Chapter 23 — And Wrote the Winter
By midmorning, a listless susurration had fallen over the set. Idle noise to make for the idle conversations that floated through the room, collected to indiscriminate murmurs as the minutes trailed by. From the nearby doorway, a brisk wind found its way through the pages of a script, left alone off the corner of a makeshift vanity. It carelessly glanced past the exposition, skimmed through the impassioned words that sparked the rising action, and perused up to the very precipice that made for the climax, only to be halted under the press of a woman's fingertips as the pages teetered furthest off the edge. The cold still lingered. A tiny bite to send-off the final, fleeting days of winter; another little shiver to draw the lapels of her coat closer together over her chest.
The pages collected back in her hand, and she quickly sought the page she had last left off, as she went to close the door. Her teeth clenched the tip of her nail, muttering a sound of annoyance. It should have been somewhere around here. The fifty-second page of one hundred and ten, where she, with a pen in hand, had drawn yet another mark underneath her scripted lines, circling over the words and decorating the neighboring whitespace with multiple question marks. The stage directions were hardly any different, and she furrowed her brow, trying to make any sense of it.
"Watch your step, Ms. Nakano," a passing crewman warned, just in time for her to stop and glance near her heels. In her fixation over the details of her script, Ichika had not realized that she had crossed over a bundle of camera wires, sprawled haphazardly across the floor.
"Oh, thank you," Ichika said, taking a step to the side. "That would have been a bit embarrassing. But isn't it dangerous to have the wires all out in the walkway like this?"
"Yeah, well, one of the interns should have handled that by now."
"Where are they now?"
"Probably slacking off somewhere is my guess, just like everyone else here." The man snorted and continued to roll his equipment cart back to the other side of the set, as if it hardly were an issue. Today, their film set was located at a grandiose hotel, renowned across all of Beverly Hills as a venue for many upscale events. Its ballroom was the epitome of luxury and lavishness, with a grand ceiling embellished with intricate chandeliers, whose golden surfaces gleamed brightly from the surrounding lights. It was said that the bride and groom that shared their first dance together as newlyweds, underneath the main chandelier on their wedding night, would feel themselves prancing among stars that shined brightly for them. If it were instead the site for a gathering among socialites, then the charming host or hostess had just the right floor to saunter from one esteemed guest to the next, exchanging glasses of champagne between fingers decorated in gold and silver rings. And if it were a dinner party, then the guest of honor had just the right background to stand forth, proper and prominent, as they addressed their fellow friends and associates with a toast of their wineglass to whatever fiscal fortunes await them.
Ichika had more than enough time to marvel over the venue when she had first arrived—bright and early, as a matter of fact, that she had even surprised herself. The young actress woke that morning with high spirits. She could not quite put it into words, but today's schedule seemed to promise good things for her. The air was pleasant and crisp during her morning jog, and the ample time from her early rise had allowed her to loiter in her morning shower. During breakfast, she had finally perfected the fold of her eggs, for the first time since trying the new recipe. And when she took her first sip of morning coffee, the rich flavor of a perfect brew delighted her tongue.
Now, however, all of those good omens seemed so much like a distant memory. Listlessness and lethargy had seeped into the room. It was in the dragged footsteps of actors with nothing of importance to do. It lined in the sweat of the crewmen who did not know what to do. It polluted the air of the ballroom, forcing its way to an unsuspected sigh that slipped off her lips as she made her way through the set. By now they should have wrapped up rehearsal and have done a few practice shoots for the scenes, but the lens caps had hardly budged from their cameras. They were way behind schedule.
Soon after Ichika closed the door, it opened right back again behind her, revealing a tired-looking woman carrying a clipboard and wearing a black cap and a black long-sleeve shirt that read 'CREW' in large letters across the back.
"Abigail!" said Ichika, folding back the script. "Did you find her?"
"Y… yes…" the woman replied, breathless. "She is… she is coming into the building now. Behind me."
"Where did you find her?"
"At the, uh, she was at the gym."
Ichika flinched. "Sorry, the… gym? What do you mean she was at the—"
The rest of the double-doors spread open, pushed aside with both of the dark-haired woman's arms as she boldly stepped into the film set. At the same time, she called everyone's attention with loud claps to her hands. "Alright, alright, people! Let's get this show on the road! Your director is here!"
The nearby crewmen spoke a few words of greetings to her and mumbled a few reserved words amongst themselves. After taking a quick glance around the set, the woman gestured a few things to her assistant director, Abigail, before sending her away with a set of vaguely described tasks. "Erika, hold on," Ichika said, following closely behind her.
"Huh?" The director turned. "Oh, Ichika! You're already here. What's up?"
"I… um—yes, I am, but that's not really…" Ichika scrunched her brow. She did not know where exactly where she should begin. "Of course I'm already here. All of us have been for hours now. Rehearsals and shooting were supposed to begin in the morning, remember?"
"It was?"
"Yes, it did. At around nine-thirty. It's almost one now."
"Where did it say that?"
Ichika paused. "In the… email? The one that you sent to the entire cast?"
"Whoops." To her immediate surprise, Erika laughed, and as if nothing happened, she tugged her gym bag and continued to the back rooms. "Hah. My bad."
"'Whoops?'" Ichika raised her brow, still following. "A lot of us were worried! No one knew where you were and you weren't answering your phone. Where have you been?"
"I thought Abby told you; I was at the gym."
Ichika looked at her friend as if there was something she could have possibly missed by the way Erika was plainly answering her. "But… why?" Ichika asked.
"Burgers don't just'disappear from your waistline, Ichika." Erika gestured over her exposed midriff, pinching her own skin as if the toned shape of her abdominals could have possibly harbored a shred of fat. "You know, you should really join me sometime. My gym let's me scan in a plus-one, and I could really use a spotter."
Again, Ichika found herself lost in where she should begin. "That's not what I meant. You're the director here, and I don't mean to tell you how to do your job or anything, but doesn't this all seem so… disorganized? A few of the crewmen from this morning have already walked out, and no one knows what we're supposed to be doing."
Erika shrugged. "Don't worry about them. We'll make do with who and what we have."
"But we're already understaffed as it is."
"I think we have enough."
"They don't seem very motivated, though."
"That's what the free alcohol is for!"
Two crewmen crossed their paths, carrying a large stage prop from both ends, which Erika ducked under; meanwhile Ichika waited patiently for them to pass before catching up with Erika. "About that too—are you sure that's really a good idea? I spoke with one of the camera crew members earlier, and I might be wrong, but it seemed like he was already drunk."
"You worry over the tiniest things, Ichika." Erika nudged her shoulder. "I've had sets where things were a lot like this. Things usually work out, one way or another. Mostly."
"I can understand where you're coming from, but… I don't know. I just want to help make sure that your first-ever film does well. It's your debut as a director, after all! That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Ichika drew out the script that she was holding under her arm, flipping to the marked pages of the script she had been glancing over earlier. Though Ichika could not admit it, her message could have been a lot clearer if she just handed Erika the whole script. "Do you see these lines over here?"
"Hmm?" Erika leaned over. "What about them?"
"Doesn't it feel a little… 'off' to you? When you told me two nights ago that you were just making'a few small changes', I was expecting something like a few different lines I had to memorize, but this is entirely different to the character I've been rehearsing for the past few weeks. She seems like an entirely different character, and there are some lines that contradict the story."
"Really? Like where? Actually, wait—hold that thought. I think the sound crew might need my help with something, so you're gonna have to make this quick."
Ichika fidgeted with the script. There were too many elements that she wanted to discuss with Erika to even consider any of it being 'quick'. In fact, that was exactly what she told Erika, "I don't think I can. I feel like every one of my lines are just plot holes. Why can't we just stick with my original lines?"
"Nope. Uh uh." Erika shook her head. "No can do, Ichika. The Songbird is a vital character to the scene." She closed one eye, drawing two, inverse L-shaped gestures over her face like a camera shot, panning right over to the face of the pink-haired actress who still did not look any less perplexed since she first spoke with her. "The Songbird is supposed to be mysterious. Enigmatic. Alluring. Sexy. She captures eyes of everyone in the ballroom the moment she steps in, and her lines to need to exactly how I envision it to make that work. Just trust me; stick with what's on the script."
Ichika gave a halfhearted smile. Even if Erika was her friend and had been a tremendous help to her so far, there have been times where Ichika was a little cautious about Erika and her decision-making skills. "I really hope you're right," said Ichika, sighing. "But I do think that things could be a lot smoother. For me and the rest of the team. And between you and me, I am speaking on the behalf of a few other members. According to them, you can be a little… intimidating."
Erika laughed, as if that was exactly what she wanted to hear. "Don't you worry one bit. I'll get this place—and all of these good-for-nothing slackers—whipped into shape in no time."
Ichika flipped to another page. "Though there is another thing I've been concerned about, Erika. It's about—"
"HOLD ON! I HEAR YA!" Erika shouted over her shoulder. "I'm coming there, alright? Give, me like, a minute! Okay, what's the issue, Ichika?"
"It's about my character's last lines. See this part I circled here?"
"Whoa, you circled a lot of stuff."
"Well, like I said, there were a lot of contradictions and plot holes and—that's not the point I'm trying to make right now. I'm talking about this part here. See? In the original script The Songbird was supposed to leave the main character's question unanswered."
"Uh huh. Yeah, that should be correct."
"Then why is it structured like I have some more lines? Look at the next page of the script." Ichika flipped one page over. There were a few stage directions and some cues for the camera pans to go with some lines to fill the remainder of the scene, ending with space reserved for the final bits of dialogue to wrap up the scene.
And the lines wrote—
「 Nakano Ichika 」:
"The lines are blank," Ichika said. "And why does it say my name instead of The Songbird?"
"Oh shoot. Yeah, that was a placeholder."
"So, it was just a printing error? The lines too?"
"Nah, I'm preeetty sure they're supposed to be lines there. Why don't you check with the others' scripts?"
"I did and it—"
"Erika!" A man's voice called out from across the room. "It's been a minute already! We seriously need you here!"
"Yeah, yeah!" Erika shouted back, and turned to Ichika. "I gotta see what the sound crew is bitching about, so we'll talk later, okay?"
"Wait, but this is really important. There has to be a page missing, right? I asked the other actors, and their scripts were the same thing. There isn't—"
"Look, I really gotta go."
"Well, then what am I supposed to say here?"
"Just do whatever you think works! You'll know when the time comes!"
"I… what? What does that mean? Hey! Erika, wait up! Erika?!"
Like a splash of cold water, the late arrival of their director had sent a jolt through the idle bodies of the film crew. Within minutes, all the camera equipment had been powered on and every crew-member desperately found some way to make themselves useful. They sauntered, shuffled, and scrambled, until the listless susurration devolved to an all-too-familiar clamor. Loud, disorderly clamor, albeit with a larger sense of purpose, as far as Ichika could tell.
An equipment cart rolled past her and Ichika excused herself from the thick of the busybodies. There was still a lot of preparation work to be done, and an actress would do well to make use of her own time. In most scenarios, that would mean some more personal time spent face-to-face in front of the dressing room mirror with her script in hand. She was already halfway there. The script was still bundled in her hand, but strangely enough, the young actress could not find the will to rehearse the lines. At least, not immediately.
"Fuutarou-kun probably wished I took notes like these back in school," Ichika quietly joked to herself, if only to mask a sigh. She flipped through more pages and more of her doubts inked the white of the page. The lines that made up Deceitfully Yours—a romance screenplay set between two secret agents of opposing countries—were something like a hollow shell. It had words, it had stage directions. It had music, it had drama, it had action. And for some reason, it all felt hollow.
Ichika straightened herself, holding the script in front of her as she faced the mirror in the lounge room. Something—anything—to inspire the words in her voice so that it truly came from The Songbird. She had to feel the story. Embrace it. Embody it.
When she closed her eyes, however, she could not picture the grace of the ballroom and all the servers that gathered under the crystal chandelier. She could not feel the gentle sway of The Songbird's dress as it touched against her legs. A heaviness set upon her heels, as if her dance was lead by an amateur. The music faded to muffles; the singer fell monotone. And when she spoke her lines, the words could not have been further from her own heart.
An actress thrived off her lies. She reveled in the praise that came from distortion. She birthed new lives with a twist of her tongue, and ended them when the cameras stopped rolling. In these short years that made her professional career, Ichika had assumed the faces of many. Their past and their present, and the future where the credits rolled. She found meaning in the words that made the young lover, the backstabber, the heroine. But when she faced the mirror again and let the words fall from her lips—
It all felt so painfully hollow.
"Someone looks a little bothered. Need someone to cheer you up, cutie?" Ichika had been so focused on her lines that she had not noticed one of her co-stars entering the lounge. A tall man dressed in a graphite suit, with blonde medium-length hair curled to the side. Past the length of his long lashes were bright blue eyes, settling to a soft gaze as he met hers. He leaned one hand on the table, and in a poor attempt, the man said to her, "Ko-ni-chi-wa."
It took every last bit of patience from Ichika to not roll her eyes. "James. Hello," she said, and without missing a beat, she continued, "did you need something from me?"
"I wouldn't say no to a smile," James quickly replied.
Quietly, Ichika groaned. If it were not one thing going wrong with this set, then surely there had to be another problem. Terrible scheduling, poor script quality, and now, troublesome colleagues. Ichika could never understand why Erika casted someone like James as the main lead—though, that may as well have been her own personal bias speaking. Regrettably, James was a tremendous actor. A young heartthrob in his late-twenties, known for his stern and resolute characters—most often associated with superhero films—while, most importantly, performing his own stunts.
In front of the camera, he was dazzling. He was the hero, the savior, the charmer. But in person, Ichika could only see James as—for lack of a better word—a nuisance. Harmless, but still a nuisance. It had already been a whole year since the two of them met, and all the young actress could think about was how James was still basically the same. That same cocky and full-of-himself man that tried his hardest to hit on her when she was but a fledgling in a foreign land.
She had hoped that would have been the first and last time they had spoken to each other, but that eventually turned to wishful thinking the day Ichika found out they would be starring in the same film. "Your corsage is crooked," Ichika said, and left for the refreshments table.
James callously followed. "Whoops. Silly me. So, fixing yourself up a drink? What'll it be—red or white wine? Or are you more of a beer-drinking girl?"
"Coffee."
"Coffee?" He took notice at the script—still opened—on Ichika's palm, reading as she poured herself a cup of coffee. James chuckled. "Whoa, someone's hard at work. You look like you're cramming for a test or something."
"Erika—er, I mean, the director, made a lot of adjustments my lines last minute," Ichika answered, sipping her coffee."Sorry, but I've got a lot to deal with right now, so I can't really chat for long."
"Then we can make it brief, and save the longer one for later."
"Shouldn't you be on-set soon, 'lead actor'?" Ichika did not even consider his proposal. "The director is probably wondering where you are."
"She won't be disappointed if she knew I was here practicing, too."
"Practicing? Practicing what?"
The persistent man switched to a ballroom dancer's pose, drawing one leg back and gesturing with his gloved hand. In the same motion, he pulled down his costume prop—a masquerade mask that was fixed on the brim of his dark venetian hat. "I was thinking the two of us could go over our little slow dance scene again."
"I think we've rehearsed that enough."
James shook his head. "No, I think there's still a lot more I could learn from you, Ichika. You're quite the dance partner."
Ichika sighed. "James, I thought I told y—"
"Please. Call me Jimmy."
She ignored him. "I thought I told you; I have a boyfriend."
"Whoa, whoa, I don't mean for you to misinterpret," James casually stood back up, still carrying a slight smile on his face. "Of course I remember. We're simply two costars getting to know each other a little more. They say the camera captures chemistry, after all."
Ichika raised a brow.
"I swear," James said, raising a hand. "Just some friendly conversation; nothing more."
Again, Ichika sighed. There was not as single part of her that trusted his sentiments, but it hardly seemed worth it to openly doubt him—not if it meant prolonging a conversation. "Okay," she said, returning to her script, "then we'll leave it at that. But as I said, I don't have a ton of time to chat. We're behind schedule and everyone is scrambling. I need to get back to the script before we start filming."
"A word of advice, though."
"What is it?"
James smiled, placing his hands in his suit pockets. "Take it easy a little. There's no need to work yourself so hard on something that's gonna flop."
Ichika stopped. "What do you mean by that? What's going to flop?"
"Come on. There's no way you haven't noticed. Or if you haven't, then I'm surprised it took someone this long to tell you." James shook his head in a sort of pitying way. "You've seen how the set is. You've seen how the attitude around here. This movie is a disaster in the making,"
"How… how can you say that?"
"Ah, that's right. Your character's doesn't show up until this part of the movie, right? Then I guess I can't blame you." He looked over the room, then to the doorway, where a few technicians rolled another cart down the hall. "It's been like this ever since day one. Erika always shows up late, her directions don't make any sense. The script is a cheesy mess, and the crew is a bunch of amateurs. I hear most of them are in it just for the graduation credits."
"That's…" Ichika fidgeted with the script in her hands. It was opened to one of the many pages she marked-up to the point where it looked as if there was more handwritten ink than the printed lines. "Isn't that sort of wrong?"
Her costar shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. Erika is probably one of the most talented and well-connected actresses to have graduated from our institute, but it's completely different when it comes to directing a film. I'm only here because I owe her a favor."
"You don't care how this movie ends up?"
He answered in a way that left no room for lies, even when Ichika had come to expect nothing less from him. Just one time where she wished she could doubt his honesty. "We're not exactly required to care, you know."
Ichika fell silent. For a moment, the young actress could almost see herself as the foolish one here. If it were just one other person—even if it were someone as obnoxious and overbearing as this colleague of hers—Ichika thought that a fellow actor would at least share some of her sentiments. Just a little to, if only to prove that she was not the strange one here for trying so hard. She wanted to believe it.
She thought of those callow days she first held a script in her hand. Of the times she first auditioned; the times where she first flipped through the bundled pages in her hand. She thought of her first rejection letter, the second, the third, the tenth. By some miracle, she was able to catch the eye of Oda Talent Productions. By some miracle, she found herself all the way here. Dreams were what made for miracles. The wishes and desires that always felt so far from her reach. It was the distant stars she gazed upon as the lowly amateur, the novice, the no-name. It was the light that gleamed in her eyes whenever she faced the camera. No matter where in life she may be, and whatever fame and accolade would ever embellish her name, Nakano Ichika would never forget what made for the cracks in this bumpy road called stardom. Many precious memories that kept her humble. Many more blessings she had, and forever will, count on.
And perhaps that was what made her the weird one here. The overachiever. The fool. Every role in every film, she dedicated nothing short of everything to the character depicted within the script. Her voice belonged to the name written in black ink, whose words separated with whitespace and a colon. If someone who was meant to be her equal thought any less of that idea, then there was not much else for her to say. Slowly, Ichika shook her head. "I expected better from you, James."
"Pardon?"
"You are the lead here, James. The lead. Whether you're aware of it or not, everyone's eyes are on you today. Not me, not the director—you. The lead should be the one who sets an example for everyone."
"The film is dead-on-arrival, Ichika. There's no saving a dumpster fire, even if we did our jobs perfectly. Every actor has 'that one bad film'."
"I am disappointed." Her words were like a brick wall, placed flatly in front of James's nose that he could not help but stiffen. Her eyes drew to narrow gaze, as if there were no longer any formalities between them as colleagues, much less equals, that made the air turn cold. "Forgive me, but as an actress, I am honestly disappointed. You should be better than that."
Her gaze did not waver, not even as her colleague's shifted for a moment. Something about James's face made it seem like he was still trying to find a way to laugh and say that he was kidding, but when he opened his mouth to speak, all that would come out was the bare remnants of a chuckle. Thankfully for them, the assistant director appeared at the doorway. "James," Abigail said. "We're about to start filming soon."
"R—right!" James said, straightening himself. "I'll be right there."
As he departed, Ichika took it upon herself to find someplace else where she could be. The main rooms had grown noisier now that they were finally beginning to film. Dressers and make-up artists darted past her, preparing for one last check before the cameras started rolling. If they had taken a moment to glance at the young actress, then they would have questioned the rosy tints to her face as she made room for them. To Ichika's relief, they did not, and she was able to freely bury her face in her palm as she left the room.
She calmly breathed. She had found her way to a lone balcony, a staircase away from the rabble of the main set. There was a slight warmth to her cheek as she touched it, and the back of her throat felt slightly heavy. The script laid on the table inside. Focusing seemed impossible now that she had worked herself up, and as she faced the cold open air, there was just one thing seemed to put her mind at ease. Her wristwatch drew over her face as she leaned on the gilded rails, eyeing the two dials. Two p.m. That would mean it would be somewhere close to…
"Hello?"
"You answered." Ichika leaned on her palm, smiling. Speaking in her native tongue was a pleasure she got less these days, with there being so much work. "I thought it might have been a little early for you, Fuutarou-kun."
"It's fine here. Let me see, it's supposed to be somewhere around…" She heard the light taps of Fuutarou's fingers against the screen as he fumbled around."Ah. About early afternoon. Isn't today supposed to be your…?"
"Filming?"
"Yeah, your film shoot. For Sasaki-san's film. Are you on a break right now?"
"Something like that, I guess. I don't have any parts for the first half of today's scene, which we originally planned to shoot in the early evening. At this rate, it might be a lot later." Ichika sighed.
"Everything okay?"
"It's fine. The shoot is going well and—no, they're not. If I were being completely honest, things are a bit of a… mess right now. A total mess. We're way behind schedule and nothing seems to be going right. And I kind of lost my temper a bit with a costar and I can't concentrate and—" Ichika stopped herself with a halfhearted laugh. "Sorry, do you have some time on you to hear me vent a little?"
"I am. You know I always will, Ichika. Did something bad happen?"
"You're the sweetest, Fuutarou-kun. And no. It's nothing like that. It's just that ever since this morning, no, even before that…" Now that she had his complete and undivided attention, Ichika entered a bitter perorate over the recent troubles and misfortunes that plagued the production of Deceitfully Yours. She started back as far as a few weeks ago, rambling about the many vague expectations that had been laid out for the project. She lamented over the many malfunctions of their rehearsals and practice shoots. She grieved for the good omens from that very morning, and the tragic death they suffered by midmorning. Even the things that seemed so minor at the time had slowly built up her frustrations, finding irritability in things she never knew bothered her for this long. The script, the schedule, the susurration. The people, her coworkers—even her own friend whom she deeply respected for all of the help she had given thus far. Ichika hated to admit, but there was some truth to what James had said, even if his resolutions were nowhere near agreeable. The film had every quality—every warning sign that made for a future disaster, and everyone else was oblivious.
"…and I don't know what came over me," Ichika continued, "but I really couldn't stand hearing that from him. I mean, we're both actors, right? Shouldn't we take pride in all of our works? All of our performances? Or am I the weird one here? I got so annoyed that I had to leave for a bit. I don't know if I should have said anything, but I—" Ichika groaned, burying her forehead into arms. "Sorry. I'm not being the coolest person right now, huh? That stopped being a short rant a while ago."
She heard a light chuckle from the other end of the line. "Wow, that sounds like a lot of annoying things to deal with. And don't worry; it's all fine, Ichika. If you need something off your chest, then you only need to call."
"You're too good to me, Fuutarou-kun."
"It's the least I can do. So, what do you think? "
"I really don't know. I mean, the last thing I want to be is negative about the whole thing, but would it kill anyone to take some responsibility here? Erika has been acting so weird lately." She muttered a sound of annoyance, enunciated a little more so that her partner across the line could picture the pout on her lips. "It sometimes feels like I'm the only one taking this seriously. Is there something here I'm not getting? Did someone get some kind of memo or something? What gives?"
"I doubt it's like that at all.."
"I know, but it sure feels like that sometimes." Ichika leaned back, sighing.
"Who knows? Maybe things might start making sense eventually."
"I hope so. I really do. Anyway, thanks for listening. I just needed to get that off my chest."
"It's no problem at all. Actually, it's kind of nice to hear that side about this side of you from time to time, Ichika."
"Ahh, so me being inconvenienced is somehow cute to you, huh? Have you become some kind of sadist or something, Fuutarou-kun?"
"I—It's not like that. I meant that it's kind of… humbling, in a way that you—"
"I know. I'm just joking." She laughed. "But really, I do feel a lot better now. Thanks again. Now, that aside, I don't want this whole thing to be just me complaining to you. How have things been going with you, Fuutarou-kun?"
"Me?" Fuutarou hummed his thoughts over the phone. "Hmm… nothing much. Things have been more or less the same as they've always been in Tokyo."
"Well, that's because you're not the kind of guy who goes out a lot. A real stick in the mud."
"You can't see me, but I feel like I should tell you that I'm rolling my eyes."
Ichika laughed. "But really? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing I can think of. At least, if we're talking about this past week. Oh, but I did mention it a little a while ago. When I was back home, I paid a visit to Nino and Miku's shop."
"Ah, that's right! How are the two of them doing? How's the place?"
"Oh, the place looks amazing!" Fuutarou responded in one of the most spirited tones Ichika had heard from him. "They've been working their butts off since they opened. It wasn't too busy when I stopped by, so we had a lot of time to catch up. Have they sent you pictures of the place?"
"Nino still makes sure to send me something every day." Ichika went through her gallery. In a little square named'Home', a plethora of tiled thumbnails populated her screen. Everything from food plates, outings, outfits, group photos, candid photos, and the boundless, familiar comfort of an apartment room on the thirtieth floor. As she scrolled to the recent images from the few months, a majority of them were of the newly established, Nakano's: Café & Bakery, from its early conception to the cozy, little still-slightly-work-in-progress shop that it was today. In a way, it was like a timeline, and Ichika made sure to keep an attentive eye to the details, knowing how many dreams lived behind those glass windows. "I'm sure your mom would be very proud, Fuutarou-kun."
"Yeah…" Fuutarou said, and though Ichika could not see his face, she could perfectly picture the pleasant look on his face as his voice trailed. "It's a great place. Wish I could stop by there more often, but I'm all the way out here."
"Oh, poor you." Ichika taunted. "Ah, just thinking about it makes me want to come home sooner. Those two keep sending me pics of their menu, and it never fails to make me hungry."
"I'm happy to keep bragging about the place, if it means getting you on the next plane here."
"Sorry, but you'll just have to keep being a good boy and wait for me," Ichika giggled in a way she knew would make him blush. Then, she continued, "It's getting closer, but it still feels so far. A little over half a year left…"
"Yeah, I've been making sure to count the days. It really can't come soon enough."
"Tell me about it. It's crazy to think so much has happened since then. You'll be finishing up your third year in university soon, right? Nino and Itsuki should be finishing up around the same time as you too. Nino is already managing a store, and Itsuki should be taking her teaching certification exam soon. Miku has already graduated from culinary school, and Yotsuba is going to be running the family inn soon. I feel like I'm missing out on so many important things…"
"Are you doing alright, Ichika?"
"I'm fine. I just… really miss all of you." Ichika looked at the cloudy skies above her. Somewhere far above her, Ichika could make the sounds of a plane as it passed by, its blaring engine ringing across the gray skies. "I can't wait to see you all again. I really can't. California is lovely and all, but nowhere feels right in the world if it means being this far from everyone. I just want to hurry. I want to come back to you as quickly as I can and I…" Ichika chuckled to herself. "Sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm just feeling a little sentimental right now. Feeling a lot of things, actually."
"It's the same for me, too. I miss you like crazy, Ichika. You've been gone for so long that the days feel so much slower."
Ichika stood upright, taking slow back-and-forth strides on the balcony. "Hey, so, when I do come back…"
"Hmm?"
"Well, umm… about that promise we made to each other. You know, the one about… living together."
"Ah, right. Yes, I remember."
"Are we… still on for that?" Ichika could not quite figure out what made her words so coy. That pleasant dream had stuck with them for years. From that autumn evening two years ago—overlooking the bright city lights of Tokyo that gleamed like thousands of grounded stars—where they first found a wish they both could share. For years she tenderly held onto the memory, yet it was not so often the thought found its way to words. And when they did, the blushing woman could not help but grow a little bashful as she spoke. "I'm going to need someplace comfy to crash when I get back."
"My feelings haven't changed at all, Ichika," Fuutarou reassured. "My place isn't the biggest, but Tappi and I can always make room for one more."
"You sure he wouldn't mind?" Ichika laughed at the idea of Fuutarou's cat somehow being the one that made the final decision, as if it were some kind of roommate interview. Then she thought of how adorable he would look in a cat-sized suit and seated on the other end of a desk. "Should I think about how to get on Tappi-kun's good side again?"
"He got used to you faster than he did with me. He even slept on your pillow for a few days after you left last time. I would come home from school and he would be curled up there."
"Jealous?"
"A little."
"Wow, you're a lot more honest than I thought." Ichika laughed. "But… yeah. I would love that."
"You sure you don't mind the place? The neighborhood isn't the greatest either, and it's still kind of far from the nearest station. And when it rains, things become a huge pain in the—"
"I'm sure, Fuutarou-kun," Ichika said confidently. "Anywhere is fine, as long as it's with you."
"Okay. If you insist. But that will only be for the short term. I've been saving and we could probably start looking into that property agency your dad mentioned. Someplace a little better than here."
"I would love that; I would absolutely love that. Guess we have a little bit of apartment-shopping to do in the future, huh?"
"Will you be alright until then?" Fuutarou asked. "There's still quite a bit of time left before you're done."
"I will be. I've made it this far just fine. If anything, I'd be more worried about you. Raiha-chan told me that your watch history is always filled with my movies on it. Even the really old ones."
"She's going on my profile again?! I keep telling her to just make her own—"
"Oh, I was just messing with you. Do you really?" Ichika burst into a fit of laughter. "That's so hilarious! I'm sorry, I just didn't think that would work so well. I need a moment."
"Ugh… I should have known. Now I'm embarrassed."
"No, no. I think it's incredibly sweet of you. I swear, if you were here right now, I'd give you the biggest kiss. I'd even let you choose where."
She heard him muffle a cough from his end of the call, and Ichika smirked. "Oh, by the way," she continued, "is it just me, or does your voice sound a lot clearer right now?"
"Clearer?"
"Yeah. Your voice just sounds a lot better right now."
"Ah, right. That's probably because I got a new phone just recently. Your sisters kept telling me that I should have upgraded, even though the old one I had was perfectly fine."
"You were probably due for an upgrade anyway, so they did you a favor. Which model did you get? Is the camera any better? We should video chat."
"Oh, uh, maybe not right now. And I kind of forgot the model name—they're all so confusing. All I know is that it was the newer one."
"Boo. You're no fun. Why do you have the luxury of having hours of me on your TV, and yet all I have is your social media profile picture that you update every six months? You could spoil your hardworking girlfriend with just a few more pics of her favorite man, couldn't you? Hmph."
She heard a tired groan from the other side of the phone. "Ichika…"
"You know I'm just teasing." Ichika thought a moment, and a thought crossed her mind. "Hey, speaking of my dad, I just remembered something. It might be a bit soon, but have you heard anything from him at all?"
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, you know, about that thing you asked from him? Has there been any news?"
"Ah…" She heard Fuutarou hum to himself as he thought. "It's still a little soon, and I'd hate to pester him after only a week. I should be thankful that Nakano-san agreed to write me a letter of recommendation."
"Studying to become a doctor sounds like a lot of work," Ichika added. "It sounds like you're going to be in school forever."
"Nothing I can't handle. Six years of study at university, the license exam, and two years of a residency program. It's around this time that other students start thinking about how they'd get letters of rec. From what it looks like, it can be difficult to get into a program without one."
"Doctor Uesugi, huh? Why does that make you sound so hot?"
"Be serious, Ichika."
"I am serious!" Ichika said with a whimsical air to her voice. "But really, congratulations. It must have been quite the conversation you had with my dad. You must have been sooo nervous."
"Imagine me in my most nervous state and then think of me worse than that. That's how it's like talking to your dad." Fuutarou sighed. "And thanks. I should learn how to take compliments better."
"Mhm, you should. So, I was also thinking that—" Ichika felt a buzz beside her ear. A notification. "Ah, that much time has passed already?"
"Your break time is over?" Fuutarou asked.
"Yeah. Looks like things are really picking up quickly. I'm needed in make-up and dress soon."
"Did I take up too much of your time?" Fuutarou asked. "You were saying that you wanted to go over more of your script."
"Not at all. I'm the one who called you, remember? I think I've gone over everything I can. Besides, talking with you helped me clear my head, so thanks! I feel more like myself now."
"That's good to hear. Call me anytime, okay?"
"Yeah! Alright, I gotta get going. Love you, Fuutarou-kun!"
"Love you too, Ichika. Good luck out there."
By evening, a dainty twirl flounced the ends of her gown. Gold-colored satin traced the silhouette of her body, cut to a low off-shoulder neckline as it neared her breast. Crimped and ruched, the fabric gathered near a corner beside her waist, drawing lines and folds to accentuate the curves. Thin made thinner by the waist; widened as it spread to her hips. As she swayed, the ankle-length dress shined in bright hues of golden light. As she stepped, the garment served as a frame to the length of her left leg, slipped from a thigh-high slit.
The dresser said she was beautiful. The designer said she was breathtaking. The hair stylist called her absolutely alluring. The makeup artist told her that she could not look any more perfect. The rest were simply speechless.
And for a moment, Ichika was too.
She had played many roles—many faces that told many lies. She had pouted as the naive schoolgirl, screamed as the desperate victim, kissed as the lovestruck woman, and pleaded in the decisive moments. Each one harbored fragments of herself. Facets of every emotion that the actress Nakano Ichika poured in every role. Behind the absent-minded words of Tamako-chan were the memories of her own foolish youth. The broken heart of Charlotte Lilia from The Vermilion Riddle was a testament to her first love. The madness of Isabella W. Clark from A Beautiful Splatter encompassed the nights she barely slept in the name of her dream.
But for a moment—just for a moment as she gazed into the mirror—Ichika had seen herself.
Her hair was styled the same way she had always done it, with the same spray she had always reliably used. There was no call for a wig or hair extensions to transform who she was. Her makeup was no different from the way she liked it when she did it herself. A comfortable shade of blush to make her cheeks ever so rosy, the right amount of mascara to draw out her lashes, the perfect length that drew from an eyeliner pen. The perfume was a sensual medley of sweet scents, with woodsy notes and laced with tones of apple, praline, and vanilla—the latest addition to her favorite brand. And lastly, a single earring to pierce her right ear.
After everything that has happened so far, and every misgivings that she may harbor, Ichika found a strange sense of comfort as she stared in the mirror. The set may end up as a disaster. The plot may be riddled with holes, and the schedule might stay a convoluted mess until the very end. But if it were just one thing that went right—or rather, one thing that went perfectly—was that they managed to make her and her dress look beautiful.
Nakano Ichika stepped through the door; The Songbird entered the ballroom.
The cameramen, the assistants, the sound technicians, and everyone else in between welcomed her with smiles, as if the stress and fatigue from the morning had all melted away. "There she is!" they called and hollered, whistled and applauded.
"Oh!" Ichika looked surprised, then smiled as she laughed. "Thank you. You're all too kind."
Three loud claps echoed through the ballroom. "Alright! Places, people!" Erika called out, her assistant close behind her with a clipboard. "Let's get this show on the road!" They gathered at their respective positions, making a clear path for the actors to join the scene. The extras gathered—the ballroom dancers, the servers, the antagonists cloaked in black. Props were placed and a hundred lights illuminated the venue.
She knew her cue. Act II of Deceitfully Yours — Ballroom Scene, second track. Major character, The Songbird, played by Nakano Ichika. Underground information broker and coordinator of a masquerade gala. The only woman who did not adorn herself in a mask, for no disguise could ever dim her presence whenever she walked in the room. A woman who commanded the eyes of all those around her. Gold marked her skin and silver ran through her veins. With a snap of her fingers, she could have anything she wanted delivered at her feet.
As the cameras faced the ballroom staircase, the heels clattering against the marble floors signaled her arrival. She sauntered with elegant steps, capturing the overhead lights in the rhinestones embedded in the straps of her stilettos. She descended with the panning rhythm of the camera. Closer with the dolly movements. The camera followed as she entertained her guests. First, Mr. Durst, a press baron for several newspapers in this fictional universe. She shared prop champagne as they discussed rumors of a supposed syndicate that threatened their city. Next was Mrs. Salzheim, the heir apparent to a large, foreign trading empire, which served as a cover for clandestine operations.
After entertaining the guests, they would move on to the main scene. Ichika waited again for her cue, standing to the side of the ballroom as the first wave of slow dancers gathered and the second prepared. The servers came soon after., clearing tables and making more room on the dance floor as they went. Ichika watched. Right now should have been the main character's cue. The cameras should be following him as he crashed the gala, somewhere towards the center of the ballroom, where a wall of set extras played the role of mingling socialites. In the meantime, Ichika began to mentally recite her upcoming lines. She knew she had to be somewhere where she, as The Songbird, would catch the first sight of the main character, who clearly did not belong at her gala. He was to catch her eye with a sudden grandiose gesture, and from there the camera would—
Ichika paused. Just what was that, in the dimmest part of the set that laid behind the cameraman? There were the assistants that carefully navigated in the background. There was Erika, who oversaw everything from her director's chair. There were producers and technicians, dressers, stylists, and cosmetic artists. Everyone who was a part of the film was here, which was nothing out of the ordinary during shoots, but there was something else that caught her eye entirely. Peeking from behind the observers, somewhere between her hair stylist and Erika's director chair, was a bright green ribbon, fixed atop an obscured woman's hair.
It looked a lot like—
One of the servers passed by her, and to Ichika's surprise, the server had extended a silver platter to her, containing a decorative box to her, stuffed with exquisite sweets. Ichika raised a brow. This was a not a part of the script, and they were nowhere within camera view. "Umm… what are y—"
The server lifted the brim of his cap, revealing a strand of curled blonde hair beside his bright blue eyes. "Hey," he said, winking. "No hard feelings about earlier, alright?"
Ichika startled. "Wait… J—James?! Wha—" She quickly regained her composure, so as to not have her voice picked up by the boom microphone. She quietly muttered under a hushed breath. "What are you doing?! Why are you in a server's costume?"
He smirked, saying nothing else as he vanished further into the ballroom. Before she could think of anything else, the lights across the ballroom dimmed. The actors and the servers, the actresses and the dancers, all parted ways to reveal the marble flooring of the center of the ballroom, where a lone light shined. Erika stood up, gesturing for the scene to move. And as she did, the rest of the eyes on set fixated to the center of the stage.
And sprouting from that vague spot in the corner of her eye was, again, that oddly familiar green ribbon. From behind, a quick hand had reached over, grabbing the knot of the ribbon as if it were the stem of a houseplant, before dragging it back into the shadows with a hushed voice.
It was enough for Ichika to notice. "Y—Yotsuba?! N—Nino?! Wha—"
The intro of the fifth track—Ichika's cue.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
The vestiges of a poorly put-together script. Words to a film that was never meant to exist. A room full of people who were just like her; a miscellany of the most perfect liars. The dress, the makeup, the perfume that she so easily fell in love with, as if it all were tailor made for her and no one else but her. Her body moved on its own. While the camera was still running and until the scene was called, the young actress knew that she had a job to do. She walked, and the lights followed. She sauntered, and the servers stepped aside. She strayed, and the dancers guided her. She stumbled, and his arms gently found their way around her back.
"Careful," he said, and the beat of her own heart quickened. It drowned out the music; it stifled the footsteps that surrounded them. As if it were only the two of them in the room, his words were the only thing that fell over her, and every sound that slipped passed his lips was euphony to her ears. "You know…"
Just how many times had she strolled past him in this scene? How many cues had been called without her recognizing the strands of his dark hair? How many more times did she need to gingerly trace her fingertips across the length of broad shoulders to convince herself who he was? The weightlessness she felt within his embrace should have already been enough, and yet, Ichika could not help but slowly lead her hands to the thin strings that held up his mask.
"…you really are clumsy, Ichika."
"Fuu… tarou…ku—" The name barely held together as tears welled up in her eyes. She had to say it again and again, as if there were anyone else that could make her heart leap this far out of her chest. "Fuutarou-kun... Fuutarou-kun!"
As she held onto him, Ichika watched as he lowered himself to one knee.
A hundred, a thousand, a million words swelled in her throat, forced back by the air she fought to breathe. In the slow seconds where Fuutarou reached into his suit pocket, all Ichika could think of was how desperately she held onto her own breath. In that short moment, before Fuutarou opened the little square box in his palm, Ichika saw the eagerly awaiting eyes that stared at her from the front of the gathered crowd. Four watched with eyes as wide as her own. Eyes that were shaped like her own, and held color just like her own. They huddled closely together, clutching the palm of each other's hands, if only to stop themselves from squealing.
"Ichika…" said Fuutarou, "will you marry me?"
In Fuutarou's eyes, she saw the rest of her life. She saw laughter. She saw bliss. She lived through every single passionate, flustering moment they shared in these past years they spent, together and a world apart. She saw the skies of a lustrous day and heard the most beautiful chimes of wedding bells. That brief shine of his golden eyes birthed a new dream. Another selfish desire for an actress that already shot for the stars and the moon, and still she desired more. She wanted to cherish that bouquet of peonies, dahlias, and garden roses. She wanted the birds to sing and the breeze to dance. And she wanted to share all of it with the man in front of her. He stood in a room of liars—a world of deceivers, performers, impersonators, and thespians—yet his lies had been the loveliest of all. Better than she could have ever imagined. He coordinated a fake script to a fake movie . He worked day and night for this humble ring. He met with her father to reverently ask for his blessings. He boarded his first ever flight that very week, along with the four sisters who would never dare miss this opportunity.
The words continued to swell in her throat. They burned like the most stubborn flame. They tore through an actress's veil like knives, until all that remained was her truest, most ardent self. She saw through the hollowness that made for the character, the falsehood that made for the background. She acted in defiance to any stage direction, and ignored the lines that came printed from a script. And in that moment, Ichika had remembered one thing. One plain and simple thing. Like the white that came with winter, and the pale that clouded the skies, the blank space of her script that appeared that very morning wrote—
「 Nakano Ichika 」:
Why was it that now, after so many painstaking hours of trying to make sense of it, had the answer appeared so vividly in her mind as she closed her eyes? Had it been there all along? That much hardly matter to her. The answer would be the very same either way.
She threw herself into his arms.
"Yes!" Ichika shouted. "Yes, yes, yes! Of course I will!"
Author's Note
Happy 2nd anniversary to'Everything'! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
I didn't mention it at all in my previous author's note as to place any expectations to this chapter. Helps keep the ending as a nice surprise (unless I made it too obvious somehow, idk if I can do plot-twists right lmao)
Anyway, this fic has officially turned 2 years old! And what a journey this has been! I took this time to go over my original outline of the story that was written before the first lines of Chapter 1, and I'm pleased with how everything has stuck to the original vision, with the inclusion of a few extra chapters. I never thought I'd be here this long, with 23 chapters and almost 200k words to what was supposed to just be a copium-ending (×﹏×) Yet, here I am, and here I'll continue to be until all is written and done.
And in the spirit of sentimentality, I've been going through a lot of the old comments/reviews on both FFN and reddit from as far as back as Chapter 1 to remember just how amazing you all have been! As of now, 'Everything' is one of the most reviewed QQ fanfics on FFN, and not only that, the reviews you all leave behind are absolutely wonderful. You all didn't have to go out of your way to leave such thoughtful words for me, but the fact that some of you took some precious time out of your days to put your thoughts into words for me is just… thank you! That's really all I can think of when I see any review—thank you!
Now that my little gushing session is over, we can move onto the less-than-fun news. In short, there will be no new update for the month of December and POSSIBLY January (very small chance, but if you don't see a chapter by the first week of January then expect me in February lol). This was a chapter I've been thinking of for MONTHS and it was tough to type out. In short-short, I just need a little break, hahaha ┴┬┴|_･)ﾉ. On the bright side, that gives me more time to storyboard!
Anyways, thanks to those who left reviews on Chapter 22 and any recent chapters—Quintaphract, manmathamanan2003, JNTF1QQ, Fox McCloude, TheMist33, chloetuco, and any other guest review(s)!Thanks also to the reddit commenters—Small_Ruin_648, chloetuco, and Nekunutz
_φ(。。) "You're doing that A/N thing again, aren't you? At this rate you're better off blogging or something. Anyways, time for birthday cake…"