Sho Business

Synopsis: What if Sho had had to make an honest woman of Kyoko in order to get her to agree to come to Tokyo with him?

Disclaimer: Skip Beat! and its characters are the sole property of the legal copyright holders. This story borrows the characters and is not for profit or professional gain. To support the original artist and enhance enjoyment of this story, it is recommended that readers purchase copies of the manga at their nearest bookstore if at all possible.

Notes: Obviously, from the description, I am taking some liberties with the circumstances surrounding Kyoko and Sho's move to Tokyo. That aside, I intend to make every effort to mold the story to fit manga events as much as possible, though some modification will be necessary.

Chapter Nine: The Ground Floor

For years, Sho had dreamed of moving to Tokyo. When he was ten, his class had been given a project where each student was to make a diorama of his home. Instead of the Fuwa Inn (which would have taken forever anyway, given the amount of rooms) he had created a spacious penthouse apartment, complete with several tiny guitars made out of cardboard and an improbable outdoor swimming pool, given the fact that penthouses were by definition located on the top floor of a building. He had gotten a B, but then again, so had Kyoko because she had gone ahead and done the Fuwa Inn, with all of the dozens of rooms and even incredible, finely detailed dolls of the Fuwas, herself and imaginary guests. The teacher had said that though they both worked hard neither of them had completed the assignment she asked for.

None of Sho's visions of his future in Tokyo had included a one room, sixteen tatami apartment with – was that a Japanese toilet? He investigated his new living space with growing indignation, not seeming to hear the caustic hints and eventual orders to help that his father gave, as he and Kyoko brought the boxes and furnishings in from the van.

"It's okay, Fuwa-san - I mean, Father," Kyoko huffed, short of breath as she dropped a futon onto the straw-matted floor. "We're on the ground floor so there aren't any stairs. I can take care of it while you and Sho relax. You must be tired from driving all this way."

Kenta's scowl at his son turned to pity as he looked at his daughter-in-law. Giving up, he shook his head and went out to get the kotatsu before Kyoko killed herself trying to carry the heavy table on her own.

Sho was transfixed in horror at the futons. As he hadn't assisted in choosing or moving the furnishings for the new apartment, he hadn't realized that they wouldn't have western beds. Of course, there wasn't room for standing beds in a one room apartment – futons could be folded up during the day and stored in some of the many cabinets that lined the entire wall and part of the ceiling of the apartment. That didn't lessen his fury at realizing that his father and Kyoko had somehow managed to find a place even more traditional than the Fuwa Inn, right in the heart of Tokyo.

Every time his father walked through the door, laden with boxes or bags, Sho's tongue itched to complain about what he saw as a ploy to get him to turn around and go right back to Kyoto. He kept his peace, though, lest his father take any protest as an excuse to cancel the lease and reload the van.

When the last load had finally been brought in, Kyoko immediately dug out a tea kettle and some leaves from one of the painstakingly labeled boxes and set water to boiling on one of the two gas ranges that were provided instead of a stove. The appliance took up almost half of the counter space in the tiny kitchen alcove.

Kenta collapsed down in front of the kotatsu, taking a minute to stretch his aching back before he summoned his son to sit across from him.

Sho made little endeavor to listen to his father's speech about rent and utilities and behaving responsibility and whatever other advice he was imparting about living on his own. He was looking past Kenta to scowl at the fridge - which barely reached Kyoko's shoulder, short as she was, as she shifted around in the kitchen.

Eventually, the tea was ready, and Kyoko brought it in on a wooden tray, serving both men with an innkeeper's perfect propriety before settling down with her own cup, kneeling in seiza posture despite her obvious exhaustion.

Sho sipped his fragrant tea without any semblance of gratitude and for a moment they sat in silence, Sho too angry and the others too tired to make conversation.

When the cups were empty, Kenta stood to leave, waving off Kyoko's offer to go get dinner for him before he set off on the long drive. He suggested that she send Sho off to pick up some noodles from the shop on the corner since he must have been saving his energy for just such a task when he failed to lift a finger to help them with moving, and assured her he'd get something to eat on the way home.

Kyoko rose and gave her father-in-law a formal bow, thanking him profusely for assisting with the move and paying for the deposit, key money and first and last month's rent. She promised they would both work hard to pay him back for his kindness. Sho stayed where he was, his arms crossed like his legs, and grunted an insincere "thanks" with a nod in his father's direction.

Kenta sighed and turned to go, stopping a step before the door to reach in his pocket.

"I almost forgot," he exclaimed, pulling out an envelope, which he held out to Kyoko. Thinking it was money, Sho jumped to his feet, snatched it from before Kyoko's outstretched hands, and bowed his thanks to his father.

Kenta smiled, saying he was happy his son appreciated his last wedding gift and then slipped his shoes on, leaving with a chuckle.

Sho had torn the envelope open before the door even closed and instantly threw its contents to the ground with a curse. Confused, Kyoko bent over and picked up the two slips of paper from the shredded envelope. They were one way bullet train tickets to Kyoto.

She looked sadly at Sho, who all but had flames coming out of his ears. She knew that the apartment wasn't what he'd dreamed of when he thought of moving to Tokyo, but the rent was only 40,000 yen and she wasn't sure how much they could afford. They both had to find part time jobs and she didn't know how long that would take because neither of them were high school graduates. It was a smaller place than she'd ever lived in as well, but she was still happy to be there, because Sho was there. It was their apartment and she had never before lived in a place she really felt belonged to her.

"This is all a plot," Sho spat, eventually. "He wants me to fail. But I'll show him! I'll be laughing in a mansion in no time."

Kyoko eagerly agreed, exclaiming that the record companies would have to be deaf not to sign him as soon as they heard him play.

Somewhat mollified, Sho was about to reply when a sharp rap sounded against the door, followed immediately by the squeak of the knob turning, though they hadn't given anyone permission to enter.

Expecting his father with more unwanted advice, Sho was surprised to see a hunch-backed old lady who looked exactly like Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle. She hobbled into the room as if she owned the place. It turned out that she did.

"Welcome. I'm the okami, Koga-shan," the landlady greeted, surveying her new tenants with piercing little eyes. She seemed to dismiss Kyoko out of hand, but her gaze stuck to Sho, roaming all over his toned body like lecherous hands. He shivered, feeling violated.

"You're gorgeoush, gorgeoush, gorgeoush!" she exclaimed fan girlishly, seeming to glide across the room to stand too close for his comfort. All traces of hobbling were gone.

Sho was torn between agreeing that he was in fact gorgeous and making up some revolting hidden birth defect to stop the old lady from ogling him. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Are you Chinese?"

Kyoko blushed at the impolite question, but the okami was cackling gleefully.

"No, no, no. However, I get that a lot. I'm from Shaga prefecshure. We're so closh to China that many people mishtake the accent for Mandarin. You have a good ear, gorgeoush." She gave a wink that seemed more like a multiplication of the wrinkles around her left eye.

Sho shuddered at the sight and Kyoko grasped helplessly for something to say, but it wasn't necessary as the landlady seemed happy to hear herself talk.

"The Koga'sh are an old shamurai family," she continued, straightening a bit. "I'm the lasht in the family line, shince I never had any children." She paused to rake her eyes over Sho again. "However, it'sh never too late to shtart."

Sho went white and Kyoko finally composed herself enough to think of something to say.

"Please take care of us," she said formally, bowing before the elder. Koga-san nodded impatiently, looking from Kyoko to Sho and back again.

"Are you full shiblingsh or half?" She asked, directly.

Sho looked indignant, somehow even more offended by this accusation than by the sexual harassment that had preceded it. "We're n-" he began, but Kyoko cut him off.

"Full siblings!" She blurted, uncomfortable with the lie, though she herself was the one who'd insisted upon it. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get Kenta to agree to introduce them to the landlady as brother and sister, but she hadn't forgotten her resolution that no one would ever be able to hurt Sho's career with gossip about their marriage.

Koga-san looked suspiciously from one to the other, as if she were trying to read their DNA in their faces. "Geneticsh sure are cruel," she surmised when her scrutiny was complete.

"However, you're probably exshausted from all of that manual labor," she cooed sympathetically at Sho, who didn't have a single bead of sweat on him. "I'll let you get shome resht, poor poor poor thing."

She turned to Kyoko, all tender concern gone in an instant. "The rent ish due on the firsht every month, burnable trash is collected on Mondaysh, Wenshdaysh and Fridaysh, recyling and all other garbash on Thurshdaysh. No petsh and no loud mushic after nine."

Unable to help herself, she gave Sho one more appreciative glance. "I'll bring you shome mandarin orangesh once they're in sheason. My coushin shends me a case every year." She promised, before she trundled out the door.

As soon as he was certain she was gone, Sho turned to Kyoko, even angrier than he'd been before the unexpected visit. "Since when are you my sister?" he demanded.

Kyoko bit her lip, pushing her index fingers together nervously. "I had to think of a way to explain why we were living together without telling her we were married," she explained apologetically. "Or else she could tell the press about it after you become famous."

Unable to find fault with that reasoning, Sho looked around for something else to vent about. The idea that anyone would consider Kyoko his sister infuriated him, though he didn't analyze why that was so. All he knew was that the idea was ridiculous and offensive and he'd never wanted to punch an old lady so much in his entire life.

Sensing how upset Sho was and taking the blame upon herself for not giving him more warning about the apartment and the cover story for the landlady, Kyoko poured him another cup of tea. He took it ungratefully and plopped back down at the table, still fuming.

"You've had a really stressful day," Kyoko sympathized, tenderly. "I'll draw you a nice hot bath so you can relax while I go get us something to eat."

Sho grunted his assent, glaring at the bare walls of the apartment as he drank his tea. He could hear the sound of the tap being turned on from the bathroom and felt that a good soak was the least he deserved.

Quickly growing bored once he was left alone, he tapped his fingers impatiently against the table. After a few minutes Kyoko came back to fetch a towel and some toiletries from one of the boxes. As she leaned over, his eyes were drawn to the strands of hair that stuck to her neck, probably from a mixture of sweat and the humidity from the bath water. She'd piled most of her hair on top of her head to keep it out of the way while they were moving, but a few loose strands had escaped and they clung to the soft curve of her neck and shoulder in a feminine, almost sensual way.

It occurred to him that this was their wedding night and that there was only one room that could possibly be used for sleeping. He felt himself flush as several ideas of what any of his classmates would image if they knew he was in such a situation floated dreamily across his mind. The room suddenly felt warmer and he looked determinedly away from Kyoko, trying to see if there was an air conditioner. He found one and had just turned it on, when Kyoko declared his bath ready. He hurried from the room without looking at her, slamming the door to the bathroom shut behind him.

Kyoko rubbed her hands across her tired eyes and grabbed her purse, already creating a mental list of what she'd need to buy at the grocery store.

Author's notes:

Saga prefecture is on an island close to the Chinese mainland, so it's not unheard of for people to confuse the dialect with Mandarin if they haven't heard it before. It's characterized by "sh's" instead of "s" sounds, frequent use of a word that translates to "however" and a tendency to repeat words three times. They're famous for pottery and one of their major exports is mandarin oranges.

Japanese apartments are generally coded 1 DK, 1K, 2 DK, etc. The number is the number of rooms (1K is kind of a loft, one room for sleeping doubles as a living room) and the letters stand for Dining Room and Kitchen. Prices are affected by proximity to public transportation. Tatamis (named for the straw mats that are the most common flooring in older buildings) are the standard unit of measurement. A sixteen tatami mat apartment is tiny by American standards, but still on the slightly larger side of average for 1K apartments. Obviously, Kenta and Kyoko chose a 1K apartment for the newlyweds to start out in.

Traditional Japanese toilets are very low to the ground – kind of like horizontal urinals. You have to squat over them. They're cordoned off from the rest of a Japanese bathroom by a wall or partition so one person can use the toilet while another bathes.

A kotatsu is a low Japanese table, meant to be used without chairs. In the winter, a futon is placed in a special section so that it covers the legs and laps of the diners, and the table can be heated for extra warmth. This is especially important because Japanese apartments don't have central heating – kerosene heaters are used instead – and it can get pretty chilly eating on the floor.

40,000 Yen is about $400 – insanely cheap for a Tokyo apartment. Kyoko did her homework when looking through the real estate catalogs.

Seiza posture is a formal, polite way to sit at table. In casual settings, most women will sit with their legs together, to one side and men will sit "Indian Style" with their legs crossed under them. It's more tiring to kneel upright.