Sad Eyes
Summary: Kyoko was unprepared when Ren made the mistake of speaking his true feelings, and she ran away. Now she is more mature, but is unwilling to forgive herself for her childish action. Will Ren be able to win his way back to her side before another steals her heart?
Disclaimer: I do not own SkipBeat! or any of the manga's characters. All of the rest is the invention of my odd, restless mind.
Chapter 3 – Flies in the Ointment
Yasamura Hikachimato looked down with possessive pride at Ukita Isaland from his private executive helicopter. When he inherited the family empire there had only been one Yasamura hotel on the island. Now there were three resort hotels that looked to the Yasamura Group for guidance. Before he was finished, he intended to own the entire island.
It was fitting that it should be so. Long ago his family had been samurai, and this island had been a part of the family's holdings. The family had fallen into debt and the island had slipped from their control. Hikachimato remembered sitting at his grandfather's feet and listening to his stories of past glory. When the new regime in the 1900's had broken the back of the samurai families, his family had been among the many victims. In order to avoid further problems, the family had changed its name from Ukita to Yasamura. Hikachimato's parents had scolded grandfather for trying to revive a past long dead, but Hikachimato disagreed. He vowed to restore the family name, the family honor, and the family's possessions… beginning with Ukita Island.
The problem was that the Islander's had been independent of the Ukita family for over 100 years. They were a small, proud group who had no interest in selling one centimeter of their property. The western side of the island had once been devastated by a Tsunami, leaving it open to settlement by Yasamura and other hoteliers. But the Eastern side of the island remained stubbornly uncooperative in his efforts to buy them out.
The key to his eventual success, as far as the fifty-two year-old man was concerned, lay in ownership of the Morishita Ryokan. The beautiful though antiquated wood-built hotel sat on a hillside like a castle, dominating the eastern view of the China Sea. It served as a landmark and a source of pride for the islanders; a symbol of everything they loved about their home. If he could seize possession of this hotel, then he would have the psychological edge he needed to make those pesky islanders bend to his will. And he intended to possess that hotel very soon.
It had been two years since Hikachimato had last visited the island. In that time he had built two new hotels in coastal communities on the mainland. He was a patient man, and he could tell that Morishita was slipping fast now that his lovely little wife had passed on. The businessman was confident that two years would have been enough to push the aging man over the edge. By now the ancient, traditional-style hotel would have certainly fallen into disrepair. More than likely there would be barely any guests at all, given that vacationers had five luxury resort hotels to choose from on the other side of the island. Today was the day; Hikachimato intended to move in for the kill.
The helicopter banked into the turn even though it was not necessary to do so. Yasamura Hikachimato liked to put on a show, and a speeding executive helicopter was perfect for creating the impression of power. The pilot cycled back when the chopper was only ten meters off of the ground, creating a cyclone of dust as he settled the heavy, sleek vehicle onto the public parking lot. Hakachimato smiled triumphantly as he saw the islanders of Old Town stepping out of their shops and homes to view the spectacle. Look all you need to. I'll show you what real power is. After today I will be on my way to owning this whole, pathetic little town.
As he stepped out, he looked up the hill at the ryokan. It looked just as grand as he remembered. Somehow he had expected it to look more dilapidated. Matsuda Kudo, his executive assistant, stepped out with the briefcase and stood beside his boss. Without acknowledging the man, Hikachimato started up the sidewalk to the hotel. It was the noon hour, but this didn't concern him. After all, two years ago there was barely any business; certainly it would be worse now. What better time to make his appearance than while Morishita was faced with his own failure?
The dignified businessman was shocked, therefore, when he had to step to one side as an entire group of twenty-somethings walked out of the restaurant just as he was about to enter. He looked at Matsudo with raised eyebrows, but the assistant shrugged to indicate his lack of information. The businessman scowled and then stepped through the door that Matsudo held open for him. Inside of the spacious dining area, there were only two tables open. Tourists and locals sat at tables and chatted amiably, basking in the old-world atmosphere and sipping on tea.
A very attractive, prepossessing young lady in a classic light-blue kimono bowed gracefully, "Good afternoon, gentleman. Welcome to our humble establishment. May I lead you to a seat?" Hikachimato, although shocked at the unexpected crowd, was still alert enough to feel annoyed, Why is such an obviously high-class young lady working here instead of at one of my hotels? Oh well, it won't matter once I own this place.
The young lady walked with perfect grace and an almost too-perfect posture as she led them to a traditional-style low table. "Gentlemen, one of my assistants will be with you soon to serve tea. Our special for today is sashimi, if this doesn't interest you, then a we will bring you a menu. Hikachimato replied, "sashimi will be fine, miss…?"
"Forgive me for not properly introducing myself. I am Asahi Fumiko, the okami-san for this ryokan."
He frowned as he watched her walk away, She's the okami-san! I wasn't aware that Morishita had any other relatives than the ones I knew about. She can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. She's not old enough to run a hotel like this, regardless of her obviously high-class upbringing. And did she say assistants?
His last question was answered for him when Satako, also dressed in a kimono, approached with a tea set. Her eyes widened in recognition and then she schooled her expression, "Your tea, sirs." Hikachimato felt slightly mollified, At least somebody here recognizes me. I don't know who that other young lady is, but she's obviously not a local. Those are the most unusual eyes I've seen for a while; are they really golden?
Satako made a beeline for the front area as soon as she was out of the line of sight of the two men. "Asahi-san, do you know who that is?"
"Satako-san, you know how strict Taisho is about protocol. Please call me Okami-san when you're working."
Satako looked flustered, "I'm sorry… I keep forgetting. Do you know who that is, Okami-san?"
"If you mean the two men in the corner, I assume that they are both businessmen."
"Not just businessmen," Satako hissed, "That's Yasamura, the owner of three of the hotels on the other side of the island. He also owns, like, seven or eight more hotels on the mainland."
If she expected a shocked reaction, she was disappointed, "Hmmm… frankly I'm surprised that they stopped to eat here. I'm tied up here, so could you go back and tell Taisho? He would probably like to know."
Satako watched the strange girl walk casually away and shook her head. A voice behind her made her jump, "What's wrong, Satako-san?"
Satako turned to look at her friend, "I just told Asahi Fumiko that Yasamura was here, and she didn't even bat an eye. I told you she is some rich heiress. She must be so loaded that a little thing like eleven hotels doesn't even phase her."
Morishita, on the other hand, was agitated; but not because of any feeling of inferiority. Yasamura Hikachimato had been a plague on his existence two years before… shortly after Morishita's wife had died. While his loss was still the most severe, that obnoxious hotelier had started pestering him to sell, sell, sell. Morishita had been almost ready to pull his meat cleaver from the kitchen and chase the man down before it finally stopped. Suddenly, out of the blue, Yasamura had stopped coming over. Now two years had passed, and he was back again.
He looked down at the raw fish in front of him, and up at the orders on the order hanger. Let the man wait. He was the one who chose to come here during the lunch rush.
It was another seventy-five minutes before Morishita was finally free to leave his kitchen. Hikachimato hated to be kept waiting at any time, but on this day he chose to ignore the passing of time. Truthfully, he was fascinated with the young lady who had introduced herself as the okami-san. There was something about her, a poise and hidden strength that intrigued him. He noticed that the two other teenage girls working there deferred to the slightly older girl automatically and without rancor. Although the dining room was full most of the time, the three young ladies never appeared rushed; and yet the tea was always hot and ready, the food service was excellent, and everything was done with dignity and grace. I have to find out who this young lady is. She must come from a hoteliers family; she acts like she's done this work forever.
He wracked his brains for all of the hoteliers he knew who had families. There were certainly girls within that set of the same age… but those golden eyes… surely he had seen those somewhere before. Then he had a sudden, unpleasant suspicion: Did some other hotel group send her in to end-run me? Is she here to get into Morishita's good graces so that they could steal this hotel out from under me?
The thought made his blood boil, and he considered trying to feel the young lady out; but before he could call her over, Morishita walked out and up to his table. "Hello, Hikachimato-san, I haven't seen you for several years. How are you?" Morishita used the businessman's given name deliberately. He was older than the other man by two decades, and he considered himself on equal footing, despite the millionaire's arrogant attitude.
Yasamura Hikachimato stiffened, but he quickly composed himself and stood with an extended hand. When Morishita didn't respond, Hikachimato bowed instead, "It's good to see you, old friend. You are looking well."
Morishita could hear the disappointment behind the man's last words. He took a seat and the two men followed suit. "I'm feeling well. In fact, I'm feeling better than I have for years."
Hikachimato seethed beneath his friendly demeanor, "I must say, the ryokan is looking much better, and much busier, than the last time I was here."
"We are eighty-percent full or better for most of the season now. And as you saw, the restaurant has become quite popular again." As Morishita responded, the young okami-san appeared and silently replenished everyone's tea. Hikachimato was impressed with the fact that a cup had appeared before Morishita without him or anyone else realizing it. "Invisible service" was a skill that it took years to teach. Is she trained as a geisha, perhaps?
As their conversation continued, Hikachimato's eyes followed the young lady. There was a table of young men who were doing their best to monopolize her attention. She handled them politely and professionally, deflecting their flirtations in a way that didn't offend, but also made it clear that she wasn't interested. At another table an older couple was arguing. She disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with two desserts. The couple was clearly confused; they obviously hadn't ordered those items. The young lady said something that he couldn't hear, and both the man and woman smiled. When she walked away, they were eating their desserts with a new, companionable air. Why is a girl like that working in a run-down place like this? What is she really up to?
"So why did you come to see me today, Hikachimato-san?" The younger hotelier jerked himself back to an awareness of his lunch partner. When he looked at the elderly ryokan owner, he saw amusement in the man's eyes.
"Ha-hmmm," he cleared his throat loudly, "my apologies for drifting off. It's been a long day and it was a long flight from the mainland. To be frank, I am here to renew my offer to purchase your hotel. I was wrong to approach you while the loss of your lovely wife was so fresh on your heart. Time has passed, and your time of grieving is in the past; so I wanted to start afresh. Would you consider selling your ryokan to me?"
Morishita was blunt in his response, "I would not. This ryokan has been in my family for seven generations. It has survived war, depression, and storm. It burned to the ground once, but my family rebuilt it. I will not sell."
"But, with no family…?"
"There is family," Morishita asserted stubbornly. He caught a slight change of expression in the younger man, but it vanished too quickly for the elderly man to interpret it. "When the time comes, there is family to step into my place. I will not sell."
"Well then," Hikachimato looked content and undisturbed as he rose from the sitting mats, "I can only thank you for a wonderful meal and excuse myself, old friend." He and associate bowed to the taisho and walked toward the entrance. Hikachimato wondered if the old man would make a point about the bill. The young lady was at the entrance, just as she had been when they entered. She seemed to examine him with those golden eyes. She bowed and said, "thank you for coming and have a blessed day."
Once the door was shut behind them, he finally gave vent to his anger by kicking at a stone sculpture on one side of the path. It hurt his foot, making him limp foolishly as he walked up the path towards the… Where's my helicopter? What the…
His pilot stood on the path, looking like a man expecting to be beaten for his failure. "Where is the helicopter?"
"I was forced to move it to the clearing a block to the west. The new Chief of Police gave me a ticket for landing in an unauthorized spot and demanded that I move or see the helicopter impounded."
"HE DID WHAT!" Hikachimato's urbane attitude vanished completely now. The old police chief had been a weak man, easily intimidated. Hikachimato had read the dossier on this new man. It was clear that he was cut from a different cloth; but he certainly hadn't expected such a bold move.
"Sir, we need to be at the executive board meeting in thirty-five minutes." Matsudo, his executive assistant, prompted.
Fine; I'll deal with the new police chief later. The three men walked down the sidewalk, ignoring the curious and amused stares of the Old-town residents, "Matsudo, it seems we have some flies in the ointment. Get me everything you can on that young lady and the new police chief. This may call for more aggressive tactics." He imagined Morishita laughing into his saki. That's fine, old man. I have an ace up my sleeve. Before this year is out, I'm going to own your hotel and be well on my way to owning all of Old Town.
"Are you feeling all right, Ren?" Yashiro was deeply saddened by the tall man's listless demeanor. Tsuruga Ren, the consummate professional, was still perfect on-set. But off set, when the lights were turned off and the cameras were put away, he moved through life like an automaton.
Ren answered without looking at his faithful manager, "I'm fine, Yashiro-san. What's my schedule for tomorrow?"
"It's full from dawn 'til dusk, as usual. Ren, you won't win her back by working yourself to death." He saw the actor stiffen, but he didn't make any other response. Yashiro sighed, "I'm really sorry that I pushed you into deepening your relationship with Kyoko-chan. You were right when you said she wasn't ready. I should have…"
"It wasn't your fault, Yukihito," Ren almost never used Yashiro's given name. He was unfailingly formal in working relationships. It made Yashiro feel worse that it was used now, in such a situation. "I told her my feelings… it was spontaneous… I couldn't keep it in." Ren's voice became husky with regret, "I hurt her, not you." It was the most that Ren had ever said about Kyoko to his manager.
They continued on in silence until they reached Yashiro's apartment complex. As Yashiro climbed out, he held onto the door and leaned in for one final word, "Find her, Ren. I still believe that she cares for you. I watched the two of you, and I don't believe that her feelings were purely platonic."
Ren made no reply and Yashiro bowed his head as he closed the passenger-side door. Ren was consumed by his thoughts on the way home. I should have waited. I told her for all of the wrong reasons. Our time together as the Heel siblings made me hope… Kyoko, I'm so sorry.
He parked the car in his reserved spot and sat there lifelessly. After several long minutes he forced himself to open the door and get out. He ached all over, and it took great effort these days to do the simplest things. Even the long work hours didn't help to stave off the depression that threatened to consume him whole. The foyer was empty, as was the elevator. Nothing hindered his ascent to his penthouse apartment or his maudlin train of thought.
Once inside, he poured himself a glass of scotch, and then he sat on the floor with his back against the couch. He took a sip, made a face, and set the scotch down. For the first several months he had waited, hoping desperately that Kyoko would change her mind and return to him. For the next several months he became a closet drinker, drowning his restless thoughts so that he could sleep and start another meaningless day. But the vision or Kyoko's disapproving face made him step back from the bottle. He didn't want to do anything that would destroy his ethereal hope that he could somehow win Kyoko's heart. Now he just moved through life in a stupor, working and sleeping. The hope that Kyoko would return to him was fading, slowly, day-by-day.
He reached back and pulled out his wallet. He found it where he always kept it, laminated and folded carefully so that it would fit in the hidden flap. It was the letter that Kyoko had sent him a month after she vanished. Tossing the wallet aside, he opened the note and read it for the thousandth time:
Dear Tsuruga-sempai,
I'm sorry for running off in the way that I did and not facing you directly. I never thought of myself as a coward until that day, and I hope that you can forgive me. I am not a true professional, because I also failed in my commitments and obligations. This is the last time I will write to you and the last time I will address you as sempai. I have proven myself unworthy to be your kohai.
Sempai, I respect you more than any other person, both as an actor and as a man. When I first met you I thought that you were arrogant and cruel. But as I got to know you I learned that you were kind, and compassionate, and honest. That is why I have decided to believe that you were telling the truth when you said that you loved me. But I think that you were mistaken and confused.
Because of the time we spent together as brother and sister I think that you developed a heightened sense of affection for me. You even almost killed a man in order to protect your little sister. When that time was over, it was only natural that those feelings would linger. I felt the same about you. I always wanted a big brother who I could love and respect, and you were better than anything I could have dreamed of. After that, I think you became confused because of your brotherly need to protect and care for such a pathetic, untalented girl.
My true feelings for you do not matter. If I could ever love again, I would certainly love somebody like you. But I am unworthy of love. My mother did not love me. The boy I once cared about only used me. You are different from them because you are a man with a wonderful heart. You could have any woman in the world if you wanted, so it makes no sense that you would choose somebody like me. So please forget about me and find a woman who is worthy of you. And please forgive me for being such a wretched, unworthy kohai,
Yours truly,
Mogami Kyoko.
He stared at the letter until his vision clouded with unwanted moisture. His hands were shaking as he carefully laid the letter on the coffee table. His head ached horribly and he felt fuzzy, so he leaned back. Several minutes passed before he fell into a fevered sleep and the glass of scotch fell from his hand.
When Tsuruga Ren failed to pick Yashiro up the next morning, his manager knew that something must have gone terribly wrong. He called the President of LME, Takarada Lory, who sent Sebastian over. Sebastian rang the bell repeatedly without response. He pulled out a master key that could open any lock and went to work. In a matter of seconds he was in the door. It was another ten minutes before the ambulance arrived.
Notes: Don't worry... he'll be fine. I promise.