Work Text:
“You want me?” Ennoshita points to himself, looking somewhat dubious. “To direct a re-adaptation of The Princess Bride?”
Ukai pulls the cigarette from his lips, resting his hand on the armrest of the red suede couch. “Of course,” he says. “I need the best for this, after all.”
Ennoshita flushes. “I’m not-”
“Yes, you are,” Ukai cuts him off. “You can do whatever you want with it as long as it follows the basic plotline, we have as much funding as your heart could possibly desire, and we’ve contacted your favorite screenwriter, as well as that cinematographer you seem to favor. They’ve both agreed already, if you say yes.”
“Ah.” Ennoshita rests his hands in his lap, looks down at Ukai’s leather shoes. “I guess I’m the last piece of the puzzle, then.”
Ukai beams at him. “It’ll be a masterpiece. The Princess Bride, re-imagined, directed by Japan’s most creative and masterful director since Miyazaki. Everyone will love it.”
“I still have some questions,” Ennoshita says.
“I have answers,” Ukai says.
“The Princess Bride is an American work of fiction. Will it attract attention here in Japan? My skills aren’t what they used to be. Did you see how the last movie flopped? So many movies are being made right now, what if we can’t get the right cast. What if your funding goes to waste what if we go over budget you can’t possibly have that much money-”
“Calm down,” Ukai says. Ennoshita flinches. He hadn’t even noticed he was rambling. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. Just focus on making this the best movie you’ve ever made, and you will reap the benefits. I guarantee it.”
Ennoshita lets out a shaky sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Ukai grins. “I knew you would.”
That was ten months ago. In ten months, he’d managed to hash out a story structure and turn it into a screenplay with Kageyama, rewrite that screenplay no less than a dozen times, snatch up some of Japan’s most popular actors, book all the locations, work out a shot list, break down the script, and finish up all the pre-production stuff.
Now it’s time to film.
6:30 the next day finds Ennoshita standing on set, waiting for his key crew to arrive. “Why do I do this to myself,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes to try and erase the bags under them.
Someone snorts softly behind him. “You’ve never been a morning person, have you, Ennoshita-san?”
Ennoshita wheels around, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Akaashi, nice to see you. Bright and early as always, I see.”
Akaashi looks just as dead as Ennoshita feels, if not more so. “You’d think I would’ve gotten used to this by now.”
Ennoshita laughs at that. “I don’t think night owls like us ever get used to waking up this early.”
Akaashi rolls his shoulders, wincing at the noises that come from them. He sighs. “I read the script. It-”
“That’s kind of your job, isn’t it?” Ennoshita teases him. Akaashi glares. “Continue, continue.”
“It has incredible potential,” Akaashi says. “I think it could be a real hit among all audiences.”
“Well now, that’s your job.” Ennoshita smiles. “Making it into a hit.”
Akaashi’s lips quirk upwards. “I suppose it is.”
They stand there in silence for a moment. Ennoshita feels the chill of the morning wind burrow underneath his coat, and Akaashi shivers.
“Cold?” he asks.
Akaashi represses another shiver. “I’m fine.”
“Ennoshita!” he hears, distantly. He spins on his heel to see Michimiya and Shimizu walking toward him, fingers loosely intertwined. “Ennoshita!”
“Michimiya, Shimizu!” he hollers back. “It’s nice to see you!”
Michimiya’s cheeks are tinged red from the cold. Her breath comes out in white puffs of air. “I’m really excited for today!” She beams. “It seems like a great movie, Ennoshita, I can’t wait!”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Ennoshita says. “How are you two doing?”
“We’re fine,” Shimizu says with a small smile. “I’m excited, too.”
Michimiya perks up when she sees who’s standing behind him. “Ah, Akaashi-kun, nice to see you!” She turns to Ennoshita, grinning. “You picked a good one.”
Ennoshita throws a backward glance behind him. “Don’t I always?”
Akaashi arches an eyebrow. “That’s high praise. Was it wise to invest your hopes for this movie in me?”
Ennoshita slings an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he says. “It’ll be great.” He won’t trust any less than his favorite cinematographer with this movie, after all.
“I’m your favorite?”
He said that out loud?
Michimiya snickers. “Yes, you did.”
“Oh,” Ennoshita chokes. He pointedly does not look at Akaashi as he walks toward where the cameramen are setting up. “Let’s go see if the rest are here, shall we?”
He’s a liar. He takes a quick peek at Akaashi, whose cheeks are about as red as he imagines his own to be. He tells himself it’s just the cold.
“... and cut!” Ennoshita announces. “Let’s break for lunch. Michimiya, that was great. You’re getting into the part of Mitsubachi really well.”
“Ah, that’s a relief.” Michimiya grins. “See you in thirty!”
Ennoshita waves as she heads off to grab something with Shimizu. “So,” he says, turning to Kageyama. “What do you think?”
“Good cast,” he says, nodding. “You really picked the cream of the crop for this one, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Ennoshita replies, laughing sheepishly. “The idea had never occured to me until Ukai came to me with it, but now I really think it’ll be good. Er, hope.”
Kageyama stands up from where he’s crouching, and Ennoshita tries not to flinch at the fact that Kageyama has always been, and will always be, taller than him. He’d grown even taller than Akaashi since high school.
Kageyama rests a hand on Ennoshita’s shoulder. “It’ll be great. We’ll make sure of it.”
Ennoshita tries to respond, but Kageyama suddenly turns to yell, “Oi! Dumbass Hinata, put that down!”
Hinata, of which all Ennoshita can see is his brightly colored hair, shouts from across the set, “Shut up, Bakageyama, you’re just the screenwriter, this isn’t even your area! You can’t tell me what to do!”
“We’re on break!” Kageyama bellows. “Stop messing with the sound equipment and go eat something!”
Ennoshita hears something that sounds suspiciously like “stupid Kageyama, always trying to tell me what to do” before he relents and goes to the break area. Kageyama follows after him, presumably to grab something to eat himself.
Ennoshita’s about to head over when someone comes up behind him. “Being director doesn’t mean you have to guard the set,” they say, a bit of a teasing lilt in their voice.
It’s Akaashi. “I’m not the one who’s still fiddling with the cameras,” he says archly, before breaking out into a grin. “Let’s not worry too much about this. I’m hungry.”
“I know you only casted me as Norisuke because I’m short,” Yaku insists, hands on his hips.
“No, we chose you for this part because you have the greatest adaptability and your acting skills are phenomenal.” Ennoshita tries to placate him, but Yaku is stubborn.
“Adaptability because I can completely change my personality to fit a short character, right?”
Ennoshita sweats. Yaku is an amazing actor, but it’s true that they did choose him for his height. Apparently, he’s still sensitive about it. “... Yeah.”
Yaku sighs. “I knew it.”
“I’m sorry, Yaku-san-” Ennoshita tries to say, before Yaku holds a hand up.
“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he says. “I’m the one who accepted the part anyways. Still,” he mutters to himself, “I wish they’d choose me for parts where the character’s dominating trait isn’t their height.”
Ennoshita frowns. “Norisuke’s more than that, you know. He’s incredibly smart, but he’s also arrogant and says ‘inconceivable’ way too often.” He pokes Yaku’s forehead. “I thought you, of all people, wouldn’t judge someone by their height.”
Yaku pushes his hand away. “Damn right I never judge someone by their height. I’m not all that upset about it, Ennoshita, but next time give me a cooler part, got it?”
“Got it, got it.” Ennoshita tries to ruffle Yaku’s hair but is smacked away. “Let’s get back to filming.”
“My name is also eerily close to his,” Yaku calls back as he walks away.
The next scene is where Shimizu, as the Woman in Black, fights with Kuroo, playing Murakami Shinzo. This is the fourth take, this time from an angle that Akaashi deems is the better of the few they had tried. Their sword props flash in the light as they circle around and stab at each other. Soon enough, the Woman in Black renders Shinzo unconscious and runs off to where she will later encounter Taketaka.
“Cut!” Ennoshita yells. He crouches down next to Narita, who lets him look through the recording. “Ah, nice fighting, Shimizu, Kuroo. I think we’re good to move on!”
By the end of the day, they’re putting the finishing touches on the scene where Mitsubachi pushes the Woman in Black down into the ravine, and Shimizu reveals her identity as Asa, Mitsubachi’s long-lost lover.
“You’re the Dread Pirate Katsu,” Michimiya accuses Shimizu. “Admit it.”
Shimizu bows. “With pride. What can I do for you?”
Ennoshita watches with a critical eye as Michimiya shoves Shimizu, watching her roll down and changing her facial expression from vindictively satisfied to shocked and horrified as Shimizu screams, “As you wish!”
Michimiya tumbles down after her, crying, “Asa! What have I done?”
“Cut!” Ennoshita says, for the last time that day. “Good work today, everyone, let’s pack it up and go home!”
Immediately, the sounds of people bustling around and putting things away fills the set. Ennoshita sighs, back suddenly aching. He longs for his bed back home, but they’re out in the country and Ennoshita has arranged to stay at a ryokan for the next two months. Someone rests a hand on his back and Ennoshita subconsciously leans into the familiarity of it. When did that happen?
“You look tired,” Akaashi says. “I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Sure,” Ennoshita replies, because who is he to pass up free food? “Thanks for all your hard work today, everyone, see you bright and early tomorrow,” he yells again, receiving numerous groans. Once everything is put away, he and Akaashi walk along the town’s main street, eventually deciding on a retro-looking restaurant that boasts the best black sesame ice cream in town. Ennoshita stares out the window at the people walking outside as he slurps his ramen. Akaashi says nothing, picking at his curry rice. After a while, Ennoshita asks, “What do you think so far?”
“I think,” Akaashi starts, and then cuts off. “I think I might have gotten more emotionally attached to this movie than I intended.”
Ennoshita lets his lips turn up into a small smile. “Yeah, it’s a good story, isn’t it.”
“Love conquers all,” Akaashi muses to himself. Ennoshita doesn’t know if he was supposed to hear that.
They pay for their food and leave, finally parting ways at the intersection between their rooms. He had forgotten momentarily that Akaashi was staying in the same ryokan. Akaashi nods at him. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Get a good sleep,” Ennoshita says. “We’ll be pushing through some difficult scenes tomorrow.”
Then he steps into his room, falling onto the futon and wondering when his favorite cinematographer became his favorite person.
Akaashi grits his teeth. “This isn’t turning out right at all,” he says calmly, but Ennoshita can feel the frustration in the air.
They’ve filmed this scene at least twenty times by now, but each time something about it looks off. Staged. They’ve tried several different angles, but none of them look natural enough.
The crew is growing weary, too. Hinata looks like he’s about to drop the sound equipment, and Tanaka and Noya, the liveliest crew members, are starting to lose their energy.
Ennoshita decides to call an impromptu break. “Let’s stop for now,” he says. “We’ll pick up again in twenty, or move on to a different scene.”
The team heaves a collective sigh of relief, many going to get water or a quick bite to eat. Akaashi is still glowering at the set, circling around it.
Ennoshita nudges his shoulder. “That means you too, you know.”
Akaashi presses his lips together in a thin line. “I feel like, subconsciously, I know how to frame this, but my conscious just isn’t picking up on it.” He runs a hand through his hair, releasing a big breath. “I didn’t peg this scene as one of the ones we were going to have difficulty with.”
Ennoshita rests his hand on his hip. “Well, you’re bound not to make much progress if you’re all worked up like this.” Akaashi lets him grab his elbow and lead him towards the break area. “Come on, I heard someone brought ice cream in a cooler today.”
“What flavor?”
“Your favorite.”
Once everyone has cooled off, they try it again. It takes them a couple more takes, but Akaashi finally finds an angle that he’s somewhat satisfied with, and Ennoshita runs through the footage after the take is over. “It’s not perfect,” he muses, “but it’ll do.”
Akaashi wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Let’s move on.”
The next scene they’re working on is a fun one, at least in Ennoshita’s opinion, and it seems to revitalize the crew. Bokuto Koutarou, although only having a minor part in this movie, shines in every film he stars in. He’s charismatic and likable, and his presence just adds that much more to the movie. Ennoshita finds himself thanking his lucky stars that he managed to snatch up so many renowned actors and actresses. It probably helps that he holds some degree of friendship with most of them.
“There’s a difference between mostly dead and all dead,” Bokuto says in a completely different persona from his normal personality. He sticks a bellows in Shimizu’s mouth and starts to pump it like it’s completely normal. “Now, mostly dead is slightly alive. Now, all dead...well, with all dead, there's usually only one thing that you can do.”
“What’s that?” Kuroo asks.
Bokuto gives him the most deadpan look Ennoshita has ever seen on a man’s face. “Go through his pockets and look for change.”
The whole crew is stifling laughter when Bokuto and Shirofuku quarrel on set as Miracle Motoari and his wife, Kachi.
Bokuto stops. “Wait. Wait. I make him better, the shogun’s son suffers?”
Kuroo smiles teethily. “Humiliations galore!”
Bokuto ponders this. “That is a noble cause. Give me the sixty-five, I’m on the job.”
“Cut!” Ennoshita says. He doesn’t even have to watch the footage to know it was perfect, but he’ll look it over later. “Great work, you guys. Let’s end it there for today.”
As the crew cheers, Kageyama comes up to him. “Shouldn’t we try to do one more scene?” he asks. “Since we lost time earlier.”
Ennoshita waves him off. “Nah. Let’s end on a good note.”
Akaashi walks up to him. “Dinner again tonight?”
“Sure,” Ennoshita replies. “Kageyama, would you like to join us?”
Kageyama looks between the two of them and then adopts a facial expression that looks like he knows something they don’t. “I’ll pass,” he says, holding up a hand. “Hinata said he made onigiri, anyways.”
Ennoshita lets the silence hang for a moment too long while he tries to work out his confusion. “Ah, okay then,” he says finally. “Have a good night.”
Kageyama tilts his head in a little bow. “You too. And you as well, Akaashi-san.”
“You too, Kageyama-san,” Akaashi says, speaking for the first time during this exchange.
Ennoshita tries not to think about how strange that conversation was as they grab stools at a ramen stand.
Michimiya and Shimizu are locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately as the sun dips below the horizon, silhouetting them in darkness. On Ennoshita’s cue, Kinoshita stops the recording.
“That’s a wrap, ladies and gentlemen, that was the last scene!” Ennoshita announces. Cheers erupt throughout the set, and Hinata nearly takes someone’s head off with one of the microphones. “The filming is all done, now I just… have to take it to the editors… and deal with the foley artists…” he trails off, slumping. The crew laughs, some of them patting Ennoshita on the back sympathetically.
“Congratulations,” Akaashi says, eyes sparkling with mirth.
“You too,” Ennoshita responds, smiling gratefully, if a bit wearily. “This couldn’t have happened without you.”
Akaashi nods at that, but says, “Only under your brilliant directing was I able to do my job,” he says graciously. “It’s truly been a pleasure.”
“Likewise.”
They have dinner together for probably the last time in a while. Ennoshita cracks a few jokes, and Akaashi looks at him with the fondest expression he’s seen in a long time. After they pay, Ennoshita has plans to turn in early, but those plans are ultimately scrapped when, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many different ways he tosses and turns, he just can’t seem to fall asleep. He grabs a random DVD case out of his suitcase and walks barefoot to Akaashi’s room.
Akaashi looks just as worn as he does, and to his credit, not that surprised at seeing Ennoshita in pajamas standing in front of his door. “I brought a movie,” he says. “Whisper of the Heart. Wanna watch?”
Akaashi steps wordlessly from the door as a response.
It’s nice to watch something animated after working on a live-action. At first, they sit side by side, straight-backed, but somehow over the course of the movie Ennoshita finds himself with his head in Akaashi’s lap, and Akaashi hunched over, squinting at the fuzzy screen of the old TV. He doesn’t notice the hand in his hair until it’s gone, yanked out suddenly like it’s on fire, and he makes a sleepy noise of displeasure. “Keep doing that, I like it,” he slurs, grabbing Akaashi’s hand and placing it on his head again. Akaashi’s body jerks slightly in surprise, but he keeps doing whatever he was doing earlier.
Ennoshita falls asleep to the singing of “Country Road” and a warm presence at his side.
They hold a party after opening weekend, and Ennoshita shakes no less than a million hands (by his estimation, at least) and receives a million compliments about how great the movie was, how much money it raked in, how it touched their hearts so, and on and on.
He clinks flutes of champagne with Kageyama and Ukai. “What’d I tell you,” Ukai says, smug smile plastered on his face. “It was a huge success! Arguably your best movie yet, Ennoshita. I’m proud of you.”
Kageyama tries to smile too. It’s awkward, and looks like he’s baring his teeth, but Ennoshita gives him points for trying. “You’re very talented,” he says modestly, like he didn’t write most of the script. “It was an honor to work with you.”
“And you as well,” Ennoshita says, and shakes his hand and gives him an awkward hug, which Kageyama finally reciprocates after a few moments. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, there are a few more people I’d like to find.”
He spots Michimiya and Shimizu, new matching rings adorning their hands, and thanks them for their performances. He finds the rest of his crew, pays them all a compliment or two, and endures their lavish praise with a sheepish smile. He’s a blushing mess by the time he’s finished congratulating everyone.
Everyone that is, except for one person. Ennoshita stands on his tip-toes to try and look over the crowd, but the dancing has started and the mass of moving bodies is too much for Ennoshita to try and catch a glimpse of him. He’s about to give up and watch the dancing from afar when someone taps him on the shoulder.
“Akaashi!” Ennoshita beams. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”
“Me too,” Akaashi says, setting his wine glass down. “May I have this dance?” he asks, with a flat expression but a teasing voice.
Ennoshita puts his champagne down. “Sure,” he replies.
Akaashi pulls him onto the dance floor, and suddenly they’re enveloped in the crowd. It’s a fast-paced dance, too much so for the stiffly starched suit he’s currently in, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face anyways. He doesn’t notice that almost everyone has left the dance floor until Akaashi dips him and then it’s just Ennoshita and Akaashi, alone together on the dance floor. Akaashi’s strong arm is at his back and the lights are shining on them.
“Kiss him!” someone shouts. He thinks it might be Michimiya.
The chant is taken up by the rest of the attendees. Ennoshita looks up at Akaashi’s face, which is as infuriatingly calm as always. He gulps. “You heard them,” he says tentatively.
Akaashi smirks. “As you wish.”