Against All Odds
Chapter One
After having more time to think about it, Ran had come to the conclusion that it must have been temporary insanity.
There was no other plausible explanation for why he had surrendered, given up. Lock, stock, and barrel. Why had he agreed in the first place, he thought as he angrily paced the living room.
Compromise? This was no compromise. It was reasonable to say he was forced into the situation. Maybe even, in some sick way, ordered to do it.
"I don't understand why I can't write it on my own," he had said only mere weeks ago. The question still echoed through his head. Why, indeed? The movie was going to be based on his book. Who else better to write the screenplay than the author of the novel it was derived from?
"Aya," his agent had implored that day in his office, "you're a novelist, not a screenwriter. There's a big difference. So naturally, I've set you up with the best in the business."
What Youji said had made sense, but he couldn't shake the feeling of overpowering helplessness. He was handing over his book- his pride and joy, his hard work and emotion- over to a complete stranger. And no matter how good Youji had insisted the screenwriter was, there was no way that person could ever know the book better than himself, and how to express the feelings within those words onto a screen. His story would be thrown onto the cutting table, mutilated and dissected at the hands of another.
Ran shuddered involuntarily, pausing in his frantic pacing as the tingle rushed down his spine.
He could still recall the look on Youji's face when he had threatened to turn down the movie deal. Youji's characteristic cigarette that usually hung limply from in between his lips began to shudder between clenched teeth. And when Youji had jerked it from his mouth to flick the ashes, the end had been squished from the tension in his taut lips.
Of all the offers Ran had received, there was no denying that Watanabe Shinji's of Sakura Productions had been quite… lucrative. The thought of losing all that money had made Youji's blood boil, and Ran had to sourly agree that it wasn't a very bright idea. But still, at the cost of his integrity, and that of the novel? He wasn't so sure that even an amount of money that hefty would be enough to balance out the scales.
Even so, Ran had felt inclined to take up the offer. After all, he owed Youji so much as his agent. When all other agents had turned him down, only Youji had been able to see the potential behind his plotlines and story scribblings. Four books later, he owed Youji his trust and faith, if nothing else. Without him, Ran would have never been discovered, much less become number one on the top ten sellers list.
So it was with a guilty conscience that Ran begrudgingly acquiesced and Youji began to set up a meeting with a screenwriter who was also under contract with him, and whom Youji boasted as being the "best of the best."
And who was also fifty-five minutes late.
Somewhere during Ran's pacing he realized he had led himself over to the window. The wind moaned violently outside, sheets of rain pelting the glass without relief. Ran folded his arms over his chest, giving a glare that could easily match the intensity of the storm raging outside. He hated waiting. He could openly admit he was by far, not a patient man.
Turning away, a flash of something yellow caught his eye from underneath the coffee table. He walked over, stooping down to retrieve the object. Muttering, he placed the book on the small table, making a mental note to redeposit in his sister's room later. He hated disorder.
And yet, he couldn't help but feel his life was plummeting into the same… disorder.
Ran gazed blankly down at the book, his eyes tracing over the picture of a crying puppy on the cover.
"I feel your pain," he murmured dryly to himself.
Within little over a month, his entire world had been rocked and jolted. First the movie deal, and then his… sister and parents. He was only waiting for the moment when it would hit him like a sack of rocks- the moment when it would finally sink in that he was now responsible for another human life.
Even though he was having problems regarding his own life.
Team. It was a damnable word, and one he thought held no truth in his situation. He was sure there would be no "team" to speak of, and that the screenwriter would waltz in and take charge of the entire project, treating Ran like an imbecile. He didn't understand what the big deal was. He was a writer, for Christ's sake, it wouldn't have taken him too long to get the fundamentals of scriptwriting down, and even less time to master them.
Ran sighed, absent mindedly pulling on a lock of his fiery hair. What was he doing, he thought wearily. This was never going to work.
He was halfway across the room, ready to dial Youji's phone number when the doorbell chimed.
He halted, glaring at the offending doorway and toying with the idea of just ignoring the screenwriter altogether. Well, the quicker he got started the quicker it would be over.
He strode quickly across the room, flinging the door open in a gesture that he hoped was less than hospitable. On the other side of the doorway, stood a figure wrapped from head to toe in a rain slicker.
"You're late," Ran growled, his eyes pelting the stranger just as hard as the rain.
"And you're… a man!" The screenwriter squeaked in astonishment, one tanned hand peeking out from underneath the slicker to slightly move back the hood for a better look.
Ran folded his arms over his chest, elegantly raising an eyebrow. "Very sharp," he said icily.
The man smiled, his face only visible from the nose down with the raincoat on. "It's just that with your name- Aya. I always thought you were a woman."
"It's my penname," he bit out.
Ken just continued to smile, not all that surprised at the man's acidic personality. Youji had warned him ahead of time. He cocked his head sideways, leaning in to look over Ran's shoulder. "Nice living room. Are you going to let me see more of it?"
Ran had a strong mind to slam the door on the man's grinning face, nevertheless, he moved back, allowing the man to step through the threshold.
Ken tried not to ogle as he stepped into the house, but he was finding it a hard endeavor. Of all the things he had been expecting, the least of all had been a man. Ken eyed him discreetly as he began to unbutton his slicker. And an exotic looking man at that.
His blazing red hair was cut into long sweeps that brushed into his eyesight, and his strong cheekbones were accented on each side by a long lock of crimson. His skin, Ken realized, looked fragile to the touch. He was pale and creamy, seemingly made of the purest marble. But even more unique was his eyes. Twin violet jewels encased inside almond shaped frames vigilantly kept watch.
And, Ken noticed with discomfort, said eyes were calculating his every move. Ken paused with only a few buttons left, opting instead to extend his hand.
"Hidaka Ken. Nice to meet you."
Ran stared disdainfully at the hand, water droplets falling from the fingers onto his hardwood floor. Ken looked down, following his gaze, and smiled apologetically. His wet hand retreated back up to the slicker to finish unbuttoning it.
"Fujimiya." Ran replied, not even bothering to uncross his arms from his chest.
Ken finally pulled down the hood, revealing his entire face. "Am I to call you Aya then?"
"Ran is my real name, but only my…" He paused in mid-sentence, all too aware that he was about to say "family." Plural. "…only my sister calls me that."
"Ran it is, then," Ken turned his mahogany colored eyes on Ran. They were a unique sort of color, Ran mused, flecks of gold highlighting the deep, rich brown. They seemed to twinkle, even in the low lighting of the living room, and hold him in place. Ran blinked, feeling a bit disorientated, and realized Ken was holding out his slicker. He yanked the coat from Ken's grasp, digesting the man's other features as he hung it to dry in the closet.
He didn't know how old Ken was, but he looked to be young- too young to know anything about life or experience. There was no way he was letting this man get his hands on his novel.
"Are you always so late?" Ran shut the closet door with a little more force than needed.
Ken smirked, despite the cold treatment he was receiving. "I am when there are five car pile ups on the freeway." Ken slipped out of his shoes and stepped a little further into the room, his eyes taking in his pristine surroundings.
"Youji told me you would be difficult," he idly commented while running a hand through his dark hair. He began to stroll around the living room, examining the décor.
"I am not difficult," Ran sputtered in protest, glaring as he watched Ken begin to finger some ornaments over the fireplace.
"Then we should get along perfectly," Ken said, smiling back over his shoulder as he absent mindedly turned over the jade elephant in his hands.
I doubt that, Ran thought rigidly.
Ran's eyes trailed up and down the man, attempting to take in the tiniest detail. He thought Ken looked more like he was there to baby-sit his sister, rather than a hard-working screenwriter. Once again, he reiterated his earlier thoughts of Ken being much too young to know what he was doing. Youji had mentioned that Ken was twenty-three, only two years younger than himself, but somehow Ran highly doubted that age to be correct. There was just no way. Ken had to be the damned youngest twenty-three year old in the world.
Ran felt far older at twenty-five.
He studied Ken silently, his irritation steadily rising as Ken sauntered about the room touching everything he could get his hands on. Most everything in Ran's living room retained the theme of white, and Ken's tanned skin seemed to blatantly stand out stark against the backdrop… unknowingly calling attention to himself.
Ran frowned deeply, watching Ken stick his face so close to a Japanese watercolor print that his nose was almost bumping the canvas.
Ken's clothing looked unprofessional. It made Ran feel overly dressed in his dress slacks and black, high-necked sweater. Ken was sporting loose fitting blue jeans and a tight, deep blue colored t-shirt.
Surely Youji didn't expect him to work with this… this boy?
"Must you touch everything?"
Ran's words made him stop with his fingers poised above a Japanese fan. Guiltily he clasped his hands behind his back, turning back towards Ran.
"Sorry, it's kind of my way of getting a feel for you. You know, the man behind the book."
"It's my understanding," Ran began coolly, "that you're here to work on a script. Not to 'get a feel for me.' "
Ken shrugged, moving towards the couch and coffee table. He sat heavily, leaning over to peer at the yellow children's book lying atop the glass. "Into heavy reading?"
Ran sat down quietly at the other end of the couch, trying to mold his body closely to the arm rest. Anything to keep distance between him and Ken.
"It's my sister's."
"Good book. I've read it."
Ran snorted. "I'm sure it's just your speed."
Smiling, Ken sunk further into the cushions. Ran's attitude really didn't affect him all that much. Ken was sure he'd worked with novelists who were much worse in the past.
Although at the moment, he couldn't recall any.
I bet your bark is a lot worse than your bite, Ken thought to himself. There was just something lurking deep within Ran's eyes that lead Ken to believe that there was more than what scratched the surface of the man.
"I liked your book," Ken started, attempting to placate Ran, "in fact, I liked all your books."
"Thank you." His voice was pure ice, freezing to the bone. "But I've decided not to do the screenplay."
Ken's posture straightened a notch, his eyebrows jutting in confusion. "You're giving the entire project to me?"
Ran stood abruptly, his frustrated pacing starting anew. "You're not getting your hands on even one page of my book. I'm declining the movie production offer."
Ken slumped back down into the couch, absent mindedly scratching at his temple. "Oh, I see. You're scared." He pursed his lips together and nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself.
Ran instantly froze in place, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Scared?" He echoed, propping one hand up on his hip. His dislike of Ken was growing by the second.
"You're afraid that someone might have a little insight on your story other than yourself. That maybe, I might even have so much insight that I outdo the very book itself."
Ran growled, turning his head away from Ken's smiling face in an attempt not to utter any expletives. The audacity of the man! He had no idea how thin the ice he was treading had just become. He had never met someone so… so arrogant!
"I'm not going to ruin your book, Ran," Ken said, rising from the couch to tentatively approach the novelist. "I'm really good at what I do, you know?"
You mean ruining people's lives, Ran thought sourly to himself. "Actually, I don't know."
Ken rolled his eyes, stepping away from Ran to glide over to a wall that sported various photographs. Youji hadn't been kidding when he had cautioned Ken about the… difficulties that would come with the project. Luckily, Ken enjoyed a challenge.
"Ever seen Before the Morning," Ken asked while gazing over a photo of a young girl with dark, black hair. She looked familiar, in a way he couldn't place.
"No."
"The Disciples?" Ken moved a step to the right, eyeing another photo of the girl. This time her hair was twisted into two braids. Very familiar, he mused.
"No."
"What about Tried and True?" Ken stole a brief glance at Ran, who merely frowned in answer.
"Have you ever even watched a movie?" Ken huffed.
Ran crossed his arms, raising his chin into the air. "I don't get out much."
Ken turned back to the wall, noticing a newspaper clipping was next in the line of frames. "No kidding," he muttered to himself, eyes already scanning the clipping.
He figured it wasn't too old because the color was no where faded to a musty yellow. The date above the headline confirmed his suspicion, only a little over a month ago.
Last night's storm kills couple was blazed in bold type across the top. Ken's eyes widened, recognizing the crying girl in the follow-up shot to be the exact same one adorning Ran's walls. She was soaked to the bone, her small hands reaching out for an unseen target off camera as a rescue worker held her at bay.
Ken blinked, startled, as a hand reached over his shoulder and yanked down the picture frame from the wall before he could finish reading the article. He turned, watching as Ran clutched it to his chest and away from prying eyes. For a brief moment, Ken thought he saw some sort of pain swirling within Ran's pools of amethyst, only for it to be covered up with the same disdain he had seen all morning.
"I don't think I like you very much, Hidaka."
Ken shrugged, his eyes boring into Ran's… searching. Nothing. Ken sighed. "No, probably not. And it's just Ken."
Ran huffed, turning away from Ken's intent gaze. The man's directness unnerved him to no ends. He placed the frame upside down upon the fireplace as he passed, watching out of the corner of his eye to make sure Ken didn't try to retrieve it to finish reading.
Instead, Ken plopped back down onto the couch, pulling his legs up underneath him to sit Indian style. "This would be so much easier if you were like your books."
"What?" The word tumbled from Ran's lips before he had time to think.
"They're so full of emotion and sensitivity. Whereas you…" Ken gave Ran a sidelong glance, smirking, "…well, you know."
"Do you have a point," he said coldly, his fingers beginning to idly drum against the side of his slacks.
"Give it one week, Ran. That's all I ask. One week." Ken smiled sweetly.
"You're just going to prolong the inevitable, Hidaka."
"I don't know why you say that." Ken propped his chin up in his palm, tilting his head teasingly towards Ran. "There's no telling what could come from this partnership."
"The only thing that will come from this partnership is trouble."
"That can be fun, too," Ken said, rising from the couch to come toe to toe with Ran. "One week. Is that so much to ask? Just one week to get started." Ken tried to give his most imploring, innocent look.
"Or to finish." Ran narrowed his eyes, leaning in so close his nose was almost touching Ken's.
"We'll see about that," Ken's eyes laughed back at his glare. Ran was starting to believe that nothing could make the man waver.
Ken stepped around Ran with one long stride, moving back towards the doorway. He fished his slicker out of the closet, swinging it about his shoulders with a flourish even Dracula would envy. "So what time tomorrow is good for you," he asked while trying to slip back into his tennis shoes.
"Nine." Ran watched with fascination as Ken tried to maintain his balance on one foot, teetering dangerously. "Sharp," he added, thinking about his long wait earlier.
"Nine it is," Ken agreed, his hand already twisting the doorknob. "And don't look like you're ready to chew off your own leg to escape, Ran." Ken winked. "It won't be so bad," he called over his shoulder as he shut the door with a soft click.
"I beg to differ," Ran said to an already empty room.
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"Honey, I'm home!"
Ken's voice echoed off the walls as he slipped out of his rain slicker, tossing it on the coat rack. Immediately he heard the anxious pad of large feet against the hardwood followed by a deep bark. A flash of fuzz came barreling straight at him, knocking him flat to the floor before he could even remove his shoes.
"Agh! Gypsy! Down, girl!" Ken struggled between slurps of the dog's giant tongue, pushing her off of his chest. With a loud ruff, the dog relinquished her master, wagging her tail energetically as Ken struggled to get up.
Using one hand to untie his shoes, his other arm swiped the remaining dog slobber from his face. "That is so gross," he mumbled to himself, eyeing the happy dog. "Don't look so pleased with yourself," he said to the giant Golden Retriever. "I'll get you back later."
Ken sighed, making his way towards the kitchen with Gypsy trailing at his feet. If not for the fact that is was still so early in the day, he would swear that he needed a strong drink.
"After meeting a man like that, who wouldn't," Ken thought aloud.
Ken opened up the fridge and started scooting things back and forth inside to reach for a sport's drink. He twisted off the cap, bumping the refrigerator door closed with his hip. He absent mindedly took a large swig.
There was something about Fujimiya Ran. Whether that something was good or bad, Ken had yet to decide. Ken frowned, glancing out of his kitchen window to the still raging storm outside.
Storm… that made him remember!
Ken hastily sat the drink down on the counter, darting off down the hall to his study. Flinging open the door, he instantly dove into a pile of newspapers in the far corner, haphazardly tossing them this way and that. Gypsy crept silently into the room, tilting her head at her master's antics.
"I know it's got to be in here somewhere. I just know I haven't thrown it away yet," Ken mumbled to himself, picking up newspaper after newspaper, flinging them away in disgust. "No, that's not it either."
The dog padded softly up behind him, sniffing an article he had thrown over his shoulder.
"Here it is!" He yelled in triumph, Gypsy skittering back a few feet at his booming voice.
Ken skimmed the pages, searching for…
"Last night's storm kills couple," he read the headline aloud. "Shit!" Half of the article had been ripped off. Ken breezed over the information, or what was left of it.
"Leaving eight year old Fujimiya Aya in the care of her older brother…" Ken trailed off, blinking guilelessly at the missing part of the article.
"Ran's… parents?" He questioned to no one in particular. Of course, there was no way to be certain without the rest of the article. But it would surely explain why Ran had been so particular about Ken reading the clipping on his wall.
Ken reached towards Gypsy, lightly scratching her on the head.
"Well girl, at least I know now he has a good reason for being such a dick." Ken momentarily chewed on his lip.
"I think there's more to Mr. Fjuimiya than meets the eye."
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"Aya?" Ran rapped quietly at the door. "Can I come in?"
No answer.
"If you… if you get hungry, I can make us some lunch," he said, laying his hand gently against the cold wood. Waiting, listening intently for any signs of life from within.
Ran sighed. "I'll be watching the news if you need me."
He crept silently away, moving swiftly through the house into the living room. Flinging his weary body onto the sofa, he let his head loll back onto the cushion, suddenly much too tired to hold his own body weight.
"What am I supposed to do?" Ran whispered to the empty room.
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Hold tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride ^_^ Sorry for any grammatical mistakes, this hasn't been beta'd.
