An smoky mist began to pour from the ceiling and erupt from the floor, meeting together like an extraterrestrial storm cloud. Within the thick fog, it glittered and sparkled, allowing a discreet screen to separate the stage into two halves of the Milky Way. The lights flickered on the water droplets, making the crowd sigh in delight at its sparkling rainbow beauty.

The smooth rich tone was unmistakable to the few company members who had heard his voice before. Yashiro eyes perked as a dog would if hearing an invisible whistle. The velvet male voice silenced the audience members as if they were a single being, as his voice echoed over the hidden stage speakers.

Gradually the fog cleared on the right side of the stage, and the play began in earnest.

"Orihime, the Weaving Princess, sat along the bank of the Amanogawa Milky Way. With her delicate fingers, she worked her heavenly yarn into magnificent robes, fit only for the highest gods..."

The expansive sapphire blue yukata extended several feet past Orihime, as she hummed the sweet tune of the tanabata festival. The princess' long flowing black hair trailed behind her too, which contrasted perfectly with her smooth moon pale skin. Interwoven within the hair were small stared jewels, in a multitude of colors, that twinkled almost randomly. Her body waved back and forth to the song as she wove. Ruby red lips parted slightly as she sung. The stage lights were almost white, but with a tinge of aquamarine ripple effects, specked with sparkling silver stars, gave Orihime's look an ethereal glow of beauty. It started deep within her golden eyes, and washed over the spectators.

"Her father Tentei, the Sky King, loved the cloth that she wove. Because so, she worked very hard every day to weave more."

The screen behind the two actors flickered on. The head of Tenteiappeared, in front of a star dotted backdrop. He wore robes of magnificent silver silk which he obviously admired, and the polished silver crown reflected in his wavy black hair. The magnitude of the screen engulfed the actress in the screen's glow, but she was too distracted to look up at their president's face.

"However, Orihime was sad that because of her hard work, she would always be too busy to meet others. Despite all her daydreams: Playing with her children. Weaving for her husband, she thought she would never fall in love with anyone."

Falling into the pile of expensive silks, Orihime let a single tear fall from her golden eyes, down her milk cheek. It twinkled on her skin, and the lighting attendant cast a pale blue light focused on the princess. Its glean caught the reflection of the teardrop, allowing others to see the quiet pain she bore alone.

Yashiro admired Kyoko, as he always did when he got to watch her act. She always became her part, but on this evening, it felt different. It felt as if the part had melted and formed to wrap around her. She wasn't giving the story life. Her life was the story.

"Concerned about his daughter, Tentei arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi, who lived and worked on the other side of the Amanogawa."

The other side of the stage illuminated, bringing the audience's attention to Hikoboshi. He kneeled on one leg, petting the prop cows, which mechanically began to swing their heads and talk in their recorded beastly language. His yukata was simple, navy blue with black stripes, not nearly as expensive and exotic as the princess's, but the simplicity made him look strong, masculine, and striking. As he petted the cows, his muscular arm rippled and females in the audience squealed their approval.

He felt the harsh glare of the hot stage lamps on him as he stroked the mechanical metal bulls with one of his skillful. They shook in the way he use to, in the way he use to when he first started acting. Ren knew his hands were too jerky, much too nervous to be convincing to the keen critiquing eye. All he could think of was how the president was watching him…just like he did on the set of Dark Moon.

Hikoboshi was a master herdsman. A cosmic rancher would know and treat his cows like the gold they glittered with. Ren furiously tried to calm himself down, and let the story take hold of him.

"Kuon, I can see that you're trying...maybe we should take a break. How about you take an early break and we'll reconvene?"

The shy blond actor nodded dejected, and leapt off the school stage. His sneakers squeaked as he landed, getting the glares of the sound team as they readjusted their mics.

"I told you he couldn't do it." A girl huffed off the side, pretending to whisper to her friend as Kuon passed. The small group of teen actresses agreed vocally, circling around their handsome teen leader. His deep laugh rose about the giggle of girls. "They'll have to take you now Beckett."

"Hey Kuon!" Beckett yelled, ignoring his lackey schoolmates. "What's with the stupid name? Were you named Kuon because you can't even copy the word Kuu correctly?"

Before he knew it, another mechanical bull nudged him in the side, vying for attention. He knew it was suppose to be a sign of affection, but the shock of it caught him unbalanced. His teal green robes twisted around his wooden sandals. Like a clumsy young boy, he tumbled to the floor like a graceless sack.

Kuon's ears burned under the mass of blond hair. He started to walk faster, but the small group followed him, snickering and laughing. Kuon pushed open the school doors hard, leaving the school auditorium, into the empty hallway. The small gang of understudies followed him, undeterred.

"I guess talent skips a generation in Japan." Beckett called after him, enjoying the chase. "Then again, how much competition can you have on such a small island anyways? His dad probably won by default."

The rumble of the crowd's laughter made Ren's ears glow with embarrassment, seemingly magnified in the open air theater. He looked out on the crowd, unable to make out any familiar people. The shadows' cast on their faces made them seem more cruel. More haunting.

The sneakers stopped abruptly. Whipping his hair back, the "Shut up! Shut up about my dad! You're just mad because your mom can't find wor-"

The sudden impact against his head blinded him.

A unexpected flash of shimmery blue coated his sight, like a ripple of fabric being ripped away from his eyes.

The smoke began to fade, and divider retract, allowing the whole stage to be seen as one coherent piece.

"You do not insult your fellow actors Kuon. Take responsibility for your work.

The group of kids backed away, surprised at the older teenager. At his sudden appearance. At his actions. To hit a younger student, especially the child of such famous parents was already dangerous. But to hit an actor in the face was sacrilegious. They scattered back into the safety of the prestigious school theatre.

"Rick…" His bright green eyes filled with pain, as he looked up at his mentor.

"I'm not going to coddle you."

The eyes were wide, bright, hazel. They seemed lighter than usual though. Brighter. Intense. Almost golden…

Ren winced as the creamy white hand extended towards his face; stepping through the divide, and crossing the galaxy.

The mist of memory faded away as he felt the gentle eyes wash over his fallen figure. Her thin scarlet lips curved into a curious and embarrassed smile, leaning over him and helping him to his feet.

He almost didn't recognize her as she took a small stretch of fabric, and wiped his cheek. Ren wasn't even sure if anything was on it. But slowly, surely, Orihime brought her eyes to his. Catching Ren in a gaze he couldn't break.

Beneath the the jewels and the delicate yukata. Beneath her wig and all her acting guise, it was Kyoko. It was her. And she was staring at him, in a look of emotion that washed it all away.

Her voice was gone, but the way she moved her lips, he understood immediately. Even without words.

The fairy-loving, prince-believing, compassionate, dreamy, joyful girl he had once knew back in the Kyoto forest. She was never broken. She was never hurt by Shou or went out for revenge. Kyoko was back. She was in love.

And he was too.


A/N: I have an author's note in my profile about not writing anymore.

"Update 6/2012: For people who know my style, likely know I obsess with research and love being IC when I write. (Otherwise why even bother with FF?) When I loved SB, it didn't feel like homework, it felt like sharing pleasurable daydreams. Now all my unfinished fics feel like a dissertation. As much as I love people reviewing my work, I can't seem to stir up the desire to finish anything. I wouldn't count it as a lost cause...but something close to. I'd feel terrible if I just half-arsed the last bits of my story...it may be better to leave it to your imaginations.
Kyoko & Sho demons may be sent to my PM if desired.
- Mystie
"

But I have a whole bunch of unfinished chapters in my computer. I wanted to spit shine them (more spit than shine) and post them. Even if I never finish my stories, no need for these to die along with this laptop if they're semi done.

Sorry that I have no beta. And a mild case of dyslexia. I tried to read the chapter backwards (It supposedly helps to catch errors) and fix any glaring mistakes.