Something Wicked?! Acting At Juuban!
At Juuban Junior High School in Minato-ku, feverish excitement had broken out among the body of students: sign-ups had appeared like beautiful, transient, overly-melodramatic spring flowers around the halls of the school, demanding everyone audition for the yearly play. Acting sickness had descended upon everybody - well, nearly everybody - and attention was at an all-time low. This was no different for Nibaiakarui Kakera and her clown posse of equally fourteen-year-old friends, who were clustered around the sign-up sheets and yammering away excitedly.
"It's a Western fairytale, Snow White And Rose Red - "
" - so much better than the stupid Crane Maiden last year - "
" - oh, I couldn't act, I'd be sick, Yuri-chan! Put me down on the dancers, please - "
All the girls shrieked in teenage glee and scandal as Kakera - with one toss of her pale head - stole the pen off the hapless Yuri-chan and scribbled her name on the page. She had, of course, set the frilly little kanji (complete with little heart) on the line that asked for: MAIN ROLE. "Hello, as if I'd settle for anything less," she said. "Especially now that I have a UNIVERSITY BOYFRIEND."
A familiar sigh settled around the group. Kakera had been using UNIVERSITY BOYFRIEND as an excuse for most things, such as why she couldn't do her homework or why she had to steal from other people's bento boxes. It was agreeable shock tinged with more than agreeable envy. (They would probably envy her less if they met UNIVERSITY BOYFRIEND in person, though it wasn't a certain thing.)
"You're so cool, Kakera-chan!"
"You're so grown-up, Kakera-chan!"
"They don't usually give main roles to the junior school, though," persisted another friend, who was about to get Kakera's Cruel Green-Eyed Death Stare for her pains and her logic - "and I heard Shinzuirori-senpai was trying out, so one of the main roles is hers, because she's, like, professional. I heard Ran-chan say that she was actually in a movie when she was travelling, and that she's an actual movie star - "
"I bet she's NOT," said Kakera cattily, stung into jealousy, "especially not with those BOOBS and FRECKLES."
A terrible hush fell over the group. This may have been because a very different type of posse was standing behind them, and because Kakera's voice was very loud.
"Excuse me!" said a low alto purr behind them. The infamous Shinzuirori-senpai, with her troupe of slightly cowed classmates, had arrived in her usual cloud of cherry blossom perfume and the faint scent of temple incense. Her deep red curls had been helped along that morning, it seemed, and if lipstick had helped her lips get redder, the teachers hadn't noticed yet. Such was that odd little foreign way of hers. She produced a red pen from her pocket and smiled indulgently at the underclassmen gathered.
"Good afternoon," she said sweetly, "Might I get through to sign, please?" As the crowd parted, Kohaku focused on the source of that voice, the little white-haired child with the loud mouth. "Why, you must be new here, too! How delightful!" With little else to say, she signed, setting "MAIN ROLE" in kanji that brooked little argument. She then turned and locked eyes with her new rival. "Aren't you nervous, trying out for such a big role?"
The upperclassmen tittered in response. Kohaku held up a hand to silence them and flipped a curl from her eyes.
It was Kohaku: 1 to Kakera: 0; she only ever dared pink lipgloss, and there was Kohaku wearing lipstick. She towered over the smaller girl like a self-assured Amazon statue. (Pearl noted that, whatever anyone ever said, whatever anyone ever did, Shinzuirori-senpai's breasts were epic. You didn't get that kind of thing outside a low-quality fart-joke anime.)
But Pearl was Kakera, so Kakera smiled and simpered and giggled in her high-pitched way. Kohaku's hair-flipping was also epic: nothing loath, the younger girl flipped her own set of curls, thanking both the inventions of irons and tongs that produced them. "Oh, Shinzuiori-senpai! I'm never nervous! I think you're so cool! I know traditionally fairytale princesses are small and cute like me, so you must be trying out for the prince, right, right?"
Kohaku laughed as loud as she could while remaining ladylike. "Why, no, dear Nibaiakarui-chan! Can you imagine me in a boy's role? Oh, no, just Rose Red, which is, of course, an alto part and very difficult. But a versatile young lady like yourself, surely you're aiming for the Prince, ne?"
Two could play at the low blow game and Kohaku was not about to be outdone by some shrimpy little upstart with an EGL hairdo and "Dream Angel Blush" lip slicker. She puffed out her chest as subtly as she could and smirked like a cat watching a little white mouse.
"Oh, no, senpai!" The Dream Angel Blush lip-slicker lips parted in an angelic rosebud smile, while trying to subtly rise up on her tiptoes to get a bit of height back. It didn't work. "I don't think I could ever play a boy! I'd like to be Snow White. Don't you think I'd be so cute as Snow White?" (Kakera did not leave an opening for Kohaku to answer this to the contrary.) "So maybe I will play the kawaii sister, and you could play..." The pause hung in the air as she falsely struggled to find an adjective, and failed. "... the other sister! It would be MY DREAM to work with such a big star."
"The regal sister, you mean?" Kohaku asked innocently, without breaking her stride. Behind her, one of the newer recruits, tried a little golf clap and was quickly silenced by the others. "Yes, well, while studying in Italy, I did snag a minor role in Turandot. I picked up a few stage presence tips from the diva herself. I could show you, if you like."
The smile had yet to reach her eyes. This was leaving the skirmish stage and heading into all-out war. "See you at try-outs, then, dear." She turned, tossed a final, pitying look over her shoulder and sashayed away, the upperclassmen scurrying behind.
Kakera and Kohaku's names weren't the only ones scribbled down on the sheet, and certainly not the only ones for main characters; there were a couple princes, various enchanted magical creatures and evil goblins hanging around as well. (And a few angels, mysteriously, but since it was an adaption scribbled down and translated by one of the more imaginative English teachers that wasn't something people worried about. Most of the students didn't have more than the vaguest acquaintance with the story.) The rivalry between the two, though, had spread like wildfire, and the gymnasium was packed with as many spectators wanting to see as those who wanted to try out for the play. It was an early Saturday morning and the hot, linoleum-lined room had had doors flung open to try to cut the heat, morning cool turning into thick midday warmth.
The gym was split into partitions: the girls (and two confident-in-their-masculinity boys) who wanted to try out for the dances were getting run through to a much-repeated music track on a record player. Far less interesting lines were devoted to those worthies who wanted to do make-up, or could volunteer for costumes or stagehands or lighting - much less hours than acting, dancing or singing, and with equal payoff on their school report. Everyone who wanted to act anyway had to run a short gauntlet of dance steps, ostensibly to make sure they didn't have robot feet. Nibaiakarui Kakera had run through this with the confidence, verve and grace born of an acrobat who was actually about four years older than everyone else trying out for the same thing. To unending disgust, Kohaku had done the same thing with flair, style and startlingly light feet. Every squee and polite clapping Kakera had done for her was a middle finger, and the older girl knew it.
Then they were waiting in line, papers in hand, for the much more difficult part: singing. Pearl was a talented vocal acrobat, but only a severe kick in the balls would have netted him that high C.
"I love your outfit, senpai!" he trilled to her, as the line shuffled forward. Ahead of them, a girl wobbled on the B in time to the creaky piano. (Kakera herself was wearing a great deal of off-the-shoulder pink, and surprisingly modest and adorable sweatpants rather than the leotard every fourteen-year-old girl who considered herself mildly 'professional' had donned. Mystery, mystery.) "You look so cool!" (Kakkoi was bandied around a lot more than kawaii. The answer was obvious: you are not cute. I am cute, skank.)
Kohaku adjusted her black glittery shrug to hide the scandalous scarlet halter leotard and tossed Kakera a condescending smile. "And don't you look precious!" she gushed, "I remember admiring that sort of outfit when I was six!"
She ran through a few warm-up trills, rolling out an effortless, warm, alto, as mellow as milk chocolate. Kohaku wasn't sure why she was doing this. This wasn't Snow or any troupe, but it'd look good on her biography if she started early. Still, the only girls trying out were either simpering twits who had made clear they were standing up to "that red-headed elephant" and couldn't carry a tune in a bucket if you stapled the handle to their wrists, and...
Kakera.
Kohaku had no idea why, but she felt something odd from the little white-haired brat. Like she was hiding something big. Not like, "I'm secretly heir to the throne of some Eastern European principality no-one's ever heard of", more like, "I'm running drugs for the most vicious gang in Japan and I'm married to their leader." It was bothersome. If this girl actually got a part (and Kannon was getting a workout today on that one), the sensation of secrecy was going to drive her mad.
Suddenly, a flash of silvery hair caught Kohaku's eye. She looked up and squinted. That face looked familiar.
Now, Yuushi Misora wasn't in high school anymore, thank you very much. She didn't attend Juuban. But she was the assistant teacher for the sophomore, junior, and senior class gym ice skating units. So she had a very good reason for being at Juuban at the time of this play that was going on. Not to mention that her Maki-imotou was doing the costumes (or so she heard) and wanted to see her again. Misora had just walked past the gym when she heard the director talking to the two princes who had signed up.
"But you both signed up, you just can't - "
"Sorry, sensei, but we did it on a dare. We're not actually interested in being a prince to either the brat or the elephant."
"Yeah, we got better things to do with our time."
And, laughing, the two men who had dared to sign up for the prince left. The director looked about ready to cry when Misora stepped over.
"I apologize, I couldn't help but overhear..."
"Yuushi-san! Oh it's horrible! I have two girls competing for the main lead who seem to have driven off all other potential candidates! Nibaiakarui Kakera and Shinzuirori Kohaku are divas by themselves but together!"
As the poor man rattled on, Misora felt herself perk up. Kohaku-kun is here? With a hand placed gently on the director's shoulder, some fast talking and quick bargaining...Misora was on her way to the stage. The director called for silence, clapping his hands and sighed as he looked at all the girls who were gazing at Misora. Although this usually wasn't her thing (Misora preferred to be feminine thank you very much), who knew? It might be fun. At any rate it would allow her to see Kohaku more and have a bit of fun. Dressed in a sleek black mini skirt and a loose navy blue blouse that hung off the shoulder, open-toed stiletto slingbacks and her hair in a small ponytail, she was definitely feeling feminine at the moment...and only managed to catch the end of the man's speech.
"...Yuushi Misora-san has kindly volunteered to take the role of the prince."
Kohaku almost forgot herself, breaking ranks and bounding full-tilt towards her old friend. She was alive! She was here! Kohaku stopped herself. The enemy could be anywhere. Keep it subtle, stupid.
She applauded with the rest of the girls, though a few forlorn sighs said that this was cold comfort. She scanned the crowd for Tamaki. If Misora was here, Tamaki couldn't be that far off. There was one girl ahead of her, a stringy girl who'd been fairly kind to Kohaku on her first day, but was only really there on a dare.
"Oh, my goodness!" Kakera said, sotto voce, among the applause. "A teacher as the Prince!" She clapped along with everyone else: some of the hopefuls were, in fact, sighing, but she was fairly sure she heard a squee, and noted it down in case she later found it who it came from and could designate them Gay For Yuushi-Sensei. Yuushi-sensei was not unknown to her: Pearl had, in fact, blithely tried to take her soul. Now he was crippled in that he couldn't take it again due to needing her for the cast. Maybe he could do it at the wrap party. "It would look so romantic and cool if you had to kiss her, senpai! I bet she's the only girl they found who was taller than you!"
But where were the two layabouts who were trying out for princes before? They were laughing to themselves over in the line to do stage work, the expressions on their faces everything Get Out Of Jail Free. Unless Yuushi-sensei had an identical twin, there was going to be some serious rewriting done. A chill ran down Kakera-chan's spine. They were going to write her prince out. Kohaku would gain the romantic lead as Yuushi-sensei was of an equal height to her, since Kakera against the assistant teacher would be faceplanting in her ribs. Kohaku would automatically be the lead. And Mara would be amused at him.
"Eeeee," she said, "senpai, please, please, keep my place in line!" To the mild astonishment of those surrounding her, Kakera-chan bolted out of place in a whirl of pale hair and latte skin, pausing only to dig her little purple cellphone out of her bag before she dropped it and ran up the steps to the side of the stage, rather than going around backstage. She bounced up and down and gestured to the director. Bemusedly, he left the side of Yuushi-sensei, whom he had been quietly talking to (Pearl, for a moment, envied her shoes hopelessly) and went to the Girl Who Would Be Queen, who had already flicked open her cellphone.
"Sensei!" she said, "director-san! I am SO MOVED by Yuushi-sensei's TRAGIC, SELFLESS volunteering to be a prince! The show MUST GO ON! Director-san, my boyfriend - " she brandished the cellphone, which had a slightly fuzzy pic of Kakera and Mujou squished together, with Mujou alight with the twin happinesses of statutory and beloved-chan - at the diretor. " - my BOYFRIEND, he'll play the second prince! He LOVES theater! He would not forgive me unless I offered for him! He lives to help other people and act for them he is the most selfless boyfriend who ever lived - "
" - but, Nibaiakarui-san - "
"AND HE IS AN EXCELLENT DANCER," said Kakera, who was Mujou's sparring partner on Dance Dance Revolution. "He is so good-looking he is a prince, everyone says so. AND HIS ACTING. IT IS. INTENSE."
The producer, an upperclassman who had been standing behind Yuushi-sensei and the director, coughed. The director moved over to her: Pearl listened so hard he nearly died. "It would be convenient to have one of the leads have her boyfriend as the prince," she was saying, "and it's not as though the role is too demanding - "
" - but to have him from a rival school, Takakura-san - "
"Boyfriend-sama goes to Temple University!"
Pause. More murmuring. "We'd have to obtain his permission on this," said the director, but Kakera had already dialled the number with one finger. "DARLING," she trilled, and the darling was, as it ever was, in English, "darling, be the prince for my school play."
Despite it being more of a demand than anything else, it was taken well. Kakera had to hold the cellphone a little bit away from her ear to avoid the blast of noise. "BUT, BUT BUT I DON'T HAVE A MASK, OR A CAPE, OR... OH WAIT I DO HAVE THOSE THINGS LET ME LOOK FOR THEM!" A number of crashing noises, audible to even the producer and the director - along with, bewilderingly, owls hooting from Mujou's annoying pet owl - came out the phone. "BE THERE SOON KAKERA-CHAN MY DESTINED LOVE FOR CRYSTAL TOKYO!"
Kakera beamed at the others. "He said yes!"
"Well," said the director, and he was obviously wavering - "we accept your friend's offer gratefully and humbly, Nibaiakarui-san."
"Good luck with your audition," said the producer naively.
"Oh, producer-san, director-san! I never need luck!" Kakera blew loud kisses at both of them, and one extra for Yuushi-sensei, before skipping lightly back down to the line. Kohaku had just walked up to have her vocal audition, but nothing put off an audition like audible smirking from the next girl. As the reedy-voiced girl of before bowed to the lady at the piano, the microphone came on again: all of what he said was gloriously meaningless until the fatal words, "... Shinreijutsuno Mujoukan will be playing the role of our other Prince."
Kohaku could feel the irritation burning a hole in her excitement. So, Saccharine the Snow Fairy had an older man around her finger? This was going to leave a social mark. But, Obaa-san had always said, "A well-bred lady is bulletproof." She lifted her nose and nodded curtly to show she was ready.
Rose Red's solo was a very operatic piece. It was complicated, stately, but with trills and flourishes that would have made a Disney princess proud. She put her heart into it. Rose Red was a role for elegance and grace, not fluffy little china dolls without enough brain cells to rub together and make fire.
Kohaku was going to get this role if it killed her.
Now, Misora had thought this would be fun. What she hadn't counted on was that this "Nibaiakarui-san" had a boyfriend. And that this boyfriend would be one Mujou. She could feel that vein in her temple starting to throb as she had words with the director. She knew this young man, after all, and she had seen him trip over his feet just by standing up. So how could he be expected to dance? But with no other alternatives (and the story kind of requiring a second prince), Misora sighed and shook her head. But she accepted the tragedy.
Accepting a copy of the script, Misora sat down in one of the chairs and crossed her long legs elegantly as she watched Kohaku try out. She had to admit, the other girl was very good at acting, but then again Misora had known her for years. Kohaku-kun can do anything once she puts her mind to it. When the girl had finished, Misora smiled politely and clapped.
"Very nice, Shinzuirori," she said in a pleased tone.
Nibaiakarui-san was just as peeved as Misora was, and maybe more; it was obvious from the looks passed between Kohaku and Yuushi-sensei that they had met before, and not in any arrangement as teacher-to-student. Thank God that Mujou was going to be there; otherwise she would've been outnumbered a couple thousand to one.
Kakera glanced through the music again. Where the Rose Red piece was an elegant alto number, the Snow White was a frothy soubrette soprano that was meant for a voice that could artlessly meet the high C. And Shinzuirori-senpai had danced her way through it, of course. Kohaku was a genuine talent whose singing was beautiful to listen to, and would just be moreso as she developed. Pearl was a court semi-maiden who had been singing in that capacity for years - but in his own voice, not as a teenage girl still trying to maintain a role. For a moment she considered an on-the-spot sob story about an incoming cold and could they please please transpose it down a little - but then senpai would snigger. It was Pearl who tossed his hair back (nothing loath that he was duking it out with a sixteen-year-old child) and brandished the music again. His collection of minions clapped: it seemed to have become a battle of juniors vs. seniors.
Kakera-chan's voice was - unfortunately for Kohaku's possible hopes, in any case - bright and ringing, unusually full and lyric for an adolescent singer, and a richness that went down more to downright suspicious to any actual professional singers in the immediate area. Her high notes were not quite so effortless - rather than hitting them full-on, Kakera fixed her eyes at a point in front of her, gave a secret middle-finger to her balls and pushed them with ornamentation not required in the footing. Her high notes were therefore nowhere near as powerful as Shinzuirori's had been, but Pearl was fairly sure that only the hapless music teacher and Shinzuirori knew, and even then odds were out on the music teacher.
The minions cheered the moment the piano stopped: apparently odds had been out as to whether Kakera could actually sing, so now the rivalry was set in stone. Not bad for a freakin' contralto, thought Pearl, but kept studiously Not Looking at Kohaku as a script was given and Kakera-chan toddled over to where her senpai was at. She tossed her head again.
"Oh, you're good," hissed Kohaku maliciously. Despite her fury, Kohaku maintained a serene smile of artistic bliss and gave Kakera a majestic nod as she approached.
Cold readings weren't Kohaku's forte, but she would manage, she would HAVE to if she was to save any face next to Kakera's performance. The junior had struggled at the high notes, but the director was clearly smitten with her voice. Kohaku wasn't used to competition this fierce.
Her name was called. There was no trace of fear or anxiety on her face. She rolled her shoulders back and cleared her throat. She shrieked as though she'd been stabbed and ran backwards, hiding her face. She peeked out after a moment and crept forward. "Oh!" she laughed, "It's only a pair of bears. You poor things! Don't you know you should be sleeping in your caves? Snow-White! Come out! Did you think you'd be a snack for a hungry bear?" She clawed her hands and tiptoed around as she spoke.
Suddenly, she sprang forward and roared. "YUM!" She tossed her head and laughed. "I love bears! Such brave creatures and truly noble princes of the forest! Go get the broom, Snow-White, so we can beat the snow off their coats."
The script wasn't just a turkey, it was the whole holiday dinner, with dessert. But Kohaku did what she could with available materials. She winked at Misora. If Kakera could do this, Kohaku was going to have to deal with her. Either by making her a lackey or a laughing stock, she wasn't sure yet.
The script was, in fact, one of the most beautifully appalling things Pearl had ever read. It didn't molest Grimm so much as marry him, abuse him physically and emotionally over the course of the marriage, and then leave him for his sister. Everyone clapped enthusiastically for Shinzuirori: it was obvious that nobody else would even be thought of briefly for Rose Red.
Snow White, on the other hand, required a different approach. Pearl's voice could have given sugar shock: he fluttered his hands around in ye olde theater student tradition of Milking The Giant Cow. He overacted the unholy hell out of it. I am a magnificent bitch, he thought. "OH NEESAN," he wailed, script in one hand. "I wish I was as brave as you! I think those bears would eat me up - no - not if I'm with my sister!" (His voice wobbled straight from loving sister into schoolgirl lesbian.) "Nothing can happen when I'm with you... no, never! I'll follow you always, even into... a bear's... den!"
Like he needed to do any more. The Nibaiakarui Fans burst into wild applause. Kakera fluttered her eyelashes at her senpai.
Kohaku's patience was officially strained. Her sisterly smile had turned into a baring of teeth. The overacting little fiend!
"Break a leg, Kakera-chan," she whispered. There was no avoiding it. Kakera had Snow-White in the bag. Kohaku would put up with this for the sake of her art. But that child was going to suffer somehow after this was over.
"Break two, senpai!" Kakera whispered back, Smiling And Waving. She was good at smiling, and she was good at waving.
Misora had watched the spat between Kohaku and Kakera with growing amusement. The two of them were excellent actresses and no one else could compete with them. Still, Misora decided that it was time to break up the little catfight before things started exploding. She'd seen Kohaku bare her teeth and that did not bode well for things.
"Excuse me, director, I'd like to chat with Shinzuirori-san for a moment about the script please. Since I'm new to the play and everything, it would help to have an experienced performer guide me through," she smiled charmingly at the director and walked over to Kohaku. "Let's step over there, shall we, Shinzuirori-san?"
She gestured to an area offstage where they could still be seen by people but far enough away to have a private moment of conversation.
"And just where the hell have you been?" demanded Kohaku as soon as they were out of earshot. She kept smiling, to reduce suspicion.
"I lose sleep every night, wondering who made it safe and sound and who we might have lost, I don't know where to even start, and you prance in here like some leggy little starlet and act like I'm just another high-school floozy!" Around the smile, tears were welling into her eyes. "I've missed you! Who else have you found?"
"Calm down, Kohaku-kun, and I'll explain as much as I can..."
And so Misora did, starting with their disastrous first battle and the introduction to Sailor Psi, following her and Kyoko's reunion and their little spat, discovering the file that held the records of their Princess' remains, right up until her little "skating incident" at the rink only a few days earlier. She wanted to place a hand on Kohaku's shoulder to reassure her, but that would have looked suspicious and that was the last thing they needed. Misora gestured to the script as she spoke, also to keep up appearances.
"Kyoko is back in the fish market with the family that took her in. As far as the others..." her eyes darkened. "I don't know. But if you find them, you're all welcome to stay at my apartment. It's the same one we had back...back home..."
Her throat had tightened as she thought back to the days when it was just her, Kyoko, and their little (if slightly dysfunctional) family.
"I know that money's tight right now for us all, but if you're ever in need..." it was taking all of her strength and poise not to hug Kohaku in relief. "Thank the Gods you're all right..."
"I'm working at Hikawa Shrine," she said softly, "the whole family can come visit me there after school." She glared over Misora's shoulder at Kakera. "PLEASE tell me she's not getting Snow White! I'd die if she got a part and I didn't and I'd go crazy if I worked with her, but I'm not walking away from this. Misora-san, this is first real fun I've had since...we got here."
Kohaku was torn between her loathing for Kakera and the sudden wave of grief for her Princess.
Now, Misora was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. At Kohaku's words, she sighed a little and looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry, Kohaku-kun, but there really isn't anyone else to play the role that's as good as her. And if you think she's bad, just wait until you meet Mujou..." she winced. "He's read the Sailor Moon manga the so-called prophet made in this world and practically shouted to the world that Kyoko and I are...involved. And I swear the boy nearly wet his pants when Kyoko and I first met him. I pity his poor guardian, even our Princess isn't...wasn't...that bad."
Kohaku groaned in that melodramatic way of hers. "I'm being punished for my misdeeds, I know I am. Thank you for being honest, Misora-san. Do I have any chance or has that little show-thief poisoned them to the idea of a woman of substance playing Rose Red?"
This was bad. Kohaku was losing faith in her abilities. Kakera had gotten to her and managed to make a dent.
"Kohaku-ne~e!"
The screech -- and a bang of the door flying open, narrowly missing one of the poor future stagehands -- preceded a teal-haired flurry into the room as Tamaki raced in, tearing across the auditorium to launch herself through the air in a hug that threatened to bowl the older girl over. "Kohaku-nee, I'm sorry I'm late, but there was this magazine that Akira-yan had and it had these really awesome pictures and I just had to make some sketches, and oh, oh, I need to go buy a copy later, but I'm sorry I'm late, I hope you did well (but I'm sure you did, because Kohaku-nee is really good at this stuff!), because it would be totally totally neat to design a costume for you and --"
She broke off mid-sentence, switching gears with the abruptness she often exhibited, and released Kohaku, intent on tearing off in the other direction, "Director-han! Director-han, gomen, but I had a great idea and I just had to stop and --" All of this was done with a single-minded focus that had her utterly oblivious to Kohaku's conversational partner (or, really, anyone else in the room).
Director-san was probably wondering, by this point, whether it was too late to leave before the entire place drove him mad.
"Oh Kohaku-kun, of course you have a chance at Rose Red. I have seen all of those other candidates and they don't hold a candle to you. Really, you - "
But Misora never got to finish that sentence as a familiar voice called out across the room and a teal-haired wondergirl came barreling into the room. There was no mistaking that voice, nor the hug that Misora herself had been subject to on more than one occasion. Not to mention the fact that I can barely keep up with her speech. It was her Maki-imotou! Safe! Alive! And just as she was about to open her mouth to say something, she switched gears, released Kohaku, and went dashing over to the director. Something about sketches, being late, and ideas came into the mix...
There was only one way to stop this.
"Imawoikiru Tamaki, I'm only going to say this once: stop imitating a dysfunctional wind-up toy and come here right now!" Misora said loudly, hoping to catch the other girl's attention.
"Misa-nee, I'm busy!" Tamaki responded automatically, not breaking stride in the middle of her high-speed explanation to the director -- but a moment later, what she'd just said seemed to register, and she whirled around to stare behind, back at the way she'd come. Her eyes grew even larger as, for one moment, she was utterly speechless.
And then,
"MISA-NEE!" The fierceness of this hug actually did bowl the girl over, sending them both tumbling to the floor as Tamaki demanded, high-speed Kansai-accented pitter-patter almost unintelligible with excitement, to know just where her neehan had been and what she'd been doing and was she okay and was Kyo-nee okay and a thousand other things, all of which she needed to know now.
Experiencing a moment of shock that she'd actually managed to render Tamaki (TAMAKI of all people) speechless, Misora smiled in relief. That response she'd heard a thousand times, especially since that phrase was only used when Tamaki was in trouble. She always responded with "Misa-nee, I'm busy" and it looks like this isn't any different. And as she extended her arms for a hug...
She found herself being tackled to the floor instead.
Letting out a loud "oomph" as she managed to avoid hitting her head, Misora hugged her younger sister as tightly as she could. For once, Misora didn't care that she was in an undignified position, bowled over by a girl that was five years her junior. Her Maki-imotou was okay and Kyoko would be so happy to hear this, and the Senshi team was finally gathering together again.
"Maki-imotou, I've missed you so much," she whispered and hugged her tight. "Wherever you're at, pack up your things, you're coming home as soon as this rehearsal's done. Kyoko's doing fine, she's at the fish market, and as for everything else, that can wait till later."
She could feel eyes staring at them and glanced at Kohaku for a bit of help.
"You must be Yuushi-san's little sister," Kohaku said, just loud enough to be heard by everyone, then, in a whisper, "Maki-chan, cool it and play along, understand? You're gonna blow it!"
"Yuushi-san mentioned that you'd be costuming and I wanted to ask you about a possible private commission, whether or not I get a role." She instinctively lifted her chin at the word "role". She had to keep the ruse, though she desperately wanted to smack Tamaki upside the head and hug her.
Outnumbered and outgunned. How was Kakera meant to know that senpai was friends with the head of costumes and Yuushi-sensei? "Hiss!" she said, and it made her feel better.
The Nibaiakaruites, seeing their leader's indecision, immediately lead Kakera away from the scene of the crime; the leads would only be announced in an hour or two, and there was still a thin straggle of people auditioning. There was time to kill until then. "Let's go eat our lunch, Kakera-chan!" said Yuri bravely.
"Yeah, Kakera-chan, away from those people."
"Hiss!" Pearl said again, but relented. "Well, I guess, if you're all done - let's go sit up on the rooftop!"
That way he could see Mujou coming and intercept him early. Excellent. Before being lead off, the pale-haired junior gave one more glance over to Kohaku and the little knot of women surrounding her - and gave an A+ simper before starting to wander off.
Abruptly, a poorly-aimed rose landed in the middle of the rehearsal (as opposed to dramatically interrupting Kakera's leaving). Turning their heads in confusion, the inhabitants of the room saw a rather disturbing picture.
Normally, the image of a boy dressed in a tuxedo would evoke feelings of classiness, but alas, this boy was Mujou, and he was wearing a poorly constructed cape that was obviously once someone's picnic blanket. To top off the act, he had donned a rather frightfully well-made (but obviously homemade) mask over his eyes, almost as if he'd...spent his entire life...
"Pretty girls act to show their pure hearts to the world!" he declared, as if it were a vital aspect of theater productions and a life lesson, and not irrelevant at all. Dashing for Kakera, he tripped and fell before making it halfway to where she stood. In another instant, he was on his feet again, and at her side, his arm around her shoulder in a way that really didn't intend to have creepy child toucher undertones...really!
"Those who don't allow princes to rescue their pretty girls will be punished!" he exclaimed, still shouting and waving his cape rather poignantly. "In the name of my Kakera-chan, the show must go on!"
Apparently, he completely hadn't noticed Misora there at all, and wasn't about to - after all, right now his mission was to save his girlfriend - and the play - and so be it, Mujou Kamen wouldn't fail!
This was going to be a long show...
"What am I gonna blow?" Tamaki asked, but kept her voice low, and obligingly fell into the story her teammates were weaving as she picked herself up from the ground, tugging absently on the hem of her embroidered vest to straighten it (no school uniform for her; she had hemmed and hawed and managed to delay going back just another day, though tomorrow it would be back to the tedium of uniforms and textbooks -- Misora would certainly be even less forgiving about it than Kohaku had). Back at her normal tone, "Of course we can talk." She beamed at Kohaku, a wide sparkly smile, "I'll give you a very reasonable rate."
Whatever she might have said next was lost in the entrance of ... well, she'd seen bad cosplayers, and this guy made them look almost acceptable. Torn between the urge to roll her eyes and retching at the horror of his costume, Tamaki just goggled for a moment -- stared another moment, rather befuddled, as he draped an arm around Kakera's shoulders (there was something kind of wrong about that whole thing, especially with that speech, which was just a little too familiar) --
And then burst into a fit of laughter, pointing helplessly at the tall boy's costume. Words escaped between the giggles. "Kamisama ... what th'ell were you thinking? At least learn to cut a proper seam if you can't learn how to sew properly!"
Kohaku clapped a hand over Tamaki's mouth, but it was too late. Even Kohaku had more tact than that.
"Please pardon my friend," she said quickly, "She didn't mean it to come out like that. DID YOU, Maki-chan?"
This girl would be the death of her.
Things seemed to have been going fine. Misora had picked herself up off the floor and dusted off her clothes as though nothing had happened. She was back to being calm, cool, and collected. There was no possible way a girl of Tamaki's build could knock her over...
But that's when she saw the rose.
Oh God in the heavens, please don't let it be-but sure enough, accompanying the rose was a dramatic speech (or supposed-to-be dramatic) delivered by Mujou, dressed as Tuxedo Kamen. Misora stopped dead. It was only her iron grip on her temper, her desire not to cause anymore trouble for the poor director, and the thought of the humiliation afterwards that kept her from going over there and wringing the boy's neck. That vein was throbbing in her temple again, she could feel it, and she crossed her arms over her chest, whispering to Kohaku.
"That is Mujou...Sailor Psi, a Crisis Senshi...and apparently a Tuxedo Kamen-wannabe," she paused for a moment to let that sink in. "We're all going to die."
There was a certain expression on Kakera's face: if Mara had been looking, she would have recognised that it was not an expression Kakera used. It was an expression Pearl used. It was also an expression Pearl used very seldom. The girl-apparent examined at her boyfriend with a very old look; a passing mix of humiliation tinged with deep, terrible suffering.
Then it passed. "WAI," Kakera said, because if you could not beat them, you had to join them, and the Nibaiakaruites were looking at the much-talked-about University Boyfriend with fear and amazement. "OH, MUJOU-KUN, you are SO ROMANTIC (I may kill you later!). Thank you so much, darling, for coming to my aid (you are dead!). OH MY GOODNESS YOU LOOK THE PART. You are the greatest prince! YOU ARE EVEN BETTER THAN TUXEDO KAMEN (I didn't think it was possible to get fruitier than he was, but you have amazed me!)."
Kakera latched onto Mujou like a tiny limpet. He was very tall in comparison, and she was quite slight and little; they would have been a very pretty and sweet couple had Mujou not been insane and Kakera not been evil.
It was like a car wreck. She felt sick watching, but Kohaku couldn't look away. THAT was one of the saviors of this universe? Clearly, Kakera was either terribly impressed by this sort of thing, proving just how low-class she was, or she was merely impressed with being on the arm of an older man, which was worse. If he'd been wealthy, then maybe that would have been alright, but that would have meant he would have at least had someone make his cape.
The sentiment was charming, but the execution was depressing. Kohaku felt envy and pity for the curly-headed girl.
"This is indeed an honor," she said, approaching with a bow and an elegant hand outstretched, "We've heard so much about you. I'm Shinzuirori Kohaku, how do you do?"
Mujou, seemingly oblivious to everyone's gawks (and occasionally even mistaking some of them for looks of amazement in response to his manly charms), simply bowed rather deeply to Kohaku, and with a rather flamboyant flourish of his cape, shook her hand enthusiastically. The entire time, he could barely conceal his excited grin.
"Wow," he squealed, nearly jumping out of his boots (or in this case, dress shoes) at the thought that maybe, just maybe, this girl was a Sailor Senshi like Misora and Kyoko! If anyone in the room actually believed in Sailor Senshi, they would see right through Mujou's act as he nearly screamed out "You must be Sailor Pluto!" Luckily, the image of a certain owl entered his mind, and he opted instead to merely exclaim awkwardly, "You're Misora-san's friend? You must be very cool and interesting!
"Have you met my...um...girlfriend...Kakeru?" The word 'girlfriend' was practically whispered out of sheer embarrassment and fear of being accused of statutory rape. The rest of the sentence, however, was as energetic as ever. "She's going to be the princess in the school play! SHE'S SO TALENTED!"
By now, Mujou Kamen was replaced entirely by Mujou (as opposed to what had happened thus far; Mujou Kamen thinly veiling Mujou), who was unaware that he was bouncing excitedly from all of the day's events.
Tamaki squirmed. She didn't like Kohaku's hand over her mouth, she didn't like being told to censure herself, and she certainly didn't like what that poor stupid boy was wearing. As Kohaku moved to bow, the smaller girl took several strategic steps away from both of her teammates and studied Mujou critically, one finger (nail painted a shimmering midnight blue) tapping against her mouth.
If, according to Misa-nee, this was a Crisis Senshi, then she'd be better off getting acquainted, even a little. It wouldn't do for the world to be doomed. Besides, he looked like he'd approve of dressing up, even if he had no taste whatsoever.
"Your clothes suck," she announced, to the room at large, "but you'll make an okay prince. Director-han, hurry up and finish the casting so I can start!" A look over at Misora, and then, an afterthought, "Please."
Kohaku could have melted into a puddle of embarrasment right there. She knew Tamaki didn't have a mean bone in her body, but the kid needed to learn tact fast!
On the other hand, Kakera seemed to have just as much trouble with her nerdy boyfriend...
What was she saying? The little brat just UPSTAGED HER! Kohaku's blood pressure had just spiked.
The next day, Kohaku arrived early. For once, she seemed almost human. No lipstick or barely-permissible earrings, only her own natural curl and that old pink necklace of hers. She hadn't slept at all the night before and there were slight dark circles under her eyes. She had to know. She just had to.
But, first, she was going to wait for the little bubblebrained underclassman. She wanted to see the look on the girl's face when she found out Kohaku was Rose Red. She WAS going to be Rose Red. Right?
Kohaku felt like slapping herself. Of course, she had the part!
As early as Kohaku had arrived, there was still a little crowd grouped around the cast list: there was the usual buzz of exultation and disappointment mixed, with little snatches of conversation like - "so Yayoi-chan got make-up control?" and " - but Minekura can't even dance - "
Some of her fans started applauding the moment they saw her. "Congratulations, Shinzuirori-san!" one of the girls gushed.
"Congratulations!"
"You'll do so well!"
"Shinzuirori-san, congratulations!"
" - on Rose Red!" said her horrible little pale-haired nemesis, bursting out of the crowd like a parasite in that one scene from Alien. Nibaiakarui looked much less subdued than she had yesterday: apparently she had won back her confidence, verve and grotesque amounts of smugness. There was not even a glimmering of a question of what had happened. "Guess what, senpai! We'll be playing opposite each other! I got Snow White! Isn't that wonderful!"
"Delightful," Kohaku said, feeling her heart springboard off her ribs and into the stratosphere. At the same time, her stomach rebelled against her hasty breakfast. The thought I did it! played ring-around-the-rosie with SHE'S Snow White! Whatever she'd done in a past life, she was fairly sure she didn't deserve this.
"Truly delightful, dear Nibaiakarui-chan!" Kohaku said, with a bit more enthusiasm, "I'm sure you'll do a splendid job!" Translation: I'll humiliate you into your grave, you pint-sized tart, see if I don't. "I'll see you at rehearsal, then, I hope?" Translation: You have EXACTLY the duration of the school day to get your name changed and get out of the city or you will be plagued by a series of unfortunate accidents, starting with Nair in you shampoo.
"Of course, senpai! We're going to be at every rehearsal together ever! We're going to see so much of each other!" Translation: you may not have known that it is possible to be annoyed to death. I invented this. "This is going to be so wonderful! I can learn so much from you! You are so much older and wiser!" Translation: break out the moisturiser, oldbag. "Just you and me and my darling boyfriend!" Translation: just you and me and my darling boyfriend.
"I guess I'll see you after school, then, Shinzuirori-senpai," Kakera gushed, and laced her hands together to skip off happily down the corridor in the sweetest of ways. On the inside, Pearl's teeth grated so hard that he wore them down to the metaphorical nubs.