Chapter 11 – A Tale of Two Novels: Part Three

Surely it was awkward, waking up at nine on a Saturday morning to a screeching hangover, a screaming family, and an agitated redhead. Usually one of the three is enough to throw anyone into an exquisite mess, apart from the quintessential bedhead, then throw them all together, hovering above the bed with murderous intent, and one emerges from the cauldron a cracked pot. Adding to the morning bliss, was a lion plushie stuffed into his mouth – Kurosaki Ichigo's mouth.

"WFHSFJSJFFTF-FPFFT!" Ichigo spluttered awake when he couldn't breathe. "AFSGHJSDFJSDFDAUHSJFNSFSJ-!!" Apparently hangovers resulted in blocked noses for him; either that or Ulquiorra passed his flu around like free tissue.

"Ichi-nii!" screamed Yuzu, his younger sister. "You're gobbling down Kon-chan!"

"You're so dead, Ichi-nii," added Karin, his other younger sister. Both were twins, but couldn't have been more different: their personalities, their appearances, were antonymous of each other.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT, MY DEAR SON! WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY WHEN I SEE YOUR MOTHER NEXT TIME? OH MASAKI I'VE FAILED YOU! I WAS TOO FOCUSED ON WORKING AND RAISING THE FAMILY IN YOUR ABSENCE THAT I DIDN'T NOTICE HOW TROUBLED OUR SON IS! OUR SON GREW UP WITH ZERO MANNERS! OH HO HO!" Kurosaki Isshin bawled dramatically, thumping his chest mightily.

"HE PUKED ON HIS VERY CHARMING CO-STAR! WHAT A HORROR SHOW OUR SON IS! HE SHOULD NEVER BE LET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AGAIN! WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY WHEN I SEE THE GREAT ULQUIORRA SCHIFFER IN THE FLESH? I'M GOING TO MAKE THIS INGRATE DECLARE A PUBLIC APOLOGY TO HIM!" the eldest Kurosaki sucked in some air, "by the way, son, you're going to invite me to the movie premiere next year, aren't you? I've many things in store for my idol, y'know! Daddy has a life too."

Ichigo pulled out the plushie named Kon from his mouth, and threw it aside. It was unnerving enough as it was, having the unwelcoming taste of felt and cotton and dust lingering in his mouth. Kon landed on Renji's head with an inaudible plop, saliva strands sticky from Ichigo's morning breath clung onto his hair like stubborn shoe glue. Grossed out, the redhead tugged it off and tossed it over his shoulder. Yuzu ran after it with fat tears streaming down her face.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Abarai Renji began in a low and purposeful tone. "Any idea what you've done last night?"

Obviously he couldn't, and his head hurt like a series of renovation works. "Yeah, that Grimmjow guy kept talking to me. He couldn't stop even if a truck hit him."

"Uh huh...and then?" Renji leaned in, his brandy eyes flashing 'Kill! Kill! Kill!'. "What happens after that? Any idea, or none at all?"

From the telling pitch of his friend's voice Ichigo knew there was something very, very wrong. Then there was the hangover only one with low capacity for alcohol could have. "I got drunk?" he offered with a mild frown. His father was still absorbed with his endless tirade of 'FORGIVE ME MASAKI!' and 'THAT GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SON!', and somehow in the craziness of affairs he got down on his knees and began to worship the ground, flinging his long arms up and down like the possessed.

"Just drunk?" Karin pressed. "Ichi-nii, perhaps you ought to get up and see for yourself."

…

"NO WAY!" Ichigo howled at the TV screen. It was crammed with coverage of last night's charity ball, and most notably, a certain orange haired star embarrassing himself to no ends. "THAT WASN'T ME! I SWEAR TO GOD THAT REALLY WASN'T ME!"

"Tell that to the world, idiot. Tell that to your amazing co-star whose shirt you dirtied!" Renji folded his arms. "You're dead lucky he didn't make you lick your disgusting vomit up! Speaking of which he's really nice sometimes. Oh my idol! He didn't even make you pay for the dry cleaning bill! If I were him, I'd have kicked you to Timbuktu and bury your head with piles of cow dung! But he was rather quiet about it, eh. Now that you zoom in" - he pressed the remote control and magnified Ulquiorra's expression - "check out his face! I strongly think he's gonna send an assassin after you soon. As much as I really wish to distance myself from you at this very moment, I'd advise you against answering the door these days. Let someone else do it, say..." he glanced at Isshin, who promptly averted his gaze.

"My glorious son has made his bed, and now he must lie in it!"

"How long have they been playing this for?" asked Ichigo, before gulping down a cup of honeyed tea.

"Since it got out, dumb shit! The whole world has it taped down on some stupid device or another, and now it's out on all fronts! Tousen's gonna be really pissed, I know. He may be in Washington now, but hell, once he gets back you're getting a piece of him. And your movie boss, that Kuchiki Byakuya too! He was dead against misdemeanor in public, even going to great lengths to have you two appear nice and cool with each other. Then your ass got all itchy, and decide to carve it up into pieces! If you ain't dead meat on Monday I don't know what else you're gonna end up as. Prolly diced strawberries. Or a glass of rotting strawberry milkshake."

"My son shall die in honor!" Isshin blared from nowhere. He was then shooed out the door by Karin.

"It's a good thing you didn't sell your soul to those Johnny devils, Ichi pal," Renji continued. "Else they would have dropped you from whatever projects you have at the snap of their goddamn talons! Thank god it's me, friend. And just blame it on my bad luck. Once I'm not by your side you get duped into drinking."

"I'm not that foolish!" Ichigo claimed. "Don't treat me like a goddamn minor. There's nothing wrong in failing to hold my liquor."

"Where was Orihime then? She was supposed to keep an eye on you! Sheesh! I don't know you!" cried Renji, exasperated. "I'm getting a pay cut, damn. Maybe I should request for a switch with my idol's manager. Maybe baby. Ngahhhhhh!" With a theatrical whine he flopped onto the sofa, vexation and tiredness occupying his being.

Beside him, Ichigo was mute. The clip replayed itself over and over again, and each time he viewed it, the greater the sense of incapacitation. He was dumbfounded. He was aghast by his unwarranted behaviour, especially after the suave, dignified exhibition of his personality on the red carpet. More than anything he had succeeded in making his pompous co-star look good and in control.

…

Come Monday, droves of inquisitive reporters camped outside the movie set, eagerly anticipating the arrival of last weekend's headline grabbing duo. Ulquiorra, though still a little ill, was smart enough to evade them by giving them the slip. Ichigo, unfortunately, didn't share his talent. One could spot his orange hair from miles away, and before he could park his car in peace, they swarmed toward him, refusing to let him leave. Recorders, video cameras, notepads were all shuffled into his face, flagging for a comment or two, and he kept his head low – the less he said the better, struggling to find an entrance and sprint off. But he couldn't – he was badly cornered by the ravenous media vultures.

"Ichigo! Do you have a moment?"

"What do you really think of Ulquiorra?"

"What do you think of your post party conduct? Any introspection you'd like to share with us?"

"Why wasn't Orihime with you?"

"Are you two breaking up?"

"Do you think your popularity will dip after this?"

"Are you an alcoholic?"

"Why did you do that to Ulquiorra?"

"So what's your relationship with Ulquiorra Schiffer really?

"Friends or foes?"

"Do you really hate him? That's a pretty strong word to use!"

"You called him a pallid monster, didn't you?"

"Do you know his sexual orientation?"

"Have you rang Ulquiorra up to offer an apology?"

"Will you be pulled out from the movie?"

"How abou-"

"Let him go," a monotonous voice interrupted. It echoed throughout the dim basement car park, flying off the whitewashed walls, and sounded a little nasal, but authoritative no less. "Before I call security."

Without looking up from the ground, Ichigo immediately knew who that voice belonged to. Who else can sound this dull? "Ulquiorra..." he murmured, as those intense jade orbs drew level with his. "Of all people..."

"What are you standing there for?" asked Ulquiorra, a hint of challenge creeping into the otherwise flat tone. "Can't move? Surely it didn't seem that way two nights before."

A camera blinked in his face, and he glared ferociously at the offender, before proffering a pale finger at the sizable crowd. Like his uncontrollable cousin, he too wasn't one to be trifled with. His aura was malevolent – one hand tucked invisible, his wholly white ensemble a stark contrast with the choppy black hair, and seeing him so coolly commanding sent tingles down Ichigo's spine. And there's those cold green eyes. If he weren't an actor, he would make an excellent militarist.

"All of you, get out now. And you know I won't hesitate to" - Ulquiorra flipped open his black mobile and appeared to dial three numbers - "do exactly as I say."

The reporters knew only too well – some had the experience of being kicked out from movie sets, no thanks to the raven haired star and his obnoxious manager. They scooted off before Ulquiorra could hit the 'Call' button.

"I-" Ichigo felt he owed the man an apology, no matter his prejudice. When a wrong is committed, it has to be rectified. "Sorry for Friday, and..." Should I thank him too? He popped up at the crucial moment, and till now he hadn't brought up the shameful matter. "Thank-"

"Stop gazing into space. You're late, and we're set to film a crucial scene later," said Ulquiorra, dismissing his co-star's words – of which was a tough internal fight to get them out. And by 'crucial scene', the green eyed actor was implicitly referring to one of the three sex scenes due. He was nervous enough as it was, having practised none and the only preparation was done weeks ago. To worsen things, the lines, and only the lines could be considered as thoroughly drilled into their heads. But seriously, who would place much emphasis on the speech in comparison to the body language? Ulquiorra predicted they would be needing several takes, and he went into the weekend, determined to cultivate an essential bout of patience absolutely required when working with that no-talent prat. He figured he might give Shinji's incessant nagging a chance too, given the blonde's uncanny ability to create superstars.

"Ah...that scene," Ichigo mumbled as he fell into step with Ulquiorra, striving to stifle the accompanying blush. "Yeah, just got to bear with it. All that...mumbo-jumbo. Should be peanuts."

"Peanuts, you say?" Ulquiorra echoed with a twinge of bemusement. "Such unfounded hubris suddenly."

"Peanuts, I said," Ichigo hastened his pace. He didn't want to be caught flushing like a blossoming flower in spring. "Didn't you say I'm late? Then why are you cruising around now?"

…

The movie set for the upcoming scene was furnished as would a room in the late Edo period, with tatami mats spread across the floor, a flat end table in the middle, and indicating the understated luxury afforded only by the officials were woodblock prints – melded onto the drawing doors. Then there was the dark green futon. The very spot where Ichigo's character tried to seduce Ulquiorra's. The very spot where the second sex scene was to take place. It was the first to be filmed, and to soothe both actors' nerves, Shinji arranged for lavender scents to be sprayed all over the room.

"Perfect!" the blonde director grinned deliriously. "Oh, and more over here please. I'd like them to relax and enjoy themselves later."

Hiyori spritzed the essence in his face with malicious glee. "There's nothing to enjoy about! Not when you know you're going to waste rows and rows of film later! Everyone knows how difficult these stupid scenes can be, and heh, Shinji Smartass Hirako, since you're all about technique later, we shall see how many takes are used up."

"I've already talked to Ulquiorra," said Shinji, grabbing the bottle from Hiyori's hand. "He'll do something about it."

"They can't be trusted, the both of them!" Hiyori grappled for the bottle, but to no avail. The blonde was too quick for her. "Just look at the media circus they've created. That vamp kid I half expected him to be capable of such rubbish, but Ulquiorra too? What's up with him lately!"

"They're just being themselves, those boys," Shinji removed his tweed newsboy and twirled it leisurely with a finger. "In the entertainment circuit there can never be too much publicity."

"But its bad publicity!" Hiyori protested. "Kuchiki-san and Soi Fon will be paying the set a visit today, all because of them. You know how things are like when they're around! Restrictions impinged upon us, and tons of other junk. Especially Kuchiki-san! I've no idea why is he so stingy. He's rich as a Saudi prince, yet he's forever droning into us the importance of thriftiness and-"

"That case we can call for the scraping of the marketing unit, and pump the savings into the production, Snagtooth-chan. Ichi-kun and Ulquiorra alone can handle everything! They are a two-man promotion team," Shinji winked. "And throw in their managers as well. Especially Ulquiorra's. Seems to be a proficient shit stirrer, he."

…

Ichigo stepped forth from his trailer, clad in nothing but a short, thin, yellow shower robe and beneath it were the scandalous spandex underpants. He huddled himself closely as he made his way out and about, fearful of invisible winds blowing his robe apart and revealing the horrid garment, fearful of bumping into treacherous hands shoving devices into his face and demanding for answers, fearful of what was to happen later. But prior to that, was time for hair and makeup.

And the reading of Autumn Chrysalis, too.

…

Ulquiorra detested the lengthy period taken to fully prepare oneself for a scene – usually up to two hours or even five if prosthetic effects were used, and he hated to waste time. According to him, every second spent with no meaning equated a life less deserved. Which in turn meant: due to the desecration of life, there is bound to be punishment. Thus he had a copy of Autumn Chrysalis in his hand. Reading the script was pointless at this hour; he had long memorized it to great effect. Alas the scenes – he hadn't the foggiest idea what he should do. The script was the vaguest thing - apart from the regular dialogues, and the actions required them to 'kiss, embrace, kiss'. The remainder was up to their imagination, and sadly, Ulquiorra Schiffer was found terribly lacking in that aspect.

…

Ichigo entered the dressing room, and was fleetingly dumped on a chair. He clamped his thighs shut, the crude sense of exposure prattling needlessly whenever he allowed his legs a decent shake. Now he understood how girls in micro skirts and short dresses felt like when they sit in public. Extra caution must be exercised, and he was a guy for crying out loud!

From the side he spied Ulquiorra getting his makeup done, and it was only when the pale man closed his eyes did he let his gaze linger on him briefly, unintentionally. There was something about the way Ulquiorra looked as he rested easy. Something the orange haired man, for all his newly acquired vocabulary, couldn't describe. It wasn't breathtaking, neither was it repulsive nor unmemorable. If anything, it was a little funny, that feeling inside. As he looked on, his mind sailed past uncharted waters.

And very nearly was the novel lying on his dresser forgotten.

…

"Damn you lot are finally here! Rome was built and destroyed in the time you guys took to get ready, slowcoaches," Hiyori grumbled. "There, your spot for this scene," she pushed Ichigo onto the green futon, and Ulquiorra to the other end.

"Hey-I can walk on my own!" cried Ichigo, as he fell haphazardly onto the futon with his legs perpendicular to earth. The shower robe rode up his lean thighs, and very nearly did he flash the crew a peek of those now infamous underpants.

"Whoa! Don't get too sexy this early," Shinji snuck behind the orange head and sniggered. "Your co-star might be not able to withstand it," he added as an afterthought, sneaking a glimpse at Ulquiorra, who was too busy blowing his nose to notice anything else.

"Ooh, and Ulquiorra's already having a nosebleed," someone else piped in, cheerily. It was Ichimaru Gin, and did he get one heck of a death glare from the green eyed man himself. Soi Fon and Kuchiki Byakuya gradually strode in one after another, and sat down on chairs stationed about the set. They wore their usual countenances – one perpetually pissed, the other a dignified scowl.

"OK, people!" Hiyori put two fingers into her mouth and whistled shrilly. She was determined to be on her best conduct. She was determined to have a larger bonus come 2010. "Prep prep prep! Here's a dry run of what's to happen next. So listen up!"

And then she blabbered on and on like a high-strung parrot.

…

Ichigo could only stare in petrified bewilderment as the three studio executives were strategically seated around the futon, their faces a fluorescent white – courtesy of the industrial strength lighting. He thought they looked scarier and more imposing than usual, with extra mention going out to Soi Fon and Ichimaru Gin. Her features were so incisive that rays of light bent around obscure angles, leaving the hollows of her eyes shaded and eerie. As for the latter, light just seemed to disappear into the wideness of his smirk.

"Ichigo-san? Ichigo-san?" a movie assistant tapped him on the shoulder. "Your robe."

"What robe?"

"You don't need clothes for this scene, simpleton," Ulquiorra remarked.

"...of course, the robe!" Ichigo narrowed his eyes, and speedily rid himself of the robe, then dove right into the futon. "I'm ready!"

…

SCENE: Takamatsu's rented room, Teito Inn, Edo (Act Thirty-One, Take One)

Takamatsu Soujiro (Ulquiorra) steps into his rented room, wishing to take a rest after a long day at work. Earlier, the Shinsengumi held a lengthy meeting on the impending war – set against samurai clans from the North. He looks exhausted, and bogged down by the internal strife. He walks over to the table, and lights the oil lamp. He sees someone lying in his futon, the dark green covers reaching to the shadowy figure's neck. Taken aback by this intruder, he advances toward the unmoving one, a hand on the hilt, the other shining the lamp in said person's face. It is Murakami Yoshihito (Ichigo).

Takamatsu: Yoshihito-kun? -removes hand from hilt- Yoshihito-kun... -looks at him with an unreadable expression, and notices his friend's clothes strewn messily under the table. Gaze becomes uneasy-

Murakami: You're back. -sits up slowly, and the covers peel off to reveal his naked torso-

Takamatsu: -stares for a moment- Weren't you supposed to leave for your hometown? Why are you still-

Murakami: Here? I've some unfinished business that I got to take care of. -looks at Takamatsu-

Both men are locked in a feverish gaze.

Takamatsu: -coughs lightly- You ought to hurry along, and return, if that is the case.

Murakami: I'm doing exactly that now.

A beat.

Murakami reaches a hand out to Takamatsu, but the latter doesn't take it.

Takamatsu: You should get dressed, and leave immediately. -turns away-

Murakami: I'll get going tomorrow morning, but until then, I have words I definitely need to say to you. Many words. I need to get them off my chest.

Takamatsu: That's very selfish of you. What about the loyalties you've sworn to your clan? Do you not understand how a day prolonged in turn becomes one wasted? That one day without your assistance they could very well sink into trouble? Just...just head back. -picks up Murakami's clothes, but the other man disregards the action completely- Please give a little consideration to your family's feelings, Yoshihito-kun.

A beat.

Murakami: Sleep with me, Soujiro. -whips off the futon-

Takamatsu: -shocked, before transiting to anger and pain- Do you not understand a single word of what I've iterated earlier? Did none of them get through you? Or in your temporal lust have you simply cast everything aside? Do you not understand the failure to uphold an obligation to your familial roots would warrant much unwanted repercussions? Do you not understand any of the above? Who we are? What we do? -pauses to look Murakami in the eyes- Do you not understand though we may be brothers born from the same soils, but the seed of discord has long been sown? That we fight not for our own pride, but the pride of our ties...do you not understand, Yoshihito-kun? That we are nothing but ants in a nest, surging forward for survival, for victory – for a victory that may be inconsequential even?

A beat. A prolonged silence.

Murakami: -voice nary above a whisper- And do you not understand I'll never see you again?

…

"Cut!" Shinji yelled. "Cut! Don't go on anymore! Stop!"

"Yeah, guys, way to go," Hiyori groused sarcastically. "What a way to pep our Monday mornings."

"Eh?" Ichigo was flabbergasted. He thought everything went as planned, and he did work hard on his lines, never missing a word, never pausing unnecessarily, never baulking at how naked he was. Those accursed underpants did naught to salvage his disarmament of being as well concealed as a swimmer in tiny black Speedos. Even more so, he felt all eyes staring at his crotch, as if fixated, and probably sizing his length up if they could.

"It really enhances the thing," said Hiyori, unblinking. "Hey Shinji, thought of getting a pair for yourself?"

"Already did!"

"Yeah, so the dick's big, and what about it?" Soi Fon scoffed. "You can't act with it!"

They stared at the space between his legs with unblemished fascination, and soon Ichigo became assured that they were really doing what he thought they were. He thought he was in a meat house. Any moment onward those eyeballs were going to hit the floor rolling.

Ulquiorra Schiffer's especially, and especially Ulquiorra Schiffer's.

…

(After many, many takes)

"Quit horsing around!" Soi Fon barked. "Hurry up, let's go for another take before lunch! And who allowed you to drink?"

Drink? Is she referring to me? thought Ichigo, guiltily. But he wasn't drinking anything – such was the devastating depth of his troubles, poring over them since that nervewrecking Saturday.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer! I was very deliberately and openly hinting at you! Whoever allowed you to take a sip from that bloody bottle of yours!" Soi Fon continued. Her mood was fiercely erratic, and many suspected she was ditched by her long-time lover over the weekend. Picking on the green eyed actor seemed to be a hush-hush past-time of hers too. "Your acting is way off! I repeat, way off! Don't you find it disturbing? Shouldn't you work harder on it? Or did you spend your entire weekend scrubbing your blazer and shirt free from acidic puke? Oh God."

Ulquiorra looked gloomier than usual, capped his bottle, and set it down without resistance. From behind, Ichigo couldn't help but feel wee bits of sorry for his co-star. What if the green eyed actor did exactly as Soi Fon had alleged, hence sparing no time for practice? True that he wasn't hitting peak form, but to discount him so cheaply was hurtful.

But Ichigo's sympathy didn't last long.

"It's your fault," Ulquiorra turned to glower at him. "You were completely out of sync."

The nerve of him?! Ichigo simpered – his sympathy was a rubber band. Once snapped, it rebounds with extreme fervor. "Clearly the fault lies with you, Mr. No NG! And it isn't I who said it. It's an universal opinion! You really should learn to accept feedback, and refrain from pushing the blame onto others! Work on your attitude, geez."

"Peanuts, as some trash lying by the roadside said," Ulquiorra spat in return, a contemptuous look returning to those icy green orbs. "Peanuts indeed."

"Yeah it was! Until you messed up big time!" Ichigo shot back. "Or has the tissue stuffed your mind? What is it now? A house of cotton wool? A wastepaper basket of crap?"

"Can't you at least try to have scenes done properly? Judging by your input thus far, I have the hunch you're determined to exit the set. Very well then, be my guest," Ulquiorra rebuked. He wasn't having the best of days, and to have his acting insulted to such deplorable dregs made him madder. "You're showing signs of regression – into an ape, and the peanuts should come in handy."

"Don't you throw words into my mouth, corpse!" Ichigo growled, as tics on his temples went off like fire alarms. "And who the hell are you calling a peanut stuffing ape?!"

"And I wasn't finished!" Soi Fon cut in. "Now onto you, aka the stupid vampy boy who got ass drunk and had those rubbish pictures splashed all over the freaking world!"

And she went on and on and on...

…

(After many, many hours)

"Uh...so which take are we at now?" asked Hiyori. Her hands were sore from clanging the clapper, and her voice was hoarse from shouting, and trying to out-shout Soi Fon. In her bleariness she had somehow lost count of the takes, and the blame could hardly lie with her.

"Dunno," replied Gin. His enthusiasm was dampened by takes and retakes of deteriorating quality.

Across him sat the ever regal Kuchiki Byakuya, legs crossed, back straight. His disposition was far from elegant, however. He flitted back a sleeve with two fingers, checked the time, and with a twitch of contained irritation, fired the first of three shots:

"Is this the best the crew can do?"

Nobody dared exercise their larynx.

He then fixed Ichigo with a sordid lour. "Is this the best you can do? You looked promising during the audition, and Shinji has said good things of you. Till today I've yet to see any of those claims."

Ichigo tucked his tail between his legs.

The statuesque Kuchiki then looked to Ulquiorra, and issued him a caveat:

"I am very disappointed in you. You are capable of more, most certainly, but this lethargic display? Efficient performance yes, worthy of commendation? No. However if we were to switch opinions, say, your delivery for someone of Kurosaki Ichigo's standard, then, maybe."

Cue Ichigo looking scandalized.

"But the likes of you? Not at all. Much less the unbecoming notion of you, having your reputation precede your actual talent."

"I'll do better in the next take, Kuchiki-san," Ulquiorra bowed. "That is, if this...person," he cast a putrid glance at the orange head, "co-operates."

…

"OK people! I'm waving the white flag. We're so deep into the woods I can't see a thing," said Shinji, as his eye bags became glaringly pronounced. "We'll put this scene on hold for now, and jump to the next – where the sex's at. I trust you two not to make an epic fool out of your characters please, at least not when no words are required. It's just plain old lovey dovey stuff, so, and I'm begging right here, get it right. Can I expect that as the threadbare minimum? Guys?"

Both leading men nodded glumly.

Shinji clapped his hands for attention. "OK good. Now that I have your word, I-"

"Can we have a erm, like, erm, brief talk about the scene? Erm like..." Ichigo blushed despite himself. He truly was a red strawberry. "How do we go about doing it, and err, stuff..."

"You said it was peanuts."

"I'm not asking for your opinion, corpse face, so shut up!"

"Your lack of trustworthiness is astronomical."

"Who cares about what you think! Not me for sure."

"-wait a moment. You guys haven't discussed this before?"

Both men broke apart from their spiteful exchanges, and nodded again – this time with shame.

"Jesus **** Christ!"

"What's wrong?" Ichigo was blissfully ignorant. "It ain't too difficult, right? Touch here, touch there, and maybe a little..." he imploded like the terrible virgin he was, "...err...well, just saying."

Shinji was appalled; he felt like a metal pike atop the highest building in the vicinity, and lightning was striking him a hundred times over. "What the hell-ah never mind. Just go ahead with your instincts. I'm not expecting anything out of anything at all today, so just, do whatever you can," the blonde director stuffed his face into the tweed newsboy cap. If anything he wished for an early death – one by high voltage didn't cut it. "Mix it up, stir it in a juice machine and drink it up, ah-whatever. Just," he waved an exasperated hand, "whatever."

"Ichigo can treat Ulquiorra as his girlfriend, if that helps," Hiyori offered – in the most unhelpful manner imaginable. She was shot a dazzling array of emerald and hazel daggers by the duo.

G...Girlfriend?!

"Quit it, you two! I was merely suggesting a solution to your nonexistent working relationship and chemistry! You see, the logic behind my suggestion is clear as day. Since Ulquiorra is like an irritant to Ichigo and Ichigo a worthless slug to Ulquiorra, the only thing to improve is to have either one of you pretend to be someone of romantic importance to the other. Then we have Ulquiorra, who is as asexual as a worm – no lover as we all know. Hence you have to take charge, Ichigo! You're the one with a hot girl, and for a moment, for that scene alone, close your eyes, no don't. Open them wide, but hey you're an actor, and imagine this guy's head is your girl's, and do the usual stuff you do when you're dying to jump her on the couch or something. Not that exaggerating, duh, but do you guys understand? You have to portray the need of physicality in your characters, and the anguish of potentially lost love! Which as of now, is sorely missing in your performances! You two are as loving as shaved ice in some second-rate freezer. No love lost, huh."

All were astounded by Hiyori's supremely long speech of grandeur. Few forgot to inhale, and hence choked. Apart from the weird noises there was silence all around.

"What?" Hiyori demanded. "Doesn't seem like I majored in Literature, but folks, I, Sarugaki Hiyori, did!"

…

"So, here's what we do...like this..." Ichigo tentatively stuck a hand out, attempting to stroke Ulquiorra's neck. It came off as clumsy – a slap even, and the orange head instantly knew he was in deep shit. He had never been intimate with anyone, and now he had to, and the most laughable part was the additional lie of him having a girlfriend. He didn't know whether to chortle or sob, or a mixture of both.

Shinji observed his awkward actions with tweezered eyebrows crisscrossing into each other. "Wrong. You're handling a lover, Ichi-kun, not a CPR dummy!"

"How about this?" Ichigo tried again, this time gentler.

"No. Redo," said Shinji, as he massaged his temples. "Re-do."

"Or this?" Ichigo did it slower this time, but the strength remained there. He literally pressed two fingers against his co-star's arterial vein.

"I didn't ask you to measure his pulse!" Shinji exploded – he was seconds away from tearing his hair out.

Ulquiorra was tired of having his freshly scrubbed neck contaminated and abused by the ignorant man. He suspected Ichigo wasn't really one to wash his hands properly after using the washroom, let alone sterilize them with distilled alcohol. And...how could the man with a girlfriend not comprehend the simple way to touch a loved one? It was beyond his grasp, and he didn't wish to unlock this puzzle. If he were to scrutinize every odd bone in Kurosaki Ichigo's skeleton, he might just leave the set and never return. Let it be, he thought. Let it be. Then, flicking out a wrist, he said:

"Close your eyes, talentless ape, and memorize the movements."

Ichigo, being the obstinate mule he was, naturally declined the offer. "What, you? Knowing you, you're going to make use of the chance to brutally strangle me."

The green eyed actor ignored the childish jibe and continued, "According to definition, a caress is a gentle, affectionate touch or embrace. That is if it's used as a noun. As a verb, it means to touch gently and affectionately. As it stands, both of which are tragically omitted from your dictionary. Let me show you what's called a 'caress'."

Using the backs of his fingers, gradually but surely, he lightly brushed across Ichigo's jawline, tracing it. Fingernails lingering a tad, as though he was handling something precious yet fragile. He let it slide down the side of Ichigo's neck, the movements never stopping – a velvety sensation, teasing every pore, stroking with an acute passion, before withdrawing his hand, finger by finger, kissing the tender skin goodbye.

Ichigo nearly cooed at the soothing touch – it made him feel like a million bucks, and felt disheartened when the stroking ceased. It ended already...ah...? Then all of forbidding reactions, his heart had to skip a damned beat when he opened his eyes to an Ulquiorra Schiffer gazing straight into his depths, unblinking; fluid.

Holy Schmizer! When did he get this close?

"Bravo!" Shinji looked relieved for once, as Ichigo shielded his eyes from the raven haired star's scorching stare. "This is good! Yeah, this is more like it! A loving caress! Treat each other nicely!"

That's uncalled for. Funny, this is how I stroke Sakana, thought Ulquiorra, and he couldn't resist a victorious smirk. To others it was an indiscernible uplift of his mouth. To Ichigo, it was an outrageous flip to have him put in his proper place. Too bad it was mired with those bothersome pink plumes again, this time upclose.

"Have you memorized it?" Ulquiorra hadn't shifted away. Unpleasant thoughts of how Ichigo felt like the softest of tissue plagued his mind, and he didn't like it one bit. Come to think of it, he recalled the sweetcorn incident from before, so were his lips.

"Tch. You made it sound all great and whatnot, in the end it turned out to be silly doodles around my neck, like this," Ichigo snorted to disguise his wild mental war, and animated circles in his co-star's face. Ulquiorra only stared blankly ahead, and didn't track backwards until Shinji separated them, fearing an abrupt skirmish.

"Has this entire fiasco ended? Before we end the night, I'd like to observe the complete filming of at least one scene," said Byakuya. He was as sour as unsweetened lemonade, having received endless calls and facing newspaper reports on how the production was falling apart. Suddenly finances were insufficient, actors were disobedient, top executives jumping ship, and many more creative premises spun from tabloid weeklies. Though not all were blatantly made up.

Despite the crew's best intentions to produce a top notch performance, no flaw nor deficiency escaped the eagle eyes of the three studio executives, not even Gin, whose eyes were perpetually crinkled into rainbows. The day drew to an unsatisfying close for all – takes: uncountable, scenes done: none. Little did they know this wasteful trend was set to continue.

…

A/N: The next chapter will be the fourth and final part of this novels thing. Stay tuned. ;) And massive thanks for reading and reviewing this.