A/N: Surprise, totally obscure guest appearance! I'll give you a hint: he appears in volume 9 in the manga. Also, he has mutton chops, and for that reason alone, he's one of my favourite characters.

Masumi was a bit of a connoisseur when it came to alcohol. This depressed him greatly, as he'd developed a mild contempt for the so-called "bourgeois" lifestyle during his university days that'd stayed with him ever since. So sure, he wore designer suits, obscenely expensive accessories and drove around in limousines, but he didn't particularly care for them. They were all just means to an end, but alcohol had somehow become the exception to the rule. Masumi rather suspected this also had something to with his university days, as it was during those that he'd first gotten a, well, taste for alcohol. To put it as pretentiously as possible, to him, liquor was like distilled emotions. Just the taste of it, the burn of it down his throat, made him revel in things that he could hardly even focus on normally.

It was because of this (somewhat unhealthy) emotional connection that he felt genuine pain when Kusano revealed that she'd hardly ever drunk anything that didn't come with either an umbrella or a straw.

"If I drank with my eyes closed," she added, "I'm pretty I wouldn't be able to tell white and red wine apart. Or champagne and cider, at that."

The very marrow of Masumi's bones turned cold at that. "I deeply regret having to hear that. Much as I'd like to cultivate your taste, I've only got one day to do so."

"Such a shame," Kusano said, and yes, Masumi knew she was flashing him some rather non-platonic smiles, but if he were to shun people just because they were attracted to him, then he'd never be able to talk to anyone.

"Indeed," Masumi sighed. "So to make the most out of our time together, I suggest we order some sake."

"I'm... not sure I would recommend it. I've a distinct memory of spitting out a mouthful of it when my mom was trying to make me more invested in my cultural heritage and all that jazz."

"While that would be fun to watch, there's a difference between sake made in Japan and sake made in America. Give it a try, and if you don't like it, I'll order something more suitable. Like Baileys. With milk. And a funny straw."

"Baileys is the nectar of the gods, you disagreeable man. Go ahead and order whatever you want; I'll sneer at you over the brim of it regardless."

Masumi grinned as he ordered. "You're quite rude. I like that in a person."

"So I've noticed. I've never seen a man so allergic to politeness."

"Politeness's a dull, repetitive and misleading form of communication. Insults require more thought and insight than 'How d'you do?', and are generally more fun to respond to."

"So you say, but you're quite nice, aren't you? Inviting the opposition to parties and keeping them fed with gourmet dinners. Who needs friends with an archenemy like you?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Besides," he summoned up a smug grin with a little difficulty, "now she owes me. Shorty's got the strange notion that she has to uphold old-fashioned notions of honour and virtue, no matter how certain she is that it's going to come back and bite her somewhere unpleasant."

"A true Gryffindor! But it's cute that you accuse her of being old-fashioned when you're the one declaring feuds to protect your family honour."

"The art of war is timeless. And don't give me lip; I'm the one spending a small fortune to keep you liquored up."

Kusano didn't let the arrival of the sake delay her in giving a reply:

"I thought you liked lip!"

"Not when it concerns my family honour."

He nodded his thanks to the bartender as he grabbed the sake flask, pouring it into two saucers.

"Try and sneer over the brim of that," he said, raising his own saucer mockingly.

With some careful planning, Kusano managed to do just that. It was for naught, however, as her sneer instantly transformed into a grimace.

"I'm not fond of this," she informed him in between trying to suck the taste off her tongue.

Masumi made a non-committal noise, deciding to deal with Kusano's dismal taste after he'd satisfied his far superior one.

Sake had a very important, dreadfully sentimental meaning to Masumi. His mother had been old-fashioned, so every New Year's Eve, she'd made him sip toso, always laughing at the disgusted face he'd make at the taste.

"Well, now you'll at least be squeaky-clean in here," she'd tapped at his chest, "for a whole year."

He hadn't kept up the tradition after her death, unwilling to contradict her beliefs. But it was a good memory, and it was easier to hold onto when he was in informal company, rather than with the usual suits who shared his taste for strong alcohol. It was interesting, how well items, tastes and smells could retain memories that were little more than hazy and useless in his own head. It was at times like this that he could almost understand his father's obsession with a kimono.

When he'd gotten his fill of nostalgia, he noticed that Kusano was staring at him. Not in a way that communicated "I'd tap that", fortunately, but which he found unsettling nonetheless. It was as though she were trying to make out how he was constructed, and what she could use him for once she knew.

Experience told Masumi that nothing good could come of that expression.

"What?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

After another moment of inspection, Kusano pronounced, apropos nothing:

"Your face is truly astounding."

"... Oh." Masumi's eyes flickered to his saucer, as though he could find a proper response there. "Thank you. Though I can hardly take credit where my parents' genetics are due."

"I don't mean that your face looks nice, though it does, of course. It's more what you do with it. Do you know that in under a minute, you've gone from being fond to wistful to resentful? It was quite fascinating to watch."

"I... can sincerely say that no one's complimented me quite like that before." Masumi chuckled, deciding to be amused rather than put-upon.

"Bless you. Let me get you a suitable gift in return."

He tapped the bar to get the bartender's attention, and once he had it, he ordered:

"An umeshu on the rocks for the lady."

"Umeshu?" Kusano pouted thoughtfully. "Sounds familiar."

"Do you know anything about Japan at all? This isn't exactly insider information."

"It's not my fault! My mother gave up on teaching me anything about this place after I turned my kimono into a mini-dress."

"You sound like you were an absolutely wretched child."

"Seems like something we've in common."

"Not in the least. I was a parent's dream: attentive, considerate and obedient. I wore bowties and knee shorts without a single complaint."

"Oh dear! Whatever happened to change all that?"

Masumi bared his teeth in a grin, pouring himself more sake. "Growing up to become filthy rich and devastatingly handsome negated the need for a nice personality."

Kusano rolled her eyes just as the bartender served her drink. "I see that it has. Now, I'm sure this will be disgusting," she picked up her glass, swirling around the liquid in it, "but because I'm incredibly gracious, despite being wealthy and gorgeous, I'll still drink it."

She did as she'd bid, and her face lit up on the very first sip.

"This is delightful and downright stupendous!" she exclaimed, taking a substantially bigger gulp. "Even better than Baileys!"

"That's high praise indeed. You'd think that after all your years in this business, you'd have developed a taste more sophisticated than 'mother's milk'."

"We can't all sustain on three martini lunches, lush."

Masumi was more than capable of answering that slight, but he was distracted by the doors to the bar being thrown open by a decidedly out of wind Maya.

"Shorty?" He was standing before he'd even finished speaking.

Maya was too far away to hear him. She stumbled over to a vacant table, nearly draping herself over it as she noisily tried to catch her breath.

"Miss Kitajima!" Kusano exclaimed. "What're you doing here?"

Maya's head snapped up, her eyes flicking from Kusano to Masumi. She looked so miserable, red-faced and puffing away like a steam engine, that Masumi couldn't help but to reach out to her.

"I assume you're here for me?" he said, smiling a bit more kindly than what was his habit.

Maya didn't say anything, but really, when she was looking at him like he was the end of all human suffering, words were rather redundant.

She walked up to him, so out of it that she actually grabbed his arms and allowed him to curl his finger around her elbows.

Masumi was so absorbed in trying to memorize every last detail of the contact, he nearly missed it when Maya puffed out:

"D'you know... there're six different bars here?"

As Masumi'd expected nothing short of "Masumi Hayami, you're my only hope", that non-sequitur blindsided him. He bit his cheek as hard as he could, but some of his amusement must've shone through, as Maya shot him a dirty look.

"Are you alright, Miss Kitajima?" Kusano, most inopportunely, spoke up. "Do you need some water?"

"Oh, no," Maya breathed, ripping her arms out of Masumi's grasp, "I'm fine. I just need to speak with Mr Hayami about something really quick."

"You needed to speak to me so badly, you ran up seven flights of stairs?" Masumi said, ducking his head to get her to look him in the eye again. "Shorty, you move me."

"I ran in a professional capacity," Maya growled, strengthening her statement by taking a step back.

"Naturally," Masumi acceded, "and I'm moved in a professional capacity. So what's so urgent it couldn't wait until tonight? Fashion advice?"

"No, I—" Maya stopped, fully comprehending how rude the remark had been. "No. I just need to speak to you, unfortunately. In private."

"I'd like nothing better." He inclined his head towards Kusano. "I'll be right back. Shorty never wants to chat with me longer than absolutely necessary."

"One wonders why," Kusano returned drily before returning to her umeshu with near pornographic fervour, if the bartender's flushed face was anything to go by.

Masumi led Maya over to a table in the back. She sat down with a graceless thump, letting out a blissful sigh that made Masumi shiver.

"So," he said, rolling his shoulders before following her example, "what's on your mind?"

"I... sort of need to ask you a favour." Maya couldn't have looked more pained and annoyed even if someone had been incessantly flicking at her temple.

"Two favours in a day? I'm starting to think you're taking advantage of my good nature, shorty."

"First of all," Maya snapped, "I didn't ask to be invited to that party. You didn't even ask me if I wanted to be invited to that party. Secondly, I only need this favour because you didn't think through the first one."

Masumi snorted. "That's gratitude for you."

"Well, it's true! I'm still blacklisted, Mr Hayami. Even if I go to the party, no one'll want to talk to me."

Maya's voice was strained, challenging Masumi to make some poor joke at that. Her anticipation wasn't entirely in the wrong, as the remark "Go for the open bar, then," was on the tip of Masumi's tongue, but really, he didn't feel up to arguing. Sake just drained the fight right out of him.

"You'll be my guest," he drawled. "That'll be enough to make people play nice. People are really very easy to get along with, shorty, if you've the right playmates."

"So, what, you're fine with... with fraternizing with the enemy?"

"We're in a truce, remember? You're no more my enemy than a pup on a prairie. Besides, if I didn't want to," he smothered a chuckle, "want to 'fraternize', why would I make you my guest in the first place? It'd be a bit weird to invite you, only to have you stand in a corner looking stupid..."

He trailed off, as both he and Maya realized that inviting someone to a party where they'd be alienated was exactly the sort of thing he would do, and that he'd no doubt benefit from using the strategy on Maya.

Masumi blamed his slip-up on the difficulty of handling two-three personas at once. It'd confuse even the best of men.

To cover up his mistake, he pointed out one of Maya's:

"But what's more interesting is if that's what you think of me, then why would you come to me for help? I'm heartless, as you delight in pointing out, so why'd you think I'd listen to you?"

Maya's countenance darkened, her fingers twining together into a tight knot.

"I didn't think you'd listen," she murmured. "I just didn't have any other option."

Masumi leaned closer to her. "What do you mean?"

Maya worried her lip for a few seconds, before she drew herself up.

"I don't know anyone who would help me but you," she said, "even if you only do it because you think it'll be fun, or because I'll owe you. But it doesn't matter why you do it, because acting means more than anything to me. If I have to give up my pride to keep on doing it, then that's what I'll do."

It took Masumi a moment to recover from what might very well have been a swoon.

"You're so dashing, shorty," he chirped (a bit breathlessly), "you're giving me the vapours. But in all seriousness, Maya, I don't want your pride; it has no business belonging to anyone but you. I promise you that tonight, I'll make you irresistible, without requiring anything in return. I'll introduce you as an actress I admire greatly, but who was ultimately too good for my company. Will that suffice?"

Maya faltered in her brooding sobriety.

"Y-yes," she stammered, "yes, it will. Thank you," she added hesitantly.

Masumi waved his hand dismissively. "You don't have to twist yourself into an unnatural shape just for that, shorty. I don't like being thanked for petty favours, anyway."

Maya huffed. "You're doing something nice, so I'm going to thank you for it."

"Why? Are you trying to condition me to associate good deeds with your hilariously reluctant approval? Because if you are, it might just work. I'd become a saint if it meant that you'd look at me like this more often."

"You're ridiculous."

"How quickly your good opinion is lost. But seriously, shorty, right now, I'm on vacation. I just don't have the energy to don the old cloak and dagger. You'll be as safe with me as you would be with a friend."

"I doubt that."

"As you should. Would you like some sake?"

"... Eh?"

"You came a long way for something you didn't even need to ask for, shorty. It's only right that you should get something out of your Homeric travels. So," Masumi rose, offering her his hand, "stay for a cup?"

Naturally, Maya ignored his offer of assistance, getting up on her own. "Well... I suppose... but only for one cup."

"Oh, lovely! I was sure you were going to say no. You're growing to become quite an agreeable young woman."

Masumi was a bit thrown when Maya responded to that with:

"Gak!"

The mystery of the unorthodox reply was cleared up by Maya's eyes bugging out as she looked around the bar. But so as to not be presumptive, Masumi asked her:

"Is there something wrong?"

"N-nothing," she said, checking her expression (to little effect). "I just didn't notice how... how nice this place was until now."

"Just remember to swallow at a regular interval, lest you drool all over the place."

That piece of witticism made Maya displeased with the hand Masumi'd closed around her elbow.

"You're crowding me," she growled, trying to repel him with the power of her glare.

"My apologies." Masumi politely observed the customs of personal space. "I just thought you might need a steadying hand."

"Well, I don't."

"I see that now. You're steady as a reed, aren't you?"

Maya hopped ahead of him towards the bar, muttering about hateful people and their extensive collection of twisted characteristics to herself. When she came up to Kusano, she swapped surliness for a warm smile.

"Hello again," she said, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "Sorry for intruding, but Mr Hayami insisted I stay for some sake."

"You're not intruding at all," Kusano protested. "Mr Hayami needs a proper drinking buddy, since I'm allergic to the taste of sake."

"I'm sure you'll make an ample substitute," Masumi told Maya as he returned to his barstool.

He'd meant to say it in a playful fashion, but realized too late that in speaking with his mouth just a few inches from Maya's ear, he'd only managed to convey a sense of intimacy. He backed off as naturally as he could, observing Maya from the corner of his eye as he asked for another cup. Judging by how her shoulders went rigid, she'd picked up on the intimacy, but by taking her flushed face into account, he could surmise that she hadn't found it completely objectionable.

"And in true drinking buddy tradition," Masumi said, smirking smugly as he poured out a cup for Maya, "let's toss it back in one gulp."

"No," Maya said, sniffing at her drink.

"You've no respect for tradition," Masumi despaired, before knocking back his cup.

"Kanpai!" Kusano exclaimed, clapping her hands as if Masumi was putting on a show (which he supposed he was).

Maya begrudgingly gave Masumi an impressed nod before she started drinking her own sake. She lit up at the first sip, the warm smile on her lips making Masumi all the more aware of how flushed he was starting to become.

"You look like you're nursing nectar," he teased. "Are you trying to make it last so you can stay with me for as long as possible?"

"Does that seem even a little bit likely?"

"So you're just here for the booze, then? But you know, I never figured you for a sake lover. In fact, I didn't think it was even legal for you to be one."

Maya gave him the obligatory "You're a moron and no one likes you" glare before answering:

"I'm not a sake lover. I just... I think it's romantic. I don't know why, but it makes me think about temple services and period dramas."

"You actors see gods and romance in everything."

"What do you see then?"

Masumi touched the brim of his cup to Maya's, lips stretched into a shit-eating grin. "I see the grease used to slick the cogs of commerce."

Maya shook her head slowly, pity apparent in her eyes. "You're dead inside, aren't you?"

"No, no!" Masumi laughed. "Just hollow, like a dried up husk. I can't afford to romanticize, shorty. Passion would burn me up like a piece of tinder."

"Do you ever make sense?"

"Sometimes. On Tuesdays, mostly. More sake, dear?"

"No, thank you. I've got to get ready for this party I was invited to at six hours' notice."

"What's to prepare? Just throw on one of your more posh flower-printed dresses and you'll be good to go."

"I really wish people would stop making fun of my clothes. What's so wrong with them?"

"Nothing." Masumi tugged at the cuff of Maya's blouse. "The fifties were a lovely time for women's fashion, and it's nice that there's someone left to honour it."

"I am leaving," Maya announced, pushing herself away from the bar.

"I know you are," Masumi said, spinning around on his barstool to watch her go, "because my heart just started to ache."

Maya strode off, but almost immediately came back, exclaiming:

"Bother you! You made me forget about Miss Kusano!"

"You being a rude brute is somehow my fault?"

"From what I've observed," Kusano cut in, "yes." She reached out, enveloping Maya's hand with her own. "Let's ditch this troublemaker at the party, Miss Kitajima. I'd like to have at least one rewarding conversation while I'm here in Japan, and Mr Hayami doesn't seem willing to oblige."

"Et tu, brute?" Masumi inquired of Maya. "I give you the drink of the gods, and you steal my date?"

"You can both be my dates!" Kusano protested. "I have two arms; you can have one each."

"It might be fun," Masumi mused, "to share a woman with another woman."

Maya's face turned red with alarming rapidity. She stuttered out a series of noises that might, with the help of some sort of audio device, be deciphered as, "Good bye, Miss Kusano, see you tonight!" before racing out, nearly colliding with a couple in the bar entrance. As they were both of that jaded sort of adult that likes laughing at teenagers because it makes them feel better about their lost youth, Masumi and Kusano chuckled for a good minute at Maya's antics before turning to other topics:

"Sorry about throwing you in front of the bus like that," Kusano said. "It just seemed like the most effective way to get her approval."

Masumi nodded. "I'll drink to a fellow mercenary."

They clinked their glasses together before indulging in their contents.

"D'you know," Kusano said, narrowing her eyes at her umeshu, "I wonder how this would taste with some Cola? It might give it a bit more of a sweet sting."

Masumi closed his eyes, his chest constricting with misery.

"For the sake of our friendship, Miss Kusano," he said once he was strong enough to speak, "I suggest we never meet in a bar again."

oxoxo

Maya hated Masumi Hayami. This wasn't exactly so much new information as it was a law of nature, but it bore to be repeated.

The smug pervert, she thought darkly, pressing the elevator call button. In a small fit of rage, she mashed the button another three times, and immediately felt guilty about it. She sighed, hanging her head; the euphoria of victory had definitely worn off. Why can't I stay cool for more than an hour at a time? Is it too much to ask to be able to go a whole day without embarrassing myself? Is it really?

Her existential train of thought was cut short by a plaintive cry:

"Why does this keep happening? This was supposed to be a fun little relaxing thing!"

She turned around to see a man with a set of truly impressive mutton chops roam the hall. Despite the fact that his face was currently twisted in untold agony, Maya recognised him almost instantly: his name was Ota, and he'd directed a play that had lost one of its actors just hours before the premiere. Hayami had basically thrown Maya at him as a replacement actor ninety minutes before the curtain was due to go up, and as she'd managed to make an okay job out of it, she was on pretty good terms with Ota. Or, she had been; he probably wouldn't even recognise her now.

"Director Ota?" she said. "Are you alright?"

It took a few seconds for her words to penetrate the bubble of despair surrounding Ota, but when it did, his attention snapped to her with laser beam focus. His expression transformed almost instantaneously into one of rapture, and he cried out:

"My saving goddess!" He spread his arms wide and sprinted towards Maya.

"W-what?" Maya stammered. "Director Ota, what—?"

"I'll explain on the way!" Ota grabbed her wrist and started tugging her along. "Come on! The show must go on!"

There was little Maya could do in the current situation—desperation had lent Ota superhuman strength—but to let out a loud, long:

"Eeeeh?!"