A/N: THAT WAS A MEAN PLACE TO STOP SRY HERE YOU GO HAPPY SUNDAY

No Turning Back

His whole body shook as he stalked back to the forest. This was not the plan. The plan was supposed to be magic. It was a guaranteed smash for his fairy-loving Kyoko. Mirrors and surprise entrances and sparkles and the perfect reveal of his alter-ego, then they'd run away together into the forest to the picnic he'd prepared, where he could slowly and lovingly tell her all as they sat in the dappled sunlight.

This was total shit. He should've waited until he knew they were done filming. She'd told him this MV was going to be a train wreck. She'd assured him she had no feelings for Fuwa. She'd done everything except give him the actual script, and that curiosity -- the need to see for himself what Fuwa had roped her into -- had burned inside him. Too soon his feet wandered their way to that cursed strip of beach.

At first, it was perfect. Watching Fuwa Sho slowly fall apart from the treeline was sweet poetry. The boy was tragically off his game. He looked like a zombie the first take, then an angry little brother the second. Kuon had crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing back against a tree. A few more takes like this and the whole MV would be trash except Kyoko's parts. Her homage to Momiji was perfect: a touch of the kunoichi's coldness and stunning martial skills without completely embodying her and muddling the storylines.

He'd watched her pull the twerp aside and lecture him, a slow grin crossing his face as he recognized the posture and attitude as ones she'd borrowed from him. He'd whispered encouragements to her from his hiding place like "rip him to shreds" and other such pleasing platitudes.

Kuon should've known she would be far too effective. After her coaching Fuwa stood still, seemingly mesmerized. Kuon expected another crash-and-burn, but when the director called action it was as if the boy had transformed. Kyoko had somehow poured a piece of her talent into that tiny asinine brain. Of all the scenes for them to click! Kuon's jealous rage had slowly risen as he watched the sparring unfold beneath him, each attack and defense growing more and more sensual as the take progressed. He could see her cheeks flushing. Her eyes grew heated and her touches lingered slightly too long. Fuwa's hands touched her where no man's hands except his should be allowed. Fuwa tugged on her kimono and Kuon snapped. His body started racing down the hill toward them, no plan formed, no cautions pretaken, his being overwhelmed with a visceral need to get down there and rip the two of them apart before he touched another centimeter of her skin. Twenty paces out Fuwa snagged her knee and the pair tumbled to the ground, Kyoko flipping to land on top of him. Fuwa pulled her down to his kiss -- not again -- he wasn't going to make it in time. Kuon heard a guttural cry ripped from his own chest.

Kyoko's face lifted at the sound and her eyes met his. He saw her face transform. "Corn!" She cried, standing and walking toward him. He flashed a murderous glare at Fuwa, damning him for his meddling. He had to get away. This wasn't how he wanted to tell her. He tore himself away from them before he could interrupt further, hoping against hope she'd let him leave and pull of the best parts of the plan later. Calmly.

He looked back over his shoulder. She was following him! In the middle of a shoot-- shit, now he was throwing away his chance for the perfect reveal and her reputation along with it. Kuon walked faster, reaching the treeline. He shoved aside a branch and crashed through the forest undergrowth. If he could just find a place to hide, she would go back to work and he could try again. Later.

He saw a cluster of boulders and turned to head for them but was stopped short by a tug on his sleeve.

"Corn!" her voice called from immediately behind him, her fingers twisted into his shirt. He couldn't believe she was able to keep up. He tried to brush off her hand but she threw her entire body at him, hugging him from behind. "It is you! You came back! Is it the beach? The beach is a connection to where you live in the Fairy Kingdom, isn't it? Last time was a beach, and I'm at a beach just as beautiful and magical and here you are! Or water— when we were kids it was by water too! Oh, Corn, I was so frightened when you jumped off the building but you flew." She pulled back slightly, beaming up at him. "You flew! Just like when we were little! Your wings…" she trailed off, her eyes sparkling.

Kuon was desperately trying to slow his breathing. His entire script was out the window. He had to get control back. He had to make sure her career wasn't impacted by his rashness. He needed a redo.

"You left the set for a personal matter?" He heard himself saying, his voice reserved, cold. "Do you know how many people you are inconveniencing right now?"

Kyoko pulled back from him slightly, confused. "Corn?"

Kuon turned to look at her, standing straight and holding her out at arm's length, his eyes serious. "Go back, Kyoko. A true actress never lets her personal matters come between the film and success."

Kyoko's face slowly blanched as she stared at him. She shook her head as if she were trying to clear her thoughts. She looked up at him again, her hands shaking slightly as she spoke a single word. "Sempai…?"

Shit.

Kuon's mind whirred, trying to think of a way to cover up his slip with some fairy excuse. He'd been so intent on carving out a small space of time for himself to recover, to get back to the plan, that he'd slipped. He used a method guaranteed to force her back to work -- but it was one of Tsuruga Ren's classics.

She stepped back from him, studying his face, her gaze darting downwards from shoulders to arms to waist to legs. He knew what she was doing: measuring him. Kuon grimaced. He reached out for her. Time to forget all the plans, forget all the insecurities and fears and consequences and wrap her in his arms and just tell her all of it. He'd figure out how to clean up the mess from his choices later.

Curses and crashes erupted from the forest behind them and the white-clad figure of Fuwa Sho barged into their small clearing.

"Damnit, Kyoko, there you are!" Fuwa stomped over to her side and tugged at her arm, ripping her away from Kuon. "Who in the hell are you?" he said, glaring at Kuon.

"Sempai," Kyoko answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fuwa looked at her in startlement. "This guy? A sempai?" His gaze bounced from one to the other, trying to make sense of the situation. "Whatever. We need to get back; the Director is furious with you."

Kyoko shook her head, but Fuwa started to pull her away regardless. Kuon stepped forward to stop her. He paused, realizing the cost to her career if he stole her now.

"Kyoko," he said softly. "Meet me tonight."

Fuwa shot him a glare but Kuon ignored him, his entire being focused on her, tensed for her response. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. But still-- she looked at him. She nodded.

She turned and let herself be pulled away by Fuwa.

Kuon sagged against the tree. He'd screwed this up. Typical. He should've told her that first night in the car when she saw his contacts. He wasted so much time worrying, and it had all exploded anyways. He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. "No turning back now, Hizuri," he said to the empty forest. In the distance he could hear a rise of noise as activity resumed on the set. Taking a deep breath, Kuon pushed himself upright. He turned to look in her direction. This was it. Know and be fully known, Kuon. He stepped out into the sunlight and took a deep breath.

Four hours until nightfall.