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Symbolism on the Center Stage
Bright and early the next morning, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu found themselves up and out of bed, just as Wajima-san had promised.
While the three were sleeping soundly in their beds, the old woman had burst into their rooms, banging her pipe vehemently against the door frame and shouting,"Rise and Shine!" with a seemingly unnatural flourish, before exiting in a fit of loud coughs and deafening cackles that echoed as she went.
In the confusion, Jin had snapped to attention, jumping up wide-eyed and at the ready, his glasses somewhat lopsided as he instinctively went for his sword, gripping it tightly and wondering just what the hell had happened before he finally understood, his head shaking back and forth at the calamity of it all.
Mugen, on the other hand, who had been sleeping on the top bunk of one of the beds, had jolted awake in an instant, eyes darting this way and that as he rolled over the side of the bed and fell gracelessly to the floor, its height apparently forgotten. He had shot up, all calm and cool-like, as if he had meant to do that, and glared at Jin, just daring the samurai to say otherwise.
And when her turn had come, Fuu had retaliated, shrieking out in fright and grabbing the closet weapon available--her shoe--and chucking it through the air, the sandal flipping and spinning, end over end, before it sailed out the door, missed the target completely and landed with an audible "thunk" on the wooden walkway outside.
Yes, bright and early the next morning, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu found themselves up and out of bed, just as Wajima-san had promised, with their eyes wide, hearts pounding, and tempers in full flare.
"I. am going. to kill her." Mugen shouted vehemently as he wrenched open the door and stomped angrily over the threshold, his geta sandals click-clacking as he went.
Behind him, Jin sighed in annoyance, knowing exactly who he was talking about and exactly where this was going. As he followed after Mugen, slow in his steps and in no hurry catch up to the tirade that surely awaited him, the samurai thought it was much too early to be having fights.
The sun hadn't even come up yet.
xxxxx
Fuu was now happily sitting across from Aomori, stuffing her face with all kinds of delicious concoctions and listening intently as her female companion carried on in pleasant conversation.
They were in the theater, on stage and seperated by a table that was covered in food, and she was welcome to eat as much as she liked. Everything was calm and relaxing, and Fuu had all but forgotten about the ghastly events that had transpired not moments before.
Until Mugen burst into the room, his voice echoing and booming throughout the empty theater as he jumped effortlessly onto the stage and approached his victim, eyes glaring and focusing on nothing else.
"I'd enjoy that if I were you, because it's going to be the last thing you ever eat." He growled, pointing a lanky finger at the bowl of rice she was holding, partially consumed.
Fuu rolled her eyes and continued eating. "Oh, please." Like she hadn't heard that line a thousand times.
"I mean it, damn it!" Mugen shouted, knocking the rice bowl out of her hand and sending it flying, rice scattering everywhere as the bowl hit the wooden floor and rolled away.
Suddenly, Fuu's eyes flamed red and she turned on Mugen with a hateful glare, rivaling his own, as they stared at one another, tempers climbing.
"I was eating that, you jerk!" She yelled at him, hand pointing to the wasted rice that now covered half the stage. "God, why do you always have to be so..so..reckless!" A vein was popping out of her forehead as she yelled this, fists clenched and voice demanding.
"Because you're too stupid to understand words!" He shot back, hand tapping his foreheard for emphasis.
Fuu's eyes went wide in an oh-no-he-didn't type of way and she lunged at him with her hands, hoping to strangle the life out of him and then some.
"Why, you little--"
From the sidelines, Aomori covered her mouth and watched the two argue with both apprehension and intrigue as she sat at the table. Try as she might, the young woman just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away.
"Don't watch it." A voice warned from beside her and she jumped considerably, hand flying up to her heart as she snapped her head away from the fight and to the individual.
It was Jin.
"..W-why not?" She spluttered, trying to calm her frightened heart.
Where the hell had he come from?
"It will make you ignorant." He said, eyes closed as he took a deep sip from his cup.
"Oh." Aomori cut a glance at Mugen and Fuu for a split second before turning back to Jin. Better safe than sorry. "By the way,..where did you come from?" She asked, positively bewildered.
The samurai simply smiled to himself, despite the now thunderous yells of his two comrades who were still going at it, full force.
"One can easily slip into a room unnoticed when the occupant's attention is otherwise engaged." He replied, picking up a bowl and filling it with rice.
Aomori smiled at him then, following his example as they both ate their breakfast, ignoring the two loudmouths that carried on just feet away.
"Pervert!" Fuu would yell.
"Bitch!" Mugen would yell back.
And this went on for a good while until finally the 'Bitch' had had enough, stomping over to the dinner table and swiping Jin's chopsticks out of his hand as he raised them to his mouth, an absolutely delicious-looking piece of shrimp held between the prongs.
"Hey!" Jin called after her, annoyed.
He wanted that shrimp.
"Here!" Fuu cried, grabbbing Mugen by the chin and forcing his mouth open, stuffing the shrimp inside."That outta shut you up." She smirked, loving the wide-eyed expression that he'd taken on.
The vagrant stood there for a moment, shock written all over his features, before he began to chew the food that'd been thrust into his mouth, a bemused look appearing on his face after he swallowed.
"Damn, that stuff's good." He announced, forgetting about the fight completely and walking over to the table, plopping down and hoping to get more of whatever the heck he'd just eaten.
Seeing him relent, Fuu threw up her hands in a victorious, hallelujah-like motion and joined him at the table, holding out Jin's chopsticks to return them as she sat down.
His eyebrow twitched slightly.
Did she really think he wanted them back now?
"No, thank you." He refused, finding a new and perfectly suitable pair.
Shrugging, Fuu set them down on the table and picked up a bowl of soup, gulping it down with satisfaction as the herbs and spices danced down her throat.
And that's how they all sat.
Quietly eating around the table, a mix and match of conversation popping up here and there, everyone content. They had practically eaten the whole contents of the entire table except for one, single, solitary item.
The shrimp piece of shrimp pieces. A golden, mouth-watering beauty that was sure to ignite ecstacy in whoever managed to obtain it first.
Suddenly, the serene picture of early morning breakfast etiquette was ripped to shreds as Mugen and Fuu both speared the prize, their chopsticks clanking together in unison.
Aomori felt that another Ignorance-in-Action moment was about to take place and so she kept her eyes clear of the opposite side of the table and instead trained them on Jin, talking about the theater and its origin, while the samurai drank his tea respectively, asking questions throughout.
Across the table, a stream of lightening passed between Mugen and Fuu as they glared at one another, the battle from before starting up again, round two.
But they played it off, coy smiles gracing their faces as they pretended to be enraptured with one another, hoping to outsmart their advesary.
"Don't you think you've had enough to eat, Fuu?" Mugen's teeth were clenched as he tried to crack a believable smile, the words flowing out of his mouth in a mock-sweetness.
"Oh, you know me, a growing girl must eat as much as she can in order to become a breathtaking beauty." Fuu countered in the same tone as her enemy, that string that held her colgate smile in place just about to snap.
Mugen let out a growl then, fed up already. "Let go of the damn shrimp." He demanded, eyes narrowed.
"No!" Fuu spat back, her chopsticks tightening their hold."Besides, you've already had a piece!"
"Only because you force-fed it into my mouth!" Mugen pointed out, tone incredulous as his own chopsticks sank lower into the treat.
"That was a gift to shut you up!" Fuu explained haughtily."So, let's make this a gift to me for having to put up with you." She began to pull the shrimp away.
"Let's not and say we did." Mugen snorted back, adding his own momentum and pulling in the other direction.
Fuu huffed angrily,"Just give me the shrimp, Mugen." She pulled one way.
"No!" And he pulled the other.
"Yes!" Back and forth.
"NO!" Back and forth.
"YES!" Back and forth.
"ENOUGH, already!" A voice boomed off the walls of the theater, echoing all throughout the building."Save that energy for rehearsal!" It cackled hoarsely, sounding annoyed but greatly amused.
Mugen and Fuu both forget about the shrimp after that, staring out into the auditorium, eyes searching, knowing exactly who'd said those words.
In the middle of the seventh row, Wajima-san sat staring at them with a contemplative look on her face, pipe sitting between her fingers, a grayish-white stream of smoke rising from the tip.
"What the hell is she doing here?" Mugen wondered, flat out.
Fuu nodded, blinking.
"She's here for rehearsal." Aomori laughed into her hand lightly."Wajima-san is going to be directing the play." She told them, picking up her tea and sipping it gingerly.
Mugen and Fuu face-faulted, "What?"
And they thought they'd seen the last of her.
"That's right!" Wajima-san was now in the middle of the first row."So, quit stuffing your faces and let's get the show on the road! We don't have all day!" The old woman demanded, stomping her foot for emphasis.
Sighing, Fuu and Mugen turned back to the table, readying their chopsticks in an attempt to grab that shrimp again, but when they stared down into the bowl, they noticed only one thing.
It was empty!
"Hey!" they watched in absolute envy as the angelic morsel sailed through the air and into Jin's mouth, the samurai chewing slowly, savoring the taste, before he swallowed it, a pristine smile gracing his lips, and drank the last of his tea, eyes sparkling.
"Bastard." Mugen said.
xxxxx
Fifteen minutes later, the stage was spotless and ready to go. The table had been carried off, the rice cleaned from the floor, and the dishes disposed of. Everyone had been fed and taken care of and that only meant one thing.
Now, it was time to get down to business.
"We're going to do a selective reading exercise before we get into the actual script. So, if everyone would spread out, we can get started." Wajima-san said gruffly from her seat in the front row, watching as Mugen, Jin, Fuu, and Aomori all spaced out to atleast an arm's length of each other.
"Good. Now what I'm going to do is call you up, two at a time, and have you read a portion of the script, acting it out while you read the lines. Got it? Portray something--an emotion or an action--don't just stand there and read the words off the page! This exercise will help me determine your abilities and decide who will be best suited for what role." The old woman rattled on, soundly deathly serious but genuinly enthused about the idea.
"Yeah, yeah." Mugen muttered under his breath.
How hard could it be?
"Alright, Mugen." Wajima-san eyed him, pratically reading his thoughts,"Since you and your friend seem to be so theatrical, why don't you two read page 86." She barked, a snide expression covering her face as she flipped to the page.
"H-hey, don't bring me into this!" Fuu protested to the woman, but Mugen was already pulling her by the wrist to the center of the stage and grumbling underneath his breath.
Following along in their scripts, Jin and Aomori both turned to page 86, only to swap a glance with one another, eyebrows slightly raised.
This was going to be interesting..
"Alright, page 86." Mugen muttered lazily as he flipped through the sheets of paper, finally landing on the designated spot and staring downward at the words.
His face grew incredulous. "You gotta be kidding me."
Fuu stared down into the words of her own script, reading and re-reading a few lines or so before she felt an unexpected blush creep up the back of her neck.
It was a love scene.
"Shy, are we?" Wajima-san asked them from her seat in the audience, a cheshire smile on her face.
She'd seen those two bicker endlessly ever since they arrived the previous day, and now that she had them in her grasp, she wanted to know if they were even capable of doing anything else.
"Hardly." Mugen threw back at her.
"Then get on with it." The old woman commanded. "Or get out."
"Fine, fine!" Fuu argued, suddenly feeling rather anxious as she stared down into the first lines of her script, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a shudder as she tried to calm herself.
Honestly, what the hell was she getting nervous about?
It was just a stupid love scene--and with Mugen no less!
She then rationalized that it was simply because she'd never acted before. That must have been it. Why else was her heart racing and palms sweating at the thought of having to behave romantically with Mugen?
It certaintly wasn't because she liked that oaf, no way.
Fuu simply told herself that the feeling didn't mean anything, not a thing, and that she was just anxious because she was trying something new. It had absolutely nothing to do with Mugen, and that was that.
Besides, it was just a play.
It wasn't real and it didn't mean anything.
Satisfied with that, Fuu cleared her throat and stared down at the page once more, concentrating on the words before she read them aloud, her voice calm and somber, drifting through the theater with a ghostly echo.
"We are cowards."
It was such a simple phrase--three words--but it sent a shiver down Mugen's spine and scared him half to death.
He hadn't expected her to take it so seriously, but apparently she had. You could hear it in the way the emotion swelled in her voice and penetrated through the words.
It was like she was another person.
Watching her, Mugen crossed the stage and looked down at his own script, the single, solitary word flowing from his mouth in a haunting question, as he stood just inches away from her, eyes almost pleading.
"Why?"
Fuu had looked up at him then, their eyes locking together for a split second, before she turned her back to him, head turning to the side as she eyed the floor stoically, appearing deep in thought.
But mentally, her brain was reeling.
She hadn't expected him to take it so seriously, either, but apparently he had. The way he had looked at her, with his eyes pleading, begging, almost as if he himself were searching for understanding, had sent a chill down her spine and scared her half to death.
It was like he was looking through her, seeing the innermost parts of her soul.
And that was a very unsettling feeling.
Fuu looked at her script again, turning slightly at an angle as she continued to stare at the floor.
"Because we betray our feelings." It came out sounding sorrowful, almost ashamed.
A hand came up and brushed her jaw then, turning her face slowly so that she was staring upward, her eyes clashing with dark brown.
And Fuu absolutely forgot to breath.
"And what are our feelings?" Mugen's face was several inches away from hers, his voice deep and throaty, his hand still resting delicately on the side of her face, a finger idly running up and down the length of her jawline.
Fuu tried to speak out the next words, but they died heavily in her throat. She couldn't handle him being so close to her, speaking to her in such a uncharacteristic way, and acting like that.
A long silence passed betweem them before Mugen sighed in irritation, breaking the spell and withdrawing his hand, his voice rough and harsh as he glared daggers at the woman in the front row and slammed the script shut.
"Is that good enough for you, because that's the best you're going to get with this shit." He growled at her before walking off, seemingly indifferent and back to normal.
"Well, you certaintly had me fooled." Wajima-san admitted loudly, voice appreciative as she fanned her face, blush rising.
Fuu could still feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him stalk away through the left-side door and out of sight.
That makes two of us..
xxxxx
Author's Note: So, there you have it! Chapter three. What did you think? Should I stop right now and preserve my dignity because it sucks..or continue on with the next part?
Please, review and let me know!