DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.
NSFW: Small lime in the middle.
Let me know what you think! Reviews are always always treasured and appreciated.
Additional Author's Notes at bottom of the page.
Chapter XXIII: On the Steps of the Palace
But then how can you know
Who you are 'til you know
What you want? Which I don't
So then which do you pick
Where you're safe, out of sight
And yourself, but where everything's wrong?
Or where everything's right
But you know that you'll never belong?
=.=.=.=
Shingai had offered her the part.
Shingai had offered her the part and she hadn't known what to say.
Shingai had offered her the part and everyone thought she'd said yes.
Shingai had offered her the part and she didn't know whether she was going to say yes, and now she was scrubbing the pots again—but only after she'd taken and reviewed the list of specialty ingredients for tomorrow, done a pantry check, flattened some produce boxes, and sorted the recycling. And had the staff remembered to refill the toothpick container by the restaurant's host stand?
…Why did everyone think she'd say yes!?
She'd waited until she felt Kuon relax into slumber, and then she'd carefully extricated herself from the arm holding her captive. It wasn't too late, quite a few of the staff were still cleaning the common areas. She crept out of the room carefully, taking care not to wake him. She needed to make her way to the kitchen without Kuon noticing, because then he'd be drying the pots with a clean rag before scrubbing the floors—and if he had dark circles under his eyes for tomorrow's shoot, well. That would be her fault, wouldn't it?
And it wasn't as if his presence was unwelcome—it was just that she needed time to think without him clouding over her thoughts as she did so. She knew all too well what happened whenever they were in a room together. If he were scrubbing the floors beside her, she had no doubt her heart would do the weird twisty thing it did in his presence, and then all her rational thought would be gone.
She knew what Kuon wanted—every time he looked at her with his heart in his eyes, she knew she was seeing the fulfillment of the hopes he'd been hinting at since she'd first played his Lady Macbeth. He wanted her to act. Was he even considering how much more complicated their situation would become? He'd become so important to her—but she could not ignore the voice that had been born on the fateful day she'd found Sho with Mimori in their apartment. She would never again decide yes for the sake of someone else's happiness. She would decide her future for herself.
The fairy tale was happening out of order, and it was spinning out of control. The Prince had come out of the woodwork and into her kingdom, and despite her best efforts, he was dragging her out of the safe haven she'd made. But she was not a desperate maiden fleeing an evil stepmother. She wasn't in rags, dreaming about a ball. She didn't even really need to leave the safety and comfort of her little corner here, if what the Prince said could be believed. There was a choice before her. Say 'no,' and life would continue on as before, safe, predictable, and anonymous. Say 'yes' and the path that had seemed so safe suddenly led into a dark and twisted wood.
She bent over a particularly stubborn grease mark on the bottom of a stockpot and sighed for the hundredth time that evening while she thought over the day's events.
Shingai had been very clear that he was offering her the part due to her merits as an actor—Kuon had apparently told him that he was to give no consideration at all to the fact that she'd been recommended by her future co-star. Did she believe that? Did it matter? And the money! The contract that Shingai had offered her had what looked like a fortune in fees alone, not to mention future residuals. Yayoi or Etsuro-san would have to sign it, but it was much more than she'd ever seen in her life for the doing of a single task. It was true that she stood to inherit much more through the Fuwas, but that money was, for the most part, tied in with the value of the actual ryokan property. She couldn't access it without Etsuro or Yayoi, and she'd never wanted to. And as she had never been paid a wage for her pains, the fee listed in the contract seemed like a king's ransom indeed.
Shingai took her hesitation as an indication that he had not offered her enough. "It's the same as the amount we were going to pay Matsunai-san," he said apologetically. "I can speak to the sponsor if you would like a larger fee. I'm sure Tsuruga-san would rake me over the coals if I paid you even one yen less than your true worth."
Remembering that had her scrubbing the stockpot she had in-hand extra hard. What, exactly, was her true worth? Did professional actors make so much!? She wasn't even an actor.
She'd been shocked, and she said so—though thinking back on it, what she'd said seemed terribly embarrassing.
"Oh!" she'd said. "Oh, no, no—that's not what I meant at all." She continued on like some naive schoolgirl. "It is such a very large sum of money, truly. It…honestly seems like it's too much."
A funny look had crossed Shingai's face, and then he said "No…not so. It is near the industry standard for an actress of Matsunai-san's standing." He sighed. "In the future—and I'm sure you'll have a future in showbiz, Mogami-san—you should never turn down an offer to renegotiate the fee. Actors like Tsuruga-san do it all the time, though he tends to have Yashiro-san do it for him."
But it isn't the money, Shingai-san, she muttered under her breath. She placed the pot she was working on upside down on a clean towel to drain.
"It wasn't so much the fee," she'd said to him, embarrassed. "I'm…in high school," she said. "And classes begin soon—"
"We can work around your schedule. Though if you're part of any clubs, or going to cram school, that may be more difficult."
"I'm not," Kyoko had said. "I normally work at the ryokan after school, though I've been studying for my university exams on my own. I…apologize. I must seem like a terribly unprofessional person, to audition for a part that I wasn't sure I could take." She was hesitant. She had been a little jealous of Kimiko and Mimori, but she hadn't truly taken Kuon seriously when he'd told her she could be a viable alternative to actresses like them. "You must understand that I never seriously thought you'd offer me Choko, especially not after two more experienced actresses had already auditioned. Surely Tsuruga-san told you that I have no acting experience?"
Shingai looked surprised at that. "None?" he said, surprised. "I thought perhaps you'd done some work in a local theater group. Or even your school's drama club."
"No," Kyoko said, "though Tsuruga-san was kind enough to coach me through some acting exercises during his stay with us."
"You are unusually proficient as an actress, then," Shingai responded. "Or perhaps Tsuruga-kun is a more gifted teacher than anyone ever expected. Perhaps both." He smiled. "I have worked with many actors and actresses in my time in the industry, and I will tell you that I never thought I'd meet Choko the way I met her today."
Kyoko gave a tiny, modest bow. In the end, she'd asked for more time. "I need to speak with my guardians before I can commit myself to the role, Shingai-san," she told him. "I apologize for having come and not having a ready answer for you."
When Kyoko left his trailer, she found Ren pacing in front of it—she'd had to glare at him after checking that no one else was looking. She'd promised Shingai that she would either arrive with Tsuruga on-set the next morning with a signed contract or send word with him that she would not take the part.
Kuon had assumed she'd said yes, though his exuberance had been tempered with the addition of Mimori to the already-cramped back seat of his Porsche. Kyoko was grateful for it. She hadn't wanted to explain that she hadn't quite accepted the part. There were Considerations to be Made. People to Consult. After all, just because one could do something did not mean one should.
She didn't know what the right answer was, but she was finished with the pots and restless energy was propelling her onwards. She took up a rag and began polishing the counter. She was sure there would be invoices to process in the office—or perhaps the orders for the breakfasts needed to be organized, or—
"Kyoko-chan?"
=.=.=.=.=
Yayoi looked into the kitchen, finding Kyoko at the sink again with a worried look on her face. She had stayed a little longer in her office, also using work as a means of distracting herself after Kyoko had brought Mimori home with her. Kyoko had told her why she was coming home with Mimori in tow, and Yayoi had accepted the girl with open arms. She hadn't known that the girl was still with Sho. It was this girl's bruises—this girl's pictures—that had ultimately finalized their decision to disown him. The least she and Etsuro could do was to offer the model a safe berth for the night after Mimori explained she'd be returning to her childhood home in Osaka the next day. Yayoi had been so shocked and preoccupied with the look of sadness on Mimori's face that she hadn't questioned Kyoko as to how she'd found the girl in the first place.
"Something's bothering you." Yayoi stated it as fact. The girl had clearly been at it again. The kitchen pots had been scrubbed and were gleaming. She was certain that if she looked in the walk-in, everything would have been inventoried and organized for the next morning. The only other time anything remotely like this had happened, Kyoko had believed Kuon had been cheating on someone.
"Ye-yes," Kyoko said simply. There wasn't really a point in dissimulating. Yayoi had learned how to read Kyoko somewhat better over the past few months.
"Can I help?"
Kyoko began to shake her head 'no,' and then changed her mind. She'd need to tell Yayoi about the contract—she'd need to sign it, after all, if Kyoko were to accept. She'd read through it and hadn't had any questions, but she was troubled over the fact that she would need to abandon her life, such as it was, to shoot the film. It was, in many ways, abandoning everything she'd committed to since coming back to Kyoto—and on a far larger scale than she'd done with Kuon over the summer. Shingai had waved off her concerns about scheduling around her classes—but even though her school knew and had approved her working at the ryokan, no dispensation existed for…starring in a movie after school. And who would help out before the dinner service? They'd be down one nakai in the dining room at the height of momiji season, just when the crowds came back to Kyoto. Yayoi and Etsuro had looked the other way—no, they'd actively cheered—the development of her relationship with Kuon, but Kuon was always supposed to leave to go back to Tokyo, leaving her here to resume her normal life until some magic future when she was Of Age and he could reveal his true identity and parentage to the public. And in any case, Kuon had 'paid for his keep.' Not only was he a paying guest of the ryokan, he'd also…worked tirelessly as an unofficial contractor over the summer.
Taking part in this movie would have no benefit whatsoever for the ryokan. It would add more to Yayoi-san's workload, require them to add another employee to their waitstaff, and interfere with her schooling.
But.
Ay, there's the rub, Kyoko thought. But. But I want to. Once, in Tokyo, she'd thought to join showbiz out of revenge. But her desire for revenge had faded into a pale, lifeless thing. Now she wanted to join showbiz for the sheer joy of it.
"Kyoko." Yayoi sat down at the stainless steel table in the kitchen, giving her a look. "What else happened during your outing this afternoon?"
Kyoko stopped polishing the counter and peeked up at Yayoi, who continued looking at her curiously.
"Does it have something to do with Kuon-kun?" Yayoi asked.
Kyoko shook her head no, then stopped. "May…maybe?" she said. "It…isn't quite because of Kuon, but it wouldn't have happened without him, I think."
"Mmm," Yayoi said, looking at her expectantly.
Kyoko turned away from the counter and looked down at her feet.
"Kuon asked me to audition for a part in the movie he's shooting," she said. "That's where I went. And that's why Mimori was there too. And…they offered me the part."
Yayoi took a long look at the girl. Kyoko had said the last part so softly—Yayoi barely heard it, and then she nodded. She understood the girl a little better now than she had before. Kuon's arrival had revealed the mechanisms which drove the girl's heart. In watching her bloom this summer, Yayoi had come to realize a few things about the girl they'd taken for granted nearly all her life. Kyoko, more than any other person Yayoi knew, had a sense of duty. She was grateful to Yayoi and Etsuro—long before they'd made her their heir, Kyoko had worked her fingers to the bone to show how grateful she was to be at the ryokan. She was no different now. Even when Yayoi could see the routine was killing her, Kyoko had done exemplary work and provided exemplary service. It was simply the way she was built.
But Yayoi had also watched from the shadows as Kyoko and Kuon had rehearsed. From Shakespeare to Dark Moon, Yayoi had seen Kyoko transform when she thought no one but Kuon was looking. Yayoi did not consider herself particularly sophisticated. Nor did she consider herself knowledgeable about the arts. But Kyoko's acting had given Yayoi goosebumps, even when the words had been in archaic English. Whenever she caught a glimpse, Yayoi had been unable to look away. And when she couldn't, she'd listen in the hallway, transfixed, as Kyoko and Kuon ran lines. After watching her son's talent fade under his self-destruction, Yayoi had no heart to discourage Kyoko. If her performances in the back rooms of their ryokan could move her like this, what right did she have to keep the world from discovering it for themselves?
Yayoi took the rag from Kyoko's hands and sighed as she inspected the girl's chapped, dry hands. Kyoko had guilt written all over her features. She and Etsuro had wanted to atone for the wrongs their family had done to her, and yet the girl still worked her hands to the bone. In giving their blessing to her relationship with Kuon, Yayoi had tried to tell Kyoko that it was alright to live for her own happiness. But it was evident that the message needed to be reinforced.
"Do you want the role?" Yayoi asked.
"It will interfere with work," Kyoko responded.
"But that doesn't answer my question."
"Does it matter if I want it?" Kyoko asked. "It would cause so much inconvenience to you."
Yayoi shook her head. "Kyoko-chan…We can always hire another nakai. Someone else can wash dishes, you know. It takes no great skill to wash dishes."
"But—"
"But I want you to be honest with yourself," Yayoi said. "Every objection you've given me has been about your chores and your schedule. If you had none of that to worry about, would you still be hesitating?"
Kyoko looked at her, her face stricken.
"And now you've been asked by a distinguished director to take a role," she said. "That's not something everyone can do."
Yayoi watched as Kyoko took a deep breath. "You are free, Kyoko-chan," Yayoi said simply. Kyoko looked at her, puzzled. "You owe no debt to me or Etsuro. We know you love the ryokan, but that doesn't make you its slave. We can always hire one more waitress." Yayoi put an affectionate hand on Kyoko's shoulder and looked her in the eye. "I know you want to act," she said, "I've seen you." Kyoko colored red, but Yayoi's mouth crinkled up into a smile. "And I would much rather see you do that than spend another night crawling around the kitchen with a toothbrush scrubbing dirty corners."
Kyoko exhaled, biting back a smile and looking up into Yayoi's eyes. She felt the weight on her shoulders ease somewhat. "I never told you," she said. "Right before I left Tokyo."
Yayoi nodded, willing the girl to go on.
"I…auditioned. At Kuon's agency—LME. Because Sho had told me that the only way I could ever get my revenge on him was to surpass him in showbiz." She paused and straightened her back. "But LME rejected me," she said. "They said I didn't have what it took. Something about not understanding love." Kyoko smiled ruefully. "Back then, the only thing driving me was my hate. I wanted revenge so badly I never even considered what a career in showbiz would be like. I didn't even know if I wanted to sing or dance or act."
"And now?"
"And now…" Kyoko stopped. "I think I understand how to love," she said. "And I think I understand acting, too. Back then, I was only ever interested in revenge. But this time—I couldn't care less about revenge." She paused and blushed and then said, as quickly as she could, "Yayoi-san, sometimes I think I may love acting as much as I love Kuon."
A small smile kindled on her face and grew as it was met with Yayoi's own. "Then you should act," Yayoi said with some finality.
Kyoko felt the decision snick into place, like the closing of a padlock. "There's a contract…" she began.
=.=.=.=.=
They were still smiling over the signed document when they heard a deep voice say "Kyoko?"
Yayoi watched as the girl looked over to the doorway and blushed. Bemused, Yayoi smiled as a sweatpants-clad Kuon padded over to Kyoko. He was a hybrid of two identities tonight: Ren Tsuruga's dark hair only highlighted the emerald-green of his eyes. "You left…I was worried…Why did you…?" he said.
Kyoko nodded her head subtly in Yayoi's direction.
He paused suddenly, noticing Yayoi in the kitchen with her. "I…um…I mean…"
Yayoi smirked at him. She knew Kyoko had been spending the nights in his room, but she and Etsuro hadn't had the heart to stop it. How amusing, she thought, watching Kuon. The poor boy didn't know that they simply knew.
"I…was…hungry…" he trailed off.
Kyoko was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. "You…are hungry?" she asked.
Kuon nodded.
"Hungry? You're sure?"
Kuon nodded again, faintly blushing. Yayoi knew how Kuon's famously small appetite worked—she knew that he'd probably blurted out the first excuse that came to mind as to why he was in the kitchen. And from the looks of it, Kyoko knew, too.
She saw the girl give Kuon a reproachful look. "How about a dashi maki?" Kyoko asked.
Yayoi sat back and watched as Kyoko made the omelet in record time, grabbed a plate, and served it with a garnish of green onion and togarashi. Kuon, looking somewhat pale, took a dutiful bite, decided he liked it, and then took another, slowly making his way through despite the fact that he was clearly not hungry. Kyoko made a small pot of tea for herself and Yayoi, and for a little while, they sat in the kitchen like a family.
It was what Yayoi had always hoped for, back when Kyoko and Sho were barely in their teens—a quiet night at home, with her children. She'd always imagined what it would be like. A warm kitchen, quiet laughter, coziness. Conversation flowing at a comfortable rhythm, no one feeling particularly tense or out of place. Her heart twinged when she thought of it. Sho was lost in his own self-imposed exile, having ignored all their prior attempts to reach out to him. But with Kyoko and Kuon in the kitchen, Yayoi allowed herself the small luxury of hope. Perhaps someday they'd have children…and then she could be a grandmother of sorts, after all.
She looked up and the dashi maki was gone. Kyoko had taken pity on Kuon after all and had split the snack with him. And Kuon had taken the plates and the small omelet pan Kyoko had used to the sink, where he was washing them up with well-practiced motions. It was a sweetly domestic scene, even though they were in an industrial kitchen. Kyoko was beside him, drying the dishes with a towel—altogether, they looked like a well-formed partnership. It wasn't lost on her how Sho had never helped Kyoko like this—what had Kuon's parents done differently? Yayoi sighed. She felt a little like a voyeur watching them. Wholesome as the scene was, it was still intimate, and she wanted to give them their space.
They were so lost in each other's company they didn't even hear her leave the room.
=.=.=.=.=
"We have a Choko…I think." The voice coming through the headset was cautiously optimistic.
"You think? Is Kimiko Morizumi holding out for more money, then? Judging from the absence of teeth gnashing and hair-pulling, her acting must've been better than expected." Lory had been expecting Shingai's call all day—he was only surprised it had taken the man so long to report in. He knew that neither actress they'd asked to audition was a good option, exactly, but Shingai was usually fairly decisive and it was unusual for him to qualify a casting choice with '...I think.' It had to be the Morizumi girl's tactics. "I can always talk to Joji and Tetsuya-san. They don't do enough to reign her in, but in this matter, what we're offering is more than reasonable—"
"Oh no. Not Kimiko Morizumi," Shingai said. Lory's ears perked up. The man seemed almost smug now.
"I'm surprised," Lory responded. Was it this Nanokura idol girl whose acting was better than expected? Shingai seemed…excited. "I didn't think Mimori Nanokura-san would measure up to your standards, but perhaps she's simply been under-utilized by Akatoki all this time, especially after that scandal—"
"No, no," Shingai interrupted. "Not Nanokura-san. You'll never guess."
"An angel descended from the clouds and graced us with the perfect Choko," Lory said sarcastically.
"Close."
"Close?!"
"Pretty close, actually. It was Tsuruga-san that did it, actually. And you know, whatever assignment you gave to him over the summer must've worked—he's really quite different under the surface—anyway…"
"Anyway?"
"...He asked me, right as I was—as you so kindly put it—gnashing my teeth and tearing out my hair—whether I'd be willing to audition a third actress…"
A third actress? Kuon had him audition a third actress? Lory shook his head. There's only one person on the planet he'd suggest…but can the girl even act? Surely he wouldn't compromise the professional values he's been honing all these years just to get more time with his Kyoko—
"...and I agreed because—honestly, Lory, we had nothing to lose, so I thought, 'why not?'"
Why not indeed, Lory thought. He was curious—had Kuon told Shingai about his relationship with Kyoko? "Surely you didn't offer this girl the part simply because Ren suggested you do so?"
"Of course not! He was very particular about the matter. Got all serious, did that glower of his—you know—when he does that smolder thing? I'll have to use it in a film sometime. Anyway, he got all serious. Growled, even. 'Judge her by herself alone,' he said," Shingai said, imitating Ren's voice. "Just like that. I…can't tell how she feels about him, but it's pretty clear he's smitten with her. Though to be honest, if she'd walked onto the set and gotten through all of the lines in monotone she still would've been better than the other two actresses." Shingai took a breath. "But. Lory."
Shingai took a dramatic pause. If it had been anyone else, Lory would have rolled his eyes at the manufactured drama. But it was Shingai, and the man took his directing extremely seriously. Even if Ruriko had stretched his nerves to the breaking point, he'd still done his level best to put out quality work.
"She's a gem, Lory. A true diamond of the first water. In twenty years, you'll count yourself lucky to have had executive producer credits on the film that made her a star."
"I've never known you to exaggerate, Shingai, but surely—"
"No, you're right—I don't exaggerate. The only real question now is whether or not she'll accept the part."
"She…hasn't accepted?"
"I told you—I think we have our Choko. I'm not sure."
"Then…"
"She's a responsible high school student who wanted to consult with her guardians before formally accepting the job. We'd need their approval anyway—she's only seventeen. Really quite charming. So impressive—she was very very concerned about ensuring her school schedule wouldn't be affected. Most seventeen-year-old girls off the street would fall over themselves saying yes to being in a movie with Ren Tsuruga."
Lory smiled. He knew Kyoko was responsible and charming. He'd seen that himself. But responsible and charming were not indicators of one's acting abilities. "You think she's good enough to work around her school schedule!?" Lory was surprised. "Does she even have any acting experience!?"
"Not even a play during her kindergarten years," Shingai replied. "But you would never know it."
"A high school student."
"A high school student. But Morizumi and Nanokura were both seventeen, too."
"Seventeen, but both industry veterans," Lory responded. He took a puff of the cigar he was holding. Kyoko's reaction made sense. He hadn't had much more than cursory contact with the girl—none at all since she and Kuon began dating, but she had been so responsible and so reliable this response was thoroughly in-character. Most young actors attended performing-arts schools that allowed them flexibility in their schedules so they could work—or they didn't attend school at all. But as far as he understood it, Kyoko attended a fairly elite private school in Kyoto with impeccable academic credentials. "Tell me more," he told Shingai.
"You should have been there," Shingai said. "She even arrived in a kimono—"
That didn't surprise Lory. He knew Kuon's Kyoko worked in a traditional place—if he'd managed to talk her into auditioning at the last minute, she likely would've come in whatever she was already wearing.
"...and took the set by storm. No, that's not right…it was…more like a quiet coup. One minute she wasn't there and I had no idea how I'd make a movie, and then the next Choko was there, in the flesh, walking across the garden, and I could see it—I can see it, Lory—we're going back to an earlier script rewrite now that we've got an actress who can actually pull off those lines…"
Well well well, Lory thought. He listened to Shingai drone one. No wonder Kuon was so enamored. The one thing Kuon and Ren had in common was an abiding love for acting—Lory had always thought that if the boy actually found someone, it would be an actress. Someone who shared his passion for it, at least. He recalled the young man saying something about her being talented, but they hadn't finished that conversation in the rush to get Kuon ready for Ten's arrival, but in any case, he'd dismissed Kuon's assessment as the ravings of a young man in love. But Shingai was another matter. The director was no neophyte to the business, after all. He'd seen hundreds of actresses, some of them the best the industry had to offer. Shingai, moreover, knew the film he wanted to make—though he'd perhaps given up on making it in the past given the nature of working with Ruriko.
But the director kept talking, and Lory had no choice but to listen. "...and when she and Tsuruga met on set—Lory, seriously, when was the last time you saw an actor do the method thing to the hilt?"
"It was Ren," Lory responded. "In that last movie he did with you. With the detective?"
"Exactly. But have you ever seen him with an actress that met him in the scene like an equal?"
"Really? The high school girl?"
"It was like fire meeting gasoline. Most people would have trembled where they stood with the aura Tsuruga-san was giving off…but this girl…she glared right back at him—"
Lory was beginning to wish he'd made the trip to see the auditions in Kyoto after all.
"...it really was a riveting watch," Shingai continued, "and she knew all of the lines to all the scenes…
It was the second time this week Lory had been subjected to a long, gushing talk about the mysterious Kyoko that inhabited Kuon's magical woods. Is the man in love? Lory asked himself. Shingai steamrolled over any attempts at dialogue…and Lory found himself stuck as the man gave him a play-by-play of Choko's surprisingly complex reactions in her scenes with Ken. The tea ceremony was picked apart in exhausting detail as Lory's eyes wandered longingly to the otome game he'd paused as Shingai described how Kyoko had preemptively adjusted the tea ceremony materials before her scene. It didn't surprise Lory at all that the girl knew how to host a tea ceremony—she was, after all, an okami-san-in-training at a prominent traditional inn.
"...and she didn't break character, not even once," the director was saying, "not until Zabosai-sensei called out 'MOGAMI KYOKO,' and then she—"
Lory's eyes went wide. "Wait—what—?"
=.=.=.=.=
"I hadn't realized you hadn't accepted," Kuon said. He and Kyoko had finished the cleanup for their midnight snack, and he was unobtrusively attempting to herd her back to his suite.
"I simply can't make a decision of that magnitude without at least talking to Yayoi-san about it," she said. "The Fuwas would have to sign…and besides, I have no real idea on how to be an actress." She stuck her tongue out at him, aware that he was subtly trying to drag her off into his lair. "And don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Hizuri-sama," she said.
"Do what?" Kuon asked.
"You know," she said. "To take me to your um…room."
"Maybe," he admitted. "I hate it when you're not there."
She blushed.
"And anyway," he continued, "You DO know how to be an actress. You know We spent all summer working on it, remember?"
"We did not. We spent all summer doing my homework and running through your scripts and…" Kyoko blushed.
Kuon smirked at her in response.
Kyoko rolled her eyes at him. "Playboy."
"You love it."
"You're hopeless, Kuon—" She sidestepped him as he lunged for her.
"I was talking about the acting," he said, sticking his tongue out at her. "What did you think I meant?"
"OOoooo, you—" She made to punch him affectionately, but he caught her arm and pulled her close to him. As his arms closed in around her, he heard, "...and what if I'm terrible once the cameras are actually rolling?"
"You won't be. I know you won't be," he reassured her.
She nuzzled into him. "You can't know that!"
"I do." They had made it back to his room, and now they were standing still, just enjoying each others' warmth. "Or do you think I would have risked Ren Tsuruga's professional reputation on an actress I didn't have faith in?"
Kyoko sniffled quietly. "It's just…after Tokyo, I thought I was done with all of it," she said. "Showbiz and the whole revenge thing."
"Is it about revenge, though? I"
"No." She paused. "It's not. You know it's not. I…really do enjoy it, Kuon."
"Then don't worry," Kuon responded. "And how could things go wrong? You're doing it because you love it—"
Kyoko looked up and blushed as he used the word 'love,' but she didn't deny it.
"—and none other than Ren Tsuruga will be your senpai."
"Senpai?! Seriously? You?" She stuck her tongue out at him as he blinded her with a brilliant smile.
"You dare mock the great Ren Tsuruga?" he asked. "Thousands of other actors and actresses would love to be Ren's kouhai, I'll have you know—"
"Why would anyone want to learn anything from that arrogant stick-in-the-mud?"
Kuon let go of her enough to fake a swoon, landing on the floor as he did so. "Arrogant? Stick-in-the-mud? You wound me."
"I believe some other words would be 'haughty,' or even 'conceited," she grinned. She took a toe and gently poked at his side while he doubled over with an oof. "What did you want to hear? That you're a Bible for acting? A god among actors?" She wanted to laugh at his expense but her heart wasn't in it. She knew, after all, that Ren Tsuruga was the ne plus ultra of the Japanese acting world. Just because she knew who he really was didn't diminish what he'd accomplished as Ren. She couldn't ask for a better mentor, really, and he'd already spent so much time with her, teaching. He grabbed at her ankle as she squealed, and then got up on his knees, just below her eye level. She was looking down into two irresistible forest-green pools as his arms tightened around her again.
"I still want to hear you say it," he said, persisting. "You know you want to." His hands went to tickle her at her sides. "Tsu-ru-ga-sen-pai. Say it."
She squirmed and giggled, trying to get away, but his hands caught hers and held her captive. "But why?" she asked.
"Because it would be adorable," he said, and nipped at her finger. "And I've never wanted to have a kouhai before, but I do now..."
"You're having too much fun with this," she said, but he was grinning as he took each of her fingertips and kissed them.
"Mmmhmm." All of a sudden she was blushing as he kissed her palms and then up the insides of her wrists.
"Kuon—"
Her breath hitched as his eyes lifted from her hands and looked into her own, and then she felt his warm breath against her as he released her—if only to shift her shirt over her head. "You can do all the things a kouhai should," he said. He was grinning. "Like carry my bags…and do all the things I tell you to do…"
She squealed as he rose up off of his knees, only to pick her up in his arms and lay her on the bed. He climbed over her, entwining her fingers in his and pinning her hands over her head again. "I'll teach you everything I know," he said, and something inside her clenched in anticipation. "So say it." She squirmed underneath him, unable to fight him off as he landed soft kisses on her forehead and her eyes and nose and then chastely on her lips.
He had made it to her collarbone when she whimpered "Tsu-tsuruga-senpai."
The words…felt odd. He stopped, let out a breath and then looked at her, watching as her breath came rapidly and her eyes dilated under his ministrations. "You're right," he said. She jolted and then looked up at him, wondering if she'd done anything wrong. But he just shook his head and smiled down at her. "It feels weird." He let go of her hands. For a while they just looked at each other, and then he whispered, "I'm glad I'm not your senpai."
"No," she whispered back, "you're not my senpai."
Something shifted as he stared into her eyes, and the lighthearted banter deepened into something more. Her hands, newly freed, found their way downwards, cupping his face and then tangling in his hair.
"I only want to hear you say you love me."
"I do love you," she whispered, "so much I think it'll kill me." She closed her eyes. She didn't want to say any more, afraid that he'd see how those words affected her. Whether she bent down or he stretched upwards, she couldn't tell, but next thing she knew, he was kissing her and kissing her and everything was growing in power and intensity as they grew frantic for each other.
"Ah!" She cried out as his lips found her breast. His hands quickly divested her of her pants as he continued kissing his way downwards. Her hands were in his hair again, pushing him away and pulling him closer in turns. Soon enough, she could feel the warmth of his breath there, his mouth hovering just above her, his hands pushing her legs wide apart—and as his tongue met her core, all she could do was whimper his name over and over again as she flew upwards and crashed down in spectacular fashion, over and over again.
=.=.=.=
"Wait…what—" Lory sputtered. MOGAMI. That name. "Wait. Shingai-kun."
"Oh yes, she took lessons from Zabosai-sensei himself! Can you believe that?" The man finally paused, as if to catch a breath before launching into excited plans on how to promote the movie once it was past post-production.
"Shingai-kun."
"Hmm?"
"What did you call her again?"
"Her who? Kyoko-chan?"
"I meant before that. Her full name."
"Mogami. Mogami Kyoko."
An unbidden image came to Lory's mind: a young girl with short, copper-colored hair, auditioning and making a rose out of a radish.
It was her.
He forgot to breathe for a moment. The girl who'd been haunting him, the lost one—the one who was supposed to have been part of a special pet project of his that, due to her absence, had never been started. He'd been willing to put together a whole training program for her sake, in the hopes that she'd be able to grow and love again.
The intuition that had made him send Kuon to Kyoto gave him the feeling of a puzzle piece falling into place. Lory raised his head as Shingai continued praising the actress. If things were as they appeared with Kuon, she no longer needed to learn how to love.
Had he simply not known what Kuon's Kyoko's family name was this entire time? Quickly, he thought back to every conversation he'd had with her—back to when she was simply a professional voice on the phone assuring him that their team would provide 'Hizuri-sama' with the best service they could provide. He hadn't asked for a name then…and he hadn't asked for a name all through the rest of the summer, when she was simply Kuon's Kyoko-chan. And somehow, her face had escaped him as well—every attempt he'd made had been stymied. Not even Ruto at his most tenacious had captured it.
It was simply…too much.
This entire time, she'd been with his other charge, cavorting with him under his very nose! Had Kuon known? Lory shook his head. Of course Kuon had known. Kuon had known and had not told him. Though, to be fair, chances were Kuon had had no idea that he'd had plans to bring her into showbiz in a more…non-traditional fashion.
"Shachou? Are you still there?" Shingai's voice broke Lory out of his reverie.
"Send me footage of the audition, would you?" he responded. His mouth was dry. "I'm curious."
"Sure," Shingai said.
Lory hung up the phone and started rooting through the files at his desk. Relatively close at hand was the manila folder containing information about his mystery girl, the person who'd made him want to upend his rules about wanting his actors to center love at the heart of their performances. He'd looked at it at least a hundred times since the girl disappeared from Tokyo, but he looked at it again now. The familiar picture of her stood out—the short orange hair, the scowl that was accompanied by a look of fierce determination. She alone out of the crowd of would-be starlets had shown up without a smidgen of makeup on her face that day. She alone hadn't listed other celebrities as "people she respected." Instead, the lines she'd written still haunted Lory: "The people who raised me without shunning me," she'd written, "The people who gave me a place to sleep without begrudging it." He remembered asking himself what kind of life she'd lived to have such responses on her audition form—and now he knew. Even so, with all of that weight on her shoulders, she stood her ground on the stage, back straight and head held high, as actress after actress auditioned before her exhibiting glitzier, if more common, talents. How was it possible, after all this time, that she'd been with Kuon all along?
He wanted to groan. He wanted to celebrate. He wanted to claim her the way miners claimed diamonds out of the earth, holding them up to the sun in joy and wonder—though he was acutely aware now, in a way he hadn't been during her audition, that the thread of her story had begun long before the day she'd peeled a radish on stage.
A ding interrupted his thoughts, and he looked through his email. Shingai had uploaded the videos of her screen test. "京子," the file name read, "child of Kyoto." Lory pursed his lips, knowing Shingai had used the wrong characters for her name. Soon enough, he pressed play on the downloaded files—and what he saw on the screen surprised him, because it wasn't just Kyoko as a new actress—it was a new Kuon, too. Shingai was right. There was a synergistic effect to their talents coming together, and Lory shivered simply watching. As the camera panned from her hands to her face, Lory could see it. It was a simple tea ceremony, and yet the air between them was as thick as a knife.
Lory sighed. Whatever had made Shingai wax poetic about this girl for nearly twenty minutes was hard to explain, and yet was evident. The Choko of this film was a dark character marked by horror and tragedy—things that Kyoko would have experienced if what Yayoi had told him was true. Despite everything, there was a bewitching quality about Kyoko—a certain charm, a certain luminosity. She was magnetic on the screen, and the chemistry on-set between her and Ren would've made any director salivate. There was no doubt they'd pushed each other into the tension that marked their on-screen interaction. Their characters antagonized each other, but she and Ren reminded him of old Hollywood couples who'd made their bones in shared movies during the Golden Age of the silver screen—Tracy and Hepburn, maybe, or perhaps a less dysfunctional Burton and Taylor.
This was the girl he'd been looking for. Her hair was no longer copper, she no longer vibrated with suppressed rage, but she was the girl whose reaction test made his instincts scream out—how could anyone forget the amber of her eyes?
Lory smiled a feral smile as he watched the scene unfold. He watched as she and Ren continued in character long past the close of the scene, improvising because Shingai had not called 'cut.' He watched both of them carefully and saw how Ren would continue to react—how his eyes were different from the way he'd used them before.
The boy had grown.
Lory reached into his pocket and drew out his phone. He took a few screenshots of the two actors on-screen.
A few minutes later, a phone across the Pacific began to ring.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Author's Notes:
Hi everyone—I want to thank you if you're reading, and to thank everyone that's left a review or is leaving a review. They really really do keep me going. I'm never really sure how to feel about chapters, and this one feels like an odd duck. But…here it is. I hope it is entertaining.
I usually try to thank everyone individually, but 1) there's been an issue with sending/receiving PMs and 2) I'm also really behind in thanking everyone!
Just in case, I do want to respond here to everyone…
RukiYuki - Thank you so much for your continuing support! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too. XD
Kalmaegi - I thought a lot about your review. Thank you for the thoughts and the kind words and for reading. I think a lot of the reason why I began DoK to begin with was to explore a Guam Kuon in a setting where he had no choice but to be himself—and TOTALLY, I hope Canon Kuon is out there somewhere eating his heart out! Are you caught up on the most recent manga chapter? Some of the body language—the way they turn towards each other—was reflected in a manga panel and I *squealed.*
Ellaina Fiore - Your review meant so much to me. I was unsure about that detour, but I'd written in part of Mimori's back story earlier and I couldn't let it go unaddressed. I also felt that this Kyoko would do what she could to offer a helping hand out. And lol thank you for indulging my tea nerdery XD
LEELOO17 - I HEART YOU. I'll see you on the Discord XD
Inna Konovalova - Thank YOU for reading and your review! I always appreciate it. I hope this chapter satisfied the need for the details on Shingai's offer XD Also I hear ya on Kyoko being left alone—I'm gonna have to go back and fix that in the last chapter. The intent was to have Mimori approach her during a momentary lull—you know how sometimes you get left randomly alone for just a minute or so while everyone else rushes off to work on another thing? (OK, so that might not be as coherent as I'd like it to be BUT…) She wouldn't have been left on-set alone, really, just alone for a few seconds while Mimori happened upon her. Perhaps I should revise the description of the set, too—I see a bit of a sprawling estate. Tea houses are usually separate from the main house and are accessed through a garden. It's meant to be small and rather intimate, so it wouldn't have been conducive to having a large crowd working around it, and if Kyoko was working in the tea preparation area, that can be a rather small space.
Burningblueish - I DO NOT DESERVE YOU. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT AND THE REVIEWS. Seriously, thank you so much for reading.
Sspaulina - THANK YOU! I hope this chapter measured up :)
Misherukuro - Another thank you for reading and your review!
Noveisdoge - YOU ARE THE BESTEST. Thank you for reading - will see you on the Discord!
Era-romance - THANK YOU, as always. SOoooo…I'm writing Chapter 24 with your requests in mind from the earlier chapters. XD Ring Doh is so problematic because the dialogue in canon makes ZERO sense, and I'm not even really sure how my premise for that story-within-a-story holds up but! Kyoko will act! Also I realized not terribly long ago that I'd had a Cinderella-theme-thing that I'd been planning on implementing when I first started the story but I haven't been using it evenly throughout. It's one of the weird things about writing a super long story in episodic bursts. Thank you so much for the compliments, and YES SHO DOES need his ass kicked.
Miss March Muffin - Thank you so much for your review—I hope you are doing well, also! And I was struck by your insight on the Box R bully scene. Sometimes I try for strange, mirror-warped parallels to canon in this fic, and some of the intent behind the bully scenes was to kinda capture the bizarre energy between Kyoko and Ruriko in canon—but displaced onto Kimiko and Mimori instead. I thought I was going to write a Kyoko-wows-Shingai, too (I mean, I kinda did in this installment…) but I also didn't think this Kyoko would accept immediately. And I knew that I had to address Mimori's back story. When I posted I was not sure at all how that would go over, so I'm very thankful you enjoyed it.
Bloomnskyrules - Thank you for reading! I'm so glad you enjoy it and am honored. :D Thank you so much for reviewing!
Laurachan03 - Thank you for the review!
MIMAGREN - I AM WAITING FOR YOUR POSSESSIVE REN.
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Chapter epigram: "On the Steps of the Palace," from the musical Into the Woods, by Stephen Sondheim. Cinderella sings this song while she's got her glass slipper stuck on the steps as she's trying to run away from the prince. She…isn't quite sure whether she wants to be found.