A/N: Okay. I am a complete ass. Just getting that out there. If I could and you would see, I would do that thing where you bow with your hand in front of your face all apologetic-like. You were all so nice and encouraging, and you went out of your way to read, alert, and review—so thanks for that, by the way, and I hope what I've put forth in this chapter is enough to inspire you to keep coming back and leaving feedback as you go. I'm letting you know that I'm not a quitter—I will see this story to its conclusion—and that I hope you enjoy my extra-EXTRA long edition of "One Take Only."

The first crack in Kyoko's better day came when she ran into a major traffic jam on her usual route to work. After asking around, she found out that a foreign dignitary had come to Japan to meet with the prime minister, and even though the scores of pedestrians and bicyclists she was sharing the road with had no idea who he was or what he was here for (the reigning theory was "oil" because "isn't it always about oil?"), he was apparently important enough that six straight blocks of Main Street and all its side streets were tied up by barricades and SUVs with tinted windows.

Even Kyoko's considerable cycling skills couldn't help her when traffic cops were forcing her to go miles out of her way. She'd managed to leave the Darumaya with nearly twenty minutes to spare, but thanks to the mess the politician's visit had made, she was a full half-hour late—the worst delay she'd had since her first day working on Box 'R', when the happy afterglow of her birthday had made her forget her responsibilities.

Still, it wasn't a big deal. Yes, her heart was about to leap out of chest at the thought of having to apologize to the director for her tardiness—and who knew what someone might let slip to Shotaro when she wasn't around to run interference?—but according to the schedule, she wouldn't be needed for any scenes until after lunchtime. Today was meant to be another shoot focused mainly on Chitose and Sagara's courtship dance, but if they maintained a decent pace, the director expected them to get into the larger group scenes and at least some of the one-on-one flirting scenes between Sagara and Natsu in the afternoon. Of course, nothing was set in stone, and Kyoko's character as just vital enough that she'd been told to be on call for the whole day of shooting, just in case.

"You don't have any other projects going on right now, do you?" The director had asked around the pen between his teeth, not even bothering to look up from the heavily annotated schedule he was in the middle of amending. "We need to get in all the scenes with Fuwa-san as quickly as possible, and there's no telling what could happen."

On any other day she'd have rankled at even the memory of her boss stating point-blank that her time was practically worthless compared to Shotaro's, or the reminder that she was still far less successful than him, but today she was determined to stay positive. If she let herself think about how furious he made her, it would be that much harder to flirt convincingly when the time came.

With an ear-splitting squeal of rubber as she screeched to a stop in front of the studio, she took a moment to smooth down her clothes, pat her hair back into place, and release Natsu's soul from its vessel, allowing it to fill her from head to toe with the cool complacence of a spoiled teenage sociopath. No matter what, she would stay in control.

To her surprise, the moment she walked on set, she heard the director exclaim, "Oh, thank god, it's her!" He was sitting in his chair, surrounded by a crowd of anxious-looking techs and production staff, and his sentence was met with a collective sigh of relief. "Now that our Natsu-san is finally here, we might actually be able to salvage something from this mess."

More than a little unnerved to suddenly have all eyes on her (a feeling that didn't really bode well for her chosen career, she realized) she stopped dead in her tracks. "Sir?" She ventured, in a tone as close to meek as Nacchan could manage, which mostly came out as bored.

If the man was offended, he didn't show it. "Well, don't just stand there," he said briskly, "Get to makeup. We need to get things rolling, or we'll never make it in time."

Before she could say anything, a disembodied hand shot out of the throng and latched itself on her wrist, tugging her forcefully through the press of bodies, around a corner, and depositing her unceremoniously in front of a well-lit mirror.

"You're late," the hand's owner purred into her ear. "It's not very professional, making all of us wait like this." Registering the voice, her first instinct was to jerk away. But around-the-clock training as Setsu had made her a much more adaptable actress, and she ceded the decision to the part of her brain that belonged to Nacchan—with a warning that the rest of her had veto power over anything too extreme.

Instead, she leaned into his touch where his fingers lingered on her arm, brushing over the bare flesh of her wrist and her knuckles. She shrugged, and pitching her voice low to match his, said, "I didn't see any real reason to hurry. There's almost nothing for me to do today—and all of it dull." She affected a careless yawn, letting her slim fingers splay out over her face and graze her lips. She smirked internally when she saw the way his eyes immediately locked on her mouth. With his attention diverted she captured his hand in her own, digging her well-manicured nails into his wrist.

"Besides, Fuwa-san," she said, the tightness of her grip and sudden sharpness of her smile belying the seductive tone of her voice, "I don't remember asking for your opinion. In fact," she gave an extra squeeze, "I thought I had made it pretty clear just how little I care for these… talks…we've been having." She relinquished her hold on him, pleased to see her nails had made an impression. Nothing that would show up on camera, of course—they would fade in a matter of minutes.

Shotaro pulled back and made a move to massage his wrist, then thought better of it. He pulled the edge of his sleeve down over the marks and gave her his trademark grin.

"Please," he said, "Call me Sho."

With that baffling pronouncement, he swept out of the room, pausing only to give a rakish nod to the scandalized makeup technician who had been made an unwitting audience to the whole exchange.

"I was just—"

"Shh!"

Kyoko heaved an exasperated sigh. Covered in a frock with her hair pulled back and all her self-applied cosmetics wiped away, she couldn't risk stepping outside to flag someone down. Shotaro could, for all she knew, be lurking outside waiting for her to come out. Even as dense as he was, he couldn't fail to recognize her like this.

But she needed information; she had no idea what was going on or why she was suddenly so necessary. The only thing she could think of was that one of the other actresses had gotten stuck in traffic, too, but…that still wouldn't explain why they appeared to waiting specifically for her and not the other girl as well. Maybe there had been an accident? With all the chaos of people trying to figure out a way to weave through the crowd, a crash was pretty much inevitable. If she could just know what had happened, instead of having to guess… With Shotaro's incomprehensible behavior in the mix—for God's sake, she had bitten the man! What more could she possibly do?—it would be nice to have one less thing to worry about.

Unfortunately, every time she opened her mouth to ask the woman working on her makeup, she got shushed and told not to move. Which was odd. She knew that some of the work required her to stay still, but most the time she was allowed to talk, even back when she was playing Mio and had to wait through two hours of layering to put on the scar each day. As long as you didn't move too much, you were usually fine. Which meant the woman probably just didn't want to talk to her, which was almost odder.

Makeup techs loved Kyoko. She had such an overwhelming reverence for their craft and her face was so easily transformed that many of them looked forward to working on her. And this tech, a roundish sort of woman in her mid-40s with a soft smile and a fondness for hoop earrings, had never been an exception before. But every time Kyoko went to speak, her cheeks took on a reddish hue, she shook her head and hissed another "Shh!"

"Kyou—Natsu-san!" Wonder of wonders, Amamiya Chiori burst into the room. "There you are. What took you so long? It's not like you to be late."

"I was caught in traffic," she explained quickly, before she could be shushed again. "There was this huge blockade on Main, and…"

"Right, the South Korean president's in town," Chiori cut her off. "It's been all over the news for days—you were supposed to avoid the main roads, everybody knew that."

"Oh," was Kyoko's only response. She rarely watched TV as it was, and the last few days she'd had so much on her mind…She took it as a slight comfort that the people she'd polled for information this morning were only marginally better informed than she was.

"You picked a bad day for it, too," her friend continued, not bothering to take in her response, "what with Rumi being out for pretty much the whole day. The director is freaking out. He thought you might not show—you weren't picking up your phone."

"I didn't hear it go off," Kyoko protested. "Besides, I didn't think anybody would need me for hours! Why's Rumi-san out? Did something happen?"

"Yeah," Chiori said impressively. "Something happened. She got asked to be a guest on Entertainment Today to promote the show."

When the besmocked girl merely blinked in response, Chiori raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Y'know? One of the biggest talk shows in the country? Guaranteed to give a ratings bump to any show that gets featured on it? The director's been trying to get Rumi on it for weeks. You must have heard of it."

"I think I might have seen it once or twice," Kyoko said slowly, "but I don't really follow variety shows these days." They had always been more Sho's speed, after all. And one was so like another that it was hard not to let them all kind of blur together in her mind. "The only one I watch regularly is Bridge Rock."

Chiori wrinkled her nose at that. "The one with the giant chicken?" Before Kyoko could answer, she waved her off. "Anyway, this morning, Rumi gets a call saying they had to bump the guest they were planning to have on because his latest single seriously bombed, and would she like to step in? And since the whole point of this Fuwa Sho stunt is ratings," she scowled, "and since the chance might not come up again anytime soon, he figured she should go for it, and we'd just flip the schedule."

"Okay, so straight into the major flirting scenes," Kyoko confirmed.

Chiori nodded.

"Ugh, this is going to be a pain in the ass," she groaned.

Both her fellow actress and the makeup technician stared at her; they had never heard her utter so much as a "Shoot!" or a "Dang it!" before.

"Um…sorry!" She said quickly. "It just sort of…slipped out. And I guess I'm tired…you know…from the traffic. Are we done here?" She asked the tech, who nodded dumbly.

"Wow, you really don't like Fuwa Sho, do you?" Chiori asked mildly as she took off the smock and readjusted her clothes. Behind her, the makeup tech snorted back a laugh and helped her put her hair to rights.

Now if only I could get him not to like me, she thought despairingly.

Today was not going the way she wanted it to.

"Okay, everyone. That's a wrap for lunch!" The assistant director called out. "We'll see you back here in thirty."

Kyoko was exhausted. In the last hour alone, she'd had to hook her arm into his "for support" when she lost her footing, whisper "alluringly" into his ear, and fix his tie for him when it had gone crooked, each time trying to create sexual tension in the smallest of movements. How this was supposed to be the work of one episode, she couldn't begin to understand, but so far the only NGs had been on him for forgetting his lines, so she must be doing a decent job of it. Although why he was skipping whole chunks of dialogue only on their shared scenes was beyond her; it was like he wanted the scenes to drag on.

Only, at the same time, he seemed impatient to finish each scene. Every time the director called for a set change or a break, Shotaro was by her side, invading her space and muttering in her ear. She could not take a whole lunch's worth of that treatment, so she was making her escape. While Shotaro was distracted by his manager, who'd been trying to get his attention all morning, she snuck over to snatch one of the bentos off of the staff supply table and darted into one of the back hallways, where she opened the first door she came to.

"Natsu-san? Where are you going?" Chiori's voice stopped her. "The lunchroom's back that way."

Kyoko's shoulders slumped. "I know," she confessed, apologetic, "I was just hoping to get a little alone time. It's been a pretty busy morning, and I'm kind of beat." She finally had someone she could eat lunch with on a daily basis, and she felt bad just leaving her alone.

"Uh…okay," Chiori said slowly. "But why in a janitor's closet?"

Kyoko glanced at the sign on the room she was about to duck into. "Oh…right. Well, I figured I'd be out of the way in here, that's all."

"You'd be just as out of the way in your dressing room," Chiori pointed out.

"No!" She said quickly. "I mean…this is better. Quieter."

Her friend just looked at her oddly, then shrugged. "Okay, whatever floats your boat." She opened the door to the closet and walked in, gesturing for Kyoko to follow.

They both managed to squeeze in, with Chiori perching on top of a crate and Kyoko settling on an overturned bucket. They ate their lunches in silence for a minute or two before Chiori abandoned her campaign of pointed glances and opted for a direct question.

"Hiding from Fuwa Sho?" She said it casually, as if asking about the weather.

Kyoko considered how best to answer without letting out her secret, but as she looked across at the girl who had crammed herself into a closet that smelled like a combination of bleach and mildew just to talk to her, she decided to just be honest. "Yes. He's driving me insane."

"Was this what he was like the last time you worked together? Flirting with you every chance he got?"

"No," Kyoko shook her head. "He was just a jerk, like always."

"Like always?" Chiori echoed. "You've met him before?"

"Well…" she said hesitantly. "Look, you can't let this get out, okay? I don't want anyone to know about it."

For a moment, Kyoko could have sworn her friend actually looked touched before she plastered on a sly grin. "Are you kidding? After the secrets you've kept for me? No problem."

"He's sort of…my childhood friend. His parents pretty much raised me."

Whatever Chiori was expecting, it was not that. Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and stayed there.
For the next few minutes, she told Chiori an abbreviated version of her time in Kyoto, and how she came to be in Tokyo almost two and half years prior.

"We had a fight about a year after he started his music career. He was…" she cleared her throat, "using me. I was working three jobs to support him while he climbed his way up, and he just took it for granted."

Chiori had no idea what to say. She knew that, as a friend, she really should say something, but truth be told she was very nearly as new to friendship as Kyoko, and everything that came to mind seemed too shallow to match the mixture of grief and anger that was so out of place on the girl's usually cheerful face.

Luckily, Kyoko managed to think of something that lifted her spirits, because the look was replaced with a beatific smile and the brisk addendum, "Anyway, we really don't get along anymore. Every time we run into each other these days it just turns into a shouting match."

A little confused by the mood whiplash, Chiori blinked. Then, casting back to the conversation they'd had yesterday, she said, "But…he didn't remember you from your last job."

Kyoko nodded. "Exactly. Or rather, he didn't recognize me from…well, our whole lives."

Chiori just shook her head wonderingly. "That's…"

"Pathetic?" Kyoko suggested caustically.

Her friend laughed. "I was going to say 'amazing', but yeah."

"I figured it wouldn't do anyone any good if we acted the way we usually do around each other, so I've kept up the whole 'Natsu' act, but it's getting tougher. I have no idea why he's being like this."

"Because he's attracted to you," Chiori pointed out simply. "And all guys get annoying when they're attracted to you. Especially when you tell them you're not interested; they take it as a challenge."

It must tiresome, being beautiful, Kyoko found herself thinking. Both Amamiya-san and Moko-san have to deal with this kind of behavior all the time. Me, I'm perfectly fine with being plain if this is what beauty gets you. "So what do I do?" She asked helplessly.

Chiori pondered the question. "Kicking usually works for me," she said finally.

"I'm honestly not sure that'd be enough," Kyoko said.

"I'd still give it a shot," Chiori said. "If nothing else, it always makes you feel better." She slurped up a noodle and added, "You know what I can't believe, though?"

"What?"

"That the same people raised you and him," Chiori said, pointing her chopsticks first at Kyoko, and then jabbing them vaguely at the world beyond the closet door. "It just doesn't make any sense."

When they had both polished off their lunchboxes and tossed their trash away into the giant bin on the janitor's cart, Chiori dusted herself off and offered a hand to help Kyoko up.

"Oh, thanks," she said, "But you go ahead."

"We have to be back on set in five," the other actress reminded her. "And you can't hide forever."

"No, I know," Kyoko assured her. "I just realized my phone's been off since last night—that's why I didn't get any of the director's calls. I want to go through and make sure I haven't missed any important messages, then I'll be right out."

"Okay," She said, heading out.

"Oh, and uh…thanks for listening," Kyoko said shyly.

"No, thank you," Chiori smiled. "You gave me one more good reason to hate that self-important jerk. And you know how much I love to hate."

Kyoko scrolled through her list of missed calls, but it looked like they were all from the director that morning. He really had panicked—the man called her twelve times and didn't leave a single message explaining why.

There was one voicemail, though, according to the counter. She went back through her calls again, skipping past the ones from her director. Her heart thrilled a little when she saw the call she'd missed the first time through. It was from this morning, too, a little before she left for work, but most importantly, it was from Tsuruga Ren. She checked her watch real quick—she had time to listen to it, if it wasn't too long. She dialed in her voicemail code and pressed 'send.'

"Mogami-san," his voice, deep and rich, and, these days, evocative of memories that made her look like the sun was setting on her face, played over the tinny speaker of her cell phone. "I—there's something I need to talk to you about. Sometime this week, could you—if you're available, I'd like it if you could come to my apartment for dinner. I'll let you cook, of course," he said, with a laugh that sounded slightly put-on, like he was nervous. "I just…want to talk to you. Please call me back at your earliest convenience."

She stared blankly at the phone until the sounds of movement in the hallway made her remember that she didn't want to be late a second time in one day. Clutching the cellphone in her hand, she followed aimlessly after the herd of people all shuffling back to the set as one organism.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure if the message was something she should be happy over; the idea of Tsuruga-san needing to talk to her brought forth images of being called into the principal's office—not that she ever had been, of course. But…a feeling of warmth washed over her…she'd get to see him. Eat dinner with him and talk to him, too, maybe even about how well she'd used his lessons. She could say something about how good a teacher he was—no, that was silly, she scolded herself, blushing.

But she'd get to see him. And she wouldn't even need a mascot suit to do it.

Fuwa Sho rolled his eyes through yet another lecture courtesy of Aki Shoko.

"We aren't here just so you can play around, Sho," she said angrily. "This is work, remember? Just yesterday you were saying the girl looked halfway decent and now you're draping yourself all over her. People are already starting to talk, you know?"

"I'm just having a little fun, Shoko-san," he said idly, huffing a breath against his palm to make sure his mints were doing their job.

"Because forgetting your lines, missing your marks, and speeding through the dialogue like there's something chasing you, that's all just good fun?" Shoko massaged a temple, trying vainly to get through to her charge, who was now looking his most mulish and avoiding her gaze. "Look, I may not be an expert on acting, but I do know what it looks like when a strong actor overwhelms a weak one, and right now, Sho? You're the weak one. She's manipulating you to make the take work out—it's like you're a toy she's playing with, and everyone can see it." When he continued to stare pointedly in the opposite direction, she grabbed his ear and pulled his face towards hers. "Do you want it getting out to the press that Fuwa Sho is such a poor actor that he needs to be led around by the hand? Or that he lets his need to get laid get in the way of doing his job?"

The out-of-place vulgarity seemed to shake him out of his childish temper for a second. "I'm sorry, okay?" He snapped. "I thought I had my lines down, it's just…" His eyes wandered away again to find their target. Natsu, who for him was nothing but ice and hostility was standing up against the wall, waiting to be called onto the set, with a pink flush in her cheeks and a small smile he could only think of as "sweet." Ever since they'd gotten back from lunch, she'd been floating off into her own little world the moment the cameras stopped rolling, and even his most aggressive tactics couldn't break through to her. It was…distracting, for some reason. Why did he care if she blushed for something that wasn't him?

Pride, he reasoned. He didn't like the idea that he couldn't make her produce that same expression. What's more, the feeling that she was familiar to him was suddenly overwhelming. Every time he looked at her, he got a flash of déjà vu. He knew her, somehow. Knew that look on her face.

He really had learned his lines. It was part of his plan, to force her to acknowledge his skill as an actor. But when he was actually meant to deliver them, with her invading his space and smiling that seductive smile that he knew she'd never use on him for real, he'd just…stumbled, that's all. And if he missed his mark a few times, well, she steered him back into place, almost as if by instinct. The job got done, didn't it? The director said the scenes were good enough.

Next to him, Shoko just adopted her usual world-weary tone of voice. "Look," she said, trying in vain to get his eyes back on her, "It's not like you, making a fool of yourself over a girl." At least, not over a girl who isn't Kyoko, anyway, she thought. "Just—be careful, okay?" When he didn't respond, she barked a sharp, "Sho!"

"Yeah, yeah," he said irritably, still looking away, "I get it."

She traced his line of sight to its inevitable conclusion and sighed. Looking at the young girl blushing prettily in the corner of the room, even she had to admit that while she had definitely seen more classically attractive women in her day—herself included—there was something about her—a kind of magnetism that pulled the eye to her. The first thing she'd do when they wrapped for the day, she decided, would be to look up this Natsu girl and see just who she really was.

Director Annaka called everyone to gather 'round. "Okay," he said. "I just got a call from Rumi-san's manager, and it looks like she definitely won't be coming in today, since we only have a few hours left in the studio and it'll take her half that just to get through the traffic on Main. So it looks like we're going ahead with the kiss scene."

Kyoko's head shot up as she shook herself out of the hold her wayward thoughts had on her. The kiss scene? Now?

"I know you were hoping to film it later in the week," he continued, directing the apology not to the actress but to the idol, much to her confusion. He wanted to postpone the kiss? She thought. "And to be honest, I wanted to have Rumi react to the kiss live, but we lost a whole day of shooting with our protagonist and we'll need all the time we can get." He nodded to one of his producers. "We'll just have to cut in her reaction to the scene later. It shouldn't pose a problem." He seemed to remember something, then said in what he clearly thought was a kind tone, "Unless Natsu-san would rather we wait?"

"Natsu-san" was not in the building at the moment. Kyoko had been behind the controls for nearly the whole afternoon, thanks to the way Ren's phone call had rattled her composure. And Kyoko's brain was screaming one thing and one thing only: Finally! No more worrying about whether he'd find out beforehand. They were in the home stretch! Even if her secret got out after today, it wouldn't really matter. All they'd have to share after this were some group scenes where the focus would be on Rumi instead of her.

Apparently, her thoughts didn't translate to her face, because the director took her expression as a confirmation of her reluctance. "If you feel you're not ready, I'm sure we could find some way to put it off a little longer," he said.

Her eyes snapped to his, and in true Kyoko fashion, her sweet smile stayed in place while her grudge spirits rose out of the darkest part of her soul, wound their way around him and whispered in his ear in unison, "DO IT. NOW." A shiver passed down the man's spine and he was petrified in place while the kinder (and more corporeal) side of the young actress voiced the same sentiment in gentler terms.

"I assure you, Director-san, I am fully prepared for this scene. But thank you for your concern."

"Uh, r-right," he stuttered, jerking his head to gesture at the set when he found himself unable to lift his arms, "then, let's get started."

Kyoko's gaze darted over to where Shotaro was standing, and she prayed she didn't just expose herself in her eagerness to get this over with. He was looking at her, but not in an accusatory way. It was more…thoughtful, she guessed. Like he was trying to figure her out. All the more reason to finish this.

She shoved Ren's dinner invitation out of her mind and forced Natsu back into the driver's seat. She'd need every bit of separation she could get for this scene. Calm, composed, and cold once again, she found the little black "x" in masking tape that marked her spot and stood there at the ready.

Slowly, as if in a daze, Shotaro made his way to his own mark and awaited direction.

The tether now severed by the reinstatement of Natsu's s soul, Director Annaka's face regained some of its color, and he sat up straight in his foldable chair. "All right. Now, remember, Sagara-san, you're torn in this scene. You've had a crush on Chitose for months, and now that it seems to be going somewhere you don't want to lose your chance to be with her. Still, it's moving slowly and you only have so long left at this school—you're worried that you'll graduate and nothing will have happened. You'll give her your second button and maybe confess, but it'll be too late to have a real relationship.

"At the same time, you have Natsu suddenly paying attention to you, making her intentions very clear. She's pretty, popular, and for all you know, kind—there's a part of you that thinks it would just be easier to give in. This scene, for you, is the culmination of those feelings. When she kisses you, that's the moment when you think about resisting but ultimately choose to give yourself over to her control. It's a short scene, so it might take us a while to get the nuance just right, but I want to be able to see the struggle you're going through in your body language."

Turning to Natsu, he continued, "For Natsu, this is nothing but a game, but she wants him to think she's sincere. I want her to appear as if she really wants to kiss him, as if she really is drawn to him, but I want the kiss itself to be punctuated by a taunting look at Chitose—" he pointed to the double who would be standing in for the over-the-shoulder shot, "—and, if you can, try to underlie everything you say with a mocking tone. Make it clear to the viewers that your sincerity is nothing but a mask. And remember," he said, reverting once more to his kindly avuncular voice, "it's meant to be a sensual kiss. Don't worry if it takes a few times to get it right, okay?"

Natsu rolled her eyes at the suggestion that anything sensual wouldn't come naturally to her and stifled a snicker when "Sagara" squared his shoulders and tensed, waiting for his cue.

"Episode 22, Scene 41, Take One," one of the techs called out mechanically. "We're rolling."

"And…Action!" Director Annaka said.

Natsu smirked, tilting her head to one side as Sagara turned the corner, stopping just short of bumping into her. "Sagara-sempai, what a pleasant surprise. We hardly ever get to see you in this wing of the school."

He smiled distantly, looking past her to the hallway beyond before answering, "Yes, I'm supposed to be meeting with…someone," he hedged. "But it doesn't look like she's here yet."

A thin, expertly penciled eyebrow rose on Natsu's forehead, her face the picture of mild distress. "She? It isn't your girlfriend, is it?" She pouted, stepping further into his comfort zone, hand hovering over the collar of his suit jacket as if she longed to put it right. "And here I thought we had a connection, sempai." Her smile carried a hint of melancholy, but the cold clarity of her eyes left no doubt as to its artificiality.

"Uh, well," he said, flustered now, but trying to regain his smooth persona, "She's just a friend, really," he said before he could really think about what he was saying. "I'm not seeing anyone just now."

Natsu's smile quirked up fractionally. His eyes were on her now, not on the passage behind her where, if the muffled tap of indoor shoes on carpet were to be believed, Chitose had just arrived in time to hear him deny their relationship.

"But you like her?" She pressed earnestly. "More than you like me?"

"Well," he started again, "she's my kouhai. Of course I care about her."

Her hand ceased hovering and made contact, flattening down the edge of his collar and tracing it up to his shoulder. "Well, I'm your kouhai, too, aren't I?" She pointed out. "Don't you care about me?"

"Of course," he said with a soft smile, reaching up to kindly, but firmly, pull her hand away from his body. "I care about all my cute underclassmen."

She mirrored his smile and took advantage of his hand on hers to pull him even closer, and, when he loosened his grip, startled, she laced his fingers through his. Always alert, she had no trouble hearing the soft gasp at her back, though it didn't seem to reach Sagara's ears.

Natsu pulled his captive hand up to her lips, and, said, punctuating her words with a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers, "Am I not good enough?"

He swallowed nervously. "Look, Kitazawa-san—"

"Natsu," she corrected, "please."

"You're very nice, and smart, and pretty, it's just…" he trailed off looking into her hopeful eyes.

"It's just…?" she echoed sweetly. When he couldn't seem to find his voice, she cast a sharp, triumphant sidelong glance back at the girl watching the whole exchange, not even bothering to see her reaction, just letting her know that she knew. She could practically feel the despair rolling off her prey in waves, and it delighted her. Time for the final touch.

She released his hand and placed her own on his collar once again, the other on his tie. He was somewhat shorter than her practice partner, so she took her time pulling him down toward her, making it last. His eyes widened, then closed as her nose brushed his. Their lips met, and for a moment he resisted the push of her tongue against his mouth, but she stroked her fingers through his hair and his lips parted for her. All control gone, he melted into the kiss, their tongues sliding and twisting together, his arms reflexively wrapping themselves around her. She didn't melt, though, but stayed in control, guiding his head by means of her fingers twisted into his bleach-blonde hair, crushing him closer, until he was trying to pull away, gasping against her lips.

Finally, she seemed to decide she made her point, and with a smile that carried no trace of kindness or affection, that could only be described as cruelly, viciously satisfied, she let him up for air, letting a single nail drag along his cheek, leaving a long, faint red scratch as it went.

"So, sempai?" She purred. "Am I good enough?"

Breathless, he put the final nail in his coffin and answered, "You-you're amazing."

The camera ran for a few more beats before the Director called out, "Cut!"

As Kyoko sucked air back into her deprived lungs now that she was no longer required to be stoic, she couldn't help but smile. She'd gotten through it! Somehow, she'd managed to force herself to kiss Shotaro without so much as a single slip. Behind her back, she crossed her fingers, waiting for the director's verdict on the scene.

"I think we have a wrap, everyone," he said, sounding thoroughly impressed. "I don't usually like adlibs, Fuwa-san, but the way you delivered that last line—I think it fit quite well."

That's right, Kyoko realized, the last line was supposed to be a simple "yes." He screwed up his lines again. Right now, though, she found she didn't really care. It was a wrap—it was really over!

One Take Only! She crowed gleefully to herself. She'd kept her promise to Tsuruga-san.

"And Kyouko-chan, I have to say, that kiss was well beyond anything I would have expected from you," the director continued. "I mean, when I said 'sensual' I just meant that it should more than some chaste little peck, but you—wow!" He actually started to clap for her, with more than a few of the stunned production staff joining in.

"Excuse me," a rough, cold voice rang out over the din, "but just who here is 'Kyoko-chan'?"

The director paused in his applause, and with a bemused, "Um…her?" he turned his traitorous index finger in Kyoko's direction, singling her out for the attention of a completely livid Fuwa Sho.

A/N: I know you're probably thinking, "Great, another cliffhanger." But just think, I was seriously considering cutting you off when the director says, "Action." And wouldn't that have been so much worse? :P