Skip Beat! characters are property of Yoshiki Nakamura. Story is my own. Here's a long one to make up for short length of last chapter. Enjoy!
Ch 3 - Dancing With Sharks
Five minutes after the musician departed from L.M.E. with a copy of his signed contract in hand, Lory Takarada made two phone calls. The first was to inform a certain woman of Fuwa's guaranteed participation.
The other was to the team he had placed on standby. "Begin," he ordered, grinning into the phone. Like a boy on the eve before his birthday, the President could scarcely wait for what the morrow's dawn would bring.
Kyoko and Kuon had been up late last night, unpacking and putting away things in their new home—when they weren't busy christening each room—and had slept in even later. It had been wonderful, pure bliss. Lory had called while they were snuggled on the couch, in the midst of an attempt at productivity in finalizing their invitations, reception menu, and flower arrangements.
The rich aroma of coffee and homemade pancakes sweetly mingled in the air. A light breeze blew in from the still open window playing with the tendrils of Kyoko's long dark hair, fanning them into a frame around her face. Kuon watched as Kyoko ended her call with the Boss. She set her phone aside and looked up at him, smiling softly and the afternoon sun caught in her amber eyes, lighting them with a heavenly glow. Kuon's breath caught. He was awestruck, once again, by her beauty, by the realization that somehow this glorious angel loved him, wanted to be with him, would soon be married to him. He was the luckiest man in the universe and he told her so as he tilted her chin up and gave her a scorching kiss that left them both hot and breathless. Unfortunately, the actor also knew they would get nothing done if they continued in that manner so he went to grab something to cool them off.
"I take it things are going well with your side project?" he asked as he opened the fridge and took out a chilled water bottle. Surely talking about that guy would kill his libido.
Kyoko gulped down the water he'd brought her. It did nothing to satisfy her particular thirst.
She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, he reacted as I predicted." Kyoko was trying, with all her might, to censor her thoughts, but not even discussing that guy was doing the trick. All she could think about after that electrifying kiss was her need to have more of Kuon.
Her fiancè smiled wryly. "I know what it's like to be your own worst enemy." He leaned over and planted a kiss atop her head. "Sometimes you need a little help to snap out of it."
It took Kyoko a moment to realize he was relating Sho with himself and she shot him a look as she remembered the times Setsu had saved her precious brother Cain.
"Okay, maybe more than a little," Kuon amended with a chuckle and she smiled.
"I've helped you but you've helped me so many times too and that's how it should be. Shotaro's too stubborn and too far in denial to ask for assistance. His problem is the opposite of what mine was. I was living to please those few people who I felt gave me anything resembling love, while Sho is living solely for himself, loving only himself." She took another drink. "I'm simply returning the favor of setting him on a life-changing path."
As many times as Kuon had wanted to pound the musician's face over the years, he understood Kyoko's feeling of indebtedness. Knowing that the guy hadn't stood a snowman's chance in hell didn't hurt either, though he had been foolishly jealous before, regrettably. The irony of the situation was that the musician's selfishness had led to Kyoko's awakening, to her branching out, which in turn had forced Fuwa to see how amazing she was. To see the glittering gem he had possessed and tossed aside instead of polishing and treasuring.
Kuon looked at the sparkling diamond on her left hand and looped his fingers with her own, bringing her pinky to his lips for a kiss as he had long ago in an elevator far, far away.
"I love you Kyoko," he said.
Kyoko never knew what prompted him to spontaneously say those words, but she adored it, adored him with every fiber, every cell of her being. She flushed and gently stroked his cheek with the thumb of her other hand. "I love you, Kuon."
They gazed into each other's eyes and the atmosphere grew charged again, primed–until Kyoko reluctantly cleared her throat, deliberately breaking the spell.
"I-I'd better call the florist back before I forget." She reached for her phone and stood. "Please look over the menu and let me know which options look best to you." She looked away for a moment, then met his eyes again, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. "Let's just focus on getting this done and then we can…"
"Continue where we left off last night?" he finished.
"Yes!" she squeaked and disappeared around the corner, phone pressed to her bosom like a medieval nun clutching a cross to ward off temptation.
Sho toweled down and smirked at himself in the mirror. A few months of working out for at least an hour a day had sculpted his body just the way he'd hoped––he was chiseled. (It had nothing whatsoever to do with a magazine spread featuring a particular shirtless long-time rival and said rival's fiancè who also happened to be Sho's childhood friend). Forget swooning, the next time he got on stage they'd be mopping the ladies up from the floor, especially if he wore something sheer. Of course that would require some damn lyrics and composition. He'd considered performing without new content, but he had always performed at least one of his newer songs whenever he took the stage so he'd chosen not to perform at all. Days had turned into months with no progress or shows.
…And now he was back to thinking about the infernal contract he'd shoved into a drawer as soon as he'd returned from L.M.E. Sho leaned forward until his head rested against the mirror and closed his eyes, heaving a sigh. Who am I kidding? He pushed off the mirror, got dressed and flopped himself down on his sofa after retrieving a beer. Tomorrow morning he'd attach the accursed body cam, but he was determined to make the most of his freedom in the time being.
Flipping through the channels, he stopped on the Arama Entertainment Network and suffered through annoying celebrity gossip until they began their ranking coverage. Results for the Most Desirable Men in Japan Contest were the main topic and Sho chugged his beer to drown his nerves. That unnaturally tall bastard Tsuruga or Hizuri or whatever the hell he was calling himself now had left Japan for the American market the year before so he hadn't been included in last year's running. Sho had narrowly routed Koga Hiromune (who, unknown to Sho, had cursed the singer with his every breath for an entire month) to take top spot, but the victory had felt hollow.
Like everything else these last months.
Considering how neither he nor presumably his manager had been contacted, he knew he couldn't be number one this year. Consumers were fickle as hell. Fans were still pissed he'd canceled his tour and his lack of new music coupled with his disappearance from the public eye had damaged his popularity. His name was…sixth. Shit.
He took another swig, emptying the can and went to pour himself something stronger at the minibar. Thus, his evening was spent mixing and doing shots of drinks with names he wished were indicative of his circumstances.
The next morning the cameras in his apartment, along with the bodycam, went live at six. Sho failed to roll out of bed until eight. His regret for the two shots he'd downed after the Panty Dropper was nearly as strong as the heartburn in his chest. It wouldn't have surprised him if he started breathing fire.
One unsavory avocado toast later (he was trying to eat healthy to maintain his figure, but stubbornly refused to give up alcohol) and still rubbing at his aching chest, Sho slipped down to the attached market to buy some Ohta's Isan tablets. He tossed three of them back with a glass of water and stepped out of the building, the long ago words of a certain pigtailed little girl preaching the benefits of fresh air playing in the back of his mind. It was a little too crisp outside, however, with the night chill still lingering in the air. The musician shivered and turned to head back in.
In the reflection of the door an unmarked van screeched to a halt directly opposite his position. Four masked men hopped out and Sho's body tensed, hand freezing on the door handle. He might have wondered if he was in real trouble if it weren't for their tacky shark-patterned suits. It was too early for this nonsense, but he should have expected something would happen right away. Make a break for it down the street? Sprinting anywhere would be a very bad idea–the stupid tablets hadn't kicked in yet. Head back to his room? What if they had the code to get in somehow? He wouldn't put anything past the Ministry of Evil's henchmen.
He heard footsteps running towards him and turned towards the sound, resigning himself to their theatrics. The bright and beautiful sun shining in the clear blue sky was the last thing he saw before a cloth bag was fitted over his head, his hands were bound, and he was tossed into the van––onto a softly padded interior.
"Yo," Sho's muffled voice called to no one in particular after a couple minutes. "Where are you kidnappers taking me?"
They answered by turning on the radio, high volume, and scrolling through the channels until they stopped on some morning talk show that was discussing the rankings for the most desirable men contest.
"Don't you think, Keiko-chan?" a male commentator said.
"You're absolutely right Haru-kun, Hiromune Koga must be thrilled! After years of trailing behind The Gorgeoustar, he still somehow lost to Fuwa Sho last year. However, the musician's lack of public appearances–"
The sound went all crackly, static–
"–and borderline Narcissistic Personality Disorder–"
What did she just say? Sho cocked his head and leaned towards the front of the vehicle.
"–and canceled tour has brought Fuwa Sho down to shockingly low levels."
"Indeed," Tanaka agreed. "What's more shocking is how–"
–Static–
"–Mister Can't Write New Music Because of His Wounded Pride never apologized to his childhood friend for using her and discarding her like a dirty snot rag–"
How the—what the–– "Hey!" Sho yelled. "What the hell!?"
"–And that brings us to our commercial break. Stay tuned for our exclusive interview with Japan's number one–"
–Static–
"–which isn't you Fuwa, so shut up already–"
Sho's teeth clacked shut. Sweat beaded on his brow. No, there was no possible way this was actually airing. Neither did it seem likely they'd be recording this with their zillions of little cameras either. Kyoko would rather go to her grave than reveal their history together.
But it doesn't implicate her at all, a slithering voice whispered in his ear. It makes you sound horrible, which isn't exactly a lie, is it? She worked three jobs to pay for that posh apartment you wanted and—
Sho punted the truth snake away for the hundredth time with his usual swift kick of denial, telling himself the same tired refrain: It wasn't his fault Kyoko had followed him around like a lost puppy. She could have said no when he'd asked her to come with him.
"–coming up next."
"Indulge yourself," a sultry feminine voice purred, "in a world of unparalleled beauty and delight with Mikimoto's Enchanted collection–"
Sho sat in cushioned silence for the rest of the trip. Nothing further happened with the radio, but he had to, begrudgingly, admire their handiwork—it took a considerable number of resources to pull off this kind of stunt. But if they think this is enough to get under my skin, there's something wrong with their psych evals, Sho scoffed.
When the van finally stopped he was lifted out and led firmly by the wrist to the interior of a well-lit building. Bright light eked through the rough fabric along with a faint chemical smell.
"Yo, at least take the hood off my head." Aside from being thoroughly annoyed at having to wear it, it was beginning to itch like a fiend.
"No," said the dude on his right.
"Not a chance," said the other simultaneously from the left.
Shame his captors weren't women––they definitely would have come to an agreement.
Sho planted his feet. "I'm not walking anywhere until you take this damn thing off," he growled. "AND unbind my hands."
One of the men heaved a sigh and addressed the other. "Rock, paper, scissors?"
His companion chuckled. "Sure."
Underneath the hood Sho wore a thoroughly confused expression, nearly identical to one Kyoko Mogami had worn once upon a time when the musician had delivered a huge bouquet of flowers and informed the budding actress that she looked really stupid as she gaped at the floral monstrosity. Fortunately for Japan's number six, there was a bag over his head.
The dude who had sighed let out a triumphant, "Ha!" Apparently he'd won–whatever it was.
Warmth pressed behind Sho's thighs and against his back as strong arms lifted him off the floor and began carrying him. Like a princess.
"W-wait!" Sho squawked, squirming against the guy cradling his body to his chest. Which really wasn't a good idea–he did NOT need to know that the dude had ridiculously firm pecs to match his bulging biceps OR a light cedarwood scent OR pleasant minty breath. "I'll walk, I'll walk! Put me down!"
"Too late," said the wintergreen giant. "The way you were dragging your feet, this is faster anyway."
Sho cursed under his breath, eliciting a low throaty laugh from his captor who continued his effortless carrying of the 160 pound male.
Any time he got involved with anything related to Kyoko something extra weird always happened. That mess with the beagles, that persistent creep in the mask who'd said he wanted to touch him, that blond, arrogant American bastard who'd somehow fooled ninety-nine percent of the world's population into calling him prince. But this was happening on camera and Sho was quite certain he was never going to live it down.
It was a relatively short walk, but it felt much longer to princess Sho who was ardently devising ways to salvage his image. A door creaked open and after a few steps he was finally set upright.
Sho cleared his throat. "Appreciate the assist bro, my legs were worn out from my late night activities," he said.
The guy snorted. "Yeah right." He leaned forward, patting the musician on the shoulder, and snickered. "Have fun, jackass."
Fun had already been murdered alongside Dignity and dumped into Tokyo Bay.
Just as he was about to demand his freedom again, the ties disappeared and the cloth was lifted from his head. Sho rubbed at his wrists, blinking away the darkness as he scanned the room he'd been deposited in. Two well-lit vanities had been placed against one wall where a female makeup artist was timidly asking a woman to tilt her head this or that way and close or open her eyes as she applied cosmetics. A table laden with light snacks and a beverage dispenser containing water rested against the adjacent wall. In the center was a smattering of plush seating with a low table set between.
The cosmetologist stepped back and offered a shy smile. "You're all set Midori-san." Her eyes flicked his direction, "and the other participant has…arrived."
"Thank you, Emi. Excellent work," Midori said, "though I'm not entirely sure why we're bothering since I'll be in a costume for most of the time." Sho couldn't see her face, but he could hear the warmth of a returned smile in her voice.
Midori tucked a strand of her auburn copper hair behind one ear with a manicured hand and stood, turning to face Sho who was suddenly glad he'd taken the time to wash his face and brush his teeth that morning. Eyes a striking shade of Imperial jade stared at him from a gorgeously soft heart-shaped face. Sho found himself hungrily drinking her in, eager to slake some thirst he'd been unaware he needed to quench—her willowy figure, all curves in just the right places, the delicate, smooth plains of lightly tanned skin on her bare legs, the swell of her breasts under the very very tight little kuma tee. Sho had never cared much for history, but the one story that had struck a chord with him was the myth of Helen of Troy, the woman whose otherworldly beauty had started a war. Had Midori been born in ancient times, the musician had no doubt the bloodshed would have been much much worse.
Great Scott, how does she survive going out in public?
The corners of her mouth pulled her full lips into a smile, but her gaze was cold. A sinking feeling swelled in his gut. Few women were immune to his charms, but those who fell into that slim category were about as welcoming as a mukade––always pissed off for some reason and highly aggressive.
"I'm Midori of Lucky-M," she said with a small, frigid bow.
"Fuwa Sho," he responded politely, though it was obvious she already knew who he was. He quickly tried to place where he'd heard of Lucky-M. Fortunately he remembered quickly. "Ah, Pochi's group." Lucky-M was a J-Pop idol group comprised of four girls whose first names began with a M. He'd received a poster of the group as a gift when they'd first debuted, but hadn't given it more than a glance before stuffing it in a closet.
"Yes, Mimori-chan is my colleague. She mentioned your name for her, but I didn't quite believe that you referred to her as a dog. How…sweet." The girl's hostility was on par with her hotness.
Sho shrugged. "She likes it."
Midori crossed her arms and flashed a radiant smile so frosty Sho actually felt a chill. "Of course," she said.
This woman he had never met hated him and he wondered what Pochi had been telling the girls in her idol group. Nothing good, but he supposed that shouldn't surprise him considering how thoroughly he'd been ignoring her. It had been a while since he'd felt an aura like this. Kyoko's hatred had been like a category five typhoon. Midori's loathing reminded him of Kanae Kotonami, current number one actress in Japan, and Kyoko's best friend. Sho had had several blizzard-like run-ins with that one, the first of which had left him pissed off and totally unsatisfied since she'd snatched his onigiri right from his hand and he'd been forced to eat one of the normal ones.
Regardless, it appeared Sho was going to have to summit this mountain despite its attempts to turn him into a human popsicle. "It's nice to meet you Midori-san." He brushed his hair back and donned his most charming smile, holding back a smirk as he noticed how her lips parted slightly as she took a tiny step back, blinking. Guess she wasn't so resistant to his appearance after all. "I don't suppose you will tell me where we are and what we'll be doing together?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You really don't know?" He shrugged. "I hadn't pegged you for a philanthropist, but I see this is just a publicity stunt for you." If words could bite, Sho's jeans would now be stylishly ripped. "The great Sho Fuwa isn't known for making time for anything other than himself."
"Actually, I make time for a variety of pursuits, especially involving women."
She laughed, sharp and cutting. "I imagine what you do with women doesn't take long at all."
That's it. "Listen up, Ice Witch," he said and took a step towards her, only to be blocked an instant later by a dude in khaki slacks and a polo shirt who was smiling so widely it had to hurt.
"Okay," the interrupting gentleman said. He had been patiently waiting off to the side for them to finish their greetings and had hastily stepped in when the conversation turned hostile. "I think you've had enough time to get acquainted. I'm Yamada Kuni, Director of the Pediatric Oncology Department." It was Sho's turn to blink. He was in a children's hospital? "I wanted to extend my heartfelt appreciation to you both for your participation in this charity event."
Midori, who had thawed the instant the Director appeared, greeted the man with a deep bow. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Yamada-san." Her mouth tightened. "As you may have already heard," Sho could see the beginnings of tears glisten in her eyes, "I lost my twin sister when we were seven so this is a matter I am deeply passionate about."
Yamada nodded sympathetically and spoke his condolences while Sho could only grimace. Sho never knew what to say in situations like this, which is why he avoided them like he avoided flirtatious flat-chested girls. Of course the MoE would bring him here and make him look like a clown. Of course she'd be pissed–it didn't look like he was taking anything seriously.
"Anything I can do to put smiles on children's faces is worthwhile," the idol finished.
"I admire your commitment Midori-san," Yamada proclaimed a bit too cheerily for Sho's taste. The man shifted to address them both. "Let's get you into your costumes for the younger children's songs first. We've arranged for you to perform a few of your own hits next with a surprise duet for the finale." The Director winked, "Don't worry, we've chosen a popular song that will be familiar."
Sho felt their eyes focus on him and realized he hadn't done his own greeting yet. He shoved his hands into his pockets and offered a nod. "Nice to meet you and thank you for this opportunity."
What else could he say? That he wasn't thrilled that his first time taking the stage in a while would be to sing children's songs in some kind of costume? Could it get any worse?
Naturally the instant he thought that, it did.
"Fuwa-san, I understand you've been experiencing performance anxiety? Please let me know if you have any problems. No one will hold it against you if you are unable to get up," Sho's eye twitched and Midori covered a snigger with a cough, "on stage."
Okay, that was intentional. And everyone here along with whoever sees Watch Me! when it airs will totally hold against me! What kind of stupid name for a TV show is that anyways? It sounds like a voyeuristic porno!
Sho plastered a smile on his face to mask his growing irritation. "I was taking a professional break, Yamada-san. Please do not place stock in rumors."
"Very well then," Yamada said with another face-splitting grin. "I'll be on my way."
Emi filled the space the Director vacated, arms shrouded with pink and blue cloth. Hanging from the crook of her arm were also what appeared to be rabbit and tiger ears along with ogre and turtle masks.
Sho silently chanted no pink, no bunny over and over as he asked, "Uh…what am I going to be wearing?"
"Please turn around Fuwa-san," Emi said, "and hold out your arms."
He did as asked and the stylist outfitted him with a blue hoodie. A shark one where the hood looked like the creature's head with an open mouth, full of fabric triangle teeth.
He was beginning to sense a theme. "Sharks again?"
There was exactly one popular kid's song with sharks. He groaned out loud.
"You know," Midori said as Emi slipped on her matching pink toothy attire, "doing good for others comes back in unexpected ways Fuwa-san." She zipped it up and pulled the hood over her hair "It won't kill you to stop thinking about yourself for a bit. Let's go." She took the masks and ears from Emi, turned and began walking to the door marked Stage.
"A lack of participation in charity events doesn't make me a bad guy," Sho muttered.
"Doesn't make you a good one either."
Sho scowled. Her ass offers a damn fine view, if only she'd keep her mouth shut.
Midori felt his eyes on her backside and sighed. Too bad he's such an idiot. Why are the sexy ones always jackasses?
Sho stepped through the door. The stage was about as large as most of the ones he'd graced in middle school. Wide-eyed, smiling faces filled the room, though Sho's eyes caught on a few that looked less enthused to be present. Sho could relate. Midori greeted the crowd and introduced them, a task Sho was all too happy to allow her to undertake.
The music began with an ominous da, duh–da, duh that picked up speed and changed into a catchy dance beat. Midori flashed him two fingers, grinning and Sho reluctantly nodded. They were going to sing it twice through. Ugh.
Professional pride wouldn't allow Sho Fuwa to do anything less than his best. If they wanted him to sing and dance then hell, he was going to knock it out of the damn park.
He wouldn't let them win.
=x=x=x=
Shoko Aki sat towards the rear of the Recreation and Entertainment Room at the National Cancer Center Hospital. A long, straight black wig covered her normal brown tresses and a pair of oversized sunglasses adorned her face. She wore a modest sakura print dress that didn't quite do the job of hiding her voluptuous body, but considering Sho's tastes, she thought it would work well enough––especially given the extremely gorgeous young distraction he trailed behind as he took the stage. Sho's eyes were circling around her figure the way the moon orbits the earth. Or maybe she ought to say like a shark circling its prey. Shoko had to admit he looked awfully cute in costume, but she wished he would stop ogling poor Midori. If she were still his manager, she would've chided him but…that wasn't her job anymore.
When Kyoko had told Shoko their plans for Watch Me! (she imagined Sho loved the title) and Akatoki had wanted someone nearby to monitor the situation and smooth things over should something unforeseen occur since Daisuke couldn't be involved, Shoko had volunteered. The musician had expressed no interest in philanthropic pursuits previously so Shoko wasn't surprised it had taken a literal kidnapping to get him involved. She wished she could have convinced him otherwise back then. Better late than never.
The music began with a pulsing da, dah–da, dah like that classic scene from the American movie with the killer shark. Seemed like an odd association for a children's event…Until it suddenly switched into a dance beat. The pink and blue sharks on stage began bobbing to the beat and Shoko grinned. This ought to be interesting.
She took a drink of water. As she was about to swallow, Sho sang, "Baby shark doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo," in a cutesy little voice while making little hand motions to the beat.
Half the water in her mouth spurted directly onto the back of the poor gentleman seated in front of hers head and the other half tried choking her to death. Tears streamed from her eyes as she sputtered and hacked and cackled and tried to apologize to the man who had turned and was now glowering at her. Shoko produced a towel from her purse, a habit she had formed as Sho's manager that apparently she hadn't kicked, and asked the man to accept, with her apologies.
Sho, meanwhile, was singing in a deeper voice and making larger moves for the daddy shark. He was completely into it and the kids loved it. They were singing and dancing, mostly seated, right along with him. Some children in the back had their phones out to record the performance. Sho looked sweet and handsome and it was precisely what he needed–to stop focusing on himself or his stupid image for a while and get back to the basics of putting smiles on people's faces.
At first Midori had seemed stiff towards her fellow performer, but his glowing sincerity had softened her to the point where she was gazing at Sho with eyes that were just as appreciative as his own. Next time Shoko saw Kyoko Mogami she might just have to kiss her, she was as genius as ever when it came to her childhood friend's psyche.
They sang one more round of Baby Shark then threw off their hoodies. Sho exchanged his for tiger ears and Midori put on an ogre mask to sing Oni no Pantsu, followed by a turtle mask and rabbit ears, respectively, for Usagi to Kame. Each song had its own moves to perform and Sho never let up.
Midori announced they were taking a short break and would return to sing some of their original works. Shoko eyed the boy standing a foot to the side of her, against the back wall. She'd noticed him recording the show from the beginning.
She left her seat and slowly approached him, smiling. "I'll pay you three thousand yen to share the video you recorded."
The boy looked her up and down. Shoko could see the wheels of his little entrepreneur brain spinning behind his big brown eyes. He smirked. "Make it five thousand and you have a deal, Oneesan."
"Agreed."
He's going to be some trouble when he's older. He air dropped the video and she handed him the cash, which he promptly counted.
"Pleasure doing business with you," she said dryly.
The boy slipped the money into his back pocket, grinned and resumed his spot against the wall. He probably thought he'd hustled her, but the video was priceless.
Shoko scrolled through her contacts and selected Kyoko Mogami before pressing send.
Minutes later, across the sparkling blue Pacific, Hollywood's most beloved couple collapsed from excessive laughter in their new Malibu Beach home.
A/N
Great Scott- had to give a nod to Sho's inner nerd after learning what is fav. childhood movie was.
Kuma tee- cutesy little bear shirt.
Oni no Pantsu- a song about an ogre that wears pants made from tiger skins (no joke lol)
Usagi to Kame - the hare and the tortoise
Mukade - Giant nasty centipede