DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.
NSFW. Lemon.
Additional Author's Notes at bottom of the page.
Also: I know I've been behind thanking everyone for their support and their reviews/comments. If I haven't responded, please forgive me! It's truly been a super busy month. Thank you, though. I treasure all the reviews.
Chapter XX: Metamorphoses
"Do they do this all the time?"
Yashiro was looking over at Motomi-san, who looked as embarrassed as Yashiro felt. Both of them were avoiding looking at Ren and Kyoko, who had come together like the end-scene of a particularly sappy drama and were now totally lost to the waking world as they kissed. If Yashiro didn't know better, he'd have sworn they'd were a single entity, joined at the mouth.
Motomi was tying the boat they'd taken to the ryokan to the dock for the night.
"Just recently. I think Kyoko-chan was in denial most of the summer," the boatman whispered back.
In denial? Yashiro thought. There's a girl alive who can be in denial over being in love with Ren?!
Motomi-san smiled at Yashiro's incredulous look. The entire ryokan's staff had been watching the young Okami-san-to-be fall in love for more than a month now. They'd been rooting for her, hoping for the best—and when it was clear she and the 'mysterious VIP' were finally 'together,' they'd been elated. What could possibly be better for their Kyoko-chan than a man who looked like a prince, treated her like a queen, and was obscenely rich? All of them had seen how heartbroken Kyoko had been when she'd arrived back from Tokyo. All of them knew how Sho had treated her. Some of them even remembered the bruised child running after her mother. It had been their personal, live-action romance, and its satisfactory conclusion had them all floating on clouds alongside the two lovers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yashiro saw Ren's hand run down Kyoko's back, intensifying his kiss as he did so. He was half afraid the couple would venture into outright indecency—he had no doubt that they would continue if left uninterrupted…because it seemed as if neither one of them remembered that they weren't alone.
Yashiro coughed discreetly…only to be disappointed. The lovers kept kissing, and he found himself exchanging a look with Motomi-san as Ren's hand found its way into her hair.
"Ahem!" he said.
He saw Kyoko give a sudden start and then break their kiss, looking down at the ground and blushing furiously. But any hope of bringing Ren back into some kind of restraint was dashed as he watched the actor laugh and lift the protesting girl by the waist. He spun her in the air as she squealed indignantly. "Ku—REN!" he heard her say, and Ren stopped their spinning, having somehow secured her in his arms despite her efforts to squirm away and maintain her composure. Yashiro watched as Ren just grinned at her. He had Kyoko held aloft in his arms. She looked down at him, her cheeks flaming red in the amber light.
"It's all your fault," Ren told the girl. "You're being excessively adorable." A glare found its way onto her face before she remembered to try and keep her face neutral. But then they were looking into each other's eyes again, almost as if they couldn't help it—and then he saw the girl push Kuon away as he pouted. Yashiro found himself blushing alongside them. It was adorable, but they were profoundly lucky the ryokan was so isolated. He was elated and appalled and concerned all at the same time. He'd thought that jumping off the boat this morning was perhaps a one-off, an impulse brought on by having to leave the girl for the first time. But it was clear now that Ren wasn't 'going back to normal,' at least if today's interactions were to be considered.
Kyoko finally managed to squirm away from Ren and fell instantly into a bow before Yashiro. "I am so sorry, sir," she said. "I have failed in my duties. Please, let me welcome you—"
"Kyoko-chan, this is Yashiro," Ren said. "My manager."
"I've heard so much about you," Kyoko said, almost wailing. "What must you think! I—I—-"
"It's quite alright, Kyoko-chan," Yashiro said soothingly. Whatever else happened, it was clear that this was the girl who'd turned his charge's life on its head. Whether she would be a force for good or for ill, Yashiro didn't know yet, though it was clear she was no manipulative ingenue out to take advantage of Ren for money or for fame. After that shameless—and yet utterly delightful—display, Yashiro observed the couple as they walked up the path to the ryokan. Kyoko was trying very hard to act like a normal hostess, animatedly talking about their dinner selections, and pointedly, if ineffectively, trying to engage all three of them in what should have been dull, polite conversation. Something about it being their last chance to try the summer menu. Something about how nice it would be now that the hottest days of August were over. It wasn't working. Ren was smiling at her with a look so tender it made Yashiro ache, and Yashiro himself was too busy watching both of them to respond coherently to her inquiries as to his preferences in green tea.
He was watching as their bodies gravitated towards each other, entirely unconsciously. Yashiro saw Ren instinctively react to her movements, watching his arm come up behind her whenever she turned, watching him brush a stray lock of hair off her shoulder. She was more self-aware—but perhaps too obviously so. She steadfastly kept her distance from Ren, avoiding his touch whenever she could. For a brief second, he thought she looked familiar—but where could he possibly have recognized her from? Yashiro saw her attempt to keep her distance from Ren—she had such wonderful poise, shoulders back and her center of gravity over the heels of her feet. It was obvious that she'd had training on how to act and stand properly—even when she'd bowed to him on arrival her fingertips had been aligned 'just so.' But he could see how flustered she got in Ren's proximity. Whether or not they were doing it deliberately, they were moving as a pair. Yashiro had never seen Ren act so young, so unguarded, so…happy.
It all underscored the fact that the publicity machine would have to be manipulated just right. If Ren truly couldn't help himself from acting like this, then Yashiro was doomed. I knew I'd have to pay someday for having such a dream client, he thought. Where had his client's fabled self-restraint gone? He'd known Ren's schedule intimately for the past few years—he knew better than anyone else in the world that he hadn't dated that entire time. Oh, there was the occasional outing with a co-star, but never anything that ended in anything more intimate than the briefest of hugs. For a boy who oozed sex in front of the camera, no one had been more monk-like than Ren Tsuruga.
When they were finally in the building, Kyoko turned to Yashiro, checked him into the ryokan, and then turned to accompany him to his room. To Yashiro's surprise, Ren accompanied them. "Oh, Lory put him in the Wisteria Room?" he asked. Kyoko merely nodded, and Yashiro was left to note the odd familiarity Ren had with the place, as if he'd spent time intimately getting to know each hallway. Soon enough, Yashiro was opening the sliding door into his room.
"Yashiro-san, will you be joining Ku—Tsuru—Ren-san for dinner? The kaiseki?" she asked, stumbling over her words. Yashiro looked nonplussed at the iterations of Ren's name that she'd choked through. He'd never questioned the fact that Ren Tsuruga was a pseudonym, though the artist had never deigned to explain to him what his real name was.
He ventured a look over at the actor, who hadn't noticed a thing he'd done since being reunited with his Kyoko. "Yes," Yashiro responded, noting the flash of annoyance that surfaced on Ren's face and was gone so quickly he asked himself if he'd just imagined it.
"Then I'll bring two trays over to your room, Ren-san," Kyoko said. "Please excuse me."
She made a quick exit, moving so efficiently that Ren spun to look at her as she left the two men standing there. "Did I—" Yashiro was half-afraid he'd answered 'yes' too quickly. For years, he and Ren had eaten dinner together after shoots. Not every shoot, of course, but enough of them, and certainly more often than not when he was shooting on location. "—I didn't crash your dinner, did I?" he asked hesitantly.
Ren gave him a tight, polite smile and Yashiro gulped. "Of course not, Yashiro-san," he said. He was already turning to look at her retreating back, walking quickly but gracefully down the hall in her kimono.
"She's…lovely, Ren," Yashiro said. Ren whipped back around to look at him, and Yashiro endured a second of terror as a flash of possessive jealousy overtook his face, and then again, it was gone. Ren was back, gentlemanly as ever.
Ren exhaled, a long, drawn-out breath.
Yashiro grinned. "You'll have to figure out how to control your face better, though, especially once Lory sees it."
"My face?! What?"
"Ren, I thought you were going to kill me for a second there for saying she was lovely—"
"I would never do that."
"For this girl? I think you would."
Ren paused. "Yeah. I think I would." He met Yashiro's eyes and grinned.
Yashiro shook his head. Focus. This romance had serious consequences. "Listen—this thing…with Kyoko-chan—we need to talk—Lory—your fans…even Kana…!" He understood exactly what Ten had meant this morning. Ren was most definitely not using his head.
But Ren had turned away. "We'll deal with it when we have to," he said. "I'll let you get settled in," Ren interrupted, "I'm in that room down the hall."
Yashiro knew when he'd been dismissed. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll be there shortly. But Ren?"
"Yashiro?"
"Don't think you're off the hook."
"What do you mean?"
"You know we need to talk about this. All of this. You aren't acting like yourself."
The actor fixed him with a steady, clear-eyed look. "On the contrary, Yashiro-san. I'm acting like myself for the first time in years."
Yashiro harrumphed. "If you did what you just did out there in Tokyo, there would be riots."
"Are you saying we shouldn't be together?" There it was again, that edge in his voice.
"Of course not! I've never seen you so happy. And she's utterly charming. But perhaps a little bit of restraint might be in order? I…never thought Ren Tsuruga in love would be so exuberant."
"Kuon."
"Kuon?" What is he talking about now? Yashiro was confused.
"My name. My real name. It's time you knew."
For what must've been the tenth time that day, Yashiro's mouth gaped. For years and years, Ren had been silent about his past. Everything—his parents, where he grew up, where he picked up that extraordinary martial arts ability—even his excellent English, for heaven's sake—had been a mystery. And now, without any warning or fanfare whatsoever, this nugget of information had dropped onto Yashiro's lap.
"It's a secret, obviously," Kuon said. "But I trust you'll keep it." He smiled at Yashiro's dumbstruck face. "I'll see you at dinner." He turned on his heel and walked away.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Dinner, when it came, was either frustrating or delightful, and Yashiro didn't know which one it was. The food was exquisite, there was no doubt about that. Kyoko had come with the promised dinner trays, but to his surprise, she'd made Ren—or Kuon—or whatever he wanted to be called now—a generously-sized omurice instead of the exquisite dishes on Yashiro's tray. Ren's eyes had lit up, happy, apparently, that she'd made him the exact dish he'd been craving—and then he refused to eat it unless she joined them for dinner, too.
She'd blushed and dissembled. "I don't want to interrupt your important dinner with Yashiro-san, Ren," she told him. There was something unreadable in her amber eyes.
For a second, Yashiro saw him look like a puppy who'd been kicked. "You…haven't…did you eat already?" he asked.
"No-o-o," Kyoko responded, "But it's alright. I have a plate for myself in the kitchen."
"We've shared plates before."
The girl was blushing such a deep shade of red that Yashiro sincerely began to worry if she was having an allergic reaction of sorts instead of merely blushing. "That's hardly appropriate, Kuon," she said.
Kuon reached for her, but Yashiro saw her evade the reaching hand like a kunoichi. It was masterfully done, and Yashiro couldn't help but wonder how much practice she'd had in evading similar reaches. Drunk patrons? he thought. She looks as if she knows how to evade oji-sans who've gotten a little too grabby.
But she was already halfway to the door, and then, quick as a shadow, past it. "Yashiro-san, Kuon-kun," she said, bowing, "Please enjoy your dinner."
Yashiro saw Kuon frown and then sigh. He could see that the actor wanted to chase after her—could almost see Kuon weighing his options. Ren, the consummate gentleman, would not run out on his manager to chase after a girl that had so clearly wanted to enforce some kind of boundary. Kuon, apparently, would. But Ren won out, and soon enough, was quietly eating the omurice. For a while the two of them sat in silence and he was left to his own musings. The news about Ren Tsuruga having a girlfriend alone would probably fill the news cycle for days.
Kuon told him, tersely, about meeting this girl—a fateful meeting in sunrise woods, apparently. Their summer was a fairytale, but surely Kuon knew he couldn't stay here…right? What would he do after the Ring Doh sequel finished shooting? Sure, he'd been thrilled and excited when Kuon had finally broken down and told him about the girl in the car, but now that he'd seen them together, Yashiro was Concerned.
He'd anticipated—even looked forward to—seeing Ren finally get a girlfriend. The boy worked so hard he deserved someone as a partner, someone he truly loved. Yashiro knew that when that happened, his workload would necessarily increase. But Yashiro had always figured Ren's future girlfriend would be someone like Kana—a person in the same industry, possibly with an agent and a manager of her own to help manage the PR campaign. This girl, lovely as she was, was seventeen. Perhaps they had her guardian's permission, perhaps she was legal to marry, but when push came to shove, Ren was twenty-one years old—a full-grown adult—and she was a teenager. A teenager in high school. With the way they were acting, there was little doubt as to exactly how intimate those two were. Ren's professionalism, so ironclad in the past, had slipped. He had faith in the actor, certainly, but who knew how the filming here would go?
"Re—Kuon—" he ventured.
"It's fine for now, Yashiro-san, if you want to keep calling me Ren," Kuon said absentmindedly. "I…wasn't planning on going public with that yet."
"What are you planning on going public with, then?" Nothing like being direct. He had so many questions—did he want to ask about Ren's true identity, finally? Or did he want to address the matter of Kuon all but molesting this girl out in public and in front of her coworkers? No, it's gotta be Kyoko-chan, Yashiro thought. Kyoko-chan was the conflagration he needed to address right away.
The boy coughed and looked away. "I've always supported you," Yashiro said. "And I'll support you now. It's clear that you care for this girl—she's utterly delightful—but surely you know you can't act in public like this."
He was met with a glare as Kuon looked him in the eye. And then again, it was gone. Kuon sighed. "I know—but I can't help myself," he responded.
"You've worked hard—too damned hard, honestly—these past few years. And you've kept yourself scandal-free," Yashiro continued. "Goodness knows there's always another actor or musician or someone getting caught up in unsavory scandals—"
"Kyoko is not some unsavory scandal—"
"And I never said she was. But you want to control this. You want to control that messaging. Not the press."
"She isn't some dirty little secret."
"Ren," Yashiro said, letting the word hang in the air. "It's one thing to love someone and date someone. But you have to be careful—it's an entirely different thing to manage it out in the open when you're a celebrity. We'll need to work with Lory. We need to do something about Kana, for heavens' sake!"
"Lory's been apprised of the situation. He sent me here to begin with," Kuon replied. "And I told him the same thing."
"He never explained why he sent you here, though."
"He wanted me to remember what it was like to be 'happy.'"
"To be happy? Were you not happy as Japan's number one actor?"
"Perhaps not really. It felt nice to do a good job on something, but there's a difference between feeling satisfaction and feeling happy. I didn't get it until I met her again."
Again? Yashiro didn't press the issue. "I have my work cut out for me. And Ren—no, Kuon—this girl—if you want to protect her, you know you can't put on displays like you've been doing today."
"I know," his charge responded. Glumly. Resentfully, even.
They spent the rest of the meal 'discussing' Kyoko-chan, Kuon explaining what felt like a half-baked pie-in-the-sky scenario in which the two of them would live happily ever after as a couple despite her obvious ties to the ryokan here, her age, and his given profession. He didn't want to berate the boy, not exactly, but to slow him down. To make him see the consequences of his actions a little, perhaps. Yashiro shared a good deal of Lory's opinions—on acting, for one, on professionalism, for another. Unexpectedly, the two of them agreed about love—particularly where Ren Tsuruga was concerned. There was an entire period, early on in his career, during which Lory would engineer random dates for the young actor. But though the young man had been unfailingly polite, he never sought second dates. Not even once.
But Yashiro left Kuon with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Ren, or Kuon, or whoever this changeling was that had taken over Ren Tsuruga's body needed a good shaking. He needed to call Lory, for sure. He needed to pin down the actor tomorrow—during their car ride to the set, maybe, and make him talk about it. Because Yashiro was afraid that this new Ren would just declare his love out into the world from a tower—and then the press would have a free for all. Probably at Kyoko-chan's expense.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Much as he loved the man, Yashiro had missed every hint to leave him alone. Kuon wanted to see her. Couldn't wait to see her. Had been in agony for the entire day waiting to see her. He thought she might come back to grab their dishes, but the dishes had been cleared by someone else. He thought, then, that perhaps she'd come by afterwards. He'd showered and brushed his teeth and combed his hair and half-hoped she'd walk in on him in the shower and join him…though perhaps that might've been wishful thinking. He didn't think she'd be quite that bold yet. He didn't want to take time for a full bath when she could be back any time now.
Pacing, back and forth through the length and breadth of this extraordinarily large suite.
Still no Kyoko.
She hadn't said anything about coming back to him after finishing up post-dinner, but he expected her. It was almost a routine. Before last Saturday, they'd spend the nights…just together. At first there had always been some excuse for her to find him, or him to find her. Sometimes it was her homework. Or his questions about the next day's chores around the ryokan. Her making sure he ate. Later, they stopped making excuses to see each other and it was just talking, or simply sitting on the couch. Kyoko would park herself at a respectful distance from Kuon, and he'd invariably find a way to creep slowly closer until he could get his arms around her. And the past three nights…he hadn't left her side.
He had all sorts of things to tell her—the set, how Ruriko wasn't there, how Shingai had noticed he was different. How coming back to the set as Ren Tsuruga after a summer of being Kuon had felt like walking around in a hot, stuffy costume. He wanted to give her the phone he'd bought. He wanted to tell her he was considering—not quite abandoning Ren entirely, no—but becoming less of an automaton in public.
But more than anything, he wanted to touch her.
And she wasn't there.
Where is she? Kuon thought. He remembered the half-glare she'd given him when he'd grabbed her on the dock, but he hadn't let her seeming displeasure dampen his exuberance at seeing her again.
The idea gave him pause. Oh, he thought. Was that it, then? Was it an aversion to public displays of affection? Was it the fact that Yashiro and Ten now knew about them? Or was it something else? Thoughts came and went in his head and he kept pacing. Was it work? Perhaps now that the summer was over, Yayoi-san was requiring her to work with the rest of the staff as she'd done before he came along. Or was it something worse? Something about him and the changes that had taken place today. Could it be…could it be that she wasn't attracted to Ren Tsuruga!? Maybe she didn't like the darker hair. Maybe she didn't like his brown eyes!? Perhaps she'd felt pressured and the fact that they'd separated for the afternoon was the excuse she needed to avoid him. Maybe that was why she'd pushed him away when he arrived—perhaps it wasn't Yashiro interrupting their fun after all.
He shook his head. Just that morning, she'd told him she loved him for the first time.
He was thinking like a madman.
He didn't know why, specifically, she hadn't come to see him…but he did know there were far more logical questions he should be asking than worrying over Kyoko's eye and hair preferences. A tendril of anxiety began to crawl up his spine. Bits of conversation he'd had came back to him. 'Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend should be beautiful," she'd said on Saturday. "What does she think?" Lory had asked that morning. "What are you planning on going public with, then?" Yashiro had asked just minutes ago. Ren had thought his plans sounded logical—until he attempted to explain them aloud to Yashiro. And maybe she'd thought the same thing. Maybe she'd known better than he did how things would be once he started working as Ren again. Maybe she'd changed her mind about being with him. Perhaps she even regretted sleeping with him.
Ren Tsuruga would not have acted impulsively the way he had today.
He owed it to her to have a level-headed conversation about their future. He owed her his undivided attention with the head that had his brain in it, and not the other bit. He did one last circle around the room, finally coming to a stop at his door. It's not as if he were truly a guest, was it? He'd spent so much time this summer in the service of the ryokan he was almost positive he knew every single place where she could be hiding. He would find her.
His nerves finally got the best of him and he finally strode into the hallway.
=.=.=.=.=.=
She wasn't in the kitchen. Or the office. Or the hallways, the dining rooms—nowhere.
The last place was her dingy little room, and he found himself knocking on her door.
"Kyoko?" he called out softly. Rustling on the inside. Scurrying steps. He tested the doorknob and found it unlocked, and then there she was, again, with no table or wall or third party between them. She'd changed out of her work kimono, and was dressed casually in a shirt and some sweatpants. Sleeping clothes, he thought. Was she going to bed, then, without saying goodnight to him? The prospect of a Kyoko-less night was bitter, and he swallowed a small bolus of sadness as he looked into her eyes.
"Kuon?" she responded.
"Why…why didn't you come?" he asked. He was overcome by a sudden wave of shyness. "I thought you'd come. I was waiting for you…I thought you'd come back, like you always do after dinner."
"I…didn't want to interrupt your evening with Yashiro-san," she said. "I figured you two might have had some more discussions—new roles, or something."
"Yashiro had me all day today." She was so close he could smell her, but he was hesitant to touch her, all of a sudden. "And he's a very efficient guy. We had all the business taken care of before we even got back here."
She was against the far wall, mindlessly tidying up an already tidy desk.
"Kyoko?" he ventured. "Is…is something wrong?" Part of him hadn't wanted to ask the question but he clearly saw that something was bothering her.
"Is it…is it because I look different now?" he asked. "I'll take the contacts off if you think it will help. Is it…off-putting?"
"What?" She looked up from her tidying with a puzzled look on her face.
"Am I…am I not attractive to you as Ren Tsuruga?" he asked.
She stared at him. It was an absurd question, no matter how one looked at it.
"Kuon," she said, "are you…drunk?"
=.=.=.=
He doesn't look drunk, Kyoko thought to herself, though how he can ask that question with a straight face is beyond me. He looked as anxious as she felt. She wasn't mad at him, not exactly, though the expanding circle of his acquaintances that now knew about her was giving her pause.
He grinned at her ruefully. "No, of course I'm not drunk. How could you even think that?"
"Because…" And just like that, the tiny bubble of levity burst. He looked at her sadly…and she realized that her absence had, in fact, unexpectedly hurt him. Perhaps not a big hurt, nothing so grand as a heartbreak—but the look on his face told her that he'd taken her absence as a kind of rejection.
His hurt was a counterpoint to the subtle seed of anger that had been growing since the incident with Yashiro on the dock. She hadn't gone to see him because she didn't know what to say to him. She hadn't gone because she'd just realized that for all the time they'd been together that summer, they hadn't really talked over the logistics of the future—and now that future was bearing down upon her and she had no idea how they would proceed. If he was truly trying to be discreet, why had he told Ten-san and Yashiro-san so glibly? She'd been prepared to maintain her distance publicly, but his actions made it impossible to do so.
She needed to get her thoughts together, and she couldn't do that when his proximity was distracting her. All she had from him was a bundle of vague promises—a promise of some vague support from Lory, support from him, days spent shuttling between Kyoto and Tokyo on the weekends. Marriage afterwards, somehow, if they managed to survive that long. 'We'll make it work,' he'd said, on the night they'd first kissed. She hadn't realized until Yashiro's discreet little 'ahem' on the dock that their blessed isolation and anonymity at the ryokan was over—though admittedly, she should have been more anxious about the paparazzi last Saturday.
Summer was over and Kuon would be leaving sooner rather than later.
She didn't want him to know how much this upset her. She'd spent the afternoon missing him terribly, and now that he was back, she told herself that she needed to ask him—seriously, and without the distraction of his body, this time—how, exactly, he wanted to navigate the double minefield of fame and distance.
But now he was in her room and before she knew it she was in his arms again and the sweetness from his lips was like a drop of honey harvested from the comb. What was it about him that made her lose her head like this? She was a thinking girl, a rational girl, a girl who'd once made a choice to live a life based on practicalities alone. But with him, she burst into flame at the slightest provocation. All he had to do was appear, and she was lost.
"I missed you," he said, his voice hoarse. His forehead was against hers, his eyes looking beseechingly into her own as he cupped her face and leaned further into her. For a few seconds he just looked at her face, his hands gently tracing the curve of her jaw. He was never going to get over the shock of her existence. "God I missed you." He was touching as much of her as he could, as if to remind himself that she existed.
"It was just an afternoon," she said softly. She breathed him in, the scent of his cologne, the scent of his clean skin just underneath it. She was trying to keep herself from losing her head, but her hands were clutching at him, caressing him, moving him closer to her to calm the burning need to press herself against him. "I missed you too," she whispered. "I missed you so much." The words came out in a torrent. "I kept wanting to talk to you…or ask you things…I kept looking for you…"
"It was an eternity," he murmured between kisses. She couldn't help the tiny moan that came out of her mouth as his hands found their way into her hair. He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her forehead, down the curve of her neck—not even the tips of her fingers were spared as he reacquainted himself with her body. It was as if he'd been gone for a year and not a day. He nuzzled her ear. "I love you, Kyoko," he said, and she trembled at the feel of his breath on her skin.
"...there were tall things and I couldn't reach them!" she exclaimed. She heard a small chuckle as he kissed the curve of her collarbone.
Her resolve crumbled like a house of cards, and soon he had her pinned against the wall just as he'd done that morning in the coat room. She had no bed to offer him—her futon was still in the closet, waiting for her to make the bed. They were frantic, moving desperately against each other as their bodies sought completion. Her hands were desperately peeling his shirt off of him and he was doing the same, his kisses only stopping long enough to allow her shirt to come over her head. Hands pushed down her pants, and then hooked into her panties—she did the same to him, brushing against his arousal as she pushed his boxer briefs down to expose his erect member.
"I owe you," she said, falling to her knees. She reached for his shaft, her slender fingers curling around it, and she looked up into his eyes as she brought her tongue to lick the head of his cock, and then to engulf it in her mouth.
He moaned as she made contact but he grabbed her head. "No," he said. "I want you. Now."
She gasped as his hands fisted into her hair but didn't pull. Instead, he forced her to look up at him. The Emperor looked into her eyes, laying her lust bare. There was no hiding the fact that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She rose off her knees, dazedly, only to find his hands around her waist. He lifted her up into his arms and forced her legs apart and around his back as he held her suspended in mid-air. Sparks flew where his skin touched hers. She could feel the wild pace of his heart against her chest. He leaned her against the wall as his hand took his cock, coating it with her wetness before lining it up with her entrance.
"You owe me," he growled. She cried out as he buried his cock within her, clinging onto him and trusting that he'd hold her up off the ground. His body pressed hers up against the wall as he began a relentless pace, wringing out her moans as he drove into her. He was so impossibly long and impossibly wide, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself from making the sounds she was making. Was that really her? Was it her body making those lewd cries? Was it her body that dripped wetness for him? He bit into her neck and she gasped sharply, digging her nails into his back as she held on for dear life.
"This, my love, is fucking," he told growled into her ear. And it was. There was nothing tender about this. It was hard and fast and merciless, with little more than the two of them attempting to discharge the frustration of having been apart too long. He redoubled his pace as she writhed against him, feeling the pressure build inside her. She felt impossibly full of him—every stroke rasped against that spot, and soon—all too soon—she was clenching around him as he thrust deep into her and filled her with his own release.
She sagged against him, feeling weak. She had the feeling that if she attempted to stand, she'd merely fall into a heap on the tatami. For a while she stayed in Kuon's arms, his softening cock still inside her. She nuzzled into him, wanting nothing more than to stay there forever. He held her calmly and easily, unwilling to set her on the tatami.
"I love you," he said. "I want you to sleep with me tonight." And every night. There were some things that were beyond the act of sex, and right now, what mattered wasn't so much the sex so much as it was spending their time together. He hadn't quite gotten his fill of just basking in her presence.
"Mmm," she said, and then squirmed until he set her back down on her feet. She swayed unsteadily, feeling the wetness between her legs.
"We need to talk," she said, "before anything else happens. When you're here with me I just…I can't…I can't think."
He nodded silently and grabbed his shirt and pants and went to get her a washcloth, coming back to find her dressed in some semblance of decency. He took her by the hand and began leading her back to his room.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
She was sitting on the bed beside him, holding the phone he'd just bought her. She'd tried to refuse, at first, and then she'd offered to pay for it. It had taken all of his cajoling just to get her to accept it. He finally won out by convincing her it was imperative that she have it just in case there was an emergency at the set, and rounded out the argument by showing her that it would be instrumental in proving he'd finished his bentos.
And now she was unwilling to climb into the sheets just yet. "Kuon," she said. "Please. If you insist on touching me we'll never be able to talk."
She was right, of course. He didn't trust himself to keep his hands off of her. But he knew as well as she did that this conversation was quite overdue. Kyoko was a smart girl—even if they'd both been party to some indiscretions today, even if they'd both been carried away, it had been his behavior that had proved problematic. After cleaning up in his room, she sat down, insisting he keep his distance. She'd made him think back on the events of the past three days—the date, its aftermath, the state of delirium they'd both been living in since then.
"You know I can't keep coming to your room like this," she told him. "Yayoi-san made such a huge exception this summer—normally we would never even dream of fraternizing with a hotel guest. But momiji season is coming and the ryokan will only get busier…and now that you're Ren again, it'll just be weirdly visible. More and more people will see us, Kuon."
"Surely we can be discreet about it," he responded. "I went a little crazy tonight, but—"
"A little? Kuon, I—"
"OK, more than a little crazy, but—"
"I admit that I'm partially to blame for this," she sighed. "I'm not used to this, Kuon! But with you, I feel…" She trailed off.
He grinned. "You feel…?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "Like it's just right. Like I couldn't stop it if I tried. But we have to, Kuon!"
"Lory asked me a question this morning, and I realized I didn't have your answer," he said. "He pointed out that I was just assuming what you were thinking, without having discussed things with you."
"No, you haven't," she said. "You haven't discussed anything with me. You said we'd have to hide this. But you told Ten-san and Yashiro-san within seconds, Kuon!" She looked up at him, a glint of anger in her eye. "You didn't even warn me."
"I trust them. I know them—"
"But I don't know them, Kuon. It's my secret too, and my future."
He looked at her, stricken. He heard the rebuke in her voice and felt more than a little like an asshole. "I—I'm sorry," he said. "I was so caught up in the moment. Woods-san has known my secret since I first got to Japan, and she's one of the most trustworthy people I've ever met. And I thought—I thought she could help you. Especially when I saw that scarf."
"I forgive you," she responded. "And I did understand. But the dock—"
"Yeah."
"You have to help me, Kuon! Because I can't—when you touch me—"
He knew he'd been at fault. Kyoko had been in perfect Okami-san mode, and he had no doubt she would've fooled even Yashiro if it weren't for him. "We'll have to be strong together."
"Yes. No more kissing in public."
"No more kissing in public." He frowned and reached out for her hand. She gave it to him. "Do you want to go public with this?" he asked. "I'd like to. I'd like the whole world to know what we are, who we are to each other."
"What will people say if they knew you were dating a seventeen-year-old?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters more than you think." Her voice was soft. "I'll be starting school again in a week, and if people knew…It'll just be so much harder to survive. I love you, Kuon—I know what that means now. But I'm not dropping out of school to be your girlfriend."
"I'd never ask it of you!"
"I know you wouldn't.
"And you have a career to think of."
"My career will be OK."
"The guy's career is always ok, Kuon." She paused. "But if dating you makes me infamous…what do I do about university? What if they link me to this ryokan?"
"Between LME's publicity machine and Lory, I think we can at least control the tabloids."
"You say that…but need I remind you that I've seen the fan forums?"
"Not even the fans can argue against destiny, Kyoko."
"You'd tell them the story?"
"You wouldn't?"
"I…don't know." Kyoko thought about the long hours she'd spent holding Corn-the-rock for company, believing all the while that Corn truly was a fairy prince. It had been her secret treasure, her superpower. "The idea of everyone knowing about it—it makes it feel cheap somehow."
He'd been holding her hand, and now he took his fingers and intertwined them with her own. He paused for a second, waiting for her to protest. When she didn't, he moved behind her on the bed to cradle her, eventually holding her loosely as she leaned back against him. "I understand," he said. "When I got back to the set, I felt like a zoo animal. Everyone was staring. It made me feel so exposed, all over again. Even if I've been living like this for years. All it took was a summer. I don't want to have all that small talk with strangers."
"'So how did you two meet?'" Kyoko mimicked.
"'So when is the wedding?'" he responded. "Yeah. The talk shows are going to be insufferable. But I'd do them for you. I want you there with me."
"Why would I be there with you? I'm not a celebrity."
"Maybe because I'd insist?"
"I'm not sure I want to be famous for being your girlfriend, Kuon."
"But I don't want to hide you, either. I don't want to pretend you don't exist."
"I…don't think I want that, either. But perhaps…perhaps we should wait until after I graduate."
He thought about it a second. "As you wish. I think I'll be able to survive that. And it'll give Lory and Yashiro time to prepare. I'll tell Yashiro in the morning."
"Kuon?"
"Hmm?"
She went silent again, and he could almost hear the gears spinning in her mind. "What, love?"
She blushed. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." He kissed the round knob where her arm met her shoulder. "Come on."
She hesitated. It seemed a particularly brazen thing to say, and yet he was the one that brought it up constantly as if it were a fixed fact. "If we get married, people are going to have to know. The records are going to be public.…You know as well as I do that I can't marry Ren Tsuruga, Kuon."
He sucked in a breath. Part of him was elated to have her acknowledge this very dear part of his hopes for the future. But she was right. Kyoko Mogami would not, could not marry a fictional man. "I'm working on it."
"Working on it?"
"I…think it's you. I think you've changed me. In a good way," he said, and hugged her tighter to him. "Shingai noticed. I think…maybe I hadn't realized how rigid Ren Tsuruga could be."
"Rigid? You were an asshole."
"Ouch."
"You threw a defenseless girl out into the streets, Kuon!"
"Ugh," he said, "I'm never going to live that down, am I? To be fair, I thought she was at LME for nefarious reasons."
She giggled. "I mean…you weren't wrong," she said.
He laughed. "But I think…maybe I can try being more myself on set. Not less professional, no. But maybe less fake."
She snuggled into him further. "Yeah…I think you should, too."
Her warmth and proximity made it easy for him to let go of the anxiety he'd been holding on to all day. "Kyoko Mogami will marry Kuon Hizuri. I will work tirelessly to make that happen," he said.
"Mmm. You're so sure of that."
He whimpered and nibbled her ear and then turned her chin to face him so he could kiss her gently on the lips. "I'm sure of it," he said.
There was no need to keep his hands off of her after that.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Earlier that evening…
"What do you mean she's not coming?" He'd be lying if he claimed he'd never fantasized about it, but now that it had happened, Shingai didn't quite know what he was going to do.
"I'm so sorry, Shingai-san," Ruriko's manager was saying. "Ruriko-chan is currently busy in New York. She says she refuses to do the movie unless we move the production schedule back a few months."
Shingai shook his head wordlessly at the voice coming from the phone. More like swanning around with that flashy new American boyfriend of hers, he thought. Out loud, he said, "Impossible. It took months to get this shoot ready. The other cast members have other commitments. Or did you forget we're shooting with Tsuruga-san?"
"I have endeavored to remind Ruriko-chan of how her cast mates rely on her presence in order to produce a worthy film," the manager said. God, Shingai thought, she sounds like a call center employee for defective electronics. He was of half a mind to ask for her manager just so he could yell at someone.
"She understands that she's under contract, right?" Shingai groaned. The production company had already received funding from Ruriko's uncle's firm, predicated on Ruriko retaining her role. He wasn't sure if there could be a movie at all if she didn't participate. Lory had brokered the contract as an executive producer for the company—he wasn't certain whether they'd have to give the money back. We shouldn't have to! he thought. It's not our fault she's not here! For a while he contemplated just walking away from the project himself. The first movie had been damaging enough—goodness knows the cast and crew and post-production had done the absolute best that they could. But it was not the movie he'd wanted to make. "Is her uncle aware of the situation?"
"Mr. Huang is aware of the situation," the manager said. "He regrets it too. He'd been hoping Ruriko would take to acting."
"Nevermind his hopes," Shingai said with a snarl. "I have a movie to make, and I have no idea what Huang will do about the funding."
"I have it on good authority that Mr. Huang will not withdraw his funding for the effort if the failure is due to his own niece shirking her professional responsibilities." The voice on the other end paused. "We apologize for the inconvenience."
"It's not an inconvenience, it's a travesty."
"We apologize for the timing, then. That's something I have no control over, Shingai-san."
"If she walks away, this is it. It's for real. This isn't going to be like the last movie when she threatened to quit every other day and throw a tantrum and then expect everything to be normal the next day."
"I know."
"And I'll be replacing her. As soon as possible."
"I understand, Shingai-san," the woman said. "I truly regret the fact that you don't wish to wait for her, but also sincerely understand."
"DO you understand?" Shingai was beginning to lose his temper and then took a deep breath. It wasn't this poor woman's fault. He'd seen first-hand how she'd tried to curb the worst of Ruriko's excesses during the last movie. "Listen, she could have informed us she wasn't going to do the movie months ago. Instead she waits until we've spent god knows how much money getting the cast and crew and set together and then she doesn't show!? Who does that?"
"Again, Shingai-san, I apologize for Ruriko-chan's inability to attend shooting in Kyoto."
"I will not wait to begin the process to find her replacement," Shingai responded. "I will be memorializing this call via email to you so that we are clear regarding what we discussed."
"Very well, Shingai-san," she said. "Goodnight, Shingai-san."
"Goodnight."
Shingai hung up the phone and dropped his head into his arms. So Ruriko was out. He'd have to talk to Lory again, see what was in the talent pool available for actresses. He sighed. The talent pool was small. And given the short suspense on the project, he had a feeling that the better actresses would be unavailable. Was delay inevitable, then? They'd already spent so much on readying the on-location shoot.
He sat back in his chair and groaned, vaguely considering what his next steps would be. He had no doubt that Ruriko would come running back as soon as a new actress to the project was announced. But he had no desire to cater to Ruriko this time, particularly when it was clear that her uncle would go forward with funding the movie.
He smiled. The pool of actresses was small, but it was likely a blessing in disguise. He'd have the chance, now, to make the movie he'd wanted to make in the first place.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Author's notes: Hey there! Sorry this chapter took so long to update. It's been a particularly busy month for me. Thank you for reading! I really appreciate reviews and feedback, so please let me know what you think.
This chapter was a little bit of a dumpster fire, but it was a transition chapter—all I can say in my defense is that I disclaim any and all warranty for fitness for a particular purpose on this one. And I 100% acknowledge the fact that the lemon is COMPLETELY gratuitous. But…I had already written it, and I didn't want to cut it out and not use it.