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With an award-winning director at the helm, a veteran scriptwriter, millions of investments and a star-studded cast, there’s no doubt that ‘Dead Apple’ is bound to be break box office records and sweep the year-end awards. Not only did the production team secure top-tier sets and staff, they’ve also decided to invite an award-winning rock star to compose and perform the movie’s theme song.
There’s really no room for doubt that the movie is going to break all sorts of records.
There’s also seemingly no room for doubt that someone’s face is about to be broken soon.
“You shitty mackerel bastard!” It’s a greeting that’s not yelled loud enough for the entire set to hear; it’s just that everyone’s eyes swiveled to pay close attention to this scene, watching with bated breath, that it has silenced the area so that everyone could fill their gossipy hearts.
The undisputed king of the silver screen, Dazai Osamu, lets out a long-suffering sigh. He then turns on his heel, making a show of looking around the set to find the source of the cursing of his existence.
As expected of someone who has won the ‘Best Actor’ award four years in a row, there’s genuine confusion on his face. “Oho? I seem to have heard someone barking at me, but I can’t see anything… Is it such a tiny dog that I couldn’t even see it without a microscope?”
“If you’re so addicted to acting out a damn script,” is growled out, followed by a pair of hands tugging at the other’s lapels, “then go play dead for me, asshole!”
Such nutritious words are courtesy of Nakahara Chuuya, the award-winning rock star who has been invited to complete the production cast. He’s infamous for producing three albums in one year, and all albums have won the highest honors in their respective genres—he’s known for his wild performances as a rock star, but he’s also capable of composing ballads and performing with traditional instruments.
If Dazai is undisputed when it comes to acting, Chuuya’s reign as the king of music is also without doubt.
It also just happens that these two heavyweights are notorious for spewing hate at each other.
“Dazai-kun, Chuuya-kun.” Their names are called out by the smiling director. “It’s good to see that you two still get along really well like always.”
That’s more than sufficient to make them break away from each other, practically spitting in disgust.
Dazai’s gentleman image is nowhere to be found when he makes faces, childishly pouting, “That’s is so disgusting, Mori-san. I’d have to recuperate and postpone my filming to tomorrow, blergh.”
“I’m the one who’s more disgusted!” Never the one to back down, Chuuya jumps up and points a middle finger at him, undeterred by everyone’s eyes on them. He’s never been the sort to keep things secret, and he’s never been the sort to say nice words to his enemy for the sake of politeness. “I’d need two days to wash off your stinky presence, urgh.”
“Say, why are you copying me?” Hands on his hips, Dazai peers down, like he’s talking to someone splayed out on the ground. His gaze is right on Chuuya’s calf, embraced by his pants that seem to be painted on him with how tight they are. “I’m the one who wanted to postpone first!”
Chuuya mirrors the hands-on-hips pose, raising his foot so he could kick the other’s shin. “Isn’t it just because you’re used to yapping with your mouth that you can talk faster?”
“You’re the one who keeps on crooning love songs to your fans, when you’re such an unromantic slug! Isn’t it you who’s too used to barking around?!”
“I’m not crooning it to them!” It’s a whip-quick denial, one that sounds to be something that has been said a million times. “And even if I was, it’s none of your fucking business!”
This kind of explosive interaction happens too often between them. It really boggles the mind as to how they could even form a rivalry, when they’re not even on the same field.
There are rumors about how they used to be on the same band that has had a disbandment so violent that it was scrubbed from public records. Of course, there are also rumors about how they once fought over the same girl, which has led to so much bitterness between the two. Some people would then protest about such a rumor, because why keep it to a ‘girl’, can’t the media remember that there’s also a lot of boys in their fanclubs?
…In any case, the only thing richer than their list of awards and achievements is the list of rumors linked to them.
But one thing that doesn’t need any help from the rumor mill is the fact that it’s obvious that they’re enemies who fight whenever they meet.
It’s almost a game now, to test how brave the production team is, if they dare to invite both parties to the same project.
“Tsk, if it was my business, maybe it’d be run so much better compared to how you’re doing it now.” Another long-suffering sigh, followed by Dazai shaking his head in abject pity.
If there’s one thing that’s a constant with Chuuya, it’s that he’s very diligent when it comes to his work. He sheds off a bit of his aggressiveness so he can question, “Ha? What the fuck are you saying now?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in some closed-door recording session in the mountains now, for the sake of your new album?” Dazai doesn’t bother giving a side-glance to the many onlookers. They’re all professionals here, and even if he has his complaints about Mori, he knows that the man places high priority on its staff’s privacy. This kind of news about Chuuya’s upcoming album shouldn’t make its way to the internet before it’s supposed to be revealed.
Chuuya gives him an odd look. “I keep on telling you to stop bribing Gramps for information about my whereabouts, oi.”
“And I have,” comes with a beatific smile, which grows wider when he adds, “I got the information because I bugged your phone directly.”
“Stop looking so proud of it!” He smacks a bandaged forearm. “What if your bug ends up overheating my phone again, huh?! If you end up making me lose my mobile game data again, I’m going to bury you six feet underground!”
“How scary, how scary.” With full acting skills, he even shivers a bit while rubbing his arms, as if to dispel the chill. It’s at such odds with the way he’s full of mischief when he teases, “By the way, are you sure you can reach six feet, chibikko?”
Already used to the other’s arsenal of unfunny height jokes, he coldly asks, “I’m going to break your two feet and use them to hit you in the head, how about that?”
“Hmm, that sounds painful, so I’ll have to pass.” Dazai claps his hands, then finally decides to have mercy to the rest of the staff. Instead of continuing to dawdle in the lounge where everyone’s supposed to have a short meeting before they officially start filming, he leads the two of them towards a corridor that leads outside of the filming site. “Will you be okay, getting robbed of the chance to touch my legs? I know that you’re very envious of them.”
A good person would protest about this move. After all, they’re notorious for their inexplicably terrible behavior, and their tendency to punch and kick each other, even in public. Plus, there’s supposed to be a meeting and even the veteran actors are obliged to give face to the famous director.
Then again, because they’re so notorious about their fights that nobody bothers to keep them in place. In fact, everyone lets out a collective, not-so-silent sigh of relief upon them leaving the area so they could stop inflicting harm on everyone’s eyes and ears.
Because they’re now on a deserted hallway, it’s only the two of them who end up hearing the scoff and the, “Pfft. Why should I be envious of such chickenshit pair of legs. There’s not even the slightest of meat on them, you beanpole bastard.”
Dazai’s expression doesn’t flicker. “Isn’t this because my personal maid has stopped cooking for me, letting me languish on my own?”
“…Oi, who the fuck are you calling your personal maid?!”
“My apologies, I meant my naughty dog who’s gone ahead to some closed-door trip to the mountainside for the sake of recording an album, not allowing me to join, leaving me behind to cry in sadness every night. It left me with no choice, I’ve had to console myself by flirting with several lovely ladies in order to comfort my heart by thinking of how jealous my dog would be.”
This is evident from the current leading trending topic about Dazai saying a lot of flirtatious words to various female fans. This is what prompted Chuuya to greet him rudely earlier, because it’s already bad enough that the fish pollutes his ears on a constant basis, there’s no need for him to make trouble for others too!
Chuuya reaches out to touch his cheek, as if to measure its thickness. “As expected of the Best Actor, you’re really good at spewing bullshit. Didn’t I invite you to go with me? Weren’t you the one who complained nonstop about the lack of internet access and mosquitoes?!”
With a gust of dissatisfaction, “Obviously, that should have made you scrap your plans and stay with me instead!”
“Just because talking is free, it doesn’t mean you should do it.” The hand on his cheek doesn’t leave. Instead, it pats him there, like he’s being consoled. “If you keep on saying nonsense, you’re going to make everyone think that the stereotype is true: that actors are brainless idiots.”
Sweetly, “You’re the one who’s brainless, because you’re too tiny to have space for it in your tiny, tiny body.”
“Oh, then I guess there’s no room in my head for thoughts of getting back to our home and sleeping there again.” Chuuya’s not an actor, but with how much he’s already dealt with Dazai over the years, his poker face has already evolved so much—at least, when it comes to dealing with this mackerel. “In fact, I’ve already forgotten why I agreed to joining this movie, when I’m already so busy with my album.”
Dazai blinks, looking very touched. He shows his gratitude by making sure that they’d get on the headlines once again, by slamming Chuuya against the nearest wall so they could punch each other using their mouths.
Back in the lounge where the other actors and staff remain, a newcomer asks a question that everyone already avoids thinking about, for the sake of their sanity: “…I don’t understand why they’re fighting? Haven’t they been married for four years already?”
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end