The Silver Screen
She wasn't sure which was more unnerving, the rapid fire flashes burning her retinas or the gentle pressure of his hand in hers as they walked down the red carpet.
Give her a lifetime and she wouldn't be used to the feeling of this man— this larger than life dream— walking beside her, claiming her as his in front of millions of watching eyes.
Granted, tonight she was his sister. Setsu's pride welled up fierce and vibrant inside her, pooling in her smirk as she pulled Cain in tighter when they stopped for the obligatory pose. Face tilted up towards his, hips pressed into him, fingers laced possessively in his jacket hem.
Mine
Mine
Mine—
His arm cinched around her, turning her to walk away from the cluster of photographers calling out for another pose, his body's heat confirming his need for her more than words ever could. She eyed the crowds now surrounding them, filling the grand hall with noise and light and life.
"We should've just come for our film," she whined, pitched for his ears alone.
Cain grunted, rubbing his hand on her bare shoulder.
Their film wouldn't air for three hours. Setsu thought about everything she could've done with that time. Painted her nails. Read the next chapter of Death Note. Fed her brother his favorite food, not this expensive pile of catered frou-frou. Packed their bags for home. Cain… Cain could've fit in one bubble bath. Her smile was a secret self-indulgence as she imagined her long-limbed brother tucked into the tub, making bubble monsters.
Cain grunted again. He was watching her, a fleeting smile darting across his lips in answer to her expression. She could tell he wanted to know what she was thinking. She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, then pulled him into the screening for MOMO, the only other horror flick in the competition.
Two and a half hours later found her snoring, chain dangling over her brother's chest as she slumped gracelessly on his broad shoulder. The cinema had emptied around them, people chattering over the frightful gore and suspense of the South African film. Cain smoothed her hair away from her face, the gentle action just enough to rouse her ponderously.
"You fell asleep during the axe murder," he said drily.
Setsu stretched languidly, shrugged. "I got bored."
He poked her cheek, his eyes full of mirth. "Don't you fall asleep during my scenes."
Setsu's mouth gaped. That her brother could even suggest she'd-- he stood, winking at her. He deserved the silent treatment for that tease. Taunting her about not being a good sister.
"I wouldn't miss a second of you," she said tensely, her hands on her hips.
He turned, his eyes alight with mirth and suddenly she could see it. This was his place— his dream. He'd been pushing so hard, for so long, and he was here. People were going to see him; some of the same people that had seen his father. He stepped toward her, childlike passion filling his demeanor. One large hand scooped down around her chin, cradling her face as he leaned close to whisper, "I love you."
Just as swiftly he turned, his long black silk jacket swirling behind him, his hand reaching back to entangle with hers, pulling her stumbling after him. He was too bright sometimes. She blinked, squeezing back tears.
The crowds outside enveloped them again, a seething mass of glitter and diamonds and silk merging and reforming as they sifted into the cinemas for the next viewings. Short films, documentaries, feature lengths— there, Director Konoe waited by the cinema for First Features. Tragic Marker's poster loomed over the entrance, bloodshot eyes filled with promises of pain. He saw them and waved timidly, beckoning them to a purple-draped table dotted with name placards.
Konoe held court for a brief press release as the cinema filled to capacity. Setsu stood just to the side, back far enough to be unobtrusive yet clearly marking the table's rightmost occupant as her territory. Cain slouched, responding to all questions with a grunt, varying only his pitch to indicate rough meaning, leaving Konoe to interpret. One reporter snuck around the side, directing a question to her. She snarled a smile, not even bothering to listen for comprehension. He swallowed hard and backed away, his eyes flicking to her brother.
Finally Konoe patted the air to signal the conclusion of the mini-conference; standing to bow politely at the corps. Cain shoved back, the table jarred forward by his movement, scraping hard on the wood floors. A curt nod; he turned and grabbed Setsu by the elbow, sweeping her into the dimly lit theater. Konoe led them to the box seats midway down the theater, holding his hand out to allow the Heels first entrance.
Cain stopped. He turned to Konoe, his face blanked of emotion. Konoe trembled slightly, his grin shaky as he started to make excuses for the seats. Without a word, Cain bent forward, his long hair sweeping over his features as he dipped a strangely graceful bow to the director. Konoe blanched, reaching to press Cain up, but he remained still, frozen in a gesture of respect. Finally, Konoe bowed too, and Cain rose, holding his hand out to ask the director to enter first.
Setsu moved to follow after Konoe, the actress buried within her cartwheeling with joy over being able to show the slightest respect to their esteemed and long-suffering Director-sama. A hand on her shoulder and a gentle, "Pardon me," stopped her momentarily. It was Seiji-san.
He arched his neck in a small bow for her, his voice soft. "I greatly look forward to this premiere," he said. "You must introduce me to your… brother afterwards."
She stiffened. A slash of a nod, then to her seat next to Cain.
"He wants to meet you," she whispered urgently.
Cain reached his hand over, engulfing her small palm with his. He said nothing, just rubbed tiny circles of comfort over her skin with his thumb.
The movie was a riot of death and hauntingly beautiful fight scenes, her brother drifting weightlessly as he haunted Murasame. To her eyes it was a ballet in blacks whites and vibrant cardinal red, her eyes searching hungrily for the form of her brother in the mists. He was seldom fully revealed, never heard — a nightstalker made more terrifying because you couldn't ever pin down what he looked like. She shouted for joy when his grotesque face loomed full-screen, her cry blotted out by the screams echoing through the massive theater.
The film wrapped to dead silence as BJ's final promise of return scrawled across the screen. Konoe gripped the armrests, his face fixated on the rolling credits with desperation. He stood and bowed — something in the movement freed the audience from their trance and the room erupted with thunderous applause. Konoe almost sagged beneath the weight of his relief, gesturing wildly for Cain to stand beside him. He motioned to the crowd, swinging his arm wide in proud introduction as Cain bowed stoically under another blast of cheers and claps.
Setsu let a smile creep across her face. He was doing it. Step by step, he was forging his way across the world by his own power.
The awards ceremony later that evening was so far from her cup of tea, to borrow a local sentiment, it was almost embarrassing. For everyone else, of course. For Setsu, it was just boring. She was ready to get out of here— to stop swirling champagne she wasn't supposed to drink but did anyway, to stop mincing her way through rich foods, most of all to stop watching people all the annoying clingy cloying people parading by her brother's seat asking for autographs, handing out cards, touching him, pawing him, trying to mark his memory with their scents when they all just needed to scurry the hell away.
"Rodents," she muttered, blowing on her bangs and inching her chair even closer to Cain's, putting his ankle well within reach so she could twine her foot around it.
"Agreed," Seiji said, sliding into the seat next to her. She looked up with a start, accidentally jerking her brother slightly as she pulled her foot back. He turned reflexively and locked eyes with Seiji.
The Demon of the Silver Screen's gaze slid over to her, anchoring as his smile widened. He reached in his pocket and held a silvery business card out to her, his gaze flirting back to her brother momentarily.
"It's a closed audition," he said, his tone oddly hushed. "I'm in charge of rounding up some talent." He flicked at the card with a long finger when she didn't immediately take it. "First call is in two weeks — both of you should submit tapes. I'll send you scripts if you agree, but you would be under a non-disclosure clause."
"Both of us?" Setsu cocked her head at him.
His smile spread slower than molasses over his face. "If you think I still don't know who you two are you are more of a problem than I had imagined."
Cain's low grunt held both a threat and a taunt in it. Seiji shrugged.
"I saw your work." He made a vague gesture somehow covering her entire person and the screen hanging at the front of the room. He nodded at Cain. "If he can pull of a character that dark, he'd be an excellent fit for the villain in this project. I hadn't pegged you for it before, and for that I'm sorry." His gaze turned wistful as he looked out over the crowd. "When I think of all we could've done with Ring-Doh…" She saw her brother flinch. Seiji sighed, his slick smile returning. "Both of you."
Setsu took the card, certain of her decision. "Send us the details. We'll do it."
~*~
A/N: Ooooh what's Seiji's movie?? Any guesses? Finally a true chance to costar!
