Disclaimer: All respect and love to the original author. Thank you for sharing such fun characters with us.

Chapter 15: …*CRUNCH.*

A number of concerns were weighing on Kyoko's mind as she wandered down the halls of Andy Studios. The most disturbing of them had been put to rest—Aki was not deluded by romantic fanaticism, so Kaya was relatively safe on that front now. However, there were still some niggling, itchy possibilities that were making her antsy.

Sure, she knew that love was the prelude to disaster… but did Kaya? Was she denying a journey of Kaya's that the innocent soul had to travel on her own? Would Kaya be able to resist the merciful, though distant, Aki without knowing what a debilitating disease love was? Before, Kyoko had just assumed that Kaya had found some good in a lonely demon, but actually did possess some wariness against him in regards to her spiritual welfare, but now…

Was Kyoko interpreting her wrong just to make things easier on herself? She sighed, closing her eyes with a painful wince of distaste. She hoped not, but she wouldn't put it past herself…

Pondering upon this disturbing conundrum, Kyoko wasn't sure exactly which route she took to get to studio E, though any soul in range of her travels knew her path vividly. In fact, when she suddenly began vibrating, several staring passerby thought they might be witnessing a religious event. Imagine their disappointment and confusion when the bizarrely gorgeous, nigh angelic young woman pulled a cellphone from her pocket.

You have 2 unread texts from 'Amamiya Chiori'

Kyoko's head tilted as she squinted a little through the foggy contacts, Kaya's soft waves shifting as she did so.

(It was a little disconcerting—how long had it been since she'd had long hair? Not since Shotaro… )

She shook herself and unlocked the phone. If Amamiya-san was texting her, it was probably something important, so she didn't have time to be thinking of selfish, idiotic bleepards.

Mogami-san, the brats have escaped again. How do you always find them again so quickly?

[3:17pm]

The witnesses (still staring) shivered a little as a small draft began to stir. Kyoko, oblivious to this, frowned. How to answer that question? She just could. Almost the same way she could sense The Beagle—all she did was just follow the trail of narcissistic evil intent and she was bound to run into them. She shivered at the thought. It was slightly different, but the same principle.

We found them—they were vandalizing the LoveME lockers. I think its an improvement. Do you know who this guy is, though? They won't get back into their car until I can tell them his name.

[4:03pm]

Attached was a picture of the LoveME lounge. Most of the inhabitants she did not recognize, it looked like the little monsters had dragged some punk artists into their scheme (How they managed to plan these things without getting caught, she didn't know. She was pretty sure their driver said they were on 24-hour surveillance after burning down their mother's vacation home with a group of cultish minions from their elementary school.)

However, the graffiti she recognized. It was a little glittery, and the eyes were too big, and the hair was even bigger, but it was an image she was not likely to soon forget—not after having savored killing him for almost over a year now.

It was Shoutaro, in his makeup from the Prisoner PV, holding one of those glowing red swords his little clones had used. Underneath the rendition of him in his dark prince getup was flowing calligraphy, stating:

'We Will Never Join the Pink Side!'

At this point, the 'small draft' had grown into a much larger one, the lights flickering dangerously. To say that Kyoko was angry would be a gross understatement. She didn't have any particular emotional attachment to those lockers, or to the color pink, but the LoveME lounge was supposed to be a safe-haven of sorts—a place for like-minded, sensible souls who wished to avoid the sorry, crazed fools ignorantly plagued with the disgusting horrors of fanatic romantic delusions (If President Takarada heard this definition of the section he had invented, Kyoko would be in no little amount of trouble, but that is another story.)

That the image of the unrepentant, selfish, conceited, ungrateful, foul source of her former illness had been painted across an entire wall of their safe haven was an act of desecration that was not to be forgiven.

(The witnesses now huddled on the floor, covering their eyes in horror as darkness gathered around the angel-turned-something that was gazing at her phone with glazed eyes so frigid that they thought they saw snow flurrying around her.)

Then the phone vibrated, and the dark blizzard ceased abruptly, a look of surprise taking its place.

Mogami-san, I hope that you are doing well, and that you passed your exams successfully and without event. As you likely have been informed, TM starts again the day after tomorrow. The President has told me that 'Actor X Headquarters' have changed—but we are to meet him and Ten-san in the LME parking garage as usual. Please remember to eat and rest appropriately.

- Tsuruga Ren

[4:15pm]

If the witnesses had less sense, they might have stuck around to see the shift that slowly overtook the young woman's face. It was an interesting, and complicated flutter of feelings that she tried to keep tightly reigned. At first, surprise, then puzzlement, and then a dangerously soft confusion of sadness and joy that was as equally heartbreaking as it was beautiful. If any had stayed to witness it, she might have gained a few extra stalkers—as it was, she was so preoccupied that she didn't sense her most dangerous stalker until he was right behind her. His silky voice woke her from her distraction.

"I recall having warned you about playing with lions."

Kyoko nearly shot out of her skin, she was so surprised. The way her evil-sensors were suddenly blaring all over the surface of her body (aka, goose bumps) she almost wished she had—especially after a chilly hand clamped around her wrist. Apparently he was familiar enough with her honed flight reflex to have learned, blast him.

She shivered in revulsion as that otherworldly, paralyzing chill seeped from his grip on her wrist. If she didn't get away now, she was…

"You're all wrong for him, Kyoko."

Kyoko froze, confused. What was this blasted hound of the underworld blathering about now? Against her better judgment, she looked up into the creepy purple eyes of The Beagle. He was wearing insensibly tight leather today, with jewelry that looked painful.

"What are you talking about? And when did anybody say anything about lions?" she scowled, attempting to break his grip on her arm and wishing she had a weapon of some sort. Corn was safely tucked away in her bag back in the wardrobe department. "You should fire your human translator. He's incompetent!"

Too focused on remembering the obscure hexes Maria had tried to teach her, she missed the way his eyes lit up in amusement at that.

"I was talking about 'Tsuruga Ren'—or whatever his real name is."

Kyoko was too startled to intervene as the denizen of the underworld pried her phone from her frozen fingers, looking at the screen with an expression of disgust. Her little grudges shook her fearfully, trying to get her to focus on the more pressing issue of escape, but she wasn't listening.

What?

"He might find you interesting now, but in the end, he'll find someone more... useful ...to him."

He dropped the phone, and Kyoko lurched for it, fumbling with numbing fingers. The phone clattered to the floor, its descent having only been softened. She went back to trying to pry her arm loose, certain that if she listened to him any more than this, her brain would start to shut down under whatever hypnotic evil magic he was lacing his malicious words with.

"Someone innocent and sweet, who believes in the 'all-redeeming, all-healing power of Love' to mend his tortured soul," He sneered, the distaste evident in his tone.

Kyoko's heart stuttered, brought up short. An image of Tsuruga-san flickered in her mind, looking so defeated while absently covering his watch, claiming that he couldn't have someone that he loved. That he didn't deserve it…

"I know I'm not right for him, and I'm... I'm not trying to be..." she whispered, her gaze losing its focus, numbing the hurt as she desperately tried to kill it.

But, this wasn't the time to be lost. Meddling with her non-existent relationship with Shoutaro was one thing—but the Beagle prying into her senior's private affairs to use them as weapons for his own twisted amusement was another entirely. The deadened quality to her eyes fled as anger boiled to the surface. The air stirred, and she thought she felt a tremble from his grip on her wrist.

"Go back to hell, you satanic mutt—the people I respect are none of your business, so keep that poisonous forked tongue to yourself."

A second, chilled hand gripping around her jaw, the manicured claws lightly biting into her skin.

"Their love will always be out of your reach, Kyoko. No matter how many times you reshape yourself—you will never be normal enough to truly comfort them," he murmured, sharp nails gently caressing the cheek beneath her frozen gaze. He sighed, a look she couldn't process crossing his face. Some disturbing sort of manic longing and pity, it seemed, but it only served to heighten her dread. "Trying has only ever made you hate yourself, Kyoko. A heart as beautifully twisted as yours deserves someone who can appreciate it the way it is, don't you think?"

In her shock, Kyoko failed to register how close his face had come to hers until shouting distracted her from her emotional train wreck.

"REINO!"

Mary was practically vibrating with tension as they left the conference room. For the sake of appearances, she was trying to hold still—after all, she wanted them to take the warning seriously... But as soon as the door shut behind them, Mundy sighed and gave her a little push.

She didn't question it.

It was truly funny how people seemed to know exactly what she was looking for before she asked. As she nigh skidded into the foyer, all the receptionists, and even the odd stander-by, pointed down the far hallway with the strangest dazed expressions on their faces.

Well, Kyoko-chan had that effect on people. If Mary didn't know it would probably break the poor girl's conservative mind, she'd have kissed her by now.

Rounding the last corner toward Studio E at an almost run, Mary screeched to a halt.

What is Reino doing here?

She stared at the scene unfolding before her in mute confusion. She was certain Reino was indisposed with 'sun sickness'... Yet, there he was, strangling Kyoko-chan's wrist, his face dangerously close to hers.

Far worse, the look on Kyoko-chan's face...

"REINO!" Mary barked sharply, startling even herself with her volume.

Two uncanny sets of eyes locked on her; one an irritated amethyst, the other a frighteningly empty winter.

Mary approached the pair, an ugly dread building in her chest. This did not look good. Not at all.

"What is going on here?"

Reino, the impudent snot, stood, having the gall to look down his nose at her in obvious disdain, and shrugged, suddenly oozing enough apathy to kill a horse.

"Kyoko is having an ...emotional crisis. I was merely attempting to spare her."

Mary blinked, looking down at where Kyoko-chan was kneeling on the floor, her empty gaze locked on Mary as if she was hoping for something... But knew it wasn't ever going to come.

Mary knelt, carefully taking the girl by the shoulders. "Kyoko-chan?"

No response.

"Kyoko-chan, have we gone too far today? Do you need someone to take you home?"

The child blinked at this, looking as if she had only just now processed who was speaking to her. Her posture straightened, that elegant formality surfacing.

"Thank you for your concern, Edmunds-sensei," the child spoke with a precise, soothing dictation that Mary had never heard before, with a near robotic sort of fluency. It was so… professional sounding.

And, suddenly, Mary understood all too well why Kotonami-san had paled at this smile.

It was a mask. A mask with no face underneath.

"I'll be alright in a moment, but may I make a detour to the wardrobe department? I left something there."

Ren stared down at his phone. The screen had gone dark by now, for which he was thankful. He knew the message he had sent was perfectly acceptable, yet he couldn't shake the discontent he felt.

It wasn't a new feeling, but part of him wanted to blame Sunday for it, anyway.

He sighed, dropping his face into his free hand, thankful for the emptiness of the emergency stairwell at TBM studios.

Truthfully, Ren knew very little of LoveME's frosty second in command. What he did know was that Mogami considered her to be her very first real friend, and adored her. What he had observed of her was an intelligent young woman not inclined to emotional display, and not one to fake much outside a formal role.

He approved of that, to some degree. She'd have to learn to play the game eventually, but she clearly cared about Mogami, and held a great deal of influence over her—which was why it would be better to have her as an ally than an enemy, even if all she could agree to was not to interfere so long as he didn't cross any of her lines.

His eyes scanned the printed words on his script, but wouldn't absorb their meaning, his mind looping over Sunday's conversation, part of him contemplative…and another mightily irritated.

"What if I told you I could help you?"

He'd smiled his 'sparkly' smile (as Yashiro liked to refer to it), and had politely declined, indicating that 'anyone would, given the level of hostile intent her lovely features radiated.'

She'd not been flattered, or even flustered, doing justice to her title as Mogami's friend and colleague in pink. She knew he wasn't impressed by her behavior, and clearly didn't feel inclined to correct that.

"I have one condition," she'd continued, completely disregarding his refusal.

He'd lifted a brow, stating somewhat dryly that he was dying to hear it.

"If you do this my way, you have to be serious, or I'll help her dispose of your body when she hates you more than she does that idiot childhood friend of hers."

The amount of violent intent in that room might have caused permanent damage had anyone interrupted in that moment. Had there been witnesses, they might have seen what looked more like a pair of professional mobsters in a pre-bloodbath stare down than two professional actors having a civilized discussion.

Ren narrowed his eyes behind his hand, his irritated 'tsk' echoing slightly in the stairwell as he thought back on the rest of the conversation.

Her proposed method and reasoning were sound. But were bound to be excruciating and dangerous, on multiple fronts.

"You know how Kyoko feels about a certain four-letter word," the girl leaned back in her seat, flipping her raven tresses over her shoulder as she folded her arms, her nose scrunching slightly as the movement of her arms seemed to draw her attention to the color of her uniform. He wasn't sure if her look of weary disgust as she surveyed their immediate surroundings had to do with them or her life in general. "But I'm sure you've noticed that there is a specific variety of love that Kyoko feels very differently about."

It hadn't taken long for Ren to catch her drift. There wasn't a frequenter of LME headquarters who didn't know that 'friendship' was the only love it was safe to mention in Mogami's presence.

Well. Safe was a relative term, he supposed, but he caught the drift nonetheless.

"Your point being?"

Kotonami-san had scowled, looking enormously put-upon that he hadn't had the decency to read her mind and allowed her to excuse herself from this whole conversation (which she had nearly abducted him to initiate), and began to explain.

"My 'point' being, Tsuruga-san, that Kyoko has made herself untouchable by making you untouchable. She's put you so high on the pedestal of her 'admired senior' that the fall from up there would probably do permanent damage to your relationship."

And didn't he know it. She'd summed up his situation with rather heartless accuracy, he felt.

"If you want any hope at all with Kyoko, you're going to have to do a complete rehabilitation of the way she relates to you."

Here, Kotonami's eyes had narrowed, studying him carefully.

"You're going to have to 'friend-zone' yourself, Tsuruga-san."

As if some higher power were at play, the distant keen of 'Moko-san!' could be heard approaching. Kotonami had looked toward the door with a tight-lipped exasperation, but the fondness in her eyes was obvious to him in contrast to the coldness just moments before. She turned back to him, her gaze assessing, as if giving him one last hint.

"Are you aware of how a frog is boiled, Tsuruga-san?"

What followed was a rather blatant demonstration of the disparity of their relative positions in Mogami's estimation. He swore the look Kotonami had given him over Mogami's shoulder was as smug as it was pointed. Crueler, still, was the change in countenance that happened as soon as Mogami's attention had deigned to fall upon him.

Yashiro had threatened to cancel several interviews in the days following, claiming that his face was going to do irreparable damage to his image. He believed it. He would be looking forward to returning to the Heel act in two days if it didn't mean enduring more evidence to prove LoveME#2's point.

Cain Heel, as a brother, got more affection from that girl in one look than 'Tsuruga Ren' had from her in the whole of their acquaintance.

The thousanth sigh of the day croaked from his lungs at the thought.

'Are you aware of how a frog is boiled, Tsuruga-san?'

He lifted his head from his hand, staring unseeing at the script sitting on his knee, and realized that he officially hated Mogami's best friend.

Mundy Edmunds considered himself a very organized person. While his beloved wife was creative and given to inspired flights of artistic exploration—much like Alice down the rabbit hole—he played the role of focusing anchor, and considered himself quite good at his job. It was why he had become a director to begin with. He enjoyed being the crucible where vision became reality.

Working with creative muses, though, was really much like managing human natural disasters. He'd learned years ago to treat them like a facet of Mother Nature—the more practical and detached he was about it, the less frustration for everyone involved. There were times to push through, times to bunker down, or times to evacuate and manage the damages—and he prided himself in discerning the differences with a clinical eye.

Usually.

He glanced back at his wife where she was sitting behind him, her expression brooding as she watched the girl who was sitting against the studio wall. The same girl Mundy had been keeping tabs on in his peripherals for the past ten minutes.

The girl who was serenely holding a blue rock to her forehead while conversing with her guardians on the phone, informing them that she would be later than planned.

They were on a deadline, after all. In two weeks, they would be having their press release to start promoting the series publicly. With the changes Mary was making to the script, Aki was now a crucial part of the main cast, and would need to be openly featured in the promotions. Young Kyoko's work schedule for the coming week would allow them time for one last callback, and they didn't have more resources to waste sorting these boys if none of them were going to make the cut.

It was brutal, but it was how things were. They needed Kyoko to stay, even if she wasn't in top form for it. Thankfully, the girl's work ethic was on point. Unlike most eccentric talents, she wasn't placing her own welfare first and foremost.

So other people did her worrying for her. Like Mundy and Mary were doing as they watched the way she was holding that rock.

Mundy sighed. There were days that his job felt like being a real-life heartless villain. It was depressing.

"Call in the first actor."

The proceedings would start with a short interview, where the applicant was to give them an explanation of how he intended to portray the character and why. If either Mundy or Mary felt it could be improved, they would provide guidance, then observe how well the actor could follow through as he acted two scenes with their leading lady.

First, the scene immediately upon the breaking of the 'seal' containing Aki's full form and strength. In this scene, Aki takes a moment to observe the effects fear had on Kaya's perception of him, and Kaya—now fully realizing that this was the god she had been praying to in the ancient family shrine all through her childhood—submits, making only the humble request that her sister be given her heart.

Second, the scene after the hearts of the sisters are switched, where Kaya's new heart is failing, and Aki discovers that she is never going to ask him to spare her …and why.

The first scene, to test if he could keep his resolution in the face of Kaya's epiphany. The second, to test if he could make the correct shift in the face of his own.

Of all the auditions Mundy had hosted, this was probably the most unfair of the lot. They were up against overwhelming odds… at least, one particular 'odd'—their formidable acting partner.

But all was fair in art and war. The whole charade was to test chemistry and fortitude. If they could keep their wits, and if they could take correction.

Let the slaughter begin.

Murasame had always felt that waiting was the worst part of auditioning, this time feeling particularly gruesome. He swore the casting director was looking at them with pity in his eyes every time he came to collect them. It was like being an inmate on death row.

Not to mention that the latest addition to their party was a little…weird.

Murasame didn't pay as much attention to the music industry as he did the acting one, but he liked music just as much as the next guy, and habits die hard. He recognized Vie Ghoul's vocalist immediately. He'd never been sneered at with such apathy before. Big names were really something else.

He was working on his sixth can of coke since the waiting had begun when the casting director came for him, looking a little more ruffled than he had the last time.

Murasame wasted no time following, though he was a little bewildered. Yoichi Tsukino had been called only ten minutes ago. Up to this point, the interval had been closer to 20-30min.

The reason became slightly more apparent as they approached the specified studio. He could hear the swearing and destruction from the other end of the hall. Rounding the corner, Murasame came into view of Tsukino viciously kicking the daylights out of a unassuming-looking trash bin now beyond salvaging.

Both Murasame and Sasaki-san, the casting director, glanced at each other. When Sasaki-san reached wearily for his phone, Murasame shook his head. He'd seen Tsukino's movies. As long as he hadn't been downplaying his skills this whole time, Murasame was fairly certain he could take him safely if it came down to it. He'd been going head-to-head with someone much worse for a month now—Tsukino was a cakewalk, at most.

"You alright there, Tsukino-san?"

The actor stopped decimating the plastic remains of the unfortunate garbage receptacle, but didn't turn to look at them right away. A few measured breaths and a slow slick-back of his hair later, he turned.

If looks could kill…

Again, Murasame had seen worse.

Seeming to pick up on that after a moment, the actor stormed past him with a violent shove of a shoulder, a derisive smirk twitching at his cheek.

"Good luck, Kid."

Well. If that wasn't ominous.

The tension in the air of the studio was suffocating as Sasaki led him in. Murasame did a subtle scan to see if there were any other dented or destroyed objects being removed. It didn't look it.

Director Mundy Edmunds was speaking to Kyoko-san at the edge of the stage, and Murasame hesitated to approach. Their was something weirdly still about the air in here, and he was pretty sure that the origin of the stillness might be the actress he was valiantly trying not to stare at as Director Mundy waved him over.

He gave his best bows of greeting to both of them. Director Mundy smiled rather tightly. "You've reviewed the script?"

He lifted his script and nodded in affirmation. It was hard to talk for some reason.

Mary Edmunds, the writer of the series, entered from the studio's side door, carrying what looked to be a large bottle of mouthwash in her hands, and approached. Murasame blinked in confusion as the bottle was offered with a rather brittle smile to the actress beside him, who accepted it with a few confused blinks of her own before bowing and excusing herself, walking toward the side wall, where a small sign advertised the restrooms.

All three of the remaining company, himself included, let out a shuttering breath before the intense, brown-eyed little woman turned on him with forbidding ice in her voice.

"I hope that I don't have to tell you that Kyoko-chan is currently underage there is to be under no circumstances an unscripted snogging session in the next scenes?"

Murasame blinked.

Oh.

Oh.

"…U-Understood."

She nodded curtly, and all looked up as Kyoko-san returned from the restroom several tense minutes later, half the contents of the bottle now gone as she handed it back to Edmunds-sensei, who nodded again, shooting a piercing glare at the studio door he assumed Tsukino had left through.

Ouch. Would not want to be that man right now…

He didn't even want to be himself right now—Tsukino really set him up. Taking his seat as indicated before Mundy, Edmunds, Uesugi & Kyoko-san, he felt as if he were facing a bloodthirsty tribunal.

Well. Kyoko-san didn't really look bloodthirsty. Just chillingly vacant, as if she had morphed into an inhuman automaton in order to survive the rest of the day.

Hell. He wouldn't want to be her, either.

"Please give us your interpretation of Aki in your own words, Murasame-kun," Director Mundy began.

Murasame cleared his throat.

"Ah, Yeah. Um—I think Aki is a really proud, self-possessed du…individual," Murasame stumbled. He'd been evaluating the discussion that had taken place in the conference room as if his life depended on it. "He doesn't let his emotions rule his decisions, like us humans would, and though it seems cold, I think it makes him a better god. You know, the whole great-power/great-responsibility thing."

Three members of his audience seemed to have relaxed slightly, and Edmunds-san nodded. "Continue."

Here was the tricky part. He rolled his script nervously in his hands, fingers itching to write the millionth 'Kuu' of the day. "I think he's secretly a nice guy, but there is too much at stake for him to be careless. I think that's part of why he asks what Kaya would want to do if she could live," he lifted the aforementioned script, referring to the second scene. "He needs her, but I don't think he wants to treat her badly, though part of him is still hella angry at her ancestors."

"How do you want to approach these scenes?" the director asked.

Murasame tried not to fidget. "Ah, He's testing her, right? He was pretty cold before, so I think he'd keep that up until he's sure that she can handle the pressure. I mean, I wouldn't want to give my heart to someone who was gonna run away from me screaming if stuff hit the fan, would you?"

Director and writer glanced at each other. He hoped the slight smiles on their faces were a good thing.

Really, really hoped.

[I truly intended to put more into this chapter, but a lot has happened already, pretty heavy stuff, and it has met my average chapter word-count, so I'm going to stop for the moment. No perfectionizing. Stop it!

[I usually go back and spend some time re-reading the original work if I haven't written in a while, but I kinda struggled this time and ...didn't. I really hope that my characterization doesn't suffer if this becomes a pattern. I'm going to do my best, but I've decided to keep writing even if my feelings about the cannon are a little different than they have been for the past decades I've followed it. (Don't hate me, please?)

[Oh! And don't kill me! Though you won't see the infamous kiss of Tsukino, you will see what provoked it… a moment of anticipatory silence for Murasame, if you will. I'm not going to be very nice to the poor man.

[Sometimes I feel like a villain, too, Mundy. Art and war, though. Art and war.]

[guh...I'm weirdly nervous about posting this. Thank you so much for your reviews, they keep me coming back.]