A/N: My favorite chapter!! This was so much fun to write, and I just had to mess around with Kyouko's acting ability and Sho-chan's reaction. Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who's read, subscribed, favorited, and reviewed! Reviews help so much with writing, so keep 'em coming! Well, please enjoy...
There have only been so many moments in Kyouko's life that she didn't know what to think or say.
And as she was making chocolates in the kitchen of Shotaro's apartment, she was forced to admit that this what had happened at dinner was one of the big ones.
She had been so shocked she hadn't been able to think at all. This was worse than when Reino cornered her in the forest in Karuizawa. Then she could feel her own paralysis and could at least form coherent thoughts. But Shotaro's words had stunned her to the point of only being able to stare, unable to react to anything. The building could have caught fire and burned to the ground, and she'd only been capable of staring at the spot Shotaro had been.
Now, though, she was capable of plenty of reaction.
Angrily stirring the mixture with a spatula, she couldn't help but think about those damn words. What did they mean anyway? That he was trying to make it up to her? That he felt guilty, not only of throwing her chocolates into oncoming traffic, but of tossing her aside like a used tissue? Or was he just trying to get closer to her so he could make his ambush before she could launch her invasion? True, as of now he towered above her in the entertainment industry, and so she couldn't even try to touch him. He couldn't feel threatened by her yet! She still had a long way to go before she was a good enough actress to even shake his existence a bit. So why the offer? Was he trying to help her out? Like unsheathing the sword that would kill you, giving her a chance to further her name, thus insuring his own end? Why? She didn't know he was suicidal. What else did he have but music? He would never return to Kyoto, no matter how much he floundered in the industry, and he would never be able to get a regular job with his recognizable face now. If she forced him out of the business, he had nowhere else to go.
Unless he ran overseas.
The spatula stopped as Kyouko contemplated that. If he ran to America, and started his career from scratch, or maybe building slightly off what he had done in Japan, then he would be as far from his parents, and their world, as possible. His inheritance and old life would never matter in America, unlike here where his old life could mean the death of a career. Didn't he say on Bridge Rock that if the public knew his birth name, he could no longer stay in show business? But in America, they wouldn't care about his old-fashioned name. America would suit him perfectly, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted there.
So that's what he wanted! A reason to run away to America, and cut off all ties with Japan. He might even change his name to something English. And he was going to use Kyouko, again, to that end. That damn bastard…
Not really registering the kitchen around her, Kyouko abandoned her chocolates on the counter and stalked into the living room, where Sho and Shouko-san were sitting watching TV. Not caring what the hell what they were watching, Kyouko stood in the doorway, demons exploding from her body, destruction taking sovereign around her, and said as loud and firm as she could: "I will not be manipulated by you again, Shotaro!"
Now, let's back up a bit…
For having his sworn enemy in his own apartment, Sho was feeling fairly bored.
The bridge for the song was done, hammered out by a few minutes on the guitar and a few notes scribbled on some handy blank sheet music (he was forever telling Shouko-san to run more copies of it and so the apartment had them scattered everywhere) with a title for identification against all the other sheets. Dinner was over, and Kyouko was pouring out her feelings for the damn Beagle into the chocolates, so he had nothing to worry about from her. Shouko-san was flipping through the channels, never pausing on any channel for more than thirty seconds before moving on. Sho absently wondered what she was looking for, but couldn't be moved to care. Of the hundreds of channels they got through satellite, she'd probably settle on some news channel about the entertainment industry, because they both had to keep on top of the entertainment world. Not that news really mattered; if you had to rely on what was broadcasted on the news to keep up with the trends, you were already a week late in this crazy business. But one couldn't be too careful either, so the face of the anchorwoman on the Oricon Official Music Charts Channel was a constant presence in Sho and Shouko-san's life.
So when Shouko-san stopped at something that was obviously not Oricon, Sho looked up in surprise. What did she pick? It took his eyes a few seconds to focus on the bright screen, but when he did he nearly snarled. There, on his own television, was Tsuruga's face, hair blowing oh-so-coolly in the wind. A smirk crossed his "perfect" features as the wind blew his hair right across his eyes, and the camera followed the wind, going past his chemically-altered hair and danced across a large moon in the background. What the hell? Sho looked to Shouko-san, expletives nearly about to roll off his tongue, when a female announcer's cold voice came on saying: "Dark Moon…"
Oh. What Shouko-san said in the car earlier was meant to be applied tonight. Everything about keeping an eye on Kyouko and all. What game are you playing at, Shouko-san? thought Sho as he slumped against the couch, already destined for sprawling across the couch. Kyouko was in the other room. Surely she'd hear the opening and the familiar dialogue and know what Sho and Shouko-san were up to. She wouldn't allow herself to sink into the cooking-trance when Sho was this close to her. Not with the way their relationship stood at the moment. She'd be on high alert, her radar picking up nefarious intentions where none existed, and so blaring the theme song to her drama was probably not a good idea.
But Sho wasn't one for complaining, and as the camera found a fairly cute blond girl, he settled into the pillows, deciding to pass the blame to Shouko-san when Kyouko came in to confront him about it.
After the title sequence, Sho watched with vague curiosity as a giant mansion he recognized from Karuizawa appeared, milling with elegantly dressed socialites and devilishly handsome extras. Apparently a ball was being held there. Sho scanned through the crowd, looking for any notable actors or actresses. He couldn't find anyone he recognized, so they must all be fairly new. A pity; some of the girls were halfway cute. The camera moved inside the mansion, where even more people chatted and laughed inside a giant hall. Modestly dressed servants moved among them, offering drinks and appetizers. A section was roped off, apparently for musicians who would appear later. A harp and piano were already in place, ready for their players to begin. The camera angle changed, and Sho twitched in irritation.
There was Tsuruga again, this time with a pretty girl on his arm. The girl had long brown-red hair that curled at the end, and her dark dress suited the rather curvy figure wonderfully. The girl laughed, and Tsuruga joined in as well, though the laughter was muted, only instrumentals in the background. Sho narrowed his eyes in annoyance; there was no reason that any normal tuxedo would cling to a man's body like that, unless it had been tailored so. Damn cunning Costume Department.
With a bit of relief on Sho's part, the camera moved past the couple to focus on a woman behind the couple, watching them closely. She was older, in her late forties, early fifties, probably mother or aunt to Tsuruga's character or the girl's. Her outfit was more conservative than the younger girls', as dignifying her age, and her hair was piled on her head in a bun. With a scowl that seemed permanently etched on her face, she exited the bright room and walked through a series of dark, lonely hallways. The gloom of the hallways contrasted the lighthearted room she had just left brilliantly, displaying that the woman was comfortable in both. Eventually she came to a giant oak door, no different than the many others in the corridor, and she turned the handle to enter.
Inside was the blond girl from the beginning sequence, standing in front of a mirror, allowing servants to apply makeup on her skin. She looked into the mirror with apprehension, as if she was already thinking about the reactions she would face when people saw her in the green dress she was wearing. Nice choice, Costume Department. You've redeemed yourself a bit, thought Sho as he appreciated the way the dress showed off the actress's finer points, clinging to her tight waist and revealing shapely legs. The color brought out her eyes, but her eyes weren't the only thing that drew Sho's eyes upward from her calves.
"How is it out there?" asked the blond nervously as she noticed the older woman's appearance.
"Crowded. Busy. Chaos. A success, in other words," said the older woman in a dismissing tone. "When are you coming out, Mizuki? Mio and Misao have already made their appearances tonight."
"As soon as the makeup is done," said the girl, Mizuki, her eyes returning to the mirror.
The older woman sighed in impatience and watched as the servants put sheer, glossy makeup on Mizuki. Using movie magic to make the process much shorter than what it really was, in a mere minute Mizuki was standing before the woman, watching for approval.
The woman looked over Mizuki, a critical eyebrow raised, mouth set in a firm line. After a nervous minute, where the audience, had they been tuned in to Mizuki's emotions, would have sweated right along with her, but Sho merely yawned in boredom, the woman stepped aside and gestured for Mizuki to exit the room. The girl breathed a sigh of relief and with a fresh smile followed the woman through the dark hallways back to the ballroom.
Immediately after entering the ballroom, the woman disappeared from Mizuki's side, signaling the musicians to begin their ballad. Mizuki, disoriented by the woman's sudden absence, swallowed nervously and moved through the crowds to the edge of the dance floor, where couples were already swaying to the music. Mizuki smiled and watched as the tempo increased and the couples began to waltz.
Across the floor stood Tsuruga and the pretty brunette, engrossed in conversation with another couple. The brunette said something and all four laughed. As Mizuki watched them, she worried her bottom lip. Even though Sho knew next to nothing about the plot of Dark Moon, he could tell that Mizuki liked Tsuruga's character. Her smile disappeared entirely when Tsuruga leaned down to whisper something teasing in the brunette's ear.
"They make such a lovely couple, don't they?" said a low, but still undeniably feminine, voice.
Mizuki jumped, and as she turned around to see who said that, Sho jumped a bit as well. There was Kyouko, somehow combining her passionate hatred with all the manners of a born-and-bred lady, her short hair emphasizing her scar. The crowd seemed to part around her, leaving her in a little bubble with Mizuki. Sho, who knew a little of theatre, knew the extras weren't entirely acting, but honestly reacting to Kyouko's terrifying aura. He could practically see the little grudges popping up around her.
Mizuki, who Sho finally recognized as the girl from Karuizawa who got a six and a nine confused when she was trying to dial her director, recovered a bit and laughed a bit nervously.
"Mio!" she exclaimed, trying to act happy to see her but failing, "You scared me! You shouldn't creep up like that to people!"
Sho, who had been preoccupied by Kyouko's scare factor, started taking in other factors. She was wearing black, absolute black. Somehow the same color that would look seductive and mysterious on other women looked intimidating on Kyouko, bringing out that scar even more, and Sho couldn't help but wonder what the back story was on that scar. Kyouko's makeup was done differently than everyone else's on set. Everyone, especially the girls, had light, natural-looking makeup that highlighted their natural features, particularly the eyes and lips. Very few women had dark eyeliner on, and then it was very thin. But Kyouko (or should Sho call her Mio?) had dark, heavy eye makeup, with a very deep lip shade. Her cheeks looked bare, like she hadn't bothered with foundation. The dress did nothing to flatter Kyouko's slim waist or slender figure, even thinner than Mizuki, who at least had a bit of curve, but instead seemed to simply exist on Kyouko's body. It did nothing for or against Kyouko, but the message was still there: Don't worry about my clothing, dear companions. Focus on me, my words and actions.
So this is Mio, huh? thought Sho. Somehow, it fits you, Kyouko. Like an old outfit you haven't worn in forever that you thought didn't fit anymore. Yet you put it on again, and it still fits like a glove.
Mio cocked her head, looking Mizuki up and down critically, just like the older woman had done a few minutes ago, but sarcastically.
"You look beautiful, Mizuki," she said quietly, and though her eyes were anything but honest, somehow Sho felt the truth behind those words. She honestly believed Mizuki to be beautiful.
"Th-thank you, Mio," stuttered Mizuki, obviously having not expected a compliment, "So do you. The dress suits you."
Mio laughed at that, a twisted sound that could only be derived from a sick and sarcastic sense of humor.
"Liars burn. Remember that, Mizuki," Mio said, a glint of irony in her eyes.
Mizuki flushed. "N-no, You really d-do look nice tonight, Mio. Just in a stand-out way."
"You mean irreverent," corrected Mio, "My attire doesn't match that of an heiress. Really, you do look the part of a daughter of the Hongo family more than I do."
Mizuki, already pink, blushed to a full-out red, as if Mio's compliment was actually an insult or an embarrassment. Mio fell silent, prolonging the awkward moment even further, making even Sho feel a bit uncomfortable.
"Tonight's lovely, isn't it?" said Mizuki, trying to salvage the conversation somehow, "Your mother loves these parties, doesn't she?"
"You know she doesn't enjoy them in the least, Mizuki. She's just trying to find husbands for Misao and myself. And you, of course, if you should find one here tonight." Mio broke off here, her unblinking gaze moving past Mizuki to something behind her, "Speaking of marriages, I believe one is playing out right before our eyes."
Mizuki turned around and her eyes widened in pain as she saw Tsuruga and the brunette on the dance floor, spinning in perfect time to the music. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves fully, the brunette even laughing as Tsuruga dipped her back. The camera zoomed in on Mizuki's face so the viewer could get a full appreciation for the depth of the pain that Mizuki experienced just seeing those two dancing together so happily.
"It's a pity, Mizuki," said a cold voice, and Mizuki jumped as she realized just how close Mio was behind her, so close it was a near embrace. A pale hand descended on her shoulder, pinning Mizuki in place, "You really are beautiful tonight. But it seems Katsuki has eyes only for Misao."
A tear came down Mizuki's face, though she wiped it away quick enough.
"Why do you do this, Mio?" asked Mizuki in a quiet voice, "Why do you like seeing me like this?" Mizuki's voice broke.
"Oh?" asked Mio, "I'm not doing anything to cause you pain, Mizuki. I did nothing to get my sister and our teacher together. Is it so wrong to enjoy seeing my older sister with the love of her life? Should I be trying to tear them apart, instead? Is that what you want me to do, Mizuki?"
Mizuki's eyes widened, and though she was hanging off every word Mio uttered in her ear, her eyes followed Katsuki and Misao's every movement. She swallowed as Mio's other hand came up to rest on Mizuki's arm.
"W-why would you d-do such a thing, Mio?" asked Mizuki, now thoroughly uncomfortable with Mio's proximity, "You sh-should be happy for M-Misao."
Mio cocked her head again, nearly resting it against Mizuki's collarbone, taking a moment before answering.
"I should be glad for them, shouldn't I?" Mio said, smiling cat-like. "But you know," she raised her head to whisper in Mizuki's ear, "all I want is to see the Hongo family collapse." She paused as she allowed those words to sink into Mizuki's mind, the full weight of what she was saying settling itself. "And if my older sister, Misao's, happiness is in the way of that, then I will burn that happiness alive. If that happiness is love, then I will tear her and her lover apart. If that should occur, Mizuki," the girl straightened against Mio, somehow getting the two girls closer than they already were, "you know what you could do then, right? You could have Katsuki-sensei all to yourself, with only a heartbroken Misao in the far, far distance. You know my parents don't care for you, and don't consider you part of the Hongo family. I wouldn't stop you from taking Katsuki for yourself. The only thing left is you. Is it so wrong to steal your own bit of bliss out of the ruins of someone else's misery?"
Mizuki watched the cheery couple as the song ended and they stood, waiting with the other couples, as the musicians paused between songs. She was shaking a bit underneath Mio's tremendous weight, for even though Mio had only one hand on her shoulder and the other on her arm, it seemed like she had added a thousand boulders to hang over Mizuki's head.
"Y-you've always hated m-me, Mio," said Mizuki slowly, trying to reason through and find a flaw in Mio's argument, trying to escape the persuasiveness of her words, the images of Katsuki, her Katsuki, too sweet to abandon, "Why would you d-do this for me n-now?"
Mio snickered at that, and took a small, half-step back, giving Mizuki a little space, though she didn't remove her hands. She didn't speak for a long time, and Mizuki thought Mio would never answer that question. Mizuki returned to watching Misao and Katsuki, the most beautiful couple on the floor, even in the entire hall, dancing to a slow love ballad, and thought what it would feel like to be in Katsuki's arms, to feel his strength surround her and move to the gorgeous music with him. A sudden burst of jealousy ran through Mizuki, and she wanted to tear herself from Mio's grasp and wrench those two apart, and replace herself in Katsuki's arms. She was nearly shaking for want of it. Why was Mio holding her back? It was true, Mio always hated her. Ever since they were children and Mizuki first came to live with her cousins, Mio hated her for no real reason, it seemed. Was this another way to bully Mizuki, then? Dangle in front of her the thing she wanted the most, what she had been denied every day since her parents died, make her pant and yearn for it, the love she wanted to drown in, and then watch Mizuki as she fell back, unable to gain that love?
"I wonder," said Mio, so quiet Mizuki had to strain to hear it, "if you can lower yourself. I wonder if you can go so low as to steal a woman's lover from her and not care about her feelings, only your own. I want to see if you can do it. I want to see your decision; Misao's happiness, or yours. That's why."
And with that, Mio finally moved away from Mizuki, stepping back three steps, putting clear distance in between them. She effectively ended the conversation, and, with a final smirk, nodded to the couples on the dance floor.
"Well? What will that honey-sweet decision be, Mizuki? Dear cousin, I always hated you. Can you walk away from me tonight?" Mio smirked at Mizuki, and her eyes seemed to search the very soul.
"I will not be manipulated by you again, Shotaro!" came Kyouko's impassioned voice.
He screamed as he fell off the couch, trying desperately go get away from her.
Nearby, he heard Shouko-san scream as well, though she caught herself before it became too loud.
On the floor, Sho's breath came faster as he stared at her face, her face put in stark relief by the dancing light of the television. She stared at him, using those same eyes she used to search Mizuki to search him. Before, he wanted only to get away from her, to get away from that voice and those words, but now he felt trapped underneath her. She filled the room with her presence, and Sho knew he was every bit the boy he had been all those years ago, unable to stand to her tears and sorrow. Now, he couldn't stand to her anger and hatred.
"M-M-Mio?" stammered Shouko-san.
Kyouko raised an eyebrow, and, as her alternate ego Mio was confronted with Mizuki's question "Will you be my ally?", Kyouko answered, in perfect unison with herself: "I'll be anything you want."
The words stayed in the air, echoing themselves and refusing to dissipate, staying as a constant presence, the only thing still moving in the silence of the moment. Sho knew he would be shaking if his body could react to him now. Next to her conviction and fury, Sho was as big as an insect compared to a monolith. The moment seemed to swallow up an eternity or two in its mammoth jaws, and yet, as he stared back into those gold eyes, no time had passed at all. They were still children together, in Kyoto, being trained together to take over the Fuwa family business. One day they would marry. They had never grown up or moved to Tokyo. He never became a star or took up the guitar, and she never vowed revenge on him. She never knew acting, and never met any of the people she knew now. Vie Ghoul didn't exist, Mio didn't exist, nothing existed. Nothing but those two, Kyouko and Shotaro, bound together for as long as they could remember, for as long as time itself could remember.
"I…am not…manipulating…you…Kyouko," he said slowly, painfully, haltingly. It was vital she knew this, that she understood that he couldn't do anything to harm her now. He couldn't say anything else but those words, "Not…anymore."
Kyouko, knowing he couldn't lie to her in this state, nodded in understanding. She continued eye contact for a moment longer, and something wordless was communicated in that gulf of time, before she turned on her heel and walked back to the kitchen, leaving an out-of-breath and shaking Shouko-san, and a paralyzed Shotaro in the living room, the television still on, though neither heard any of the words.
For a second more they stayed like that, Shouko-san still gripping the arms of her chair, while Sho struggled to catch a breath from his disobedient chest. When he finally made contact again between neuron and muscle, his lungs filled with sweet air, and he still smelled her in the air around him. With Herculean effort, he got to his feet and sat back down on the couch, his eyes going to the screen as he watched from across an abyss as Katsuki and Mizuki met on a terrace, and exchanged words of undying love.