Chapter IV

Kyoko

It was some time later, when I had cooled down, that I let reason rule my actions rather than panic. Having neither phone, nor map, nor instructions on my person to guide me, I was left with only my intuition when searching for my room. During the walk I left my eyes to wander, now taking the time to appreciate the residence for what it was.

It was clear even to my commoners' eyes that the home was of the highest quality – built with only the best of materials, in impeccable condition, and in the traditional Japanese style that had since left Japan many years ago.

It was almost as though I stepped back in time, living in another era outside my own. Letting my imagination wander, I could almost see nobles and aristocrats walk through these very hallways. So full of wonder was I, that it wasn't until he spoke that I noticed another presence in the hallway.

"Good evening, Mogami-san." Tsuruga-san greeted.

I jumped, having not expected his voice within the realm that was my fantasy world. "Ah, good evening Tsuruga-san." I said, quick to bow as make up for my previous slip up. I was being really jumpy today.

"Were you exploring the house?" It appeared that Tsuruga-san didn't see the slip up, or if he did, had given me the courtesy to pretend he did not.

I nodded. "Yes, the house is amazing – I feel like I have stepped back in time." I praised. " . . . But I kind of wish I knew which door led to my room." I confessed truthfully.

"Yes, your state of dress is likely less than ideal during this time of year." It was only when he pointed it out that I felt a slight chill over my exposed skin. I had been walking in such an exposed state for longer than I had thought.

"I just got off the phone with the president. He said that our rooms were in opposite ends on the top floor. I was coming to find you so you would be able to change into something more - comfortable."

"Oh, thank you for going through the trouble!" I bowed again, also managing to effectively hide my red face.

"It's my pleasure. I'm sure you must want to be in your own clothing again." He said with a small smile.

"Yes."

Tsuruga-san led me through the house up to the top floor and to the entranceway of my room. The grand doors were the indicators of the bedrooms, it seemed.

With a few more pleasantries exchanged Tsuruga-san left me to my room. After changing to more familiar clothing - how the President had managed to pack my clothing, ship it here before I arrived andset it up in the closet was beyond my comprehension - I finally got as close to comfortable as I could, given the circumstances.

There was a neat script in my room, my own having been left behind on the helicopter. I eyed it warily. For a time, I contemplated between trying to get a grasp on the character I was to play and exploring the rest of the house. In the end the temptation grew too strong, and the script was open in my lap. It had opened itself, really! I had convinced myself that I was only going to take a quick glance, yet soon I was sucked into the vortex of complexity that always came with a new role.


"Mori, Fuyuki." I spoke aloud, yet unaware that I had spoken at all. My thoughts ran elsewhere.

Fuyuki is seventeen years old. You grew up in Kyoto and have lived there all your life, with both parents up until middle school. Your mother died from sickness when you were only thirteen, leaving you with only your father, now overcome with grief, as support.

Soon after the death your father grew very protective of his one and only daughter. You have few close friends, all approved by your father to be kind people. Being of pure heart and nature, you have never had hate in your heart . . .I paused, my mind immediately flashing to a certain blonde singer. Shaking my head, I forced the image from my mind.

"Heis not part of this." I spit the first word, as though it left a foul taste in my mouth. Which, in some way, it did. Calming the rising demons, I focused on my role once more.

And one day you met Miura, Yori, someone who would change you forever.


Ren

I turned the water to a suitable temperature and stepped into the shower, the feel of the jets on my skin a welcoming friend. It was only moments until the water formed small streams and rivers along my body.

Showers have always been my favorite place to think. The feel of the water hitting my skin welcomed me, both friend and companion throughout all of my twenty-one years. Even since young, I have found myself solving my life's greatest problems within the shower. The water seemed to have medicinal herbs to soothe the raging sea of my mind.

Although as I grew older there have been fewer and fewer occurrences where I would need to step into the shower in the middle of the day. One could say that it was a rarity to find me doing what I was. Yet this was one of those times. I reviewed once more the knowledge I already knew yet always seemed to review every chance I got.

Miura, Yori is nineteen years old, a troublemaker since young. Very adventurous, very brash, and when you were young, cheerful and bright. But that changed as you grew older. Cursed with a naturally curious and observant mind, you became influenced by the very violence and corruption set in the shadows of society. As the years passed you grew warped, twisted, some may say sadistic. And then you reached your peak and killed a man.

He's like Kuon, I thought, a feeling of dread sinking into my stomach as the reminder of death, yet still I went on.

Blood. Violence. All of it is familiar to you. Your parents' disappointed faces have been shown more times than you can count. But you don't see them much anymore. You only arrive at the wee hours of the morning, sometimes not even then.

I didn't even realize when the character began to warp into Kuon.

School has lost hope, and you are considered a disgrace among all of society. Even within the gang you had briefly joined, you didn't belong. You're a lone wolf. Never trusting, never loving. Always watching, always fighting. And then it was all too much. You killed him. And you ran away.

I paused, taking a breath before continuing.

. . . You went to Kyoto, and there you met her. A bright girl, pure and kind enough to accept you and meet you every day at a clearing and heal you.

"Story of my life." I muttered, pressing my forehead along the tile wall. "You had to go and pick the one role that hit home the closest, didn't you?" I said to the president that wasn't there. "Don't you understand that I can't risk it? Especially with her. Honestly, what are you thinking?"

And there was a voice. A single voice in my head that I hadn't heard in a long time.

I guess this means you're going to let me out?

My body stiffened. Glancing at the small mirror within the shower stall, I saw what appeared to be a flash of blonde hair. Yet as soon as it came it was gone, and I was left to stare at black hair once more. But I knew what I had seen.

"No. I will not let you out." I stated to the empty stall. There was no reply. I hadn't really expected one.

"For as long as I live."


Kyoko

I had sworn to myself that I would only take a few minutes, yet when I glanced at the clock some time later, I found that an entire hour had passed without my knowledge. It was twenty minutes past noon!

I immediately dropped my script and all but sprinted down the stairs, my culinary instincts leading the way until I arrived at the kitchen – truly, no one should ever doubt those instincts – and stopped short for a single moment. The kitchen was set up in the design of any professional chef's dream. Every surface was spotless, gleaming and ready to be used to serve delicious food.

It took only a short amount of time to cook up lunch, however that didn't stop me from chiding myself for almost forgetting. I was adding the finishing touches on the food when I felt Tsuruga-san's presence behind me.

"That smells delicious," he remarked. I turned and smiled, chest swelling with slight pride and a large grin forming on my face.

"Thank you. I was just about to call you for lunch."

"Then I arrived at the perfect time." He smiled at me. And it didn't fully escape my notice that his hair was wet and he wore different clothing than he was before. Yet I didn't comment on it.

"Here, let me help you with that." Tsuruga-san said, grabbing a few of the plates in his hands before heading to the dining area and setting the food down.

The dining area was large, meant for twenty or so people rather than two, with many low tables and cushions set about. To the side you could open the screen doors and look at the scenery outside. The doors were closed now, making the room seem slightly smaller despite its great size.

"I better go and take this apron off," I said once the plates were at one of the tables. "I will be just a minute." I left the room with a bow of my head, replacing the apron I had donned with a jacket I had been formerly wearing.

We ate in silence. It was not a heavy silence. Not set through anger or by dread. Simply silence. Yet I was reminded of a time quite similar to this, when I had made Tsuruga-san dinner before. Back then I had been able to turn the television on as a distraction. But considering there was no television to speak of, that option was clearly nonexistent.

Yet still I didn't really like the silence. Therefore I spoke the first thing that popped into my head.

"An, have you ever been in a house like this, Tsuruga-san?" I asked.

"Not including the time we used one as a set, I've been in a house like this once . . . when I was younger." A terse silence fell over us once more. Yet unlike before, when the silence had been relatively harmless, this one felt heavy, serious.

It was many moments later when it struck me that it probably had something to do with his past. But what can I say to take it back? I wondered. As soon as I opened my mouth to say something - anything, really, to get Tsuruga-san's mind off the past - the heavy air dissipated, almost as though it had never existed.

"It was a long time ago, however. So it's refreshing to be in a house like this again." Tsuruga-san smiled, reassuring, almost as though he had felt my own discomfort. The meal was finished.

As Tsuruga-san helped me to take the dishes inside the kitchen towards the sink, he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry it took so long, but I would like to congratulate you for receiving the role of Fuyuki." he said, extending his hand in the American greeting. "I look forward to working with you on this movie."

Until he had mentioned it, I hadn't even thought about the fact that the man before me would be my co-star. I smiled and clasped my hand in his.

"Thank you, I look forward to working with you as well." I replied truthfully. And softly, in my mind where he couldn't hear, I added silently and helping you.


Author's Note: Hello! As you can see I switched events up a bit – I hope that worked out okay.

Also, I want to know what you guys think on this story. I fear I'm making the characters feel off or OOC, so please send me a review telling me all the critique you so wish on anything. (Grammar, spelling, wording, OOC, events, excessive editing, etc.) I swear I won't be offended at all, and I just wish to improve so you all will enjoy. Okay, until next time, thank you for reading!