Painting the Sky Blue

A/N: One last time, for ASubtleCuddle, with love.

And thank you to everybody else for toughing this out with me.

. . .

"Miss, please." A stewardess leaned over Kyoko's sleeping figure, tapping her shoulder. She felt guilty for having to wake the woman, but they'd already de-boarded the rest of the flight and the staff had run out of excuses to allow the woman with undereye circles that looked like bruises to sleep any longer. "We need to clean the plane."

"I'm awake!" Kyoko launched herself out her seat, sending the flight attendant careening into the seat across the aisle. Her face buzzed with numbness and she was vaguely aware of something-her hair?-plastered to the side of her face. An apology was on her lips, when she froze, taking stock of the empty plane. When she had slid into the plane moments before they closed the airlock, the space burst with people. Now, Kyoko was alone with a handful of attendants minding their own business cleaning between the seats after the long flight. And the woman she knocked over, of course. "How long have I been out?" she asked in English.

The stewardess bit her lip, smoothing her uniform out as she straightened herself up. "Only the last couple of hours," she says, speaking slowly. Kyoko was grateful. She's not quite awake enough for the fast English native speakers spoke. "You seemed so stressed earlier, that none of us wanted to wake you."

"Ah."

Kyoko blinked, the twelve-hour flight coming back to her in pieces. She had spent most of that time before she'd fallen asleep, scribbling notes into cocktail napkins with a pencil that someone had graciously given her. Her hand flew up to her cheek and she pried a napkin filled with half-baked scribbles from her face. She'd gone through an entire package of napkins writing, and staring at her notes now, she had no idea what she was trying to accomplish.

To be frank, she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing in America, either. She should be on set for Lotus right now, pretending that everything was okay even though it hasn't been since that blasted interview months ago.

"Have you figured out what you were going to say?" the flight attendant asked, motioning to the napkin Kyoko discarded into the pile. "Some of my friends are convinced you're writing a novel."

"Unfortunately, no," Kyoko said, smiling sadly. "No novel, either. Just... thinking."

"It must be very important if you're writing yourself to sleep about it."

Kyoko hummed, rubbing a hand over her face. She can't remember the last time she felt this exhausted. The ache that had settled in her bones in the past twenty-four hours had exceeded even the tiredness when she was working two jobs to support Sho. Emotional hurt, she'd learned over the years, compounded in a way that physical pain did not. "I'm nervous," she finally admitted. "I flew out without a plan, and I really like plans."

"Well I'm not one to tell you not to be nervous," the woman said. "But I think it's very brave of you to follow your heart even when it makes you nervous. Especially when it makes you nervous."

"I don't feel brave," Kyoko admitted.

"Being brave hardly does," the woman said. "Or at least, that's what my girlfriend likes to tell me. She's a psychologist."

She smiled at that. Maybe that's what she needed when this was all over. Therapy. Kyoko tucked the thought into the back of her head and smiled.

"Thank you so much for your help... Claire," Kyoko said, reading the woman's nametag. She hiked her purse up on her shoulder and pushed herself up to her feet. "Sorry for taking so long to wake up. I'm sure you still have a lot to do."

"I'm happy to help..." Claire hesitated, waiting for a name. As a rule, she didn't usually go out of her way to learn her passengers' names. It was better to keep them anonymous, but after their talk, surely a name wouldn't hurt.

"Oh." Kyoko pressed a hand to her chest. "I'm Kyoko."

Claire brightened, clapping her hands. "There's an actress in Japan with that name!" She grinned, only for her smile to falter at the odd look her new friend gave her. "Um, I'm sure there are a lot of people named Kyoko. I uh, just watched a drama that's on Netflix, though. Something about a box. Karaoke."

Kyoko smiled, amusement bursting through her exhaustion. "Box R?"

"That's the one." Claire let out a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to make anyone uncomfortable. "The villain was played by an actress named Kyoko. I tried looking her up, but Box R is the only thing they've translated over here Which is a shame because I'd love to watch Dark Moon and understand what people are saying."

"One day, you'll be able to watch it, I hope," Kyoko said.

"I hope so! Kyoko is really cool and pretty and-" Claire put her hands up. "Not that you're not either of those things, I was just..."

"Get excited about things and don't know when to stop?" Kyoko guessed. "I'm the same way." She considered this. "Or, I am when I'm fully rested. But I should let you get working."

"It was nice meeting you, Kyoko!" Claire calls after her as she starts for the exit. "Good luck!"

Kyoko smiles and waves one last time before disappearing into the hall that would take her to her terminal. Luck, she thought, wasn't her forte. But she would hold the luck this stranger gave her close to her heart and nurture it until she could pretend it was her own confidence.

It wasn't until she stepped into the bustling crowd of the LAX International terminal and had to find her way to customs that she fully realized what she had done. She hesitated outside the line that would take her into a sea of people checking passports and asking why she was there because she could barely think of it at this moment. How was she supposed to tell someone that she was here because she needed to tell the man she loved that she had truly made a mess of everything?

In the end, when prompted, she simply told the customs agent that she was visiting. Only for a couple of days. She needed to get back to Japan for work. When they asked what she did for work, she may have told the guy that she was office staff. Technically, not a lie. She does occasionally do office work as a Love Me! Member.

While she waited to be pushed into the baggage claim, she connected to the Wi-Fi and messaged President Takarada on LINE that she had arrived at the airport. Even though she was still furious at him, he was the only way she was able to get here on such short notice. Perhaps he felt sorry for messing with her life for the past two years. Or maybe this was another one of his games. It didn't matter now, because it was too late to think coherently about her decision.

He messaged back that he has arranged a hotel and a chauffeur for her trip, telling her that her driver would meet her in the baggage claim. From there, the rest was up to her.

'OK,' she typed before shoving her phone back into her pocket. She kept her eyes peeled for this driver that was supposedly waiting for her.

Half of her almost believed that the President would have managed to somehow rope Yashiro into this plan, so the relief was almost palpable when she spotted a white man she didn't recognize at all in the baggage claim holding a sign with her name printed in both English and Japanese. The suitcase she packed in a whirlwind 12 hours ago was at his side.

She paused in front of the man, hesitant even though he was the only person in the vicinity holding a sign with her name. "Hello?" she tried.

The man glanced down at her as if appraising her. For a moment she wondered if he was going to ignore her and look for some other Kyoko. Then he broke into a polite smile-a service smile-and greeted her. "Kyoko from LME?" he asked in careful, formal Japanese. "Are you ready to depart for your destination?"

Kyoko nodded. "You can speak English," she said. "That's me."

His face sagged with tangible relief. "Oh, thank God," he said. "I'm the only one on the staff who knows any bit of Japanese and even the Duolingo owl thinks I suck at it."

She nodded, as if she had any idea what he was talking about. She didn't know what Owls had to do with learning a language, but then again, it hadn't been her priority since she moved out of Kyoto to keep on top of foreign pop culture trends. For all she knew, there was in fact an owl that taught people how to speak Japanese.

He led her to a nondescript black sedan and held the back door open, reminding her of when Yashiro first started driving. She smiled and slid into the leather seats with ease. Her comfort, however, ebbed as the man climbed into the front seat. She hadn't even asked his name, she was so distracted. Kyoko opened her mouth, the question on the tip of her tongue, when he turned around. "Where to, Miss Kyoko?"

Freezing, Kyoko closes her mouth. Certainly, the President would have given him a likely suggestion. She hoped he did because, in the end, she was a stranger in a strange country and had no idea where to find Ren. Kuon, she reminded herself.

There was only one thing she was here for and would not do anything until she achieved that goal. Not only was she headstrong, but if she didn't, and she strayed from the path, she knew she would lose her nerve. She would tell this man, who didn't deserve her indecisiveness, to take her back to the airport. Help her buy a ticket for a country she'd never considered in her entire life, and she would change her name and never speak to a single person ever again.

Not that she would do that. Not really.

There was nothing she could really accomplish on her own. She wasn't Kuon with a network of people to help her change her identity. She could go back into customer service, sure, but only if they spoke Japanese or English. Which severely limited her options. In reality, if she were to chicken out-and she wouldn't-she couldn't go far. She would run to Moko, probably. She was here in the area somewhere.

"Did Takarada give you the address for..." Kyoko hesitated, wondering if there was a code name she should be using. But she was done with fake names and code names and all of that. "For Kuon Hizuri?"

"Yes, ma'am," he chirped. The man who had made the booking had sent over an array of different locales that his client might want to visit. When he saw the Hizuri's estate on that list, he knew that he had to do a great job and never tell a soul about this job. Questionable Japanese aside, his coworkers might actually kill him if and when they found out that he escorted this woman to this place. "Do you want to make any stops beforehand? The hotel? Food." He eyed her curiously. "I'm not sure about how the food was on the flight, but there's a whole mess of restaurant choices on the way over to Calabasas."

Her stomach growled in protest, but she shook her head. "No thank you. Maybe after, please."

"As you wish."

The car ride was silent for the hour and a half it took to carry her across the city to where Kuon was. She barely looked out the window to study her new surroundings. She barely breathed as she flicked through the pile of cocktail napkins she had stuffed into her purse. Now, in the daylight the words might as well have been written in a language she doesn't even speak. They're all so earnest, so angry. Sad. Overwhelmed. They were everything but coherent.

She knew two things needed to be addressed. An apology. For trying to push him away. A reaffirmation. To tell him that she wanted to try this if he was still...

Her fists curled into fists. Why did she think that? She didn't have any doubts before, why give herself the space to air them out now? If the last few months have proven anything to her, there was no reason to doubt Kuon's feelings.

"Miss Kyoko?" her driver called, forcing her out of her spiral. "We're here."

Kyoko sat upright and looked outside her window for the first time during the whole trip. She stared up at a large white house, which for all the pomp and circumstance surrounding President Takarada's home, she actually expected the Hizuri estate to be bigger. Grander. Maybe even gilded in gold. Not to say that the house wasn't big; it was. Certainly bigger than any house she'd ever lived in. But in the end, it simply looked like a house.

The driver looked back at her through the rear-view mirror. "Would you like me to wait here while you do your business?"

She turned away from the window and swallowed the lump in her throat. That was the million-dollar question, really. She hadn't the faintest clue how long anything would take. A few minutes to destroy everything like last time? Longer? Longer was good, she thought. Besides, her stomach ached and the driver had been right about the food on the flight. Though it was less that the food wasn't good, and more of the fact she was too distracted to try eating. She was definitely regretting that decision now.

Her fingers ran over her purse. The President had handed her a company card before she had left, telling her that it wouldn't be frozen for the sudden international travel. "Actually," she said slowly. She pushed the card toward him. "I hate to be a bother, but can you pick up food while I'm inside? Anything you want; it's on me." He opens his mouth, and she shakes her head before he can ask the question she can see forming on his lips. "I'm not picky and I'm not allergic to anything."

"Are you serious?" Except he took the card without hesitation, so Kyoko got the distinct impression he wasn't actually second-guessing her. She nodded and he grinned. "Miss Kyoko, I'm going to bring you the best food that this city has to offer."

She smiled weakly, allowing his excitement to fill the car. At least someone wasn't nervous today. "Thank you," she said, her hands clutching her purse like a lifeline. Slowly, as if someone had tied strings to each of her limbs, she was able to excavate herself from the backseat. "Take all the time that you need."

"Call me right away if you need me to come back to get you," the driver said. He pulled a business card from the center console along with a pen and scribbled his number on the back. "But also take as long as you need."

She laughed, folding the card into the pocket of her jeans as she turned toward the house. Before she could make the trek up the long driveway she whipped back to the car. "Wish me luck?" she called.

"Miss Kyoko, I wish you all the luck in the world," he shouted back to her. And he smiled at her so brilliantly that she couldn't help but smile back.

Then he drove off, waving all the while.

And she was alone.

Though she was used to being alone, Kyoko supposed. She walked slowly up the driveway, taking deep breaths as she approached the front door. It was imposing, nearly twice her height, with windows surrounding the door giving her a peek into a pristine foyer. Kyoko took a deep breath and poised her hand to knock, but when it came time to bring her fist down, she froze.

"I can do this," she whispered. She knew Kuon. She wasn't diving into unknown territory, not really, not even when that was exactly where she was. She was Kyoko Mogami and she had survived bigger, scarier things. Even if it was terrifying to trust someone with the heart she'd been protecting for so long. She could do this.

So, she knocked. And she didn't breathe the entire time until someone opened the door and then all of her words came out at once.

"My name is Kyoko Mogami and I need to-" Her shout caught in her throat and her heart swooped down to her toes. All this time, all this worry, and the last person she expected at the door was Kuon himself. She slid to her knees and her eyes filled with tears. It was him.

He was here.

"Mogami-san?"

Her chest twisted and her face ached and she couldn't breathe as she wrapped her arms around her torso as if that would keep all the pieces of her together. Don't call me that, she wanted to say. I had just gotten used to the sound of my name on your lips. The words were pointed at the tip of her tongue. All that escaped her mouth, though, was an ugly sob.

Looking at him with his blonde hair and his green eyes, the brunt of the last three months crashed into Kyoko's body. Everything she'd done, everything that he had done. She remembered with crystal clarity the devastation of that interview and how she had said things that she hadn't meant, not really, and forced Kuon to play a hand that had clearly not meant to be played yet. But if she played her cards right, maybe she could try to redeem this mess she's made.

"Kyoko, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Kuon was at her side in a moment. He knelt on the ground beside Kyoko, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him that this was dangerously similar to the situation that landed him in the impulse decision to shed his Tsuruga Ren identity. Except neither of them were in Japan right now. Wasn't Kyoko supposed to be shooting for Lotus?

He scanned his brain, trying to remember everything that had been told to him in the last couple of days. Everything was a blur, but Kyoko wasn't even supposed to realize he wasn't in Tokyo. He was supposed to be back before she ever realized. His intention was to retrieve his parents, so he could make a formal announcement about his identity. He was going to invite Kyoko. It was going to be a whole thing because everything that President Takarada did was an ordeal. Of course, his plans went awry when he came back home for the first time in years to discover that his parents weren't even in the US like they were supposed to be. They were in Tokyo.

This, he realized, was why people were supposed to communicate their plans with more than just a man in a glittering cape. Though he should have known this. Takarada had never been one for making things easy on him. On anyone.

"Kyoko," he murmured, his hands hovering over her fallen figure. "What are you doing here?"

Her cries increased at the sound of his voice. She didn't want to do this. She needed to do this. So, she forced herself to look up at the man she loved and blinked until she could focus on his face through her tears. "I need to tell you something," she whispered, wiping furiously at her eyes.

When she looked up to him, he didn't say anything. He only smiled in that gentle way he always did when she was around, and nodded for her to continue.

"I know," she said. Kuon didn't blink. She kept talking, even though she wished he would say something. Anything. "I know that Ren Tsuruga was in love with Kyoko Mogami. And I know that Ren Tsuruga isn't actually Ren Tsuruga at all. His name is Kuon Hizuri."

"Yes." He nodded slowly and settled one of his hands over hers on the ground. "You said-"

"I also know that I know Kuon Hizuri. And I've known him for a long time." She held her breath, waiting for Kuon to object. To interrupt her tear-fuelled tirade. There was a part of her that wished he would be cruel enough to tell her to pick herself up out of the foyer and stop blubbering. But that was the part of her that was too-familiar, too used to the scoldings from her mother.

"I know you're Corn."

The words fell out of her mouth like a reverent whisper. And for a moment, she was allowed to believe in fairies again.

Kuon smiled. "When did you figure it out?"

"Fifteen hours ago," she said, doing the math in her head. "Sixteen, maybe? Technically. Moko-san sent me a picture of fifteen-year-old you and everything clicked. I think I've known longer, though. Deep inside."

She had kept that knowledge buried deep in her heart, she realized, along with her love for this man here. Her first (real) kiss. And her second love. The person who kept her rooted to her dreams and in fairy tales all this time. Somehow he found her again. It was like magic.

"I was going to be back in the country in a couple of days," he said. "You didn't need..." He pressed his lips together. "It's a long way to come."

A small fire flared in Kyoko's gut and she remembered Takarada's kind smile as he sent her off in a company car toward the airport. He couldn't have... mentioned this before allowing her to jet across the world? But she refused to let herself steep in her frustration because she had long passed that. She was already in LA and if he had tried to stop her, she might have quit like he baited her to do.

"I wanted-I needed to see you," she insisted. "I needed to confirm what I knew and I needed to talk to you. I needed to apologize."

"There's nothing to apologize for." Kuon shook his head and reached out to touch her shoulder. He relished in the fact she didn't flinch or jump away from his touch. It allowed him to hope... "I'm sorry I'm not a fairy prince," he said, squashing his thoughts. He wouldn't allow himself to get distracted.

A choked laugh escaped her throat. For all the history that's tied up inside of him, he very well could be a fairy prince if such creatures existed. He proved to her again and again that he deserved better than her, but right now she couldn't be more grateful for how desperately he tried to hold onto her when she gave him every opportunity to leave. Most people would have.

"No," she agreed, wiping the tears away. Of course, he would try to say something like that right now. That's why she loved him. "No, you're not."

She loved him, she loved him.

She loved him.

She needed to tell him that. He needed to know. She stared at him, her breath coiled tight in her chest, waiting to be set free. And while she knew that Kuon would accept these words, these feelings, and nurture them as if they were his own, the thought of laying her heart out bare almost made her freeze up. Almost.

The two of them still had so much to talk about, so much to learn about each other. But she didn't need to keep pushing him away. Not anymore. They could keep learning. Together.

"I love you as Tsuruga Ren. I love you as Corn," she said, reaching for his hands. She almost laughed at how easily he gave them up to her, and how easy it was to join their fingers together. Kyoko had not held his hand in so long, and now she never wanted to let go. Bringing their hands up to her face, she brushed a kiss against his knuckles. "But most importantly, I love you as Kuon Hizuri."

Kuon squeezed her hands, and pulled away from her. He traced her cheekbone with his finger before leaning in to press a kiss against her cheek. "I love you, too, Kyoko Mogami."

A laugh bubbled up her throat and Kyoko couldn't take it anymore. She wrapped her arms around Kuon and buried her face into the front of his linen shirt. His scent curled around her like a protective blanket and for the first time in hours, days, and months, Kyoko finally allowed herself to relax. "I know," she whispered into his chest.

She didn't know what the future would hold for either of them. But for now, she allowed herself to breathe and find solace in the arms of the man she loved.

And that was enough.

. . .

~FIN~

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