Never Too Close
by Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Ever write an alternate reality fanfic on whim--and then like it so
much that it didn't matter if anyone else ever read it--you simply had to visit it
again? Give those characters in that world another chance to do something,
anything, again? This is something like that. An indulgence for myself.
Companion fic to Happy Now--this story continues the lives of those anime
characters from Utena, Cowboy Bebop and Kenshin that happen to work at the
Road Rage Independent Theater. Sort of a song fic, those lyrics you find belong
to Catatonia--want to be inspired? Listen to that band, there's just something
about them. I own nothing, except the computer I'm typing on, maybe.)
Chapter One
The way the room was arranged, the cast sat around a long table, with various
character quirk defining items scattered in front of them. One or two had their
noses faithfully pointed into the spine of the scripts, testimonies that their at-
home priorities had yet to give them the space to peruse the text. Others were
conversing quietly about the technical challenges that this particular program
was going to surface.
Listening intently to the latter, Mikage Souji leaned against the far wall, not
joining the others, the familiar, at the table. His arms were crossed over his
body, fingers curled around the opposite elbow. Even in the neon bright room,
he wore his darkened glasses. Without noticably moving, he observed the actors
at their most natural.
Sanosuke Sagara, who was taking co-star billing in his second main-street
production, sat farthest from the door, obviously stationing himself at the
greatest distance from the yet-to-arrive director of the Road Rage Independent
Theater. The boy was hardly twenty, but had enough charisma to wear out most
of his peers. "Kennie wrote this?" The boy's voice was deep and impressively
attention gathering, "I'm impressed. I thought Post Script last season was cutting
edge . . ."
"At least this time he added some more female roles," Sano's sister, Faye, took a
long drag on her cigarette and released it above the table with some relish. She'd
lurked at the theater for a few years before Sano managed to weasel his way into
his first audition and consequently his first significant role. Fueled with sibling
rivalry, Faye had actually summed up her nerve to audition for the spring piece
and Saitou had cast her as one of the meddlesome extras the complicated show
demanded.
Mikage let his gaze wander beyond the sibling's renewed bantering and noticed
with some surprise that Ruka was being openly affectionate with his significant
other, letting his pale, slim fingers rest over Juri's hand. Juri's other hand was
letting her nurse a hearty cup of coffee. They both tended to be conservative
about demonstrating their feelings toward each other while with the cast. Ruka
leaned over and murmured something in Juri's ear, his breath just tickling the
strawberry orange curls and rustling them slightly. As a result, Juri lifted her
hand out from under Ruka's and instead placed her fingers around the same hand
in a reassuring squeeze.
The observer was not the only one to see the lover's communication as he
noticed the other fledgling actress's attention being absorbed by first one of the
handsome pair and then to the other. Mikage blinked, gathering that young
Shiori's passionate entrance into the theater would only serve to tangle the webs
of emotion even further. She tucked both sides of her hair behind her ears, where
they immediately fell free again. Lowering her eyes she glanced around the
room, not seeing the silent watcher, and letting her gaze again consider Juri and
then Ruka.
Next to Shiori, and across from Juri sat Spike Spiegel, the veteran actor at the
theater. His feet were propped onto the table and his cigarette hovered just on
his lips as he silently lipped the lines of the script he was reading. Taking one
gangly, limp hand--he turned the page and continued his non-verbal journey
through the play.
The door opened then and the slim, tomboyish stage manager leaned in, just so
she could get an initial count of the required performers presences. "Look sharp,
troops." She grinned easily and tipped her head,
"Sir Saitou is on his way and he's determined to have the better part of the first
act blocked and memorized by noon."
"Heck, Utena-chan, why'd you have to tell us that?" Spike mumbled grouchily,
never taking his eyes away from the page and almost but not quite losing his
momentum of reading to himself the next line across the page.
"And Mr. Himura is going to be coming in this afternoon to look at the sets, sir."
Utena turned and looked at Mikage, who had until that moment, managed to
remain anonymous for the earlier portion of the morning. "I trust that Saitou
debriefed you on how seriously to take Kenshin's orders . . ."
He nodded to acknowledge that he understood. Sano stared at the man as if he
had suddenly materialized into the room with them, and the others finally
recognized his presence with small smiles and tiny tips of their heads. Mikage's
face never changed expression.
If all you've got to do today is find peace of mind
Come round
You can take a piece of mine
If all you've got to do today is hesitate
Come here, you can leave it late with me
"I've heard he's a bit dysfunctional."
"Shut up, Sano--get sensitive or something." Faye walloped her much taller
brother with the script she'd been studying--eagerly hunting for a line, any of her
lines--and there weren't many.
"I am sensitive," Sano rubbed his head and closing one eye to express his
distress at her accusation. "He's probably not interested in anyone, really, the
way he handles those gizmos and everything technicological. Must take all
dimensions of a guy's facilities to concentrate on such tasks."
Faye rolled her eyes, not sure if she were hearing him correctly anymore. But his
cheesy, constant grin was contagious, and they spontaneously broke into a race
to see who could get to the auditorium first.
Behind them, Ruka coughed lightly into his fist. Juri glanced up at him, but the
lanky fellow tossed his carefree hair from his face and smiled easily enough.
"So, do you have any advice on how to handle Saitou?" The petite brunette
weaseled her way to Juri's other side and leaned in. "It's a little uncomfortable
still, being so new to the theater . . ."
"Be on time, know your lines and let Sano take the full brunt of the fury." Ruka
grinned at Shiori. "Saitou won't even notice you then . . . unless it's for
something good. He's actually quite gifted at recognizing quality performances
as well."
"That's good to know--look forward to. Thanks." Shiori slipped into step with
them, just behind Juri's peripheral vision. Moving not unlike a shadow. Juri felt
the back of her neck warm, suspecting the girl's queer eyes moving up and down
the length of her arm as it swung naturally with her walk. Knowing she was
watched. Juri glanced up at Ruka from the corner of her eye--his face directed
straight ahead.
Walking into the auditorium, they first took in the sight of the fabulous dark
setting from some gothic past. Just in front of it, Sano was sitting on the stage
with his knees over Faye, locking her against the wooden floorboards. The
technical set advisor, Mikage Souji, was to one side conversing with the easily
recognizable playwright, Kenshin Himura. The slight man had a pony tail full of
bright red hair tied back in an artistically conservative black ribbon. Kenshin
was agreeable enough and a great father for an undeterminable number of small
children. When their mother brought them in to the set it seemed like an entire
kindergarten class . . .
"Gotta talk to Spike-o." Ruka beamed an apologetic look on both Juri and Shiori
and turned to the aisle on the left while the girls continued to approach the
center of the stage. He only glanced back once with a slightly more concerned
furrow to his brow. Something about Shiori set him on edge. He'd seen part of
her audition at Saitou's bequest when the director was narrowing down the field
of potential actresses for a pivotal role. After casting Sano, a relatively fresh pup
into a lead role in the last play--Saitou was hesitant to consider another spring
chicken from the colleges.
And Ruka had felt a base distress when he had heard her read the lines. An
intuition of indistinguishable worries, but her talent at ad libbing was
impeccably necessary for an independent theater. Against his better judgment,
the diversity of characters Shiori could fabricate believably was an asset not to
be overlooked.
You could be taking it easy on yourself
You should be making it easy on yourself
"Spike, my man, what's changed? You're yourself today!" Sano gave the thinner
man a substantial pounding in between his shoulder blades.
"Get you paws off me, rooster head." Spike growled goodnaturedly. "I need a
cigarette."
"Not in here you don't." Sano pointed into the distance where they all knew the
"no smoking" signs were lurking.
Ruka felt his spirits lift a little to see Spike actually smirking for a change.
Something was undeniably different today, and Ruka began to suspect . . .
"Damn it." Spike pinched his nose and pretended to suffocate. After elaborately
struggling against his own hand, the lean man crumpled to the floor and
pretended to pass out.
"Someone, quick!" Sano shouted, trying not to laugh. "Get a cigarette!"
"SAGARA!"
It was Ruka's turn to try not to laugh as the stern director crossed the stage.
Saitou was clearly annoyed and stood a menacing distance from the boy--close
enough to get his attention but far enough away to
demonstrate his authority.
"Don't make me rethink my casting." Saitou snarled, his eyes narrowing.
Everyone knew that Saitou was fond of putting the rooster head in his place.
Sano froze, obviously waiting to be told what to do in order to avoid ticking the
director off any further. Sano was incredibly talented and qualified for the
leading role, but he didn't want to risk catching Saitou in a genuinely angry
mood.
"All right, people. We're doing a read through Act One, Scene One. Spiegel and
Sagara center stage."
Ruka hesitated, then caught Spike's attention. "You wanted . . ." Ruka began.
Spike nodded, to acknowledge that he understood and mouthed the word,
"Later."
Cos you and I know, it's all over the front page
You give me road rage
Racing through the best days
"So tell me," Shiori leaned forward in her seat and let her cheek rest against her
laced fingers, "Have you and Ruka been together long?"
Juri flinched, just a little twitch, under her right eye--but she suddenly felt very
vulnerable. "A while." She answered, refusing to glance over at the other
woman. They were inbetween scenes, and since neither of them were needed
again until the next act, Juri and Shiori were studying their dialogue in the back
rows of the auditorium seating.
"I knew a boy like him once." Shiori had a cat like quality to her voice, almost
like she were trying to seduce the conversation out of her companion. "In fact, I
seem to remember him exactly."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Juri's eyes continued to work their way across
the text but no words were remembered.
"His eyes, his fingers. No," Shiori's voice emphasized the next pause and Juri
did not interrupt. "No, it's his hair, the way it always falls forward like the
breeze is always at his back. I remember him. And his name, Ruka. Yes, I told
myself, it is him. And then I wonder, does he remember me?"
"You know each other?" Juri glanced over at the brown-haired girl, her eyes
only opened into wary slits. Something about the way Shiori pawed at the arm
rest between them made her nervous, but Juri fought off the uncertainty with her
frustration. The other girl was leaning in so close she could smell--she could
smell her, so fresh. Almost innocently clean.
"Maybe," Shiori leaned back into her seat, pulling farther away from Juri in
order to meet her eyes more comfortably. "Something about the audition, when I
saw him the first time, I was reminded of a boy I went to school with years ago.
Reminded me of how he was always interested in someone else and how much I
wanted to take him away from *her*--but, that was then. And we can think such
silly thoughts when we're young--don't we?" Shiori began to chew on the end of
her pencil and blinked once, slowly.
Juri tore her eyes from the girl's moving lips and sought out Ruka's familiar
features on stage, taking some comfort that he hadn't disappeared. The thought
embarrassed her a bit, so she turned back to Shiori and commented, "You're too
young to have been in school with Ruka."
"I might be young," Shiori stood slowly, looking down on Juri with an
expression of unspoken feelings, "But I observe--and I'm sure, I'm sure--that I
remember you."
And it's you boy driving me crazy
Thinking you may be losing your mind
Neither of them noticed Mikage working in the shadows of the backwall.
Somehow, even in the darker places, knowing where the wires were misplaced
and hidden. He heard every word and filed it away, mostly uninterested in the
conversation shared between the actresses. While people spoke freely in front of
his non-threatening presence, Mikage heard many things.
And he observed many things. Like the way Juri stared after Shiori long after
the other had left. And the way the older woman had touched her throat just so,
and hung her head. The script long forgotten.
When all the wires are found and put in there proper places, the lights come on.
And in the center of that whiteness, no secrets hide. No ad libbing confuses.
Mikage continued his work.
If all you've got to prove today is your innocence
Calm down, you're as guilty as can be
"It's Julia, isn't it?"
The boys were in the costume shop experimenting with costumes, and as
always, were displeased when Utena interrupted to give them their proper attire.
Sano made the accusation as he pulled off his casual clothes. He glanced at
Spike for a reaction, before scowling at the black turtle neck he was supposed to
wear on stage.
"What's that, rooster head, did you say something?" Spike grimaced at the white
turtleneck he was supposed to wear. "Did you notice the *subtle* suggestion of
our clothing here, Sano my boy? It's all backwards."
"Yeah, white is definitely *my* color." Sano winked, then smoothed out the
fabric of the shirt and sighing loudly. "And I suppose your favorite costume is
nothing at all . . ." Sano dangerously let the teasing dangle in the air between
them.
Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm not tell you anything. Hey, Ruka, when's nap time?"
"I wish." Ruka wisely limited his involvement in the conversation, admiring
how his black and white checkered suit made him look like a strangely folded
chess board.
"Nap time? You want to sneak off to find Julia so you can . . ."
"Gentlemen, costume checks in five."
"Geez, Utena, knock next time!" Sano shouted as the changing room door
slammed shut quickly. His previous thoughts suddenly distracted by new ones
involving a boiling romance with a certain stage manager.
Ruka saw all of those emotions pass across Sano's undisguised expressions and
smiled to himself, amused by how open and honest their rooster head could be.
Ruka couldn't remember a day when his reserve hadn't tempered his speech,
when his cunning hadn't plotted out his conversation. When his confidence
hadn't controlled his feelings.
But his brows pulled together with an uneasy pain. Undefinable pain.
Unlocatable. He suddenly gripped the edge of the full length mirror to steady
himself. The checkered suit began to swirl and blend together in his dimming
vision.
"Ruka?" The voices sounded so far away.
"Ruka, man, are you okay?" Sanosuke.
Taking shallow but quiet breaths, Ruka began to regain some feeling to his
chilled limbs. The grip of his hand against the mirror's frame became noticably
tight. His feet began to connect him to the ground again.
"Lunch is right after costumes . . ." Sano hovered where he was, debating
between concern and manliness. Spike sat where he was, contemplating
everything with his monkey like arms dangling between his knees.
"Just wanted a closer look." Ruka faked a chuckle, staring into his own reflected
eyes, beginning to feel angry at his moment of weakness. "Lunch sounds good
though." He stood straight and plastered a nonchalant smile across his features.
"Sure." Sano said dismissively and pulled at the shoulders of his turtleneck.
Ruka crossed the room in order to leave. Curiously, Spike never met his eyes,
staring straight ahead.
"Later." Ruka paused a fraction as he passed the so-far silent man.
"Right." Spike replied, toneless.
If all you've got to lose alludes to yesterday
Yesterday's through
Now do anything you please.
Something. Something enchanted Juri. Ever since the moment of their
conversation, Juri could almost remember. Could almost remember her days in
high school, back when she'd done a little acting in the school productions. The
same school where Ruka was president for the acting club. And the student
council. They'd both been members of that elite group all four years.
It had been a cordial friendship then. She would hardly have imagined that now,
years later, a lifetime later, she would love that boy. She certainly hadn't thought
of Ruka that way in their school days.
What if someone else had?
Would she have noticed? Had Ruka?
Juri ran her fingers through her hair, studying their tips. Contemplating. Who
would notice such an innocent girl? The common brown hair, the simple sincere
eyes, the casually trim figure? Nothing unusual at all about the way she held her
pencil. Nothing alluring about the shape of her lips, the color of her skin.
Juri had always commanded attention. What would it feel like to be able to shift,
become someone different each day? Someone so ordinary that no matter how
often you saw her, met her, were introduced--you'd never remember--even if she
did.
It could be so . . . uncomplicated.
Unsatisfiably curious, Juri actively searched for Ruka. Someone like Shiori.
Would he know?
Space age, road rage, fast lane, minimum wage
Home late, upgrade, short-changed, golden age
Front page, lose face, handmade, space ache
Backstage, outrage, disgraced, maximum weight
to be continued . . .
by Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Ever write an alternate reality fanfic on whim--and then like it so
much that it didn't matter if anyone else ever read it--you simply had to visit it
again? Give those characters in that world another chance to do something,
anything, again? This is something like that. An indulgence for myself.
Companion fic to Happy Now--this story continues the lives of those anime
characters from Utena, Cowboy Bebop and Kenshin that happen to work at the
Road Rage Independent Theater. Sort of a song fic, those lyrics you find belong
to Catatonia--want to be inspired? Listen to that band, there's just something
about them. I own nothing, except the computer I'm typing on, maybe.)
Chapter One
The way the room was arranged, the cast sat around a long table, with various
character quirk defining items scattered in front of them. One or two had their
noses faithfully pointed into the spine of the scripts, testimonies that their at-
home priorities had yet to give them the space to peruse the text. Others were
conversing quietly about the technical challenges that this particular program
was going to surface.
Listening intently to the latter, Mikage Souji leaned against the far wall, not
joining the others, the familiar, at the table. His arms were crossed over his
body, fingers curled around the opposite elbow. Even in the neon bright room,
he wore his darkened glasses. Without noticably moving, he observed the actors
at their most natural.
Sanosuke Sagara, who was taking co-star billing in his second main-street
production, sat farthest from the door, obviously stationing himself at the
greatest distance from the yet-to-arrive director of the Road Rage Independent
Theater. The boy was hardly twenty, but had enough charisma to wear out most
of his peers. "Kennie wrote this?" The boy's voice was deep and impressively
attention gathering, "I'm impressed. I thought Post Script last season was cutting
edge . . ."
"At least this time he added some more female roles," Sano's sister, Faye, took a
long drag on her cigarette and released it above the table with some relish. She'd
lurked at the theater for a few years before Sano managed to weasel his way into
his first audition and consequently his first significant role. Fueled with sibling
rivalry, Faye had actually summed up her nerve to audition for the spring piece
and Saitou had cast her as one of the meddlesome extras the complicated show
demanded.
Mikage let his gaze wander beyond the sibling's renewed bantering and noticed
with some surprise that Ruka was being openly affectionate with his significant
other, letting his pale, slim fingers rest over Juri's hand. Juri's other hand was
letting her nurse a hearty cup of coffee. They both tended to be conservative
about demonstrating their feelings toward each other while with the cast. Ruka
leaned over and murmured something in Juri's ear, his breath just tickling the
strawberry orange curls and rustling them slightly. As a result, Juri lifted her
hand out from under Ruka's and instead placed her fingers around the same hand
in a reassuring squeeze.
The observer was not the only one to see the lover's communication as he
noticed the other fledgling actress's attention being absorbed by first one of the
handsome pair and then to the other. Mikage blinked, gathering that young
Shiori's passionate entrance into the theater would only serve to tangle the webs
of emotion even further. She tucked both sides of her hair behind her ears, where
they immediately fell free again. Lowering her eyes she glanced around the
room, not seeing the silent watcher, and letting her gaze again consider Juri and
then Ruka.
Next to Shiori, and across from Juri sat Spike Spiegel, the veteran actor at the
theater. His feet were propped onto the table and his cigarette hovered just on
his lips as he silently lipped the lines of the script he was reading. Taking one
gangly, limp hand--he turned the page and continued his non-verbal journey
through the play.
The door opened then and the slim, tomboyish stage manager leaned in, just so
she could get an initial count of the required performers presences. "Look sharp,
troops." She grinned easily and tipped her head,
"Sir Saitou is on his way and he's determined to have the better part of the first
act blocked and memorized by noon."
"Heck, Utena-chan, why'd you have to tell us that?" Spike mumbled grouchily,
never taking his eyes away from the page and almost but not quite losing his
momentum of reading to himself the next line across the page.
"And Mr. Himura is going to be coming in this afternoon to look at the sets, sir."
Utena turned and looked at Mikage, who had until that moment, managed to
remain anonymous for the earlier portion of the morning. "I trust that Saitou
debriefed you on how seriously to take Kenshin's orders . . ."
He nodded to acknowledge that he understood. Sano stared at the man as if he
had suddenly materialized into the room with them, and the others finally
recognized his presence with small smiles and tiny tips of their heads. Mikage's
face never changed expression.
If all you've got to do today is find peace of mind
Come round
You can take a piece of mine
If all you've got to do today is hesitate
Come here, you can leave it late with me
"I've heard he's a bit dysfunctional."
"Shut up, Sano--get sensitive or something." Faye walloped her much taller
brother with the script she'd been studying--eagerly hunting for a line, any of her
lines--and there weren't many.
"I am sensitive," Sano rubbed his head and closing one eye to express his
distress at her accusation. "He's probably not interested in anyone, really, the
way he handles those gizmos and everything technicological. Must take all
dimensions of a guy's facilities to concentrate on such tasks."
Faye rolled her eyes, not sure if she were hearing him correctly anymore. But his
cheesy, constant grin was contagious, and they spontaneously broke into a race
to see who could get to the auditorium first.
Behind them, Ruka coughed lightly into his fist. Juri glanced up at him, but the
lanky fellow tossed his carefree hair from his face and smiled easily enough.
"So, do you have any advice on how to handle Saitou?" The petite brunette
weaseled her way to Juri's other side and leaned in. "It's a little uncomfortable
still, being so new to the theater . . ."
"Be on time, know your lines and let Sano take the full brunt of the fury." Ruka
grinned at Shiori. "Saitou won't even notice you then . . . unless it's for
something good. He's actually quite gifted at recognizing quality performances
as well."
"That's good to know--look forward to. Thanks." Shiori slipped into step with
them, just behind Juri's peripheral vision. Moving not unlike a shadow. Juri felt
the back of her neck warm, suspecting the girl's queer eyes moving up and down
the length of her arm as it swung naturally with her walk. Knowing she was
watched. Juri glanced up at Ruka from the corner of her eye--his face directed
straight ahead.
Walking into the auditorium, they first took in the sight of the fabulous dark
setting from some gothic past. Just in front of it, Sano was sitting on the stage
with his knees over Faye, locking her against the wooden floorboards. The
technical set advisor, Mikage Souji, was to one side conversing with the easily
recognizable playwright, Kenshin Himura. The slight man had a pony tail full of
bright red hair tied back in an artistically conservative black ribbon. Kenshin
was agreeable enough and a great father for an undeterminable number of small
children. When their mother brought them in to the set it seemed like an entire
kindergarten class . . .
"Gotta talk to Spike-o." Ruka beamed an apologetic look on both Juri and Shiori
and turned to the aisle on the left while the girls continued to approach the
center of the stage. He only glanced back once with a slightly more concerned
furrow to his brow. Something about Shiori set him on edge. He'd seen part of
her audition at Saitou's bequest when the director was narrowing down the field
of potential actresses for a pivotal role. After casting Sano, a relatively fresh pup
into a lead role in the last play--Saitou was hesitant to consider another spring
chicken from the colleges.
And Ruka had felt a base distress when he had heard her read the lines. An
intuition of indistinguishable worries, but her talent at ad libbing was
impeccably necessary for an independent theater. Against his better judgment,
the diversity of characters Shiori could fabricate believably was an asset not to
be overlooked.
You could be taking it easy on yourself
You should be making it easy on yourself
"Spike, my man, what's changed? You're yourself today!" Sano gave the thinner
man a substantial pounding in between his shoulder blades.
"Get you paws off me, rooster head." Spike growled goodnaturedly. "I need a
cigarette."
"Not in here you don't." Sano pointed into the distance where they all knew the
"no smoking" signs were lurking.
Ruka felt his spirits lift a little to see Spike actually smirking for a change.
Something was undeniably different today, and Ruka began to suspect . . .
"Damn it." Spike pinched his nose and pretended to suffocate. After elaborately
struggling against his own hand, the lean man crumpled to the floor and
pretended to pass out.
"Someone, quick!" Sano shouted, trying not to laugh. "Get a cigarette!"
"SAGARA!"
It was Ruka's turn to try not to laugh as the stern director crossed the stage.
Saitou was clearly annoyed and stood a menacing distance from the boy--close
enough to get his attention but far enough away to
demonstrate his authority.
"Don't make me rethink my casting." Saitou snarled, his eyes narrowing.
Everyone knew that Saitou was fond of putting the rooster head in his place.
Sano froze, obviously waiting to be told what to do in order to avoid ticking the
director off any further. Sano was incredibly talented and qualified for the
leading role, but he didn't want to risk catching Saitou in a genuinely angry
mood.
"All right, people. We're doing a read through Act One, Scene One. Spiegel and
Sagara center stage."
Ruka hesitated, then caught Spike's attention. "You wanted . . ." Ruka began.
Spike nodded, to acknowledge that he understood and mouthed the word,
"Later."
Cos you and I know, it's all over the front page
You give me road rage
Racing through the best days
"So tell me," Shiori leaned forward in her seat and let her cheek rest against her
laced fingers, "Have you and Ruka been together long?"
Juri flinched, just a little twitch, under her right eye--but she suddenly felt very
vulnerable. "A while." She answered, refusing to glance over at the other
woman. They were inbetween scenes, and since neither of them were needed
again until the next act, Juri and Shiori were studying their dialogue in the back
rows of the auditorium seating.
"I knew a boy like him once." Shiori had a cat like quality to her voice, almost
like she were trying to seduce the conversation out of her companion. "In fact, I
seem to remember him exactly."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Juri's eyes continued to work their way across
the text but no words were remembered.
"His eyes, his fingers. No," Shiori's voice emphasized the next pause and Juri
did not interrupt. "No, it's his hair, the way it always falls forward like the
breeze is always at his back. I remember him. And his name, Ruka. Yes, I told
myself, it is him. And then I wonder, does he remember me?"
"You know each other?" Juri glanced over at the brown-haired girl, her eyes
only opened into wary slits. Something about the way Shiori pawed at the arm
rest between them made her nervous, but Juri fought off the uncertainty with her
frustration. The other girl was leaning in so close she could smell--she could
smell her, so fresh. Almost innocently clean.
"Maybe," Shiori leaned back into her seat, pulling farther away from Juri in
order to meet her eyes more comfortably. "Something about the audition, when I
saw him the first time, I was reminded of a boy I went to school with years ago.
Reminded me of how he was always interested in someone else and how much I
wanted to take him away from *her*--but, that was then. And we can think such
silly thoughts when we're young--don't we?" Shiori began to chew on the end of
her pencil and blinked once, slowly.
Juri tore her eyes from the girl's moving lips and sought out Ruka's familiar
features on stage, taking some comfort that he hadn't disappeared. The thought
embarrassed her a bit, so she turned back to Shiori and commented, "You're too
young to have been in school with Ruka."
"I might be young," Shiori stood slowly, looking down on Juri with an
expression of unspoken feelings, "But I observe--and I'm sure, I'm sure--that I
remember you."
And it's you boy driving me crazy
Thinking you may be losing your mind
Neither of them noticed Mikage working in the shadows of the backwall.
Somehow, even in the darker places, knowing where the wires were misplaced
and hidden. He heard every word and filed it away, mostly uninterested in the
conversation shared between the actresses. While people spoke freely in front of
his non-threatening presence, Mikage heard many things.
And he observed many things. Like the way Juri stared after Shiori long after
the other had left. And the way the older woman had touched her throat just so,
and hung her head. The script long forgotten.
When all the wires are found and put in there proper places, the lights come on.
And in the center of that whiteness, no secrets hide. No ad libbing confuses.
Mikage continued his work.
If all you've got to prove today is your innocence
Calm down, you're as guilty as can be
"It's Julia, isn't it?"
The boys were in the costume shop experimenting with costumes, and as
always, were displeased when Utena interrupted to give them their proper attire.
Sano made the accusation as he pulled off his casual clothes. He glanced at
Spike for a reaction, before scowling at the black turtle neck he was supposed to
wear on stage.
"What's that, rooster head, did you say something?" Spike grimaced at the white
turtleneck he was supposed to wear. "Did you notice the *subtle* suggestion of
our clothing here, Sano my boy? It's all backwards."
"Yeah, white is definitely *my* color." Sano winked, then smoothed out the
fabric of the shirt and sighing loudly. "And I suppose your favorite costume is
nothing at all . . ." Sano dangerously let the teasing dangle in the air between
them.
Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm not tell you anything. Hey, Ruka, when's nap time?"
"I wish." Ruka wisely limited his involvement in the conversation, admiring
how his black and white checkered suit made him look like a strangely folded
chess board.
"Nap time? You want to sneak off to find Julia so you can . . ."
"Gentlemen, costume checks in five."
"Geez, Utena, knock next time!" Sano shouted as the changing room door
slammed shut quickly. His previous thoughts suddenly distracted by new ones
involving a boiling romance with a certain stage manager.
Ruka saw all of those emotions pass across Sano's undisguised expressions and
smiled to himself, amused by how open and honest their rooster head could be.
Ruka couldn't remember a day when his reserve hadn't tempered his speech,
when his cunning hadn't plotted out his conversation. When his confidence
hadn't controlled his feelings.
But his brows pulled together with an uneasy pain. Undefinable pain.
Unlocatable. He suddenly gripped the edge of the full length mirror to steady
himself. The checkered suit began to swirl and blend together in his dimming
vision.
"Ruka?" The voices sounded so far away.
"Ruka, man, are you okay?" Sanosuke.
Taking shallow but quiet breaths, Ruka began to regain some feeling to his
chilled limbs. The grip of his hand against the mirror's frame became noticably
tight. His feet began to connect him to the ground again.
"Lunch is right after costumes . . ." Sano hovered where he was, debating
between concern and manliness. Spike sat where he was, contemplating
everything with his monkey like arms dangling between his knees.
"Just wanted a closer look." Ruka faked a chuckle, staring into his own reflected
eyes, beginning to feel angry at his moment of weakness. "Lunch sounds good
though." He stood straight and plastered a nonchalant smile across his features.
"Sure." Sano said dismissively and pulled at the shoulders of his turtleneck.
Ruka crossed the room in order to leave. Curiously, Spike never met his eyes,
staring straight ahead.
"Later." Ruka paused a fraction as he passed the so-far silent man.
"Right." Spike replied, toneless.
If all you've got to lose alludes to yesterday
Yesterday's through
Now do anything you please.
Something. Something enchanted Juri. Ever since the moment of their
conversation, Juri could almost remember. Could almost remember her days in
high school, back when she'd done a little acting in the school productions. The
same school where Ruka was president for the acting club. And the student
council. They'd both been members of that elite group all four years.
It had been a cordial friendship then. She would hardly have imagined that now,
years later, a lifetime later, she would love that boy. She certainly hadn't thought
of Ruka that way in their school days.
What if someone else had?
Would she have noticed? Had Ruka?
Juri ran her fingers through her hair, studying their tips. Contemplating. Who
would notice such an innocent girl? The common brown hair, the simple sincere
eyes, the casually trim figure? Nothing unusual at all about the way she held her
pencil. Nothing alluring about the shape of her lips, the color of her skin.
Juri had always commanded attention. What would it feel like to be able to shift,
become someone different each day? Someone so ordinary that no matter how
often you saw her, met her, were introduced--you'd never remember--even if she
did.
It could be so . . . uncomplicated.
Unsatisfiably curious, Juri actively searched for Ruka. Someone like Shiori.
Would he know?
Space age, road rage, fast lane, minimum wage
Home late, upgrade, short-changed, golden age
Front page, lose face, handmade, space ache
Backstage, outrage, disgraced, maximum weight
to be continued . . .