With a groan, he threw off his blankets and walked to his dresser to silence his blaring alarm.
Numbness overcame him the nights after his breakdowns. Not like the hollowness that engulfed him those lonely evenings, like an anesthetic was pumped into his veins, like it overcame every nook and cranny of his body. He blinked and he was in a different part of his apartment- watching himself brush his teeth in the mirror, pulling a waistcoat over his shoulders, watching his Mr. Coffee brew his morning cup.
Gorgeous as always, Rangiku came through the door with a smile. Her impeccable appearance sometimes made him envious. It took ages to tease his hair into something presentable.
"Hitsugayaaa," she cooed, "are we almost ready?"
"I want to finish my coffee, but we don't always get what we want," he replied as he fetched a thermos from his cabinet. "Those auditions start damn early. We should get going."
"There are files for the auditioners in the glovebox. Nanao thought you'd want to review them before the auditions themselves, I just forgot to give them to you last night."
He could have read those instead of just sitting in the plane, bored into slumber….
He frowned. "Half of these don't even have Haruka's hair color." Her appearance was integral, and yet most of them were blonde and golden-skinned.
"I ought to scold you for that, but you're right! An auditioner should at share some resemblance to the character they want to play. I suppose there's hair dye, but Haruka is pretty fair. It'll be hard for a makeup crew to lighten her up."
They sighed together. Auditioning always ended up on his list of things he hated about the movie industry. There were always people looking to get famous. It was harder and harder to find actors who viewed cinema as art form rather than a popularity contest or some kind of get rich quick scheme. It was a shame, really, for the industry to be so inundated by poor actors that the real talent didn't stand a chance.
"It's gonna be a long day," he said, "can you pick up lunch around eleven? I want burritos."
"Should I fetch a latte for you too?"
"Please. I'll need it."
"You can count of me!"
They parked, followed him inside, and parted by the cubicles. The audition room was small and cube-shaped a chair against a grey backdrop and a table for himself, the director, producers, and what have it to sit at.
"Morning, Kyouraku," he greeted the director. They had known each other for a number of years. Shunsui Kyouraku having directed the movie adaptation of his second book Funeral Home. Shunsui had his flaws, but above all else, Shunsui had proven faithfulness to original material in all the movie adaptation he directed, and there wasn't much else he cared for.
"You're too chipper for this hour," Shunsui yawned. "It's too damn early for these auditions. God, I hate these things. Thirty just today, another forty tomorrow. We're gonna die at this rate."
"Perhaps not. On my way here, I was brainstorming preliminary questions. Perhaps it's unfair, but if they don't pass the preliminary questions, we can just boot them instead of wasting time on their monologue."
Shunsui hummed. "How about not," he replied. "I understand you're protective over your work, Hitsugaya-kun, but we have to give everyone the same chance or PR will be on my ass."
He sighed. "Understandable. Are we just waiting for Ichimaru, then?"
"That we are. He woke up a little late, so he had to catch a later train. He'll only be another ten minutes, at most."
"Good," he replied.
"Not really," Shunsui said, "Ichimaru-kun is already on thin ice as it is. Anymore marks against him and he's booted from the agency. I don't really like that guy, but as a producer, he's prime."
He laughed. "I-I guess," he responded nervously. He never liked Gin Ichimaru. That man gave him the heebie jeebies….
There was coffee placed before him in the meantime. Gin was far less important than the sanity Nanao's brews imbued him with. He would need as much energy as he could with those upcoming auditions.
Gin finally arrived. Shunsui turned to his assistant Nanao by the door. "Bring in the first lady!"
Thus, they began. There were handful of auditioners he took note of, but none in the four hours before lunch stood out as a worthy actress of Haruka. He sat with Rangiku during lunch in the lounge to lament with her.
"It's a pity," she said, "so many pretty girls yet none of them can grasp Haruka. I'd hate if you have to settle. She's so stunning, she deserves the best!" Rangiku pulled down the paper encasing her burrito. "Have you talked to Kyouraku-san about it?"
"Not yet. Watching his reactions though, he was equally unimpressed. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow after we finish with these auditions."
"Damn… I don't envy you, that's for sure."
He combed his fingers through his hair. They couldn't have some B-grade actress play Haruka, not with such high expectations for her character. Perhaps his standards were too high though. If only his first choice actress, Retsu Unohana, hadn't declined. Just a little bit of airbrushing in the chair and those crows feet would disappear. Any of the girls they had seen would fucking kill for Retsu's talent.
"Just have patience. See every girl, hopefully find someone truly exceptional. You've breathed life into Haruka and she deserves the best we can get our hands on."
He nodded. Reinvigorated, he finished his lunch, and returned to the audition room.
"Are you ready?" Shunsui asked.
"Let's get this started."
First came the clap of heels against linoleum, then the tail of hair as black as raven wings. Time froze as he watched her walk past them. She was short like he but strode like she was titanic, with a straight back and easy, plum smile. Her legs crossed in opaque leggings as she sat and stared back at them with star-colored eyes
"My name is Karin Kurosaki. I'm twenty-four years old and I'm a transwoman."
Stunned silence settled over them like a thick blanket. Karin smiled wide and burst into laughter. Never before had someone just come and told him or a group something like that so candidly. How were they supposed to respond? What was he supposed to say?
"Oh, that's always rewarding!" Her laughter was melodic, nonetheless. "Alright, pick your jaws up. Let's get this started."
"O-of course," he cleared his throat. "What is your experience in the movie industry?"
"I was an extra in a couple of independently made movies. I played a prostitute in Kill Siren, a nautical period drama, where I was eaten by a sea monster, and then I played a laborer in this steampunk film Gear who was crushed beneath a falling building."
"So you have a lot of experience portraying death?"
"Absolutely," Karin answered. She combed back her hair to reveal a C-shaped scar on her scalp. "I was jumped when I started wearing dresses in junior high. I got the same taste of terror Haruka did. Naturally I related to her because of the pretty senseless violence we've faced."
"How did you get started in the industry?"
"I knew a guy who knew a guy. My brother Ichigo Kurosaki introduced me to musicians Shinji Hirako and Roujuurou Outoribashi. I started out as a feature in their music videos before I started acting. I heard about this role and decided to give it a shot."
"Alright," he said, "go on and show us your monologue."
Karin turned in her chair and pulled a prop skull from her bag. "Toyami-kun," she mumured as she pet it with her knuckles, "you know how paper cuts sting? Being torn apart burns." She turned towards them, twitching. "It sears as they rake through your flesh, like they've dropped you on a campfire. It radiates from the cut throughout your entire body. You topple like you weigh tons and then it goes black and cold, creeping like winter. You know you're dying, and the slumber feels like release." Eyes wide, blood dribbled down her cheek. "Don't ever lecture me again. You work with the dead but you know nothing about the agony I was forced to suffer."
They had seen that played over and over, being Haruka's most emotional scenes, but Karin gave it such an oppressive, angry emotion over the grief the other talented actresses showed them. It sent shivers down his spine!
"That is all. Thank you."
Karin stood with a smile, her skull hugged beneath her chest, bowed, and exited.
There came more after Karin. Their acting was so pale in comparison. Karin gripped the skull with rage, the rest stroked it sadly. How was Haruka's anger not apparent to them?
He knew, then, Karin was perfect for Haruka's part.
Auditions for that day ended finally. Before he realized what was happening, he was roped into drinking with the other project leaders.
"'Ey, Hitsugaya-kun," Gin wrapped their arm around his shoulders, "who're you leaning to?"
"Hitsugaya-san, please," he said. "I liked the Kurosaki girl. The one who brought the skull prop."
Gin's permagrin fell. "That fag of all people? We're gonna get reemed a new asshole by the press if we cast her."
He set down his sake cup. Though stone-faced, he wondered, with hot blood, if he could get away with socking Gin. Gin was assholish always, obnoxious on good days and a fucking nightmare on bad. He remembered in the shooting of his first movie adaptation. Gin was just promoted and it seemed to have gone to his head. He frequently verbally abusive to the lady assistants, and he was ragingly homophobic on top of it all. Rangiku had to file a restraining order the year prior because of all the flaming texts Gin sent her after she turned down a date proposal from him. How Gin still had a job was beyond him.
He pried off Gin's arm. "If anyone is actually offended by Kurosaki's gender instead of murder, they need to take a good, long look at their priorities."
Gin folded his arms. "It's too political to have Kurosaki-chan play her. It'll detract from Haruka's character."
"I agree with Ichimaru," Sui Feng chimed in. "There's nothing progressive about your book. Casting her will distract from the point of the story itself."
"No it won't," he snort. "Kurosaki understood Haruka's character far better than any other girl we saw today, and far better than any other girl we'll see. We'll only be shooting ourselves in the foot if we cast any other girl."
"Oh yeah, 'cause a man wearing a skirt knows anything about how a woman feels." Sui Feng snort.
"That girl is not a man. For a lesbian, you're sure not treating your fellow LGBT folk well. You told me yourself community solidarity is the only way to obtain widespread respect," he barked. "You guys have nothing on Kurosaki but her gender and that's pretty fucking telling about her talent."
"Alright," Shunsui clapped to call their attention. "That's enough you guys. How about we take a vote after we finish auditions tomorrow?"
He swirled his sake in his cup with a sour frown. Old people were the worst.
Finally, he sighed and gathered up his phone and his wallet on the tabletop. "I'm headed home. You guys have safe trips home," he said.
"You too, Hitsugaya-kun," Shunsui told him with a toast.
He wished movie-making was like writing- less political, dedicated to the art rather than profits. Some publishing companies weren't as kind, but for the most part so long as they made money most publishers didn't seem to care much to police content. The same couldn't be said for the film industry. So much talent slipped through the cracks with the concern the movie industry had for image.
Finally home, he sighed, and then changed into more comfortable apparel. His apartment was chilly, he fond of cooler temperatures. It made him alert and sharper, even when his chest and arms raised with goosebumps.
Even in the hollowness of his home, he was too angry for that emptiness to reach him with any poignancy. He was too angry to even write.
His phone buzzed on his nightstand with Momo's picture. Gladly, he picked it up.
"I'm so glad I can talk to someone sane today."
His sister laughed sympathetically. "Hello to you too," she said. "I'm sorry to hear that, though. Was your day that shitty?"
"You have no idea." He combed his fingers through his hair. "You'd expect I'd know talent when I see it, but apparently my team thinks I'm a fucking moron for deciding to cast a transwoman."
"Wow, that does suck. Maybe you could threaten to go indie. If that's their only issue, they know the movie adaption will make them a ton of money and they don't want to lose that."
"Momo, that's diabolical." Nonetheless, he chuckled. "I wish it was that simple. I would go indie if I could. There are a lot of benefits going through a studio, though."
She hummed. "I wish I could do something to help, 'Shirou."
"It's okay," he assured his sister. "I'm sure I'll find something to convince these guys by the time we gather a full cast."
"I hope so too. You worked so hard on the Haruka trilogy. It'd be a downright embarrassment if they cast some B-grade actress over your pick."
"Anyways," he grumbled, "how's it going on your end?"
"Just finished catching up on bills for the gallery. I love the tax exemptions for charity events, but catering was a bitch. Three grand for a shitty dinner for sixty people, like fuck me sideways. I left a nasty Google review solely for the price-quality ratio." Momo sighed over the receiver. "I'm just glad it's over with. I hate these high-society events. Always so snooty. They remind me of Sousuke and I have to physically refrain from jumping down their throats."
He laughed. "You could probably fit too."
"Don't encourage me," Momo snort. "I should let you go to bed, though. I just wanted to check up on you. I missed you lots, you know."
"I do," he smiled. "Love you, sis. Good night. Get some sleep."
"You too."