J~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A third of the music and drama faculty were backstage or in the green room waiting for their cues. I was the closing number for the first act and had arrived just in time to take my place on stage. I proceeded to the crook of the piano and noticed a blaring discrepancy on stage. No pianist. What the heck!

"Excuse me. Where is Yamamoto-san," I called to the director in his box.

"Yamamoto-san is ill and will not be playing. Did no one tell you to find a new accompanist?" The director was more than a little put out from what I could from his delivery. Unfortunately, I didn't know much Japanese, so I only caught, "Yamamoto, ill, accompanist."

Dang-it!

A suave looking teacher in his late thirties stepped on stage and bent over me. What is it with Japanese men and their need to intimidate women like this?

"I've called one of my students in to play for you, Judith-san. He'll arrive shortly. I'm sorry this happened on your first day."

I'd dealt with this man, Yoshi Sato, before the semester started. He wasn't sorry. For all I knew, he had been the one to make sure Yamamoto-san was "sick." He tried to put the moves on me last week. I don't put up with that between coworkers. No sir!

He took my hand and led me off stage while the next act went on. I tried to reclaim my hand, but he grasped it tighter. "It's best if you let me lead you. Don't want you running into something in the dark." As the last word dropped from his lips, Yoshi yanked my wrist, spinning me around and into a curtained alcove used for entering stage from audience level. This did not bode well.

Sato caged me against the wall with his right hand while his left still held my right. As he leaned down, my breathing became ragged. No bueno! With lowered voice Yoshi said, "You can't avoid me. I get what I want."

"Not today, pal!" I brought my heal down on his foot hard, dropped below his right arm, and twisted my wrist from his grasp. He reached for me again, but I was too fast. I bolted through the stage entrance and out into the empty audience seats. My breathing was worse. Before I had gone two full steps, I noticed someone approaching me from the front.

Kyoya Ohtori was the last person I wanted to see, but a familiar presence, no matter how recently met, is always a magnet in situations like the one I just left. I closed the gap between us as quickly as I could.

K~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I settled in the back of the hall and opened my laptop to do some research on a certain illness of a patient. Keeping on top of the game is necessity. Miss Mooreson had walked on stage to an empty piano bench and was voicing her concern over it. To which, the director replied curtly that she was supposed to have found a replacement for her sick pianist already. Curious. I noted Miss Morreson's slightly slow reaction to the news. Curiouser and curiouser. Possibly, she is not fluent in Japanese yet. Then again, Tamaki and I had only spoken to her in English. Then, I saw him.

Yoshi Sato strode confidently on stage and announced that a student was being summoned to accompany Miss Mooreson. He was closer to her person than I think she liked as I saw her bristle at his nearness. Sato grasped her hand and marched her off stage as quickly as possible to allow the next group to rehearse.

I continued my study until I heard a quiet scuffle near the stage door on the ground floor. What's that? I made my way toward the oddly quiet sounds; but before I could reach the door, Miss Mooreson rushed out looking befuddled, very angry, and…afraid? Sato. She walked to me quickly, and I could tell she wanted space between the door and her.

"Are you all right, Miss Mooreson?" I noticed her labored breathing.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." She was trying to calm her nerves and lungs. She was digging through her dress pockets, and I saw her physically relax as she pulled out an inhaler. She brought it to her lips and pushed the plunger down.

"Miss Mooreson, if you are having an asthma attack, should you still go on stage?" I lead her to a slightly shadowed section and directed her to sit.

"As soon as my replacement pianist shows, I will feel much better I can assure you."

I needed to distract her from what I was sure was an unpleasant situation. "Is that what caused your present condition? I didn't think something so small could cause such a reaction." I smirked in a way that I knew infuriated most women. Then, I scanned the auditorium for any signs of Yoshi. There he is. Seems he didn't get his way. I sighed with relief inwardly but had to give the woman credit for whatever she did in retaliation. When I turned my gaze back to her, I saw a vulnerable glisten in her eyes. So, no matter her ability to stand up for herself, she still is afraid. "Did something happen just now?"

"I'm sorry. What?" She was working at giving me her attention.

"Did Mr. Sato bother you back stage?" I needed to affirm my suspicions and give her a full warning. "It is not a secret that Mr. Sato thinks of himself as quite a Casanova. He has had, or tried, to have relations with every woman in his building and a few other departments. Stay away from him."

"Mr. Ohtori, Mr. Sato has come to a realization today: He is not as appealing as he thinks he is. I thank you for the warning, but Mr. Sato is nothing I can't handle at the present. I also don't believe he'll try anything else." She stood, and I had to silently applaud the woman's courage as she went backstage.