she used for wrapping and placed his lunch in front of him, then moved to sit in her chair at their small round table.
Ren thanked her with a smile and answered, "By this point in Dark Moon, Katsuki is able to recognize Mitsuki's presence. He doesn't need to actually see her, he can sense her beforehand."
Kyoko's eyes shone. "Ohhh! Of course, Tsuruga-san! How powerful and poignant!"
Yashiro hid his grin behind his menu and tried to find something to eat while still paying attention to Ren and Kyoko's conversation. No doubt Kyoko had just added another line to her mental wall scroll, this one likely marked with several sparkly hearts and an angel of love to denote its extra romantic qualities.
The three of them were taking lunch in the station cafeteria, as Yashiro didn't care for today's official Dark Moon crew bento box. Ren always ate whatever bento Kyoko had prepared for him that morning, and today she had also brought one for herself. Yashiro had been touched when they offered to accompany him to the cafeteria upon seeing his glum look at the contents of the official bento, especially since Ren and Kyoko could eat anywhere they liked, with or without him. Yashiro enjoyed company and thought food tasted better when eaten with friends, and he couldn't think of two people he'd rather share a meal with more. Not to mention the increased opportunity of furthering his little scheme. He was rather proud of how he'd managed to claim a round table, thus ensuring Ren and Kyoko would be closer together than if they'd sat at a booth, where propriety would dictate Kyoko sit must alone on one side. A booth also would have meant he and Ren share the other bench, but personal sacrifices were all part of the plan. Besides, he allowed his foot to bump Ren's every so often under the table in pure innocence. That was plenty of contact.
"Yashiro-kun!" The sudden call roused him from his smug perusal of the soup selections. He looked up to see an out of breath Dark Moon crew member trot to their table. The man stopped in front of them, bowed, and took several deep breaths. Yashiro had a nasty premonition of a horde of fangirls storming the station, demanding his head on a plate.
"I'm glad I found you before you ordered, sir!"
The shrieking mob of women vanished in a puff of smoke. "Pardon?"
"It's this, sir." The man lifted up his hands to show the item he was carrying. The three of them examined it, and they all blinked in unison.
"That looks like a wrapped bento box," Yashiro observed.
"Yes, sir! It was just delivered for lunch."
Yashiro sighed, laid down his menu, and massaged his temples. "Tsuruga-kun only eats meals specially prepared for him by Kyoko-chan or station staff."
"No, sir! I mean, yes sir, we all know that!" The man shifted a bit, and Yashiro was surprised to see a blush creep across his face. "This bento was delivered specifically for you, Yashiro-kun."
Yashiro stared at him, shocked into silence.
"Is it from his mother?" Ren leaned forward to ask.
The man's blush increased. "No, Tsuruga-kun! It was delivered by a fan. Or at least, we all think she was a fan. She was really blushing and asked for 'Yashiro-san'." He grinned. "She was a real beauty!
Yashiro's breath came back to him in a rush. He stood to take the bento from the man. "Thank you."
"No problem, sir!" The man gave him another knowing grin, bowed, and left.
Setting the bento down on the table, Yashiro resumed his seat. The trio studied the box for several moments. Like Kyoko's boxes, it was a compact, stacked version for easy transportation, and it was wrapped in a large kerchief of white, widely striped with blue.
"Who could it be from?" Kyoko asked, wide-eyed.
Yashiro shook his head in puzzlement. He glanced up when he heard Ren make a small noise of realization.
"Perhaps it isn't one-sided after all," Ren said with an encouraging smile.
Yashiro felt Ren's words and warm expression like a slap to his face. Without answering or looking at Ren, he quickly untied the handkerchief to reveal a black lacquered bento box inside. He removed the lid and separated the two tray layers.
"Ohhhh!" Kyoko breathed in appreciation.
The bento's contents were a work of art. The two layers portrayed a seaside landscape. Rice beach, barley gravel, a fence of sliced ginger, daikon spear tree trunks with broccoli leaves, sprinkled herbs and seaweed for grass, sushi roll boulders, a yellow sky of tamagoyaki, cherry tomato setting sun, rice noodle clouds, and a sparkling blue ocean wave with pink highlights that had to be some form of home-made sugared desert. It was completely breathtaking.
"Yashiro-san!" Kyoko clapped her hands to her cheeks. "That would have taken hours to make! Who is she, do you have any idea?"
Ren settled back in his chair, as pleased as a fan that had bought a magazine for an interview and found a photo spread bonus inside. "Please do tell us, Yashiro-san. Who is she? The crew was apparently quite impressed with her." He paused to give Yashiro a sly smile. "I must admit, I'm very curious myself."
Yashiro felt another stab at Ren's interest and looked back down to study the amazing bento. "I really don't know." He found the black chopsticks included inside. "It's...it's so pretty, it's a shame to eat it."
"I wish my cell phone had a camera..." Kyoko sighed.
The two men flinched.
Kyoko's face was suffused with joy, her eyes huge and filled with unshed tears of happiness. The girl positively quivered with emotion. "How wonderfully romantic, for her to make this bento just for you, Yashiro-san! She must have woken up so very early to do it, and she brought it to the station herself! All done to show her feelings for you! That implies so much! Kyaaa!" Kyoko almost swooned out of her chair in romantic ecstasy.
Quickly, Yashiro stole a glance at Ren. The actor's hand had frozen in the act of reaching for his first bite of food from the bento box Kyoko had made for him that morning. This time, it was Ren's turn to blush. A small affair, just a dusting of pink across his cheeks. He must have felt Yashiro's eyes on him, as he lifted his face to meet his manager's gaze. His expression was almost pained.
Yashiro gave him a sympathetic smile and motioned him to eat. After a quiet, "Itadakimasu," he started as well, lifting one of the sushi-roll boulders out of the tray and sampling it carefully. Kyoko seemed completely oblivious about what she had just said. Even now, she was dreamily eating her bento and gently swaying to some unheard fantasy symphony, her sparkly expression distant. Yashiro could swear he saw beribboned bluebirds and shimmers floating around her.
He was pleased to discover the decorative bento was every bit as delicious as it was beautiful. He was reaching for a second bite when he saw a small wax paper envelope tucked into the side right next to the ginger fence. After setting down his chopsticks, Yashiro lifted it out and removed the interior card. It only contained two words written in an elegant hand with a brush, 'Thank you'.
The words combined with the panoramic beach was all Yashiro needed to realize who had sent him the bento. He closed the card, replaced it in the envelope, and continued eating.
This was...unexpected.