Chapter 9 – A Tale Of Two Novels: Part One
Kurosaki Ichigo had a copy of Autumn Chrysalis. It was thoroughly manhandled, and read from head to toe so many times, that the pages grew stale and their crispness destroyed. He had purchased the thickest version available, because the font would be larger and spaces between lines wide. He intended to scribble down ideas and criticism on them, make productive notes on his 'awful intonation and pitch', then improve upon them.
He still didn't like Ulquiorra one bit - the green eyed man sat on a throne high above his, and didn't care for anything. But Ulquiorra was a perfectionist, and whatever fault he found with Ichigo's readings he would never hesitate to point it out. So in an offbeat sense, Ulquiorra Schiffer did care. And secretly the orange haired star appreciated his frank comments, but he had his pride, and boy, wouldn't he look a right loser if he were to succumb? He already did once - the sweetcorn incident. It made him extremely wary of the silent, tear-streaked man.
And things were set on staying the way they were, until Ichigo started seeing plumes of pink cloud evading the man's silhouette whenever he was in character as the very likable and charming Takamatsu. His co-star's portrayal hit a perfect home run, and sometimes Ichigo saw double.
Once, he almost called Ulquiorra 'Takamatsu-kun', and nearly shat his pants when he observed there was a ring to his mind's voice. It sounded spooky and contained many shades of familiarity.
'Kurosaki-kun!'
Twice he witnessed the erasing of those bizarrely ugly tear tracks from Ulquiorra's pale face, leaving it utterly devoid of makeup, and thought the raven haired man looked a thousand times better. Then he had to uncharacteristically smile and laugh those melodic light titters when cameras rolled, and Ichigo felt his concentration slipping away. He made a mess of his lines several times, chuffing them stupidly. It provided additional basis for the green eyed prick's sharp insults. And it so happened Ulquiorra had to smile a zillion dazzling smiles during his takes, thus effectively skewing the distressed hotshot's concept of real and reel, and blurring the distinction between.
...
According to Ulquiorra himself, he told no lies when acting.
...
Ichigo confided in the one who knew him best, that he was starting to feel seriously uncomfortable around Ulquiorra. Not just the 'Shut up before I wallop your ass' type of discomfort, but also the 'Will you quit smiling at me with your brilliant eyes' kind floating in. Nowadays it gradually became the 'I can't help but stare at you openly on the set' type, and poor Ichigo hadn't known he was actually doing so before he realized it. Hence Ichigo concluded, with his 12 years of schooling, that he was only troubled by the inkling of unabashed admiration for the man's talent. That had to be it, and absolutely nothing else but that.
"Yeah right," said Renji, and threw a half-eaten peanut at Ichigo. "Deluded beyond words, you are."
"Like I said, I was only envious of his stupid talent. In Kendo, in acting, in debating even. He was even accepted into Waseda Medical School! Whatever the flipping hell," Ichigo caught the peanut and ate it. "Yep, that must be it."
"Envious...ha ha ha," Renji snorted, fished another lump of peanuts, then spread them across the round table top. "You're having a laugh on me, friend!"
Ichigo stopped and stared, before getting up menacingly. The sofa squelched under the sudden release in weight. "Come again?"
"Chill!" Renji raised both hands defensively. "What I meant was," the redhead paused, and worked his jaws on a peanut. "You know those actors who end up falling in love with their co-stars, don't play dumb, Ichi, these stories happen all the time! And yeah, anyway, they usually break up when the set breaks up, ha ha ha, you know, that kind of situation?"
Ichigo nodded dumbly, and settled back into the sofa. "Heard of them."
"I think you're them," Renji closed his eyes sagely.
"What the fooken' hell?!"
"Methinks you're crushing on your co-star's character."
"No way, crazy mofo! I felt nothing when I read the bloody novel."
"Oh you big fat liar! You blushed like there's no tomorrow when you read the hmm, hmm, hmmmmm parts," Renji accused. "Thee grand 3-piece orchestra of monkey sex."
Ichigo's cheeks and ears were frighteningly red. "So would anyone!"
"Okay, I did," Renji admitted. "I re-read them too."
"See?"
"It made me develop unwanted thoughts toward you sometimes, Ichi," said Renji, and popped another peanut into his wolfish grin.
"Shit...! You stay the heck away from me!" Ichigo gasped, and huddled into a ball.
"Sure. I was just waiting for the green light to flash."
"...bastard."
"But Ulquiorra," Renji wiped away his drool, "is a very fine actor. So I don't blame you at all, Ichi. Like me, you're just a 'Bat Boy' after all."
Bat Boy was a term reserved for diehards of Ulquiorra Schiffer. To smear salt on an open wound and have it rubbed into the mingled flesh, Kurosaki Isshin proudly called himself that whenever the stoic man's movies came up on television. It peeved Ichigo to no end. It was even worse than 'The Strawberries', as his own fans deemed themselves to be. That easily spoke volumes of Ulquiorra's fan affiliation, and apparently Ulquiorra never acknowledged their existence. He consistently claimed he couldn't see them, hence the aforementioned statement. His fans however, were true to their nickname, and being batty, praised the world out of their idol's invincibly cool attitude.
"I'm gonna get a shaver and turn you into a bald monk," Ichigo threatened. He stormed toward Renji, and swiped the empty shells onto the latter's lap. It was a petty crime between old time buddies.
"Bloody ass!" the redhead swept the crusty shells onto the carpet. "Make sure the press doesn't get wind of your embarrassing little teenager's crush on a book character. Remember your image, shithead! Remember your contract!"
...
Ulquiorra Schiffer had a copy of Autumn Chrysalis. It was thoroughly manhandled, and read from head to toe so many times, that the pages grew stale and their crispness destroyed. Unlike Ichigo's case, he wasn't the culprit. It was Grimmjow, his fiery cousin, who grappled for the book whenever he was ignored in favor of said novel. Ulquiorra preferred to read than be anywhere near Grimmjow, and he presumed it an universal preference. Grimmjow, ever headstrong and above his cousin's persistently contemptuous display, never would allow a mere book to defeat him, and sometimes when Ulquiorra was busy feeding his pet kitten, he would take it upon himself to furnish the pages with 'artistic elaboration'. He was glad Ulquiorra had purchased the thickest version available, because the font would be larger and spaces between lines wide. They were clean.
Until Grimmjow got his itchy paws on a pencil.
...
Regarding the issue of onscreen nudity, here was what Shinji had to say:
"It'd be ideal actually, for two naked bodies to tumble together in the hay. Men or not; it's the very pinnacle of pure passion! Nothing quite screams sensual innocence like two lambs bleating at each other on the pastures. Reality bites however, and there already was an agreement beforehand from both representing agencies of our leading men, that the furthest they could go is to strip down to their underpants. No naughty parts are to hang out. Not even if the actors are more than willing to have them take a breather. It's the power of the contract."
"Who the heck does sex with those on?" Hiyori squawked in confusion. Everyone else either flushed prettily or pretended not to listen. "And what's a R rating without full on nudity?"
"Technique, my dear Snagtooth, it's the technique. Besides it's make believe. That's why it's called acting. And it's the themes that earned the movie this rating. A bit harsh, I know," said Shinji. "Then again, in order to court the searing heat of two men passionately in love, we have the combined brain torque of Ishida-san and yours truly."
Ishida Uryuu appeared with a pair of spandex underpants. "After some unprecedented breakthrough in material engineering, and insights taken from professional AV actors, we came up with this," announced Ishida, and he held up the underpants. Everyone oohed and ahhed. It was flesh colored, and had heavy padding on the crotch area. It enhanced one's package. It also meant being spared from public humiliation if one were to be crudely aroused.
"Marvelous work, ain't it?" asked Shinji, after a thunderous round of applause.
...
Somewhere in early August, leading members of the 'Autumn Chrysalis' production were to attend a charity ball. It was to raise funds for orphanages all over Japan. There were many other celebrities involved, and then there were everyone's regular socialites and popular models striding down the red carpet, each trying to outdo the other with exorbitant jewelries and latest fashions fresh from seasonal catwalks.
"You look incredible, Kurosaki-kun," said Orihime, his date for the ball. A camera flashed in her giddy face, and like all others before them on the lushly wide walkway she stopped to serenade photographers with her best angle. She was a highly sought after model, and began this unexpected career when she was scouted on the streets of Tokyo. She was 16 then. Inoue Orihime did gigs for local fashion houses, owning the catwalks in Tokyo, and also the very lucrative advertisements and pictorials for numerous magazines. Within a space of months her girlish mien was splashed across billboards, and her curvaceous, womanly body was the talk of many. She became Queen of a court ruled by lechers and geeks. They worshiped the tight bodice wrapped around her body and commercial-friendly strands. Men hit the pavement with blood gushing from their noses when a commemorative issue of 'SPICE' magazine called for the strategic unveiling of her top. Her manager hit the ceiling however, and immediately thought of all means and variances of furthering her burgeoning fame. He was greedy, and Orihime was his valuable cash cow. With twitchy mouse whiskers and a cunning countenance in place, he began sifting through hordes of tabloid magazines. Then he found the latest rising star, created a proposal - a win-win situation, hence the pact was sealed and an interminable contract of 2 years. 13 months had since passed, and money poured in like glaciers in Antarctica. How they poured and froze and grew in the accounts of the effected!
Inoue Orihime had always wanted a strong, handsome, talented, chivalrous, roguish man-boy to bring home to her parents, and being pious as how an 18 year old is, she protested the manager's wily scheme. But everything hopped into the garbage bin when she embarked on her 'first date' with the then rising young star. She was smittened with him after only ten minutes.
Ichigo struggled against the stiffness of his ironed, and re-ironed Emporio Armani suit. It made him look smart, stylish, and as calm as Ulquiorra Schiffer. Nothing defined tapered luxury like Italian designer garb. Orihime's dress was black and silkily sexy. It had a corset top, a fitting rear, and ended with sweeping pleats. "You too, Inou-I mean, Orihime. Nice gown. Looks resplendent-"
Another flashlight went off in their faces. And another. And another. It made them as blind as mice. Then the crowd screamed crazily when Japan's hottest young male star tossed a careless grin their way.
"-on you. Valentino, is it?" Ichigo grimaced.
Orihime flicked her straight tresses over her shoulder. "Dolce and Gabbana."
...
The world was small, and a world based around the red carpet was smaller even. It was Fate's oyster. When Ichigo spun around with Orihime in tow, Ulquiorra Schiffer appeared. He was by himself, certainly, and ignored glittery flash bulbs and fanatical cries for his attention. He gave away none, and went about his way, wishing to enter the ballroom in the fastest time possible, and did so until there in the road before him stood a pair of orange roadblocks. So he waited: when Ichigo noticed his presence, and when Ichigo scanned him inside out with mock interest.
"Hello, Ulquiorra-san," Orihime greeted. Her motto in life was to be kind whenever possible. She was a nice, decent girl set to step into glamorous adulthood in a dainty, knee-breaking pair of red Manolo Blahniks.
Ulquiorra stared directly through her, and focused on his co-star. "Move."
"You look like a walking corpse!" exclaimed Ichigo. He was having an 'Eureka!' moment. "The dark blue blazer brings out the sallowness in your cheeks. The gray dress shirt makes you look like a dowdy idiot from the 1800s. Your shoes are so brown you may have as well stepped on dung on your way here. You're putting the designer to shame, whoever he or she might be! And then," he jabbed a ringed finger at Ulquiorra's famous facial lines. "You're two months early for Halloween, my co-star! The poin-"
The bug eyed glare of a video camera suddenly loomed before their faces. "My, if it isn't Ulquiorra Schiffer and Kurosaki Ichigo chatting on the red carpet, I wouldn't be here in the first place!" cried a zealous reporter.
"We are not chatting," Ulquiorra stated obtusely.
"Going by your illustrious track record, Ulquiorra, we know you sure aren't. And lately, we've been receiving some insider news. On the situation between you and Ichigo on the set. Heard it's tense, but we don't really know. Care to verify?" she asked, and had the cameraman close up on them, capturing every twitch and wrinkle in expressions.
"That can't be true!" Ichigo jumped in before his green eyed co-star could think up a caustic reply. The latter's piercing sarcasm was having an off day. Ichigo on the other hand, was given instructions by Kuchiki Byakuya and Soi Fon that relations between cast members should always be presented in the best light. Because in Japan, good press equates favorable critiques and the topping of rankings. They called Ulquiorra too, but he was too bogged down by restless nights to answer it. The terrible weather of late got to him.
"Ulquiorra isn't a monster, no matter how you see it," said Ichigo, feigning a mask of congenial warmth toward his co-star.
The reporter grew bolder. "Word around the office is that you guys absolutely hate the guts out of each other!"
"We're colleagues!" Ichigo further proclaimed.
"Heard you guys held a closed doors duel once?"
"Where" - Ichigo opted for an Oscar-worthy chortle - "on earth did you get that from?"
"I've an astonishing network of insiders, Ichigo-san," said the reporter, and traded sly glances with someone hanging back in the jostling crowd. It was a tall man with hair as blue as electricity, and to top off the mysterious aura he wore a pair of shades with a red fedora hat. Its sheer flamboyance was made complete with a fluffy but upright blue feather.
"No-"
"And they claimed you lost!"
Ichigo's eyes slanted in embarrassment. "Bullshit! We were trading tips on Kendo, and it was just a friendly match which ended up in a tie."
Ulquiorra coughed, and wheezed a little.
"Heard you were trounced."
"Says the naysayers."
The reporter was gaining ground on Ichigo. In truth she could care less about getting to the heart of the many blasé rumors surrounding him and some 'wannabe funk actor named Schiffer Something'. But she had dreamed of luxuriating in a torrid threesome with the orange haired star and his lustrous girlfriend. "Heard you two fought more than once."
"We're as civil as they come."
"Civil, you said?" the reporter affirmed. "But this is Ulquiorra Schiffer" - she rolled her eyes - "we're talking about. Given the manner you two heaped interesting comments on each other months ago, how did you manage to get him to be 'civil', since he was always 'frosty', or 'plain eccentric', as his previous colleagues had put it?"
Ulquiorra sneezed.
This was the perfect opportunity for Ichigo to edge himself as a mature, serious, intelligent, and responsible actor in the public eye. Never mind the unease he suffered when Ulquiorra came near. "It was to generate hype, and it did!" A short laugh. "He warms to people slowly, and it takes time. We're getting along comfortably, and I respect his need for a huge acre of personal space-"
The reporter batted her mascara-ed eyelashes seductively; she was obviously charmed and beyond enamored with Ichigo. Ulquiorra was everything but. The world was spinning against his favor, and more than anything he wanted a piece of tissue. No, he needed it.
"-and time for introspection. Everyone has their own quirks, and my co-star finds his trailer far too homely to step out." Another laugh. "Once I saw a bat fly out, and no that wasn't Ulquiorra." More laughs.
"Now, Ulquiorra, what's your take on Ichigo? He has spoken really nicely of you, and that ought to be a change from the usual flames you receive," the reporter pressed, while running a pointy tongue over her ruby lips, and making sure Ichigo caught that. He didn't but Ulquiorra did. And it worsened his condition; he now felt more ill and homicidal than before, and he really needed a piece of tissue to blow his nose into. In a bout of desperation he wrinkled his nose, hence curbing the outflow of mucus. It worked, and he could now speak his mind:
"He's tra-"
"-nscendingly unbelievable," blabbered Ichigo. Then he traversed to the side, and gave his co-star a solid poke in the side, as if to solidify his claim they were on remotely friendly terms with each other.
"Why, thank you, Ichigo! That was a most penetrating look taken at the set of a movie, set to explode into cinemas nationwide next year! It's deemed by many to be a massive blockbuster, so, what do you think are the chances of it smashing box office records?"
"Ask me again next year," countered Ichigo, as he slapped on a rebellious smirk. "I don't wish to punch above my weight now."
"Spoken like a true thespian," the reporter praised, clasping her mic like a nun with rosary beads. Diamonds positively radiated from her cheeks, and she had a request before trooping off to her next target - hooking Ichigo. "Could you and Ulquiorra do a 'good friends' pose please? It'd be amazing!" It was, and complete media fodder was it definitely.
"And here's my hotel room number," she muttered in a lusty hush, and dropped a note into Ichigo's palm. He then discreetly scrunched the paper into a ball and flicked it away. It hit Ulquiorra's pant leg before bouncing around like an unwanted beach ball.
From a short distance Kuchiki Byakuya looked on with keen gazes. He caught wind of the petty skirmishes both men had with each other, and kept an eye closed. It was normal for egotistical battles to arise while filming, albeit abnormal when Ulquiorra was included, but so long it was not out of hand everything was alright. And the publicity generated could only prove beneficial when the movie launched in screens come Autumn 2010. In the industry, publicity equates hype and in turn, piques everyone's curiosity, then up goes the movie attendances, which hence translates into higher revenue: the purpose behind Soul Pictures. Not the art nor cinematic talent as often professed, but the bills rolling in.
"So, are we ready for a photo?" asked the reporter, sourly. She obviously saw it all.
"I don't see why not." Ichigo was a one man show again – apart from speaking in double negatives, casting Ulquiorra to one dark corner. He seemed to be traveling through galaxies and plucking supernovas from their spots. Cluelessness and bewilderment plagued him when the increasingly suave orange head discreetly poked at his sides, making him squirm like a tunneling earthworm.
"Oi walking corpse," Ichigo tilted his head and hissed into Ulquiorra's ear, while maintaining a friendly outlook throughout. He grinned so hard it made his jaws ache. "Photo-taking time!"
"Do you have tissue?" Ulquiorra sniffed. He couldn't really hear Ichigo, now that his hearing was out of sorts, made blur by an impending flu. How he wanted to slap himself silly for donning pants with no pockets! And now he had to reach out to a good-for-nothing whom he had no qualms thrashing time and again, for something as painstakingly trivial as tissue.
"Act like we're pals, and you shall have one," said Ichigo, and clearly he enjoyed having the upper hand. He was flooring Ulquiorra with something as painstakingly and laughingly trivial as tissue. This was literally once in a lifetime! Poor, ill Ulquiorra had no choice but to oblige. Then the orange head draped an arm over his fatigued shoulders, and Ulquiorra, in his quest of seeking tissue, leaned inwards. Despite what others' varying opinions of this odd pairing might be, Soi Fon held her ground. As she looked on with steely gazes, the tiniest of smiles laced her pursed lips. It was imperceptible against the booming lights. She knew she had hit the mark when Ichigo was selected. The two often bickering stars seemed chummy for once; their heights were just right - Ulquiorra came up short by an inch or two, and their clashing appearances made for a tasty sight.
Obviously she wasn't alone; all cameras were on them, clicking and snapping away furiously, capturing the twinkles emitted from the two bright stars.
…
A/N: I'm working on Part Two now!
