Characters: Shizuo Heiwajima, Izaya Orihara, Kyoko Mogami, "Moko" Kanae Kotonami, Maria Takarada
Chapter 13: In Which Roles are Bait-and-Switched, One More Time
Kyoko didn't think it was very funny when she found out Shizuo was puking his guts out just before the meetings. Mentioning it would have hurt his self-esteem even more, though, so Kyoko pretended she didn't know. In the days between Shizuo's confrontation with Izaya and the actual rehearsal, she gave the matter some thought and she found herself, once again, very uneasy about the whole thing. In fact, she soured enough that she was ready to back out. Moko was grim when Kyoko told her about it.
When Shizuo showed up for the first round of proper rehearsals, both the the girls turned and grimaced at him at the same time. Without saying a word, Shizuo found his seat and sat down. Maria, who wandered in after him, looked concerned and crossed straight over to him to pat his back. She seemed to be getting rather fond of him. She also had good instincts for when someone was down.
The other two girls put their heads together and Moko dragged Kyoko outside the room and into the corner so they could talk.
"Look, is this fair to do to him?" Moko demanded. "Clearly, he needs more time."
"You're telling me! Is this humane?" Kyoko hissed back.
"I know President Takarada wants to prove something, but this—" Moko's hands gestured. "—this isn't cool."
Kyoko shook her head. "Except, he probably doesn't think anything of it. It's not uncommon. Lots of people throw up before acting..." she trailed off.
"Sure, if they have anxiety. He doesn't, not about being on stage and so on and so forth. This is about his costar," Moko said heatedly. "This is not a good sign."
Even Kyoko remembered that she hadn't been anxious enough to throw up before repeatedly attempting to strangle Sho on set.
"So do we yank—?" Kyoko threw her thumb over her shoulder.
Moko shook her head. "I don't know. We might need to, but I don't want to call it off until—" She caught Kyoko's firm nod and stopped.
Kyoko said, "You have a plan about the script, though?"
Moko nodded. "They're supposed to just act like themselves—the same ferocity, the same condescension, the same devil-may-care. It's the concept of working together that freaks out Shizuo. In-play, he should be okay, because they aren't ever working together. Out of play, he needs to respond to Izaya's acting cues. The key is that they need to reinterpret the conflict in the context of the characters they are acting, not themselves. Just like you did. But we'll just have to see what they do. And they can probably get smiles at least even if their acting is awful. Maybe even more so."
Kyoko half laughs. "Why change what works, right?"
Moko chuckles almost as nervously. "Uh-huh."
"We can do this."
"Yeah."
They clasped each other's hands, and turned around, determined.
Izaya had sauntered into the studio behind them. He took a seat a few paces away from Shizuo.
Excitement went out of the room like the air in a paper bag. The girls' moods sobered again.
"Let's get this done," Kyoko muttered.
"Yeah," echoed Moko.
The faintness of her reply tipped off Kyoko. She raised her eyebrows and cocked a hip. "You sure you wanna be the primary director, Moko?" she drawled.
Moko folded her arms and smiled. "Do you actually want it that badly? Watch out. Leave it to me."
Now sure of Moko's fighting spirit, Kyoko relaxed and grinned back. "That's more like it. Okay, kantoku!" She saluted.
"Oh, get in line!" Moko shooed her towards the rest of the staff, then clapped her hands. "All right, everyone! Let's go over the script!"
It was to no one's surprise that the script reading was a miserable affair.
Moko's copy of the script was riddled in red. Maria, curled up next to Shizuo, had fallen asleep and was drooling, but she was still picture-perfect cute. Beside her, Kyoko stroked Maria's hair absentmindedly with her left hand in between taking notes for both herself and Shizuo, who had accidentally snapped his ballpoint pen after Izaya had smirked at him smugly for perhaps the fiftieth time (that was all Izaya had done besides taking notes silently and rolling his eyes at intervals) about halfway through the session, spurting ink all over the table. Thereafter, Moko forced Shizuo to wrap up his hand in something, and the party took a break. Shizuo was trying to show no expression at all, but he failed at this so badly that everyone felt sorry for him. Throughout the script reading, Izaya and Shizuo and Kyoko made a few terse comments, and for the most part didn't question what Moko said. To compensate, Moko asked the questions to check their understanding, and they replied curtly. Moko was satisfied but exhausted by the tense process.
At the end of the long session, Moko yawned and stretched. "Look, everyone is going to get a new copy with the annotations I have written here, as soon as I write it up or whatever. I wanted you to hear my reasoning, though, so I thought this was necessary. Does anyone have any questions? About character, or intent, or interpretation? Wording? Questions about motivation, or about the beginning, or the ending? Questions about the comedy?"
Maria stirred and lifted her head a little, but otherwise no one moved a hair, and Maria put her head back down on the table and made adorable grouchy faces. Kyoko hunched over her notes and watched Moko, as if waiting for some kind of signal. Izaya's and Shizuo's hard faces didn't change. They were done thinking.
"Okay. I get it." Moko placed both of her hands flat on the table and leaned. "I was planning to announce everyone's roles, but... It's been a long afternoon, and I'm still thinking about who is best for what part. I know you're tired, but you've done good work, everyone. I apologize that this meeting was energy-less. Next time will be better. Get lost. See you next time."
She hoped next time would go a little better. She had an inkling that next time would bring its own problems.
Kyoko mussed Maria's hair one last time, kissed her forehead, and gathered the papers and pens. Maria woke up and rubbed her eyes. Shizuo and Izaya slid out of their seats; Shizuo hung back and waited for Izaya to set off, then slunk in the opposite direction. Moko and Kyoko exchanged glances, took Maria's hands, turned off the lights and left the conference room.
As promised, Izaya was waiting for him, leaning on the door outside the yoga class. Izaya smiled lazily when he saw Shizuo and skipped inside. Shizuo followed, feeling like a cement brick was hanging from his neck. He slouched.
Shizuo went to the back to leave his shoes in the cubby holes, hang up his vest, and roll up his sleeves. The yoga room was always kept uncomfortably hot. Steamy, even, when the humidity was bad, and the water collected on the corners of the windows.
Shizuo went to his spot at the back of the room and sat down. Izaya sat down next to him. Shizuo moved to the opposite side. Izaya followed.
The yoga instructor, a pretty young woman, smiled at them cheerily. Having noticed their beginners' 'confusion,' asked if they were looking for a place to sit down, and directed them back to the place they had been sitting—as partners. At that point Izaya forced Shizuo to introduce him to her.
Great. Now they looked like friends, and to all intents and purposes Izaya now appeared to be a part of the beginner group.
Shizuo was doomed. Shizuo wanted nothing more than to be out of the sauna. The yoga instructor became his adversary. She had to be a part of President Takarada's perfect plan.
Most of the time, little was required of them besides sitting next to each other—which wasn't too much of a struggle. They weren't kindergarteners. And the little partnership work was relatively easy—sitting back to back, twisting, leaning on each other for support.
If Shizuo thought Izaya had tried anything he would have socked him in the jaw without even thinking about it. Then that did happen, in the third meeting.
The trigger wasn't especially alarming. Izaya had only reached past him and incidentally blocked Shizuo's sense of vision, and the next thing Shizuo knew, he had shoved Izaya's arm down and socked him in the jaw. Izaya jerked his arm out of Shizuo's grip, backed into the wall and slipped down. Izaya touched his jaw gingerly but did not seem terribly upset.
The class turned to look at them and went quiet, in a chill contrast to the usual warm and noisy, carefree babbling, and Shizuo became hyper-aware of the floor and the ceiling and the walls around him, crowding him in as the class seemed to pull away from him.
"I—I'm sorry," Shizuo croaked. "I didn't mean to...I couldn't see, and he collided with the...wall." He couldn't turn any more red than he already was, from the heat.
Izaya simply nodded, and didn't contradict him. He was staring blankly at the floor, trying to recall what had happened in the past few moments.
The yoga instructor hummed. "Hmmm. Well," she said unequivocally, "let's get that looked at, shall we?" she said, and dragged Izaya out of the room and to the nurse's station. She was a very strong woman.
Shizuo sat down, disheartened.
The yoga instructor definitely knew something.
The class cast some suspicious looks at Shizuo and erupted in jibber-jabbering. "Can you believe that?" "No way!" "Did you see what he—" "But he shouldn't have been near the wall—" "Shut up!" "Well, what do you expect, Sensei is too—"
Izaya returned with a bandaid and cheerful grin. The yoga instructor stood behind him with a placid expression.
The whole class stared at Izaya.
"No harm no fowl," said Izaya, pulled down his eyelid, stuck out his tongue, and stared challengingly at them all. He then returned to Shizuo's side as if nothing had happened.
It wasn't as if there was anyone else Izaya could pair up with. They were the only males in the room, so there weren't a lot of options. Even if the yoga instructor somehow didn't know that her studio was on the cusp of blowing up on five separate occasions...
The yoga instructor stepped forward, hands clasped loosely in front of her. "Class, I have an announcement." Heads swiveled back to her. She had their attention. "I would like to remind you that the final exercise of this class is a trust exercise which will determine whether you fail or pass the class. I believe it would be most helpful to keep this in mind throughout the season, and that this is the ultimate focus of the class for this particular section. That is all. If you would like more details, you can ask me about them later. Now, shall we continue?"
Class resumed.
She had spoken so quickly that Shizuo wasn't sure if he heard her right. He glanced quickly to his left.
Izaya's shocked expression didn't lie.
It that was then that Shizuo began to suspect that she might have known all along. Her reaction was far too tranquil, and she had not questioned them at all.
In the past Shizuo might have felt pretty good about finally getting in a punch at Izaya, but now...things were different. Shizuo never should have made Izaya the scapegoat for his emotions in the first place, no matter how poisonous the information broker was. It certainly hadn't ever helped Shizuo get to his true goal of peace and self-control. He recognized that now.
Shizuo called Tsuruga-san's manager Yashiro and begged him to book Tsuruga for the class. Yashiro promised he would do his best, but Tsuruga wouldn't be free for at least another week.
All Shizuo knew was that he was going crazy, and that any relief sounded like freedom. Anything that would keep him from strangling Izaya was very welcome in his world.
Izaya barged into the apartment and flung himself into his office chair.
"Izaya..." Namie sighed.
"Don't bother me, I'm working," he said flatly, leaning over the keyboard to peer at the computer wide-screen.
"But you've barely been here five minutes..."
"What?"
"And you've got a," Namie pointed to the spot on her own face, and finished, "a bruise on your chin."
"Oh that." Izaya turns and touches the spot. "It's sore."
"How was, er, work?" Namie narrowed her eyes at him. Shizuo probably had something to do with that bruise. Probably because Izaya provoked him somehow.
"Oh, you know. It was hot." Izaya shrugged and smirked. "You know. Some people like it that way. What about you?"
Namie scowled at him for changing the subject.
Izaya shrugged again.
Somewhat unwillingly, she answered the question. "Dr. Rintarou has given me a pet name."
Izaya raised his eyebrows. "And?"
"Not telling you," she said disdainfully.
"Oh really? I bet it's better than Christina's."
"Christina is the pet name," Namie replied automatically. "You mean his wife Dr. Kurisu."
"Same difference," Izaya drawled, in such a way that told her he knew exactly what the difference was. Izaya leaned back, hands behind his head. "Haven't you dropped the titles yet?"
"Not when talking about them to you."
"Namie, that's cold. That's real cold."
"As if you care."
"But I do."
"Nobody believes you."
"So what's your new name?"
"Knit-shirt or shirt-knit," said Namie, sounding bored. "Something like that. I forget."
Izaya snorts.
"What?"
"It's apt, because it's the only thing you wear. I was hoping for something more imaginative."
"How did you get that—? I do nn—" Namie looked down. "Oh."
"How often do you wash that lime-green thing?" Izaya asked innocently.
"I have three of the same shirt. I rotate them."
"Convenient."
"It's true!" Namie colored.
"Don't tell me your brother Seiji liked it."
Namie glared at him. That's it. I am going to kill him.
"Did I hit a nerve?"
She snarled.
"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and get mad at yourself." Izaya flapped a hand.
"I AM GOING SHOPPING!" she screeched, cheeks flaming crimson.
"Namie, dear, I think it's too la~a~ate... And given your salary, I don't think—"
Namie screamed incoherently and flung a magazine at his head.
Izaya peeled it off his face where it struck, flung it down, and rolled his eyes. "Oh fine, I'll give you a bonus!"
Namie raised one finger, and Izaya snapped his mouth shut. "You shut up so I can call Celty," she said, looking dangerous. "And not a peep out of you or the soup gets it." Namie cut a line across her neck and looked threatening.
Izaya smiled to himself.
"Okay, people. Here's the deal..." Moko clapped her hands. Heads turned. "Kyoko and I conferred on the best way to interpret the script and we arrived at an impasse." Everyone looked at Kyoko, who nodded in confirmation. "Kyoko has one idea for how things should go. I have another. Both have the potential to work with the play as intended, so, what we decided..." Moko clasps her hands together. "Is to let you decide."
"Hear hear," Maria piped up, then sat back in her bleacher, and resumed untangling some yarn. She had brought knitting supplies this time and was absorbed in making a scarf which she said she wanted to send to her papa.
Izaya and Shizuo exchanged a very quick glance, then went back to ignoring each other.
"And how will we be doing that?" Izaya asked.
"It's risky," Moko said, chewing her lip, "but we are going to have you act it as you believe it should be done first, figure out what your natural inclination is, and start from there."
Izaya and Shizuo looked away from each other.
"All right...well. If you're not prepared to act against each other, then you can square off against myself or Kyoko?"
"That won't be necessary." Shizuo stood. "No offense, but I am not sure if I could muster the same anger if I was acting against either of you. Which would change the results of the test." He glanced briefly at Izaya, then met Moko's eyes. "And so..."
"We're sorry to have to put you through this from the beginning. We just need to be sure that you two are naturally on the same page," Moko said, and it came out a little too sharply. She sighed to herself. It was not Shizuo's fault that she was angry on his behalf...
"Don't apologize. Sooner or later." Shizuo looked down.
Izaya folded his arms. "Which scene are we doing?"
Kyoko and Moko exchanged glances. "You both understand the basics of the plot, correct?"
"Yes," they answer. Kyoko and Moko waited.
Shizuo, after hesitating, went a step further and defined it for them. "Helgar Vahdring is a smuggler, and Royal Pirate Erich Drakkon is a pirate catcher. Ever since Drakkon tricked Vahdring out of his goods, causing Vahdring to declare bankruptcy, they have hated each other. Vahdring gets back his ship and vows to hunt down Drakkon and get back his treasure, but Drakkon is too smart. Vahdring comes close time and time again with ever more silly and gimmicky plans, but Drakkon evades or foils them and always sails innocently into the sunset. Then one day Vahdring's only good plan works too well and thinks that he has killed him. Vahdring realizes he has lost his purpose in life, so he sets fire to his own ship, and attempts to drown himself—only to be rescued by his hated enemy, Drakkon, and the fire doused unawares by Vahdring's first mate. The second act begins.
"Feeling he has no choice, Vahdring bows his head to his enemy, but Drakkon laughs and sails away. A new cycle begins. This time Vahdring wants to force Drakkon to accept his pledge of loyalty, for he interpreted the act as one of mercy and he thinks Drakkon's refusal is too modest. Drakkon doesn't want an incompetent subordinate that can't even catch him. Meanwhile, Vahdring vows to protect Drakkon from all the other pirates Drakkon has made enemies of, and prevents Drakkon from reaching any other potential recruits. Drakkon is forced to accept Vahdring's offer. Drakkon tries to off him on the sly but every attempt fails. Frustrated, Drakkon resigns himself to a life of making sure his new clingy first mate doesn't botch his clever plans with his 'help,' while Vahdring becomes ridiculously happy, and they will never be rid of each other after all."
Maria sang a singsong summary, and went back to her knitting. "He means, perky macho stupid-dude loses fortune, chases fortune, but is partly mistaken about handsome stuck-up prince, who is a douche. Perky macho stupid-dude makes fatal mistake. Handsome stuck-up prince rescues dude even though he doesn't deserve it. Handsome prince gets macho stupid-dude as a servant. Handsome prince doesn't want stupid-dude as a servant. Handsome prince doesn't get what he wants because plot."
Moko rubbed her ears. "Well. Pretty much. Do you know which character you are playing?" asked Moko.
"I am Vahdring," Shizuo replied.
A fleeting smile flickered across Izaya's lips. "As I am Drakkon."
Moko watched their faces, hand on her hips, and made her decision. "Then we're going to switch you."
Shizuo burst out, "What?!"
One eyebrow raised, Izaya folded his arms and waited.
"It's something Kyoko and I discussed," Moko stated. She tossed her hair out of her face. "I'm not going to explain the wheres-and-why-to-therefores of that decision, for now anyway, but I would like you to at least try."
Shizuo vibrated a little while he sorted out the request from his emotions, but finally bit out, "Yeah, okay, fine. I can try it."
Izaya shrugged and said, "Sure."
"Great! I think the scene to start with is the beginning of the second act. As you mentioned, Shizuo, it is a pivotal moment. You've got your scripts?"
Shizuo's stomach sank.
And that was how Shizuo found himself a few minutes staring down in disgust at Izaya groveling on the stage floor. Few things creeped him out quite this much. This was thoroughly repulsive. Watching it made Shizuo want to crawl out of his own skin.
What was unfortunate was how in character that probably was for Drakkon, the aristocratic starched-shirt.
"Drakkon" wrenched his hand out of "Vahdring's" grip. "Unhand me, swine!" he snarled.
"But you saved me!" Vahdring beseeched him.
Drakkon sniffed. "I don't recall! You must have brine in your brain!" Drakkon whacked Vahdring delicately on the noggin with the flat his wooden scimitar. Vahdring promptly began shaking his head and making weird faces while he tried to rid himself of swimmer's ear.
"But w-why would you bother unless," Vahdring said, pushing himself to his feet.
Drakkon backed away stuck his fingers in his ears. "I can't HEAR you!"
"Oh, come on, for the love of Mary! Would you listen to me?" Vahdring pleaded, slipping back into island dialect, clasping his hands as if in prayer.
Drakkon nudged him with his boot/shoe and folded his arms. "If I must. I certainly can't stop you. You're a boor."
"I have a family at home, you see, and—"
"BORING!" Drakkon roared, and paced in a circle behind him.
Vahdring looked confused, shook his head to clear it again. "You saved my family."
Drakkon jerked harshly around. "I fail to see how."
"They rely on me! You saved me! I am eternally in your debt!" Vahdring's voice pitched higher and higher, pathetically comically.
"Come now, I just evened the score. I stole your stuff, made you bankrupt, you tried to kill me, you endangered yourself and your family by drowning yourself, you blame your death on me, you call fishing your measly life out of the sea an eternal debt? I call that mere humanity! The clearing of my name! Thankless task! I expected more of you!" Drakkon spat. " 'True enemies,' you swore, my ass! This is what you came to without me? And you expect me to fix you? No one can save you! I pity the man who tries!"
"I thought you were an evil man, but I was wrong! And now you have given me the highest favor! I have come to recognize your true worth!" Vahdring flung himself to the ground. "Do me the honor of taking me into your service!"
Drakkon looked down at his enemy in silent disgust. "Well, since you put it that way. Perhaps we shall see." Vahdring scrambled to his feet much too quickly. Drakkon turned him around, to face something far across the stage.
"What do you see?" Drakkon asked, handing Vahdring a flask of something.
"I see the man in the moon." Vahdring took a huge gulp and sways. "Always so pretty."
Drakkon rolled his eyes. "And what's beyond the moon?"
"The stars." Vahdring took another gulp.
"Well now that's interesting, because I see a magical sailing ship in that direction."
"Ha-ha. I know you're joking about that." Vahdring staggered and drank some more. "Everyone knows those don't exist... This tastes funny."
Dammit. Drakkon ground his teeth (for the audience). "Ha-ha, let's pretend that I was," Drakkon said lightly. "Oh! I know! Do you know how you can tell the best spots for fishing brine shrimp?"
"No, I've never fished—or shrimped?—for brine shrimp. Is it profit'ble?"
"Yes, very. You'll make up your debt in no time!" Drakkon pointed. "There, point your spyglass! You can tell where the brine shrimp are by whalespout—the cetaceans are out tonight—but you'll have to watch for it!"
"Gimme that," Vahdring demanded, and Drakkon handed him the spyglass and stepped back. "Huh. Whalespout's hard to see inna dark—"
Drakkon sprinted off stage and leapt into the audience.
When Shizuo made his way around, Moko and Kyoko were standing at the front of the stage slack-jawed in shock.
"I...I think," Kyoko said faintly, "That we don't need to change very much after all. That was...that was..."
"Completely unexpected!" Maria put in, clacking her knitting needles.
"Yeah, that. We won't have to change much, I mean, we're not going to need as much revision," said Moko giddily. "God, it all makes sense now."
"What makes sense?"
"Why they're both likeable characters and such utter, bloody fools!" Kyoko howled, rolling up her script and waving it around. "How could we not have seen it before?!"
" 'Cause in acting school Helgar Vahdring always ends up played as a weak bimbo wannabe woman pirate," Maria interjected bluntly, sounding bored. "Which is sexist tripe. It makes the play look like a bad romance comedy, and it's not clean at all. If Drakkon was the domineering woman and Vahdring the weakling man, it might work as a story, but I'd still be bored silly and the ultimate message would still serve the patriarchy, because they practically marry in the end and it looks like the story is rewarding Vahdring's dumb persistence. It's a pity about the lack of awesome woman pirates in this version, but it's better this way, with the emphasis on being rivals with equal standing instead of, you know, incredibly messed up sexy rivals on a power trip." Maria wrinkled her nose emphatically.
Izaya, who hadn't said anything this entire time, was a little shocked to discover that his was usually the cast as the woman's role, but he recovered suspiciously quickly. "Sexy," repeated Izaya, and a spark flickered in his eyes. He started to smile.
Moko spotted the spark and shook her head sharply. "Nope, we're not going there. Not gonna do it. Executive decision. This play is complicated enough."
Izaya pretended to pout.
Moko lunged and caught hold of Izaya's collar. "Which is to say, that if you give Shizuo any illicit trauma while we are in the production or the preparation stages, I'm going to have to cancel the entire thing," Moko threatened in a low hiss. "I don't know what drove you to this company, but right now you've got a job, and you are not going to sabotage it until you're through. Blackmail will not be tolerated." Moko let go of his collar, stepped back, and put her hands on her hips, and smiled ruefully. "And personally, for my enjoyment, this was very good and I want to see what you and Shizuo can achieve when you work together," she said with her sweetest voice, and then her voice dropped. "Keep focused and don't mess this up for a little fun, or Kyoko and I will hunt you down. With scissors and tasers and pitchforks and axes if we must. Is. That. Clear?" she snarled.
Izaya tensed and muttered, "Yeah, it's clear." She had a point. The yakuza was already after him, Kyoko and Moko couldn't be much worse, but Izaya was beginning to suspect that they of all people could make him feel somewhat guilty if they tried. Izaya didn't really need to make his life any more complicated than it already was. And working with Shizuo might be interesting, for a change, while he was still willing to do so—there wouldn't be another chance to observe this side of him, although it surely couldn't compare to the endless fascinations of baiting him.
"So the play is really more of a dramedy, isn't it?" Kyoko reflected.
"I take it we're staying in the roles we just played?" Shizuo said, wiping the dust off his hands.
"Do you think we could swap you back after a performance like that?" Moko said. "No way. That's the way it is, and the way it's going to stay." She flapped a hand. "Ready to hear the rest of the cast list?"
"Ready!" shouted Maria.
Moko dug a piece of paper out of her pocket and squinted at it. "So, just to confirm, Shizuo is Erich Drakkon and Izaya is Helgar Vahdring as the main characters. Kyoko, you'll play the ship's cook for both ships—you can decide their gender. Maria, you'll be the anonymous cabin boy, the errand boy and gutter rat. I am... Kyoko, do you want to be pirate queen or shall I...?"
"You take it, I think the ship's cook has a short scene with her," Kyoko responded. "And I want the ship's cooks, 'cause they act the strangest. And you couldn't take my place, Moko, because you're too conventional."
"Fine, I'm pirate queen and the Robber Baron," Moko dubbed herself.
Maria clapped. Kyoko smiled. Moko fidgeted. It was a bit of a letdown announcement.
"Congrats, Shizuo. You got the more interesting role." Izaya smirked. "Hardly suits you, though."
Shizuo tenses. "I think that's the point."
"Oh, don't worry, I don't want it." Izaya waves a hand. "I have other things on my mind."
Shizuo doesn't want to know.
"No, you don't," Izaya agreed. "Sit tight. This ride will be over before you know it."
Shizuo glared at him. "Just don't mess this up."
Izaya inspected his fingernails.