Chapter 68: Unveiling
Ren smiled at her from off-stage, his stage makeup scar creasing slightly with the movement. She blushed and bit her lip as she smiled back, turning away quickly to fidget with something on the prop table. Today was his last day on set. His eyes drank in her slender form. Watching her work was intoxicating — the joy she brought to Lotus was palpable, a wave of energy that radiated out from her everywhere she walked, infecting each person with whom she interacted. Backs straightened, movements quickened, passion ignited. Could she see it too?
Ren shook his head in silent, joyful denial. There was no way she knew. For one, if she knew she was such a potent influence she'd be riddled with embarrassment. In her eyes, she was "just a talento" still. Lory's decision to not have her debut yet was a heavy influence on her self-worth as an actress, and until she was set free from LoveME to be a full fledged star Ren didn't think she'd ever seriously consider herself an influencer.
She was a fascinating study in contrasts this morning. Her dark kunoichi head wrap and long ponytail blending into the black wrappings standard for Momiji clashed startlingly with the bright humor filling her amber eyes. She laughed, the ponytail swinging across her back, delicate fingers sweeping her bangs to the side as she spoke to a poor flustered cameraman. Ren waited on his entrance mark. He knew she had a trigger— they were scheduled to start filming in ten minutes and sometime between now and then Momiji would consume her. His appearance hadn't switched her. Morizumi was even present, discussing the script heatedly with the diligent Kasama-san.
Koga walked in, his features set in determination. His long ash gray robes swirled around slippered feet as he strode over towards her. Ren saw the switch then. Without turning around she had recognized his entry. Her back straightened, shoulders formed down and back, head raised in alertness. Ren watched the cameraman blanch as she shifted; he bowed slightly, mumbling a word of polite departure as she turned to face Shizuma. Her eyes were hard and possessive, the humor subsumed by fire. Momiji had risen.
Ren shifted his weight, planting his feet firmly beneath him as he watched Shizuma come to a standstill next to her. The pair exchanged brief words; Momiji bowed her head slightly, her hands clasped in acknowledgment. Ren felt a rising tide of jealousy. She blushed and smiled for him— but she transformed for Koga.
Let it flow into Rusu, he told himself, closing his eyes to internalize this feeling. A need to consume— to possess— to steal her away and mark her as his but confronted by an undeniable proof that she had already marked herself as someone else's. Rusu's eyes opened. He watched them, letting his fury and lust radiate out from him. He didn't care if the world knew he was an owned man. He needed her. Not the world.
Shizuma looked over, catching Rusu's glare. Morizumi-san's call to action went almost unheard, barely registering in the actors' subconscious. The lights flickered as the stage crew placed the forest filter over the bright lamps. Shizuma walked forward, leaving Momiji in the shadows. He stopped midway near a giant boulder, his hands hanging in tight fists by his side. Rusu waited, watching him from the edge of the clearing.
Suddenly, Shizuma bowed towards Rusu. "Thank you, sensei," he said with a clear, strong voice. "You saved my life."
Rusu growled, stalking forward out of the shadows to stand opposite Shizuma, his hand braced on the hilt of his sword. "Why bring up the past again? It is today I need from you," he barked.
"It is today I speak of, sensei," Shizuma said, his eyes suddenly springing to life though nothing else changed in his posture.
"I saved the kunoichi, not you," Rusu said, his voice thick with emotion as he took a step towards Shizuma. "Where is she?"
Shizuma nodded, his bearing peaceful but his eyes full of challenge. "As I said, you saved my life." He paused, his eyes fixated on Rusu's. "Momiji is mine, Rusu-san."
Rusu's thumb flicked at his sword hilt, bearing an inch of blade in threat. "She is no man's."
Shizuma spread his hands wide, opening himself up before Rusu. "And yet," he said, his face still calm, "she is not by your side." Rusu snarled and unsheathed his blade fully, holding it pointing down. His hand shook with the intensity of his self-control.
"She is not by yours either, ronin," he spat out.
"Her lineage, her vows, her duty speak otherwise," Shizuma retorted, anger creeping into his voice.
"She is not property!" Rusu roared. "Set her free and she will choose me— she cannot choose you."
Shizuma finally let his hand rest on his sword hilt, squaring off with Rusu. "You are mistaken. It is you she cannot choose."
"You do not love her!" Rusu yelled, raising his sword. His sight of Shizuma was sliced in two by the sword-length, a vision of final fracturing of allegiance and brotherhood if he could not have his desires.
Shizuma stood still and silent, measuring Rusu. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword as he weighed him, crouching slightly in preparedness to defend or strike.
"Nevertheless," a voice as still as moonlight rang from the shadows. Momiji walked out between the two men, her eyes devoid of emotion but her upright bearing screaming pride and self-control. She turned to face Rusu, shielding Shizuma with her body. Bowing to Rusu, a small flicker of passion crossing behind her eyes as she made eye contact. It was the only betrayal of any emotion felt at all. "I am Shizuma's."
Shizuma sheathed his sword and rose up from fighting stance, waiting for Momiji to reach his side. He extended his hand towards her wordlessly. She stared down at it and slowly placed hers inside, his palm dwarfing her delicate but deadly hands. The pair turned away from Rusu.
Rusu staggered a step forward, his knuckles white on his sword. "He does not love you!" he cried, his voice haggard. Momiji's shoulders twitched at his words, but she neither turned around nor acknowledged his call, walking forward in pace with her master. Shizuma's hand gripped hers tightly, too tightly, causing pain to shoot up her arm as he walked stiffly beside her. They reached the darkness of the forest and, just before disappearing from view, Shizuma dropped her hand, his fingers stretching in reaction against the unfamiliar contact.
A roar cut through the forest as Rusu dropped to his knees, slamming his sword blade-first into the ground. The camera zoomed in on his face, his eyes hungry and jaw taut with anger.
"I will have her," he breathed out, the words heavy with curse and promise.
"CUT," Morizumi called, clapping. "Excellent work - five minute break - keep the tension, everyone! Crew, reset for Scene 482, Night!" The stage erupted in action as Ren rose slowly to his feet. He stalked off in the opposite direction from Kyoko and Koga; if he were to keep his rage focused the last thing he could see was her smile.
He paced in the back hallway, crew members crossing the hallway to maintain distance from him as he waited for the call. One more scene. The memory of her walking away from him, hand-in-hand with another man rotted in his belly. He wanted to rip their hands apart. He wanted to bury him. To destroy him. His hand twisted around his sword hilt. Set her free.
"Places!" the summons rang out and Rusu gritted his teeth.
"Finally," he growled, shoving open the door into the studio.
Shizuma sat cross-legged before the small cooking fire, his stone cup cradled in his hands. His thumb smoothed over the rough texture of the rim, his eyes absently staring into the red-orange flames. The night was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Momiji's pack lay beside his on the ground, but the ninja herself was absent. Shizuma threw the rest of the contents of his cup onto the fire with a sizzle and stood with a stretch.
He turned to head for his sleeping roll when a dark shadow loomed close in front of him. Shizuma reacted swiftly, reaching into his sleeve to withdraw a short blade and raise it in time to deflect the down-slicing sword. His attacker never recoiled, pressing forward into Shizuma's defense recklessly with a second hacking swing. Shizuma barely managed to parry it away from his face, his fingers going numb from the blunt force slamming against his smaller blade. He stepped back, closer to the fire, ducking under a third swing. He grabbed dirt and flung it up as he spun low, his leg snaking out to try and knock his opponent down. The man jumped up, flipping over Shizuma and landing noiselessly on the opposite side of the fire.
The flames lit Rusu's face in garish caricature as he snarled at Shizuma. The two slowly circled the fire, eyes bound to one another across the leaping flames. Suddenly Rusu tensed, then sprang forward with a side-step around and across the fire's base, the heat singeing his hakama. Shizuma leapt backwards, striving to keep enough space between them to render Rusu's longer blade ineffective, but Rusu pressed forward in a powerful rush and grabbed Shizuma by the collar, slamming him down into the ground, falling purposefully on top him to pin his chest with his full weight.
"I will have her," he snarled under his breath, "no matter the cost."
Shizuma struggled, reaching out as far as he could, his fingertips scrabbling in the dirt for his fallen blade. Rusu reached down, his fingers wrapping around Shizuma's neck as he leaned forward. "Even at the price of you," he whispered, his face hovering just about Shizuma's as he bared his teeth, his hands tightening around Shizuma's neck. Shizuma kicked up, pressing his hips against Rusu's weight, slamming his hands into his arms. Rusu absorbed his attacks, each blow making his body shudder with the impact but never shifting the grip of his hands or the intent focus of his gaze. Shizuma's face started to redden and Rusu leaned down, his lips grazing Shizuma's forehead. Shizuma felt his vision start to go black, his sight narrowing to just the bright haze of Rusu's eyes, so close- Shizuma's hand clenched around loose dirt and he flicked his wrist, sending a spray of pebbles and dust into Rusu's eyes. Rusu coughed, his hand raising instinctively to protect himself, freeing Shizuma's throat. Shizuma rolled out from under him onto his knees, gasping for air as he crawled away.
A pair of black leather boots filled his vision. He rasped out a quick, "Rusu- stop him-" before collapsing as Momiji's feet flew over him.
"CUT!" Morizumi yelled, a single clap followed by greedy hand-rubbing greeting the actors as they slowly stood, recovering from the scene. Kyoko beamed at Ren brightly then turned to help Koga up, her hand extended down to him. Koga seemed surprised at the offer, blinking in dismay at her hand before reaching out and grabbing her as he stood. Kyoko patted him on the shoulder, offering her congratulations for the successful fight scene.
Koga shook his head lightly in negation, looking at Ren across the stage. "It was a team effort," he said matter-of-factly. "Tsuruga-san," Koga paused, searching for words as a blush seared across his face. Tsuruga-san what? Has the most firm inner thighs, perfect for wrapping around my chest? Soft lips, delicate but hot against my forehead? Strong, overly large hands, wrapped around my throat, cutting off sensations one by one until all I'm aware of is him and his hands and his presence… His mind flooded with the unforeseen intimacy of the moment. Tsuruga's body pressing down on his, his own blood ringing in his ears, everything narrowing slowly to just the power of the man straddling him.
Kyoko looked at him strangely. "Tsuruga-san… what, Koga-san?" Koga bit his lip for a moment before recovering, trying to pass it all off.
"Tsuruga-san is an outstanding actor, truly Japan's #1," he said, though it galled him bitterly.
"True," Kyoko said, pondering, "and yet not what I think you were going to say." She studied Koga. "You look… flushed."
Koga scoffed at her. "Fight scene, of course I'm flushed. Our choreographers push our limits; don't they."
"Not that type of flushed," Kyoko said innocently, still examining him closely. His eyes were averted but unmistakably full of a fearful longing. "Ah! That's it! You've got the same look I do when I meet the Emperor!" she crowed, full of pride over her own deductive skills.
Koga rolled his eyes at her. "As if you've met Japan's Emperor," he said coldly. "A mere talento."
"Not that Emperor," she said, laughing. "The one Tsu- oh, never mind, I don't really think you care to get into this with me. At least I figured it... out..." she finished, her words starting to trail off more and more slowly as she spoke. She stopped suddenly and looked directly at Koga, then over at Ren. Back to Koga.
"You-" she started, pointing from Koga to Ren.
A/N: Oooooh does she know does she know... and tomorrow she leaves for the MV with SHO! What the what this is getting fun. Persie loves you! *