Chapter 36!
It wasn't easy to concentrate, even though it was the last meeting that Director Ogata was having with the production team to formally wrap up the filming segment. Struggling to catch all the key dates for post-production that I could while they mostly flew over my head, it was unfortunate that the bulk of processing power in my cortex had currently been channelled to an issue far more pertinent. After Sakura had stumbled out of the taxi into her mansion of a home, I had the cab driver take me right back to the club, where I'd demanded that both Kichirou and Kaitou take me home before I divulged this information to both brothers and my grandparents.
Who the heck was Sakura's mom, Tina; and what did this lunatic of a woman even want? Was she an out-of-control stalker perhaps; yet how would she know about me, or more specifically, Etsuko? As much as my grandparents, brothers and I combined our cerebral efforts, we couldn't understand what was truly transpiring, and I clocked barely three full hours of fitful rest before hauling my sleep-deprived body to this current meeting. Safe to say, I fulfilled my physical attendance as Emily Hart, junior producer; but my mind had completely checked out from the ongoing conversation.
"Emily-chan? Is that okay?"
Emily who? Emily me? Was what okay? The fact that this life of mine was getting stranger and stranger? Or that my 24 multiple personalities and myriad of secrets were finally taking its toll on my soul? My eyes glanced around the room, bouncing from one acclaimed main producer to the next, and realised they were still waiting for an answer from what was left of my fractured sanity.
"Yes Director, that's…okay!"
"Great! The artiste will land in the LA International Airport this evening, when the main team will meet him to discuss some of the finer details before our flight back to Tokyo. Emily, since you're staying on, you'll have the secondary film crew with you here to record the rest of the scenes for the opening and ending songs. I will be sending you a general list of all the shots we need, and if you have any ideas you want to try, go ahead; as long as we can send the footage to post-production by the end of this week," Director Ogata smiled at me as he stood up from his chair, effectively signalling the end of the meeting.
As the production team speedily filed out of the hotel's conference room to enjoy their final day in the city of angels, Director Ogata gave me a pat on the back, and turned around to talk to me when the others had left.
"I'm surprised President Lory asked you to stay behind to film, we thought we would just have the opening and ending songs edited together with our current promo materials," Director Ogata had a kind look on his face, "sorry to trouble you with more work, you've already done so much."
"Director, I'm grateful actually, it means I get to spend more time with family here," I managed to respond more light-heartedly than I truly felt.
"I'd love to have you around in Tokyo to observe the post-production process, but of course there's no other obligations. I'm just counting on you to do an excellent job this week."
"I will, thanks Director," I squeezed out a cheery tone, and watched as the door of the meeting room gradually closed shut.
Gathering up my files and the suggested storyboards for the opening and ending music videos, I realised that I had zoned out the entire meeting, and hadn't even gotten the name of the artiste that I would be working with. Shrugging it off and rationalising that I would find out later anyway, I decided I would head home to rest before I had to meet the artiste of the song tonight, and start preparing for filming in the week ahead. Besides, if President Lory had arranged it, it would probably be someone professional from LME, someone Emily Hart would be thrilled to meet. Etsuko, on the other hand, was reaching her limit for just about any more surprises in her life. It was like the past two months had been a giant, unwarranted kinder egg that lacked an expiry date, and the chocolate to boot.
As I walked down the corridor of the business centre of the hotel leading to the lift lobby, my phone began vibrating incessantly, still in silent mode from the meeting before. Although there was no caller ID, I picked up anyway, knowing that it could be anyone from work with a private number.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is that Ms Emily Hart? This is Tsuruga-san."
I stopped dead in my tracks. Emily Hart only knew two different Tsuruga-sans, and this voice didn't belong to either of them. Etsuko, on the other hand, could place this tenor even if she heard it in a crowd.
"Pardon me, you must be surprised – this is Tsuruga Ren. I've heard a lot about you from my father."
Kuu-Ojiisan? Was Otousan calling me just to tell me he knew about my cover and my work in LME? But why in the world would he address me as Emily and not Etsuko? His tone wasn't a jovial one, neither was it one that was about to bust my sorry derriere. He sounded urgent, and strangely desperate.
"Otou-"
"Yes, I do call him Otousan, although I prefer the English way of calling him 'Dad'. Listen Emily, are you alone?"
"Yes…Tsuruga-san?"
"Good. Just listen. Don't go home today, or for the rest of this week. Stay in the hotel. Boss has already prepared everything. Kyoko and I know about it."
"Wha…what's going on?"
"I'm not completely sure either, some peculiar rumour about me having a daughter," my father's voice lowered as he continued. "Knowing my past, if I even had a daughter, she's not safe."
As I slumped down in a plush chair along the silent hotel walkway, the brevity of his last sentence washed over me, as words failed to come out of my mouth. I wasn't safe because of his past? Thankfully, Otousan continued to do the talking.
"I'm looking forward to working with you in the future Emily. That's such a nice name, I'm sure you don't have to use a Japanese name even if you break on the scene in LME. You should use that name all the time. Promise me you will take care of yourself?"
"Yes, I…I…promise."
"Don't worry if I don't contact you. I'll be in touch when I can," Otousan's tone softened from one that hurried to dish out instructions, to one that had a wistful longing lodged within it. "Maybe to direct another mini-series. You are very talented, I'm sure your parents are proud of you."
Wait, Otousan and Okaasan knew that I was working with Director Ogata? And they were proud of me?
"I…I hope they are. And – I'm also sorry I didn't tell them earlier."
"There's no need to apologise. They understand; I… understand," I clutched my phone a little tighter to my ear as I could clearly make out Otousan's wan smile at the other end of the line as he continued. "Remember to call Boss if anything happens. Stay safe, Miss Hart."
"Thank you. Goodbye, Tsuruga-san."
As the line went dead, I willed myself to drag my ragdoll body up from the plush hallway chair, resisting the urge to curl into a foetal position and ponder every single question that had been swirling in my mind while bawling my heart out. If Otousan had to call so urgently, warning me against going home to Kuu Jiichan and Julie Baachan, it was unlikely that I would see my brothers before they left for Japan. Ever since I returned to the land of the free, I had not been left to my own devices – my loving grandparents and brothers had dutifully watched over me. But now, because of some perilous circumstance that I couldn't be privy to, I would be left to my own devices for now – or at least till the end of the week.
For a first time in a long time, I was truly alone.
…
I paced gingerly around the luxurious suite that afternoon, my new home-away-from-home for the next week, while waiting for my luggage to be sent to the hotel from my grandparent's place. Apparently even though Otousan – or Tsuruga Ren, as Emily Hart now had the pleasure of knowing – had been worried sick about me for some strange reason, they still thought it would be safer for me to stay in the hotel under the guise of having to finish up filming for the mini-series' OST tracks, and for me to follow the secondary film crew home to Japan immediately after. Why President Lory had chosen a suite to house this small fry of a junior producer, instead of a normal hotel room was beyond me, but I was done questioning the most eccentric being in the universe. Besides, I had other convoluted things to think about.
After I had explored the entirety of the 2-bedroom suite, ate everything in the poorly stocked mini-bar, and fawned over the baby grand piano (before plonking out a zooming rendition of "cat-steps", which Otousan had taught me with mirth in his eyes), I waddled to the swanky clear floor-to-ceiling windows, which gave an amazing view of the stretch of Hollywood from 20 storeys up. In light of the perplexing and ever-changing developments in this whacked out life of mine, I firmly believed that it warranted some forlorn and contemplative staring out of these glass panes.
And so began round one.
The first question that had still been bouncing around in my head – who was this Tina, and how was Otousan, Ojiisan and Obaasan involved? There had to be a reason that I could not be seen with my grandparents, and an even more important rationale behind why Kuu Ojiisan had felt the need to spill the beans about Emily Hart, and her involvement in the production of Director Ogata's mini-series, to Otousan. And that wasn't even the most shocking part – Otousan hadn't even bat an eyelid at the fact that I tried to make my own break into the spotlight, years after they said they wanted me to have a choice, and that they wanted to protect me from the blinding lights of fame and stardom.
The fact that Otousan had spoken to me so cryptically, emphasising that I was not safe here, chilled me to the bone. I had heard enough about Okaasan's memories, with this Fuwa Sho and even from Yuuichi's own mother, but what was the extent of this hidden past that Otousan had that affected the present nearly 20 years later? There was a nagging feeling that it was something much more worrisome than having Sho kidnap my brothers and return them at the end of the day.
That led my mind straight to round two.
If I wasn't safe in Japan, where my parents had hurriedly shipped me out of for fear of Kidnapper-Kun version 2.0; and I wasn't safe in California, where would I go after the filming was over? Would going home to Japan, and to continue being "Emily Hart of LME" really be the safer choice? I wanted to use this persona as an avenue where I could freely express myself, where I could give the actors and entertainers in showbiz wings to fly, without having to worry about upholding the Tsuruga or Hizuri dynasty – but what would it all mean if I had to deny the fact that Etsuko Hizuri ever existed? That life would be no life at all, and I detested the thought of having to live the rest of my life in hiding, without actually knowing what I was hiding from, or what was so dangerous anyway.
And finally, my thoughts drifted to round three.
It had been a whole month. One whole month since Yuuichi left his own cryptic letter, telling me not to do anything rash, telling me he would set things straight. One whole, agonising month trying to forget his breath against my cheek, his forehead against mine; one month where I had intermittent dreams of myself wrapped safe in his arms, then waking up with tears, to the realisation that his steady, calming presence in my life since I returned to Japan was now a thing of the past. One whole month, in which I confirmed that Yuuichi's letters were what got me through my own perturbed childhood. And here I was, alone again, this time without even the rest of my family, lest they put me in jeopardy.
At the start of this one month, all I wanted were answers. But I didn't want answers anymore, I just wanted Yuuichi back. The more I wrapped my head around it, and why we were apart, it seemed more and more like Yuuichi and I both were caught in an elaborate web that neither of us asked for, with histories that bled into and enslaved our present lives. What incredulous storyline was this, that I had to live out as my reality?
What great sin of the past was my generation paying for?
…
As the beginnings of magenta twilight chased the streaks of sunset around the canvas of the sky, the shrill sound of my phone blaring out the theme song to teen titans (yes, the Puffy AmiYumi one, don't judge, my brothers told me to change my ringtone) shook me out of my pensive mood.
"Emily-san, heard you are still at the hotel," the executive producer in charge of the secondary film team huffed into the phone. "Could you pick up the artiste from the lobby and bring him to the hotel conference room? I've gotten word that he's already arrived and checked in. I'll be back in 20 minutes, and we'll run through the film sequence for the next week."
Crap, I hadn't been listening when they had been introducing the singer this morning, and it wouldn't be professional to ask for his name now. Etsuko Hizuri might be a nervous wreck, but at least Emily Hart could fake it till she made it.
"Okay, I'll go pick him up. Is…anyone with him?" I winced as I crossed my fingers for more clues.
"One of the film crew said that he was spotted carrying a huge, half-body size stuffed Pikachu when he got off the plane, I guess you count that as someone," she chuckled into the phone.
"Alright then, I'll just follow the sounds of crackling thunderbolts in the lobby then," I laughed in return, and ended the call.
I sighed as I got up from the sofa next to the glass windows within the suite, changing out of the hotel's comfortable lounge clothes into Emily Hart's attire. At least it'd be easy to spot an Asian man among the white tourists in the hotel, better still if he was hauling a giant Pikachu around. In retrospect, that should have set off all the alarm bells in my head – alas, breathing in the same air as Trump for a month had made me a tad less sharp than I usually was.
Fingering the pokeball at the end of my necklace, like the pendant hidden under my tank top, I wondered how long more I would have to pretend I was someone I wasn't.
…
A/N: First up, I would like to say a great big "thank you" to you, for clicking on this chapter and giving this story a chance even after years of absence. If there's one good thing I would like to come out of this global stay-at-home-for-a-while chapter of all our lives, it would be that this story and its final chapter sees the light of day!
If this is your first time seeing this title (probably because you are much younger than I am, welcome to the fandom and look out on the way down the bottomless Kyoko/Ren fluffy rabbit hole) please do give the rest of this story a chance, and I hope you'll read this fanfic from the start! For those who are reeling in shock from seeing an update, and have begun reading this story since 2010, I don't even have the words to describe how thankful I am for your support, favourites, comments and overall love for Etsuko and her unrestrained ramblings thinly veiled as monologues. I don't think I will ever be able to reproduce a project like this, and I don't think I want to keep anyone waiting one more decade for another fanfic to end.
Big big big shout out to Cassieseasea for being the most supportive person ever and PM-ing me and checking in. I think if you hadn't, I probably wouldn't write – flat out full stop all yall better thank Cassieseasea for this chapter and the next few (when they come).
Hope that everyone keeps safe at home, please wash your hands, don't touch your face, and binge read Skip Beat for the bajillionth time if you haven't yet already. My heart goes out to everyone affected, hope this story gives you some joy, in a time where joy is in short supply!
