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Tasuku first meets Taichi wandering around the halls of God-za, bright red hair flashing directly into his eyes and an eternal smile on his face as he scrambles after one of Tasuku’s fellow actors, picking up the trail of papers that he leaves in his wake.
He doesn’t think much of the boy at first; there have been a thousand young boys who have come and gone. With a flash of anger, he thinks, And there have been a thousand young boys who have quit instead of at least trying like this young boy is now.
His anger spurs him forward, causes him to reach out to the boy, offering a hand with the papers and chatting a bit as they walk towards his destination.
“Need some help?” He says, and the boy flinches, eyes widening as he meets Tasuku’s own.
“Oh, Tasuku-san! No, it’s alright, I can handle this much at least—” As he rambles, Tasuku picks up a couple papers and shuffles them together, shrugging nonchalantly.
“It’s alright, I don’t have much else to do. What’s your name?” Typical of his coworkers, the other man doesn’t even notice as Tasuku starts talking and they continue down the hall.
“My name’s Taichi! Taichi Nanao, I’m an aspiring actor, sir!” The boy’s face is turning almost the same color as his hair, and Tasuku laughs at the likeness.
“No need to call me sir, I’m just another actor. So, is Reni making you do this or what?” Taichi’s face lights up, and he bounces in place.
“Reni-san didn’t really make me do it, per say, but he said if I work real hard I can one day be in a lead role like you! So I’m making myself useful!” Tasuku feels for this poor boy, cast into a world where Reni definitely won’t nurture him at all, and knows that all of this work will be fruitless in the end.
Reni doesn’t pick anyone unless he has a use for them, and this boy has already settled into his role: a background character. He deliberates whether to let Taichi down gently or to keep him in blissful ignorance, when Taichi opens his mouth and says, “I know Reni-san probably only sees me as an errand boy and doesn’t really intend to put me in anything better. Still, if I keep going like this, people will at least notice me, right? I dyed my hair just for that! If I’m seen here, then I can use that notoriety to carry over to a less popular company that might put me in lead roles! I know I’ll never stand where you are, Tasuku-san…” His voice trails off awkwardly at the end, before he perks back up. “Ah, that’s not to say that I don’t think God-za is a good theater troupe!”
Tasuku revises his opinion of the boy. He’s stronger than he gave him credit for, and clearly more logical and ambitious than some other people he knew were. Anybody who could acknowledge their weaknesses like that was a good one in his book, and he vows to take Taichi under his wing just a little.
—
He tries, he really does.
Tasuku tries to spend a little extra time with the boy who’d captivated him, coaching him privately on acting techniques and trying a little to bring out the emotional subtleties he’d seen Taichi was at, but emotions and any kind of subtleties had never been his strong suit. (Those belonged to someone else, and he wasn’t going to steal them for himself.)
Taichi takes to it like a fish to water, jumping over some hurdles with overacting before bringing out his own subtle kind of impact and starting to shine a bit brighter. It was, unfortunately, in his role as Panicked Villager #4, but he at least played the part perfectly. Taichi catches Tasuku’s eye during one of their performances and grins brightly, and Tasuku smiles back, feeling like he’s gotten at least one person into the groove of acting and saved at least one boy from the despair he knows people feel when being rejected.
However, their mentor-student relationship doesn’t last long once he tells Reni. It’s just an offhand comment, a mention about the red-haired boy who he’d begun to view as somewhat of a protege, when Reni raises a delicate finger to his lips and says, “Now, Tasuku, when have I ever given you permission to take on an apprentice?”
Tasuku admits that he hadn’t been given explicit permission, but he’d thought that just one kid would be fine, really, and it wasn’t like he was really officially coaching Taichi either. “You know that I prefer to coach our new recruits myself, and…” Reni trails off, looking up and down Tasuku in a way that gives him chills. “Pardon me for saying this, but I don’t know if you’re quite up to taking an apprentice with where you are in your own acting abilities. Not to say that you’re bad, not at all! I just…believe you would benefit from a tad bit more focus on yourself before turning that energy outwards. I don’t want you losing focus of why you’re on this stage, you know. And why you beat out all other participants.” Tasuku lowers his head, chastised, and Reni smiles. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Over the next few weeks, Reni somehow finds ways to make his schedule even more busy, cramming in extra practices and adding exercises he’d never heard of before, and his time with Taichi slowly decreases.
He catches what snippets he can, determined to at least see the boy in a slightly larger role than a nondescript background villager, determined to at least fill him with confidence enough that he didn’t have to depend on Tasuku to keep him going (not that that seemed like it would happen, Taichi seemed like an independent and driven boy who wouldn’t let himself quit just because of one single rejection). He coaches Taichi in projection, in sweeping declarations and blocking and everything else he can think of, pouring out his knowledge even faster now that they had only limited time left, and Taichi still looks up at him with the glittering eyes of someone who truly loves acting and eagerly nods.
But all good things must come to an end, and one day the hectic schedule gets too much even for Tasuku, and he slowly stops meeting with Taichi. He still watches him sometimes from afar, and smiles in pride as he manages to land a secondary role as the brother of one of the main characters, but his mannerisms—the way he ends his sentences, the way his eyes light up—fade from his memory over time, and Taichi never comes up to bother him on his own, probably too afraid of being presumptuous.
As plays begin and end, and as the years drag on, Tasuku stays God-za’s top actor, and he slowly forgets even the name of the bright-haired boy he’d coached for a couple brief weeks.
Taichi watches from the wings, hands actors water bottles, and stays silent as he watches Tasuku’s eyes glaze over him as just another stagehand when he’d been smiling at him with pride an year prior.
—
Tasuku’s trying on costumes for the next play, the seamstress clearly too afraid to tell him off or ask him any questions. He opens his mouth to tell her that it’s okay, and he’d rather prefer he be told what to do costume-wise, when he hears a snippet of conversation float over from the seats next to him.
“I heard Reni-san’s looking to do something to that new Mankai Troupe!”
“Wasn’t that the one that used to be really famous?”
“Well, I heard it’s run by some inexperienced girl now, and—get this!—they’re actually doing better than people expected! I think their Autumn troupe is getting ready right now, actually.”
“So are they good? I mean, why would Reni-san try to do something if they weren’t?”
“Don’t tell anyone this, but I actually went to go watch their Summer troupe’s play—Just to scope out the competition, stop looking at me like that!—and they were hilarious. I think one of them was a famous TV actor too, his chemistry with the second lead was fuckin’ great!”
“Shh, not so loud! You don’t know who could be listening! But huh…I wonder what Reni-san’s planning…gotta make sure we stay on top, I suppose!”
Tasuku shakes his head at the idle gossip, turning back to the seamstress. He’d seen Mankai around too, seen some of their members at his own plays, and he didn’t know they were that good, but…despite how good they were, he didn’t know if Reni would stoop that far as to sabotage them.
Then again, Reni had been merciless at his own tryout, cutting down people who didn’t fit his standards with words so harsh he could feel them himself.
He’d noticed Haruto being more friendly with Reni too as of late, and he elected to ignore the warning bells that were going off in his brain.
—
Tasuku notices other things, as their latest production continues.
For instance, Haruto’s extended “meetings” with Reni. He wasn’t privy to the information that was passed during those meetings, only to Haruto’s smug smile as they finished.
Another thing: the red-haired boy (Takeru? Tatsuo?) was hanging around Reni much more frequently, mouth downturned and eyes stormy.
Finally, Reni’s alternation between smug smiles and blinding rage, depending on the day.
It’s a confusing set of information, and he entertains the idea that Reni might be planning to take down Mankai like he’d overheard before shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts. He was a little underhanded, sure, but…to go as far as sabotage?
He remembers his thoughts in a flash the next week as he sees a poster for Mankai Theater’s new play, The Roman Episode, and sees one “Nanao Taichi” on the cast listing.
Taichi…Taichi…Right! After a few moments of deliberation, he remembers: Taichi Nanao, the red-haired boy he’d seen in Reni’s company. It was strange that he’d moved to a new company so soon, especially when it had just started to seem like Reni was paying attention to him, but…things like that did happen, and he was likely being irrational.
(He refused to consider the other possibility, that the man he’d thrown away everyone else important for was a rotten person deep down.)
Tasuku continues acting, continues playing the part of the perfect prince, and tries to ignore the rumors that keep flying around God-za.
—
Reni calls him and Haruto in for a meeting one day, looking particularly pleased, and Tasuku tenses up. He makes his way inside the private office, noticing Haruto already perched on a stool looking gleeful.
“Tasuku, welcome. I only call you in to offer tickets for a play that all three of us will be seeing together.” He looks at their smiles, confused. “It is for Mankai Company’s new play, The Roman Episode.”
Tasuku says, “Why this particular play? Are there not others we could attend if we wish to learn about further intricacies of theater?” and Haruto laughs.
“No, stupid! This one’s special. Remember that stupid kid you tried to tutor a while back? He’s acting in there now, and Reni and I think we could really learn something from his acting! It’ll be a fun time!” He chants, and Tasuku flinches. “Aw, hit a sore spot? It’s okay, I’m not much of a tutor either. I’d never share my secrets, it’s how I got so good!”
Reni chuckles smoothly, and hands Tasuku the tickets. “I do hope you’ll join us, it’ll be a most amusing night.” He’s sent out of the office at that, clutching the slips of paper in his hand, and tries his best to push any unwanted thoughts out of his mind. It couldn’t be, he thinks. Reni wouldn’t go that low.
Tasuku counts the tickets in his hand, thumbing through the stiff sheets. From behind a closed door, Reni calls, “And invite other people too, if you wish!” and he stares down at the extra ticket.
No, he didn’t think he would. Besides, the only other person who he’d invite to watch a play with him was—
He casts the extra aside in a burst of bitterness, watching as it flutters to the bottom of the trash can, and pretends that nothing is wrong when one of his costars asks him if he was alright.
He’ll attend, he texts Haruto later. Nobody else is coming along, but he’ll be there.
—
Tasuku watches Taichi on stage, mainly.
His eyes are focused in on the bright-haired kid moving around with the delicacy of an invalid, his movements and expressions tailored so brilliantly to his character that he wonders just how good the director of this company is. He’s shining on stage, and he admires the confidence with which he maneuvers around the other two leads from his front-row seat.
He’s still not sure why Reni made him come, but he’s easy to admire good acting, and Taichi is just that—a good actor, through and through. Tasuku tries to jot down notes, before giving up in the darkness of the theater and just paying close attention.
It’s after the play that Haruto tugs on his sleeve and he moves with the other two to the backstage area for some reason. He considers the possibility that it’s to congratulate Taichi, and at first it seems to be the truth: Reni says congratulations, and then he says a curious line: “I’m praying for the success of your final performance”.
Tasuku sorts through his memory, and digs up a specific scene: Taichi walking out of Reni’s office, looking afraid and conflicted, clutching a packet of papers to his chest as he avoided the eyes of everyone he bumped into.
Taichi starts stuttering, and Tasuku realizes—that’s the look of someone who’s being intimidated, pushed into a place they don’t want to be, and he starts to finally piece things together.
In the next breath, two delinquent-looking teenagers appear, and Tasuku takes a step back.
“Taichi,” the kid with the weird hair says, and steps in front of him with metaphorical fangs bared.
“That’s the guy, huh,” the purple-haired boy says, and steps in front of Taichi as well to create a wall.
The defensiveness they display over their troupemate, and their eyes as they focus in on Reni…
Reni congratulates them on their performance, and they turn on the man, spitting out harsh words that all say the same thing: Fuck off, Taichi’s ours.
As Reni beckons to the two of them to leave, Tasuku follows in silence, promising he’d at least spare Taichi from witnessing this.
—
Reni responds, “He was a sacrificial pawn anyways,” and Tasuku’s anger boils over.
“So that’s what was going on,” he spits out. “I thought it was strange when I saw Nanao listed as a cast member. So you made Nanao spy on them.”
The silence that follows speaks volumes, and Tasuku’s voice fills the halls as he yells, “Answer me.”
It’s Haruto who spills the truth, who tells him that they were manipulating and hurting another boy who’d just wanted to act, and Tasuku sees the memory of Tsumugi, swallowing his tears as he thanked Reni for the opportunity and disappearing from his life forever, flash before his eyes.
“I can’t put up with this any longer. I’m quitting God-za too,” he says bitterly, and he wonders why he’s only now taking action like he should have all those years ago.
They protest, Reni saying something about teaching him, and Tasuku clenches his fist as he responds that he refuses to work with someone who’d dirty the stage like that.
He storms away, hands gripping the playbill with “NANAO TAICHI” emblazoned on it proudly, and wonders what he should do next.
—
He’s wandering around Veludo Way, watching some street acts, when he spots Taichi with another large group of people—and shining.
Tasuku strides up to the group, presumably Mankai Theater, and watches their antics for a bit, noting with interest how energetic Taichi appears in contrast to his last moments spent at God-za.
As their eyes meet in a chance event, Taichi’s eyes light up like they used to, and he calls out: “Ah, Tasuku-san!”
He responds in kind, saying, “You seem well,” and Taichi starts going on about how amazing it is in his new troupe before he notices a slight young man, attempting to distance himself from the group, and Tasuku visibly flinches.
Tsumugi’s there, for the first time in years, and Tasuku’s brain short-circuits as he watches the person who’d mattered most to him stutter and hide behind the admittedly even shorter director.
He only checks back in when he hears Taichi ask, “Tasuku-san, is it true you quit God-za?”, responding that it was indeed true. He almost thinks he hears Taichi’s voice get a little brighter as he congratulates him on his talent, and as Taichi rambles on, he stares at Tsumugi who’s apparently gotten worryingly thin and makes a snap decision.
“Famous places won’t even let me audition,” he confesses, and it has the desired reaction: They invite him to their company, and he’s a little shocked at their immediate generosity but agrees.
Before he joins, however, he asks: “Is that guy also a member?”
They respond in the affirmative, and he stares. To act with Tsumugi again, he couldn’t think of anything he’d want more, but…
“You’re not running away again, are you?”
Tsumugi responds, voice quiet and polite and unassuming, and his heart sinks as he remembers how Tsumugi’s voice used to sound when they were still young, full of laughter and hope.
“Tasuku-san, I look forward to working with you again!” Taichi pipes in as he confirms his new company, and Tasuku breaks away from his thoughts to smile back at Taichi for a brief moment before resuming his walk to his place of residence to retrieve his belongings, missing the way Taichi’s brow furrowed.
—
Tsumugi’s lacking confidence in a way Tasuku feels distinctly uncomfortable about, even after they make up—he’s somewhat back to the Tsumugi he’s known from childhood, teasing and smiling at him from time to time, but it’s still somewhat awkward and hesitant.
Still, Tsumugi gathers the courage to tell everyone that they’d be taking on God-za’s challenge, and Tasuku smiles at him in pride afterwards, and it feels closer to normal than they’d been in years.
Taichi cheers them on, generic cheers and expressions of congratulations, before his eyes sharpen and he looks directly at Tasuku.
He pauses, struck by the sharpness in the eyes of someone who was normally so cheerful and light-hearted, and nearly misses the words that come out of his mouth in the din surrounding them: “I’m gonna spill all of God-za’s weaknesses!”
He grins, teeth sharp in the hall lights, and breaks eye contact with Tasuku, making his way to the back of the mob that was slowly thinning out.
Tasuku thinks that night that Taichi was the only one who truly understood the scope of the challenge they were taking on—the hell that God-za was.
—
Winter Troupe rehearses like someone’s lit a fire underneath them, and someone has: Reni, to be precise.
With every step they work to perfect their teamwork and acting skills, and learn surprising facts about their troupe members, but they always manage to get over the struggles and press onwards.
Taichi watches from the side, eyes dangerously bright and sharp, and he’s in and out of Izumi’s room as often as he used to frequent Reni’s office, offering tips and secrets that he’s sure Reni would be aghast over him spilling if they still kept in contact.
Tasuku catches wind of what Taichi’s doing, one day, and they start to meet with Izumi together, spilling the inner workings of the company and their acting secrets with a sharp kind of coolness that Izumi’s a little shocked at coming from their Autumn troupe’s resident moodmaker.
“No, that won’t work, God-za has a specific counter in place for that kind of situation. They’ll outdo us in these aspects, right here, here, and here,” Taichi says, marking the loose outline, and Izumi flinches at his harshness. “I’ll tell you right now that we don’t have the time or skills currently to pull it off.” Tasuku nods his agreement from the side, words cutting equally as harsh whenever he contributed, and Izumi marvels at their synchronicity.
Taichi only hesitates for a moment before he says one night, “You know, if you want, I could try to go back into God-za and see what I can do from the inside,” and Izumi stares at him in shock.
“You—You want to go back into the place that hurt you so much?” she says, and Taichi just shrugs.
“If it’s what it takes to win. Reni’s too easy to flatter and Haruto’s too paranoid of anything that could claw up past him, he’s got a massive inferiority complex anyways. Tasuku-san knows more about Haruto than I do, but I know that as long as I just spread some subtle rumors, it’ll work out.” Taichi’s smiling a little, half-pleased. “Nobody pays attention to me anyways, so it’ll be even easier.”
Izumi firmly grasps Taichi’s arm, declaring, “Nobody will be infiltrating anyone, alright? We don’t want to stoop to their level.”
Taichi just shrugs, saying, “I’m not saying I will, Director, but it’s really easy to spread rumors and I could easily accomplish that with just a day of ‘helping out’ with some props. Rumors aren’t on the same level as deliberately sabotaging a play, you know,” and Izumi stares at both him and the silent Tasuku.
She gestures to Tasuku, silently begging him to help out, and he surprises her by saying, “He’s not entirely wrong, Director. God-za will do everything they can think of to win, and that includes spreading rumors in the same way Taichi suggested. They’re not on the same level as we are, in a lot of ways.”
She puts her foot down nonetheless, stating that they wouldn’t be attempting to affect God-za in any way, and the two of them just shrug before moving on to jotting down notes on how the costumes were done at God-za and how Yuki could do no doubt even better.
—
Taichi watches over some of their rehearsals sometimes, about as often as any other Mankai Company member, and Tasuku observes as he helps correct their acting in specific places.
He bounces around from member to member, adjusting Homare’s pose and helping Tsumugi fall to the ground properly, offering them as much advice as he possibly can under an easy smile and bright laughter.
He notices it himself, when Taichi corrects a certain gesture he makes, and with Tasuku he doesn’t bother with any of the normal excitement. Taichi twists past him, lifting his arm in a clean movement that has no movement wasted, and just nods as Tasuku thanks him briefly for correcting him with his eyes.
They both know the pressure that rests on Winter troupe’s shoulders, and Tasuku realizes that Taichi is well aware of the stress they’re under—he’s tailoring each bit of advice he gives to each member, being kinder with Tsumugi and more excited with Homare and tweaking his behavior to ensure his tips are best received. With Tasuku, he doesn’t waste time with jokes and laughter, even though it looks like he’d clearly like to—they’re just under too much pressure to be able to have as much fun as they’d like, and Tasuku notes the precision behind the choice to use as little time with him as possible, with the one person who’d understand.
Taichi does just as he promised, spilling all the secrets he can manage to find about God-za, and Tasuku’s again pleasantly surprised by the friendly and cheerful boy when he pulls out a worn notebook with every tip that he’s ever received during his time at God-za and starts listing out whatever he can find.
It’s undeniably useful and smart, having a notebook with years’ worth of hard labor, and he praises Taichi later when they meet by chance in the hallway.
“Ah, it’s nothing, really! Just something I decided to do for fun,” he laughs sheepishly, and Tasuku smiles at the blush on his cheeks that matches his hair.
“Don’t discount yourself,” Tasuku responds, and continues on to his and Tsumugi’s room.
—
After it’s all over, after they make Reni eat his words in the most satisfying way possible, everyone’s relaxing in the living room area, vaguely sleepy and full of happiness still from the success they’d had.
They’re trading questions, idly finding out more information about their troupe members, when Tsumugi looks up at Tasuku from where he’s draped over him and asks, “Hey, Tasuku, what was it like being in God-za?”
He grimaces, remembering the hell he’d gone through for the first couple years before he’d gotten popular, and opens his mouth to respond when he hears Taichi interject, “It’s hell, truly. Everyone’s trying to claw their way up all the time, and nobody knows anyone’s name. It’s not a place you come to be nurtured and grow as an actor, really.” He sees the boy flush in the next instant, saying, “Ah, sorry! I’m not Tasuku-san, but that’s what I’ve experienced.”
Tasuku just nods his assent, saying, “It’s like he said, it’s hell. No friendships form there, not even between me and Haruto really. You learn how to be ruthless there,” into Tsumugi’s hair, and smiles at the way he tries to shift away.
Banri cackles, asking, “Taichi, did you learn how to be ruthless there then? How nice were you before, then?” and the whole room cracks up, Taichi included, but Tasuku catches his eye and they both share a private look.
God-za changes you, they think, and share a look of mutual understanding. Tasuku knows of the kind of pressure and pain God-za places on their recruits, sees the glint of steel just underneath Taichi’s friendly smiling eyes, and remembers the coolness with which he’d willingly betrayed every single one of God-za’s secrets.
Taichi isn’t innocent by any sense of the word, or naive, as some might be tempted to call him. Tasuku had been tempted to call him the same at one point, but Taichi smiles at him with a private smile that they both understand and he catches another glimpse of the steel woven into his grin and eyes, ready to defend the people he loves by any means necessary.
Their eye contact is broken by Tsumugi tugging him down for another kiss, huffing, “Stop looking at everyone else, Tasuku,” and Taichi resumes his laughter and terrible jokes from the other side of the room as Tasuku obliges.
We’ve escaped, haven’t we, Tasuku thinks, and recalls a faint memory of a red-haired boy from long ago, surprising him with a keen intelligence and intimate knowledge of how God-za had operated. Now we’ve both got a home to belong to.