A/N: Edited by the steadfast prettyinpinkgal.

... CAT FIGHT!

Chapter Three – Humanity

Maya was good with change. If "Accepting Change" was a sport, she would be one of the favourites to win the Olympic gold. But there was a frozen limit as to how much she could tolerate, and that limit had been passed with leaps and bounds when she'd suddenly been transferred to Daito's care. Others might have a hard time understanding why she was so upset about being hired by one of the most prestigious production companies around, but they didn't know what she knew: that Daito was home of the antichrist.

Said demonic figure was sitting on a sofa across from her, and, in a vain attempt to appear human, went by the name Masumi Hayami. His secretary, Mizuki, had brought Maya to his office in order to sign the contract that would bind her to Daito. She'd pointedly refused to greet Masumi, informing Mizuki that she wasn't going to sign anything until she'd had a chance to talk to Tsukikage. Mizuki'd informed her that she needn't make such a fuss, as her mentor was already on her way, and the room had lapsed into a tense silence.

Maya was on edge, but not just because her mentor had supposedly handed her over to the enemy. When she'd chosen to ignore Masumi's presence, she'd expected him to react to her slight. He'd made his feelings about her lack of social graces amply clear in the past, and considering that he was about to become her superior, a sharp reprimand was definitely in order. Yet he was simply sitting there, comfortably propped up against a pillow, going through a dizzying amount of papers with an unconcerned expression.

For some reason she couldn't name, she was put off by his silence, and decided to try and break it. She cleared her throat, and waited until Masumi met her eye before she stammered:

"G-good day, Mr Hayami."

She'd thought he'd smirk and say, "Took you long enough", proving his unresponsiveness to be nothing more than a passive-aggressive test of character. All he did, however, was to acknowledge her greeting with a nod and then return to his work.

And that dismissive, anti-climatic gesture was what shattered the frozen limit into a thousand pieces. Maya snapped:

"This is really annoying! You snatch me from my home, without any warning, and now you won't even say 'Hi'!"

While anyone would agree that that sort of acidic provocation required instant attention, Masumi took his sweet time before even deigning to glance at Maya. When he spoke, his voice was drier and cooler than what Maya was accustomed to:

"It was on your mentor's orders that we 'snatched' you. Besides which, it took you ten minutes to even consider greeting me. You might want to stop throwing stones in glass houses, and see if the quality of your life won't improve."

Maya grimaced, going red; while his tone was different, his particular brand of devastating sarcasm remained as characteristic as always.

"A-anyway," she cleared her throat again, squaring her shoulders, "I don't believe that Teacher would give me to Daito. I'm not doing anything until I see her."

Masumi lips parted in a silent sigh. "We have a contract with her signature on it. Would that be proof enough?"

"No," Maya sniffed. "It's probably fake, anyway."

Masumi made a face, as though he was a creature of infinite serenity whose patience was nonetheless wearing thin.

"You're confusing your naive suppositions with reality again," he drawled. "Daito's not a crime syndicate. We don't have the resources needed to fake signatures, and even if we did, we wouldn't waste them on this."

While Maya would be in her full right to flip out with murderous rage at Masumi's insult, she didn't. Offstage, she wasn't exactly observant of her surroundings, but she knew that she and Masumi had developed a bizarre, almost morbid pattern: he'd tease her, she'd try to ignore him, he'd say something she had to react to (often with anger), and then he'd laugh like a gleeful child at the damage he'd caused. Now, however, he didn't look like he was enjoying himself, even though he'd gotten in some really good zingers.

Maya didn't know why—really didn't know why—but Masumi's sombreness disconcerted her.

"... Are you alright?" she asked him, head tilted as she eyed him curiously.

Masumi's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected concern. "I'm fine." He mimicked her head tilt as he said, "Why do you ask?"

"It's just..." Maya flushed, as she had no idea how to explain herself without sounding stupid. "I thought you'd be even meaner than you usually are, but you're... different."

Masumi was silent for a while, apparently thinking hard about how to answer her simple query. Finally, he shrugged, and said:

"I've just decided to stop trying to keep up with you. Having a conversation with you is like trying to stop an out-of-control tank with one hand tied behind one's back—it's not only tiring, but potentially life threatening as well. To conserve my energy, I will only converse with you if there are no other alternatives available."

As patient as Maya usually was, there were just some things that no mortal can endure. That speech was one of them.

"H-how is talking to me life threatening?" Maya cried, glaring daggers at Masumi. "And how am I a tank?"

Masumi remained largely unmoved by her outburst, though the corners of his lips rose an almost infinitesimal amount.

"I just used an out-of-control tank as a metaphor for your irrational conversational habits, and the adjective 'life threatening' as a colourful embellishment to emphasize my perfectly legitimate point. I'm sorry if abstract imagery and general eloquence somehow personally offends you."

"Oh," Maya growled, slapping her hands against the plush sofa, "but that's just—"

Maya never got to finish the sentence, as the doors behind her clicked open to admit Tsukikage. Maya immediately got up on her feet, greeting her mentor like an overeager puppy, missing the way Masumi and Mizuki tensed up at her teacher's arrival.

Maya's initial burst of energy faded at her teacher's cold reception, and she was subdued as they sat down on the couch.

"You haven't signed the contract yet?" Tsukikage asked Maya, seeing the unmarked piece of paper in front of her student.

"Ah, no," Maya said, fidgeting. "I just... Are you really giving me to Daito?"

"Yes," Tsukikage said, dismissively, as though it wasn't really worth discussing. "Is that all you were waiting for?"

"Ah... I was..." Maya blinked, swallowing hard before she continued, "I don't understand; you hate Daito! Why would you give me to them, after all they've done?"

"Because they have capital," Tsukikage said. "They have connections. They'll get you the best roles available. Why not join them?"

Maya stared at her teacher as though she'd never seen her before. "Because they're evil!"

Masumi felt a strong urge to roll his eyes, but knew that any form of participation in the conversation would rub Tsukikage the wrong way. Thankfully, Mizuki gave an irritated sigh in his stead.

"The management is morally questionable," Tsukikage admitted, "but they do get results. Corruption is a common feature in the world, Maya; it's better to know how to use the Devil to your benefit than to ignore his existence, tempting though it may be."

Her eyes were trained directly at Masumi as she spoke. He just smiled, however, telling her politely:

"I'm flattered that you would give me such a high mythological ranking."

Tsukikage returned his smile, which disconcerted him far more than a murderous glare would've. Maya, being the one person in the room who still had some solid connection with reality, felt a desperate need to bring the conversation back on track:

"But I don't want to work for Daito! I want to stay with you and the others! I want you to teach—"

"Don't be a brat!" Tsukikage snapped, making Maya flinch back. "You can't walk through life expecting someone to hold your hand every step of the way. I've never taught Ayumi anything, and she's already far ahead of you."

Maya could say nothing to that, as she wasn't the sort of person who argued over obvious truths.

"I'm not your teacher anymore," Tsukikage continued. "Educating you specifically was never my priority; it was just a way for me to increase the chances of finding someone suitable to play 'The Crimson Goddess'. A candidate has to be able to progress as fast as possible, and under their own power. I will not leave what I've lived for in the hands of someone who can't protect it. Do you understand?"

Maya was obviously on the brink of tears, sucking in a shuddering breath. Mizuki stiffened, anticipating another epic crying fit, but apparently Maya cared enough about Tsukikage's opinion to collect herself.

"Yes," Maya said, her voice and her smile too bright to be natural. "Yes, of course I understand. I'm sorry, I was just," her mask slipped, agony showing on her face before she covered it up again, "I was surprised. I'll, I'll sign the contract."

She reached up a hand to her face, pretending to scratch her head to hide the fact that she was brushing away a tear. The clumsy gesture didn't leave any of the adults in the room unaffected, but there was too much at stake for them to give it anymore than a passing consideration.

Tsukikage rewarded Maya's obedience by squeezing her hand, saying, her voice much softer now that she'd gotten the results she'd wanted:

"But while you need to learn how to live independently," Tsukikage turned her head, smirking at Masumi, "there's no reason to throw you to the wolves straight away. I'll attend any meetings that Masumi sees fit to organize for you, to make sure nothing untoward happens."

As had been proven several times over the last week, Masumi had a high tolerance for insults. Trying to enrage him with caustic remarks was like flicking water on a greased up duck: a practice in futility that ultimately left you looking foolish. But the way Tsukikage had gazed at him when she'd said "wolves", the spiteful disgust in her eyes, made his mouth go dry.

Masumi'd planned to keep a low profile during this meeting, for obvious reasons. He might be the sort of person who pushed until things broke, but even he realized that deliberately provoking someone who was able to destroy him was imprudent. The knowledge didn't deter him from doing just that, however:

"You free to say what you want about us, madam, but we do have one good quality that you lack: patience."

"Patience?" Tsukikage repeated in a very unflattering manner.

"Yes. We expect a lot from our actors, true, but we still let them grow at their own pace. We help them become the best they can be; we don't groom them," he said the word "groom" in the same unctuous way Tsukikage'd uttered "wolves", "for our own purposes. We don't guilt them into thinking that they have to near kill themselves to be of any worth."

Hopefully, the tense, quiet fury on Tsukikage's face would prove to be worth the world of hurt Masumi was in for. He could feel Mizuki wince beside him; had she been able to, she probably would've kicked his shin, in a vain hope to condition him to associate morbidity with pain.

"Don't talk to Teacher like that!" Maya growled at him before Tsukikage could stop her.

"But it's true, isn't it?" he said, adding fuel to the fire with a gentle, sympathetic grin. "Her priority will always be 'The Crimson Goddess', shorty, never you. If you turn out to be more of a hindrance than a help in achieving her goal, she won't think twice about cutting you out of her life. Daito, however, will always cherish you as an actress," he picked up the fountain pen lying next to the unsigned contract, holding it out to Maya, "no matter what."

Tsukikage scowled at Masumi, but made no attempt to refute his claims. Maya was painfully aware of this, biting down hard on her lower lip to hold back a sob. She gave a jerk, which had probably been intended to be a nod, and reached for the pen.

As her vision was impaired by the unshed tear, she stretched her hand out too far. Seeing that their fingers were about to touch, Masumi acted on instinct: he dropped the pen before snatching his hand back as though it'd been burnt. Maya, momentarily shocked out of her grief, merely ogled at him, mouthing, "Eh?". The heat of mortification that was already spreading over Masumi's body became almost unbearable as Tsukikage leaned forward, watching him intently.

"How clumsy you are," she remarked approvingly, her grin sweet and sickeningly smug.

Masumi tried to lower his body temperature through will alone as Mizuki retrieved the pen from the where it'd fallen onto the floor.

It was a mistake to try to assert myself in an unknown situation so recklessly, Masumi noted clinically. I should've let her have the allusion of dominating me, while never really showing any weakness.

He watched Maya sign the contract with an unsteady, unwilling hand, and felt absolutely nothing. Whatever satisfaction the situation could've inspired was neutralized by the predatory gleam in Tsukikage's eyes.

Well, he, ever the optimist, told himself, she would've taken every opportunity given to shamelessly abuse me anyway, so it doesn't really matter what I let slip.

He even managed to throw Tsukikage off by giving her a genuine smile. After all, if you couldn't laugh at the fact that you were being hounded by a middle-aged diva with a heart condition, then your sense of humour was clearly lacking.

Though, then again, maybe a survival instinct, coupled with a sense of propriety, made up for missing out on a few laughs. Masumi supposed he would know this for certain soon enough.

OXOXO

Because the day apparently hadn't exceeded its limit of morbid awkwardness, the contract signing was followed by a dinner at a high class restaurant. It was standard procedure to inaugurate new clients with a little wine and friendly chatting, to show them that they would be well taken care of. Masumi had contemplated trying to bail out on the dinner, but as that would force him to explain his unwillingness to participate in the procedural to Tsukikage, he decided to just shut up and take it.

He rather regretted this passive course of action, as Tsukikage began the dinner conversation with:

"So, is it a common occurrence for you to take underage actresses out to dinner?"

Oh, yes, Masumi thought, bring out the paedophile jokes right off the bat. No need to start small. Enough; passive or not, she'll still be insufferable. I might as well take the opportunity to suss out where the boundaries are.

"Not at all," he said pleasantly. "More often than not, my lunch partners consist of middle-aged men. I'm afraid that I haven't the fortune of being surrounded by as many impressionable youths as you do. One of these days, you must tell me the secret behind your 'Pied Piper' routine."

Maya made a strangled noise over her appetizers while Mizuki rubbed the bridge of her nose with a weary sigh. It'd been too much to ask for them to show some basic consideration for the people at the table who weren't part of their epic grudge match.

"I'm sure you'd love to be able to attract youngsters," Tsukikage said, "but for the safety of children everywhere, I think it's better if I keep my secrets to myself."

"I assure you, I had no more than a casual interest in the subject. Unlike you, I've no aspiration to play dictator over a bunch of toddlers. But what I really wanted to ask is whether your regressive, black-and-white view of the world is adopted to help you cope with your vast misfortune, or if you're just as childish as the people you cheat out of a proper future?"

"Yes, of course it's childish to think the worst of a sociopathic, narcissistic man, let alone one who is frequently demonized by his own colleagues."

"Pray tell, what should one think about a faded diva who's living vicariously through her students?"

To any potential onlookers, their table would've seemed very peculiar; Masumi and Tsukikage looked as though they were merely exchanging some polite small talk, while Maya and Mizuki wore the sort of horrified expressions that were usually reserved for witnesses of violent accidents. Maya wanted to come to her teacher's defence, but found that the malicious undercurrent in the conversation was so far beyond her comfort zone, she couldn't command her mouth to do anything but gape. Mizuki felt a strong urge to stab her employer with her fork and inform him that this was not the correct manner in which to address one's blackmailer. The only thing that stopped her was that Masumi would most likely just give her a look, say, "Do you mind?", and go right back to shooting himself in the foot.

"It's rather amusing," Tsukikage said, "that a man who's let his whole life be planned out by another person would accuse me of making other people's decisions for them. I've made my own path, and I encourage my students to do the same, because that's the only way one can truly live. A life devoid of substance, lived simply because it's the most convenient course of action... Death would be preferable, don't you think?"

As her life had once depended on being able to interpret people's body language, Tsukikage was a damn good judge of character. That's why she could pinpoint the very second that her insult failed to make its mark, if only because Masumi emphasized her failure with a smirk.

"Ah, yes," Masumi leaned forward, faking innocent interest, "I was wondering when you were going to bring up the whole 'pain builds character' argument. It's a thespian favourite, after all."

Tsukikage pursed her lips, but stayed silent as Masumi continued:

"I actually have a theory concerning that particular ascetic belief, or more specifically, about the people who believe in it. People who feel compelled to aim as high as possible, even though they have scarce resources, no people skills and no luck whatsoever, they get into professions where it's more likely for them to win the lottery than get a decent career, they fall in love with people they can never have and they set out to singlehandedly accomplish impossible goals. They justify their self-destructive choices by thinking that whatever agony they feel will strengthen them. But pain is just pain; it won't make you more noble or steadfast than a man who lives, as you said, 'because it's the most convenient course of action'. In fact, I should imagine that the bitterness felt over losing, even as you set yourself up for failure, would serve to make a person rather... twisted."

And that was the sound of the gauntlet being thrown. Up until now, Masumi and Tsukikage had done nothing more than jab at each other, the adult equivalent of schoolyard taunts. That, however, was a very direct, vicious attack.

If there was one thing that could be said about Tsukikage with absolute certainty, it was that she never backed down from a challenge. She leaned forward, as though Masumi'd just made an interesting point, and said:

"So you mean to link having dreams with self-destruction, and apathy with nobleness?"

"You've a gift of oversimplifying things in a way that is almost artful," Masumi remarked, mirroring Tsukikage's action. "I mean that pursuing fantasies just because you can't face reality is the sign of a weak character, and that people who live to be comfortable can at least boast about having a stable psyche."

"I don't know about that. While crisis is, as you say, something to be avoided, at the very least, it's intellectually stimulating. It teaches you what humanity really is, and what you're truly capable of. I've dealt with the worst life has to offer, and I've only become stronger because of it. You can't call that a weakness, even if I never accomplish my goals. But a man who limits his world to only include comfortable things, ignoring that fact that pain, while just being pain, is an unavoidable part of life... A mind like that quickly atrophies into an uninteresting and useless thing that can never evolve or even keep a child satisfied."

There were a few moments of tense silence, in which Maya hunched down over her plate until her nose was practically touching it and Mizuki fantasized about a work environment where insulting philosophical debates weren't the norm. Masumi, however, merely stared at Tsukikage, maddeningly inscrutable.

The former actress was about to make another biting observation, just to tease some sort of response out of Masumi, when he suddenly gave way to her wishes: he laughed. It was a low, breathy noise, almost soundless, and if it hadn't been enforced with a sharp, open-mouthed smile, Tsukikage would've doubted in its existence.

"I always thought you were a reckless idealist," he said, still wearing his wild grin, "but you're just like me: shrewd and unapologetic for all the ugly things you are, simply because you have an excuse for them. Isn't it liberating, enduring and exercising cruelty because, well," he shrugged, spreading his hands, "that's just what life is? We can break up families, even torment others, because if pain's unavoidable, then why not use it in the name of the greater good?"

Tsukikage said nothing, imperial and rigid in her seat, like a queen being told bad news. In contrast, Masumi was relaxed, his gaze the only thing that revealed his intensity as he continued:

"I'm not spoilt, sheltered or evil, and you don't belong up on a pedestal. You're just as much of a conspiring opportunist as I am. The only difference is that when I tell people I'll make them into a star, I actually deliver. I don't feed them with empty promises and undeserved burdens. Maya is too young to make truly informed decisions, yet you've taken her from her mother, from any sort of reliable future, and made her feel as though she's indebted to you for doing so."

Maya rose from her plate to protest, but was silenced by the hand Tsukikage closed around her wrist. As much as she wanted to retaliate, this was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. The derision in Masumi's voice and the dark amusement on his face were genuine. This was what Masumi truly was: an aberrant, angry, mercurial man.

It hardly came as a surprise.

Tsukikage gave him a calm smile, the tension seeping out of her frame. "I'm just glad you know that there are some lines that adults shouldn't cross."

Masumi closed his eyes, ran a hand over his furrowed forehead and resigned himself to his fate:

"I'm never going to be able to win another argument against you, am I?"

"No," Tsukikage confirmed. "And I'm not going to go easy on you."

"I'd expected as much, but it's always nice to know exactly where one stands. Apparently," he drained his wine glass in one go, putting it back on the table with a bang, "I'm in Hell."

"That you are," Tsukikage hummed jubilantly. "The best thing is that it was your own steps that carried you there."

Masumi narrowed his eyes. "That veers dangerously close to ethical discussion. You're free to torture me, just don't bore me while you do so."

"And you telling me I'm a cradle snatching witch doesn't amount to ethical discussion?"

"No; that's a conclusion anyone with a modicum of common sense would've arrived at."

"You're awfully mouthy for a man in your delicate position."

"Like I said," Masumi smirked, "I'm an opportunist. If I'm offered a liberty, I'll damn well take it."

"Like a rat scrabbling around a kitchen for crumbs," Tsukikage cooed, almost sounding fond.

Masumi just glared at her, as the waiter had come to deliver the first course. Thankfully, the animosity that had previously enshrouded the table temporarily evaporated, as Tsukikage and Masumi had both gotten the information they'd needed.

"Ah," Maya breathed, wincing at how her voice rung out in the silence, "I-I was wondering... I left so suddenly, I didn't get to say goodbye to Rei and the others."

"Mizuki informed them of what happened," Masumi said, waving his hand dismissively. "There'll be no missing person report filed about you."

"Y-yes, but... I'd still like to say goodbye in person."

"I suppose that can be arranged. As long as we're clear that that's the last you'll see of them."

Masumi returned to his food, as though he saw no reason as to why his last remark would be cause for any concern. His act was quickly revealed for the sham that it was when he didn't even react to Maya's outcry of:

"What?"

"Friends are nice things to be had, of course," Masumi said after he'd finished swallowing his mouthful of terrine. "They served as your support and colleagues back in your indie days, but now, you're part of a different status quo. Don't waste your time with people who can't give you anything in return."

"Is that your philosophy?" Tsukikage asked him, mirroring his indifference to Maya's bewildered spluttering.

"It is," he said, "and therefore, I can vouch for its effectiveness."

Tsukikage pursed her lips, gazing at Masumi with pity. "To say that that philosophy works is to say that you work, and that's a paradox in and of itself."

"Hold that thought," Masumi said, raising his arm, trying to signal a waiter over. "If we're to have another discussion about my defunct character, I'm going to need a fresh bottle of wine."

"Stay your hand. I was merely trying to lead into overruling your decision."

"On what basis, other than spite?"

"On the basis that you have a friendless child's insight into human relations." Tsukikage's expression lost its mirth, turning cold and stern. "I don't Maya to become like you, and I'm fairly certain she herself would rather die than suffer that fate.

"You have one task to perform, and one task only: make her a star. You only need to promote her, not corrupt her, to reach that goal."

Masumi cocked his head condescendingly. "You think life is kind to sentimental idealists?"

"I don't think life is kind, period. I do, however, know that it's too short to spend with insufferable blowhards. Present company excluded," she added, gesturing at the vice-president.

Masumi didn't bother replying to that beyond giving a sardonic nod.

"So Maya gets to keep her friends," he told no one in particular. "We'll see how long that lasts, and how big a hindrance they become."

"Your joie de vivre would put an epicurean to shame," Tsukikage commented drily.

Figuring that the veteran actress would have nothing left to berate him on, as she'd already made fun of his occupation, lifestyle, social life and authority, Masumi allowed himself to truly relax for the first time that week. It was of course at this moment that Mizuki choose to lean towards him, her voice hushed and strained as she told him:

"Sir, I think it might be best if we left."

Usually, Masumi would've rejected this request gracefully. But as he'd been the target of vicious verbal attacks all day, he was more inclined to snort:

"As nice as a change of scenery would be, I'll still be paying for this overpriced dinner no matter what, being the breadwinner of this table. I should at least get some nourishment out of it."

"Sir," Mizuki insisted, "I really think you'd prefer leaving right now. I may have done something... unwise."

Masumi raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask her to clarify herself, a waiter approached Maya:

"Excuse me, miss, but are you Maya Kitajima?"

At Maya's nod and stuttered "Yes", the waiter presented her with a purple rose wrapped up with a black silk bow. "Someone told me to give this to you."

For the first time since she'd left her friends, Maya smiled, her eyes wide with awe as she accepted the rose.

Nothing about Masumi's expression changed during the delivery, other than the fact that his lips were drawn into a tense line. This was a strong show of self-control on his part, as he hadn't ordered that rose and strongly suspected that whoever had was trying to send him a message.

He stole a glance at Tsukikage; it would be just like her to assert her dominance over him in such an overly dramatic manner. But as the aged actress was currently grilling the waiter for details about who'd given him the rose, he concluded that that particular shameful secret was at least safe from her prying eyes.

He turned back to Mizuki, about to ask her how she had erred as a way to distract himself. The look on her face—a mix of guilt and pity—told him all he needed to know about who'd sent the rose and why.

A bone deep weariness, which bore an uncomfortable resemblance to helplessness, beset him. He was used to people assigning vices onto him, but not human weaknesses. Perhaps it disturbed him so much because of its novelty.

But as he watched Maya giggle over her rose, caressing the petals with careful fingers, a part of him knew he hated being humanised because it hit too close to home.

"Tsukikage," he said, rubbing his eye with the kneel of his palm, "this... situation... Whatever it is, you do understand that I never meant to act on it?"

Tsukikage just looked at him, like common sense was forbidding her from taking what she saw at face value, before letting out a crow of laughter.

"On the contrary," she continued. "Everything I know about you tells me that you'd act on it shamelessly. You always get what you want, after all, whether it's by trickery, false promises or coercion. Or, failing that, by force. Why should you be any different in this aspect?"

Mizuki set her utensils down with clatter so loud, Maya let out a gasp, nearly dropping her rose.

"That is a vile thing to say," she growled, and it was clear that if they'd been somewhere more private, she would've emphasised her resentment with a slap.

Tsukikage shrugged. "He's a vile thing to be."

Masumi didn't share his secretary's displeasure, despite having every reason to do so. He merely leaned forward, sounding genuinely curious as he asked Tsukikage:

"You really think that little of me?"

"They haven't invented a measure small enough to express how little I think of you."

Masumi nodded, as though to say, "Well put".

"Well then," he said, getting to his feet, "I won't bother you with my presence anymore."

Mizuki hastily rose with him. "I'll come with you, sir."

"Thank you, Mizuki." He pulled out his wallet, carelessly throwing a few bills at the table. "There, that ought to be enough blood money to cover the costs of the meal and a cab home. But before I leave, let me just assure you, Tsukikage, that I'm not angry at you because of that tasteless insinuation. I know you don't really mean it."

"Oh? How do you figure that?"

"If you really think I was capable of something like that, you would've killed me pre-emptively. That fierce, obsessive loyalty is just part of who you are. After all," he smirked, "you've spent the last few decades trying to vindicate a man who'd rather die for a fictional woman than live with you. Think of what you might do for someone who actually cares about you."

He turned around and strode out of the restaurant before his remark had properly made impact, so he didn't see Tsukikage recoil, her face pale and her eyes screwed shut.

It was just as well that he hadn't seen her reaction; the insult had left a bitter taste in his mouth, courtesy of the part of him that still knew how to differentiate right from wrong.

Now, more than ever, Masumi felt how absolutely useless and dated a device his moral compass was.

OXOXO

If asked, many people would've said that Masumi's most disturbing quality was his ruthlessness, his lack of empathy or the feeling of otherworldliness he gave off; like he didn't belong among humans. Mizuki could answer, with absolute certainty, that none of these traits even compared to the way he seemed to find genuine amusement in being the target of antagonism.

"So, Mizuki," he jovially addressed her once they were in the car, "as I've had enough of mind games today, I'm going to cut to the chase: you were the one who sent the rose."

"Yes, sir," Mizuki said, humbly inclining her head as she started the car. "I apologize for my poor timing; I didn't foresee Tsukikage being quite so... abrasive."

"It's fine," Masumi drawled, as though he had his secrets revealed and person relentlessly mocked daily, and no longer found it a bother. "I can't say I approve of your grandiose methodology, but you certainly got your message across efficiently. So what do you intend to do with your showily acquired information?"

"Nothing, sir," Mizuki said, pulling out into the street. "It's not my place to do anything with it."

Masumi quirked an eyebrow. "Really, now? You don't want anything in return for your silence? No monthly deposits into your account, no penthouse suite overlooking the river, not even a paid vacation?"

"I'm not crass as all that," Mizuki said drily. "I just want to help you get through this, sir."

"That makes perfect sense, except for that fact that it's shit. I'm a multimillionaire who's in the palm of your hand. What reason do you have not to exploit me?"

Mizuki let out a longsuffering sigh. "This may come as a surprise to you, but normal people don't need reasons to not break the law."

"That might be the most stupid thing I've ever heard, but that's not what we ought to be discussing. You've no reason to be loyal to me. I'm not a sympathetic man, and from what I've managed to dig up on you, you have no reason to fear any repercussions if you betrayed me. So exactly why are you still here, if you're not hoping to get a 'raise' out of this?"

Mizuki'd wished to keep her motivations secret, but upon reflection, she should've known better. Masumi was the sort of person who not only looked gift horses in the mouth, but who sent them away if they had so much a hair out of place.

"I'm not exactly proud of this, sir," she said, "but I suppose that in the beginning, I stayed because I was intrigued. You and Tsukikage are very intelligent and complicated people. It would be interesting to see how you two would attempt to resolve this. But now, I just don't want to leave you alone in this. You're a good man, Master Masumi, and you don't deserve to be treated like a criminal."

Masumi snorted rudely. "That does explain it: you're delusional."

"You're a good man," Mizuki repeated firmly. "If you weren't, you wouldn't hate yourself as much as you do."

As they stopped at a red light, Mizuki risked a glance at her employer. He'd put his hand over his mouth, as he always did when he was overwhelmed with the need to speak his mind. He apparently managed to subdue the urge, as his next words were calm and bland:

"I want to discuss a tactic I want to adopt with you."

"Of course, sir," Mizuki said, pushing down on the gas pedal as the light turned green. "I'll offer my assistance as best I can."

"I want to kill off Purple Rose."

Mizuki suddenly realized that this wasn't an ideal conversation to have when you were trying to control a three ton vehicle. It was definitely more distracting than handling a cell phone, and more debilitating than being under the influence.

"May I ask why you want to take such drastic measures?" she asked him, once she'd managed to fix her eyes on the road.

"I'm trying to put as much distance between me and Kitajima as possible. Continuing as her secret benefactor would be contrary to that purpose. Besides, imagine what would happen if Tsukikage found out." Masumi shuddered. "Makes a man weak-kneed just to think about it."

"That's your reasoning? It's not in your interests to be kind anymore, and there's a very small chance that it'll give Tsukikage more blackmail material?"

"You're very good at summarisation, Mizuki."

And that's the last drop. Mizuki'd put up with insinuating divas, crying girls and guilt induced insomnia; she was damned if she'd let Masumi condescend to her.

Without asking Masumi for permission, she pulled over next to the curb, turned off the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition.

"Sir," she began before Masumi could protest, "I understand that I can't appeal to your sense of decency. But think it through logically: Maya's in a really bad state. She's been left in the care of the people she's been taught to hate, without any idea what they're going to make her do. She's being separated from everyone and everything she's ever known and felt safe with. It would break her heart if you destroyed one of the very few sources of comfort and confidence she's got left. Broken-hearted people aren't good workers."

Masumi didn't speak for a long while, staring at the car roof to avoid meeting Mizuki's gaze. Finally, he said, still eyeing the roof:

"You're right, Mizuki. It wouldn't be beneficial if I did it now. I'm sorry." He tilted his head to the side, giving his secretary an apologetic look. "I was being short-sighted. It's just," his lips twitched before turning up into a smile, "I'm not exactly enjoying this situation. I'm a lot of things, but a burden usually isn't one of them."

As much as he frustrated and occasionally horrified her, Mizuki couldn't help but to soften at Masumi's shame.

"If you're a burden, sir," she told him, "then you're the most self-sufficient one I've ever seen."

Masumi chuckled, covering his eyes. "There's something to be said about my life when that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me for... God, I can't even remember."

"Like I said," Mizuki said, "you're a good man living under inhumane circumstances."

Masumi rolled his eyes. "Well, if you want to believe in make-believe like the good of humankind, who am I to stop you? So, now that we've resolved our differences, how about we get back to work, before you're made to answer for your illegal parking?"

As that was as close to a "Thank you" she was going to get, Mizuki obeyed the request wordlessly.

I wonder what's to be said about the fact that I'm genuinely relieved that my boss is human, she thought wryly.

The answer to that was: nothing good.

A/N: One day, I'm going to write an essay about the many similarities between Masumi and Tsukikage, one of which is how they have no business being guardians to sensitive teenage girls, as they're the single most horrible role models ever. "Dedicate your entire life to endless grudges, kids, and don't forge any real emotional ties to other people; they only make you weak!". You'd think that people who work with theatre would know how that sort of forced emotional detachment usually works out (hint: not well, not well at all).

Now, I don't want to be, you know, needy, but as this story is rather demanding and I'm only good for dialogue, any and all advice and observations would be greatly appreciated. (In other words: please help, this thing is killing me, aaah!).