Chapter Text
Genius. “A heavenly talent”. “Ability gifted by gods”. A mark of an extraordinary person. It’s usually considered positive when people are calling you a “genius”. That means you are better than many. That means people are looking up to you. Rui is well aware of his genius. This word has been following him since childhood, after all.
But for him, this word wasn’t a nice epithet. It was more of a brand. A burden of sorts which Rui learned to ignore. The word doesn’t define him, his actions did. And he spent all his life making sure that his actions spoke volumes about his character.
Because he’s a genius, people assume he’s arrogant. So Rui did everything to never lose his kindness.
Because he’s a genius, people assume he’s mad. So Rui always kept his mind sound (if a little bit wacky).
In truth, he doesn’t like being called that. It felt dehumanising in a way. Another reason for people to avoid him. He doesn’t want to be known as just a “genius”. He wants to be known as a showman, who cherishes every audience and every smile. He wants to be known as a good friend, a companion. As a human being. As a partner.
And still, Rui isn’t the one who refuses to deliver. The role was bestowed on him, so it’s up to him to give the best performance.
The Ootori household became a usual place for Rui and his friends to gather on their days off. At first, it felt awkward, almost intimidating to stay at this spacious house with luxurious furniture and decor. It’s like going to a museum and getting too close to an exhibit, so you worry that even your breath is going to break it. With time, this awkwardness passed, in which Emu played no small part, doing her best that her friends could feel comfortable in her house.
But when the brothers are the ones who invite you for a talk, the awkwardness creeps back.
“How have you been, Kamishiro-kun?”
“I’m quite well, Keisuke-san. Although I was surprised by your sudden wish to see me.”
Shosuke, who was sitting near his brother on the couch and lazily sipping his flat white (with two cubes of sugar, Rui noted to himself), let out an amused chuckle: “Were you? It’s not the first time we asked you to come here. Or second. And we saw you here last week when you rascals made a mess in our living room.”
A Emu’s jolly voice ‘It wasn't a mess, it was an art project!!!’ reached out from the kitchen, followed by Hinata’s laughter. Shosuke only rolled his eyes and shouted back about being quiet. Rui smiled, endeared by the scene. He took a sip of his own coffee, feeling much calmer now.
“Anyway, what did you need me for?”
“Right, of course,” Keisuke took a business card from his pocket and offered it to Rui. A fine, minimalistic card with contact information of a certain Takahashi Miyamoto, a head of HR, “I’ve been reached out by a Tokyo Theater Orb official. They’ve told me that they would like to invite you as a director for one of their promotional shows.”
He was bringing a cup to his lips for a second sip, stopping midway after hearing the news.
“Me?”
“Why are you so surprised? It’s not the first time you’ve been scouted”
“Yes but that one was for a ski resort and this is a well-established musical theater… I feel a bit overwhelmed.”
Keisuke smiled at this, giving Rui the same look he’d often give Emu when explaining how business affairs work, “They told me that they have been keeping an eye on your troupe since that grand show you did at Phoenix Wonderland.”
“Unauthorised.” Shousuke felt that he needed to add this.
“And they were especially impressed by your directing.”
Oh, so they saw the show they did back then. That brought warm memories – their most daring show ever. Rui isn’t sure they’ll be able to do something like that ever again. A rare play of fate, even rarer than a planet parade: underdogs, undervalued and unappreciated, united by a dreamer, who wanted nothing more but to protect something dear to her, create a truly magical, unforgettable story for the whole world to see. A life-changing show. Coming back to that moment – when the audience roars in delight and the light of park rides is outshined by happiest smiles; when you, drenched in sweat and basking in glory, share a stage with comrades that feel the same euphoria. Rui isn’t the type who wishes to turn back time, he wants to always look forward. But he wouldn’t mind relieving that moment once again.
He came back from his daydream, remembering the current reality.
“But still,” Rui contemplated a bit. This was a tempting offer, no doubt about it, and yet, “I’m not even out of high school…” he doesn't mention another offer that’s been looming over his head. Now is not the time anyway.
“Oh, they are scouting young people that show a lot of promise to open their summer season with shows made by newcomers. To increase the popularity of theater among young people.” Shousuke reached to the file that was laying near him on the couch and offered it to Rui. It was filled with brochures, programs, and dossiers on theater’s main troupe. “They want you to do one of the openers. Think of it as those promotional shows you did while working for us.”
This sounded much more feasible. “Oh, so a short-term contract. I’ll have to check my schedule at Morinomiya though.”
“Of course, we are not pushing you to make a call right away. The decision is up to you.”
“I have a question”
“Yes?”
“If I were to accept, is it possible for me to bring Wonderlans x Showtime with me as well?”
The brothers exchanged glances. Keisuke adjusted his glasses as he continued speaking: “We did ask this right away because we knew you’d want your friends to participate as well. Unfortunately, they aren’t planning on inviting any actors right now. They just want you there.”
“Oh…” An expected answer, but it didn't make it any less disappointing. “Is there a deadline?”
“They said that they are waiting for your response by the end of the week.”
“Okay. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it. Give it a thought. Chances like this don’t happen often.”
They exchanged their last pleasantries and Rui finally went to the kitchen, where he saw Emu writing something in her notebook. Hinata was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi Rui-kun!! What did my brothers tell you? They wouldn’t tell me at all, big meanies!”
“Hi again, Emu-kun. How about we call Tsukasa-kun and Nene and invite them for a coffee?”
“Yeah, let’s! Oh, let’s send them a selfie!”
They took a picture with a funny dog filter that adds droopy ears on top of their heads and did a peace sign just for extra cuteness. Then Emu decided that she wanted to decorate it even more with stickers, to which Rui happily obliged, recommending adding cute frilly hearts and stars near their faces. It took a good 15 minutes until their handmade postcard with drawn platypus and unnaturally sparkly eyes was sent to the Wonderlands x Showtime group chat.
It took a half of a second for the message to be read. It took two seconds for Tsukasa to start writing.
Tsukasa-kun
what are you two up to
SAY HI TO SHOSUKE-SAN
and Keisuke-san
Nene
y do you hate keisuke
Tsukasa-kun
I DONT HAET HIM!!!!!!!
HAYW
HATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rui noticed the playful glee in Emu’s eyes as she started typing a response. He immediately picked up on what she’s going to send in chat and decided to also add a little bit of oil to the fire.
Emu-kun
Tsukasakun doesn’t like oniichan? 🥺
Rui
Such blatant favouritism… And after everything Keisuke-san did for us…
Tsukasa-kun
I LITERALLY NEVER SAID ANY OF THAT
I JUST REMEMBERED ABOUT SHOUSUKE-SAN FIRST AND THEN KEISUKE-SAN
STOP SLANDERING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then Tsukasa started sending a gif of a black cat, shaking its head while looking quite distressed. Then another. Then another. Then another one after which Nene told him to shut up.
Rui chuckled at their antics. But as amusing as it was to mess with Tsukasa and witness his reactions, he does need to deliver the news. And ask for their opinion on what he should do.
“TOKYO THEATER ORB?!”
The cafe they were sitting in, thankfully, was relatively empty, so not many people were disturbed by Tsukasa’s uncontrollable excitement. It didn’t protect their table from dirty glances that waiters were throwing.
“That’s amazing Rui,” Nene showed some fries in Tsukasa’s mouth in an attempt to shut him up, “So, when are you starting?”
Rui looked down at his coffee cup, playing with a milk foam on top of it. “I… I still haven’t decided if I’ll accept.”
His friends looked at him like he grew a second head.
The first one to ask the dreaded question was Emu: “Why not?”
Tsukasa followed shortly after: “It’s a great opportunity, isn’t it?”
Rui didn’t have an answer. He kept messing his milk foam, ruining the pretty coffee flower on top of it. A rare sign of his nervousness. If he had a pile of metal scraps on his hands, he’d already built three new robots at this point.
“Let’s not pressure him,” Nene, ever so perceptive, took over the conversation. She gave Rui a quick but knowing look, “Tsukasa, I wanted to ask you, can the cinema club take the main auditorium for a movie screening?”
Emu excitedly gasped, “Are you holding an event, Nene-chan? Can I come?”
Tsukasa, now munching on Nene’s french fries by his own volition, let out a hum. Rui notices that he kept throwing glances in his direction. “Well, I’ll talk about it with teachers, but you need to tell me the exact date and how many people you are planning to invite.”
The conversation carried on as is, in a comfortable, almost homey atmosphere. But Rui wasn’t exactly “there”. He’s still thinking about the invitation. Frankly, there’s nothing to be anxious about. It’s a temporary job, hardly even qualified as a job, more like an internship. A good chance to learn something, too. It’s unusual for him – Rui looks forward to new experiences, and yet he can't shake off a feeling of uncertainty.
Is he intimidated by a high scale production team? Or he’s worried about working there alone without his friends?
Maybe his second cup of coffee in a day spiked his anxiety.
“Hey, you okay?”
A tentative hand gently touched his. Tsukasa’s expression was one of worry.
Rui smiled, hoping it would come off as reassuring.
“It’s okay, Tsukasa-kun. Just got caught up in my thoughts again.”
His face didn’t relax at all, but Tsukasa still withdrew his hand. Rui wished he hadn’t done that. He decided to give up on his coffee, instead trying to steal some fries from Nene’s plate, catching some slaps to his hand in the process.
Rui wonders if he had an easier time deciding if Tsukasa just kept holding his hand. He perished the thought immediately.
After bidding farewell to girls with promises to go to the aquarium together next weekend, boys took off in a comfortable silence. It was a nice spring evening and the sun was slowly rolling beyond the horizon, painting the world in a gentle orange glow. ‘It would be nice if this time would just stop right now’ , Rui thought. He realises that the whole day he wanted for time to slow down, to turn back. Another unusual occurrence. But Rui was never on good terms with time and it’s unstoppable stride.
He feels a careful touch on his shoulder. Tsukasa still had a troubled look on his face.
“See you at school tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see you.”
Tsukasa reluctantly let go of Rui’s shoulder and started walking away. Rui decided to stay a bit longer and wait until Tsukasa was out of his sight before going home. A silly and a bit selfish desire – to always look at this star boy, even if this boy will never look back.
Tsukasa was becoming smaller and smaller and Rui was ready to take off as well when suddenly he heard hurried footsteps getting louder and closer. Then, suddenly, a hand caught his. Rui turned his head and saw Tsukasa, clutching his hand and looking at him with such intensity, Rui couldn't help but think something serious just happened.
“Actually, Rui, do you have a moment?”
“Sure. What is it?”
Tsukasa let go of his hand and for the second time today Rui laments over the lost warmth.
“I know you are still unsure and I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” Tsukasa started talking, striking a pose Rui knows is reserved for something important: one hand is outstretched, the palm facing Rui, while the other finds place over his chest. ‘ Oh, this is going to be a speech,’ Rui thought and an endeared smile formed on his lips. “But if you will go there, I just want to tell you one thing!”
Here’s where Tsukasa will tell him to behave and not explode anything but also use this opportunity to learn as much as possible.
“I know you’re going to amaze them. Because you’re Kamishiro Rui! The best director in the whole world! The one that I picked for this troupe!”
Or so Rui thought.
“Know this: when I call you the best, I do not mean this lightly! There’s nobody who can ever rival your genius!” Tsukasa’s eyes crinkle as a wide smile finds it’s way back on his face. With a setting sun acting as Tsukasa’s spotlight, he looks quite glorious in this moment, like a prince giving an inspirational speech to his loyal subjects. It suits Tsukasa a lot, being a prince. At least from Rui’s perspective.
“While saying that… Good luck out there as well. It can be a bit scary to work with new people, especially when they are all pros. But I know you’ll blow them all away! Just like you did with me!”
Maybe it was the evening sun shining down on Tsukasa and making his hair glow like an iridescent sunstone. Maybe it was his pose: open and grand, his left hand outstretched in a graceful manner while his right one rested on his heart. Rui felt his breath stop for a moment, unable to tear his gaze off this golden boy. Unable or unwilling, he didn't care about differences right now. Rui knows his face looks silly right now: he’s probably flushed, if distinct heat pooling in his cheeks is any indicator. He knows there’s a giddy smile on his face – he can feel the strain on his face muscles.
“Thank you, Tsukasa-kun,” he says, and he hopes these words can transfer at least a fraction of the feelings Rui’s been holding.
Now it was Tsukasa’s face that was red and flustered and his eyes widened as if he just realised something important. “Ah, erm, yeah! You're welcome!” he sputtered, and went on a long but nervous rant on how gracious and chivalrous Tsukasa was right now. Rui isn’t sure about chivalrous but Tsukasa’s speech was quite charming.
Then another unexpected thing happened.
Tsukasa hugged him.
Unable to help himself, Rui hugged back. They stood like this for at least 3 minutes, when Rui finally decided to ask.
“Tsukasa-kun?”
Tsukasa reacted immediately, like he was both doused with a bucket of cold water, then hit with electricity. He jumped from Rui, all red and flustered.
“ACK!!! I just thought you were still unsure, so!! Saki and I hug each other when we want encouragement!! So…ermmmm…BYE!!!”
And with that, Tsukasa dashed into the sunset.
Rui stood a bit dumbfounded for several minutes until he started softly laughing to himself. ‘How is it possible for one person to surprise me every day.’ A gentle feeling enveloped him, like a warm and cozy blanket. It didn’t feel scary anymore.
‘You’re going to amaze them!’
That’s a lot of trust.
He wants to live up to this trust.
He remembers he has a “thing” lying around in his house that he could finally use. He hurries home, giddy and excited.
Once reaching his house, Rui immediately went to his room, telling his mother that he will have dinner later, much to the poor woman’s dismay. He doesn’t remember where he put the ‘thing’, so he starts looking in every nook and cranny of his room. He mourns the rare state of cleanliness that was present just moments ago in his room, a result of Nene’s meticulous efforts to keep him organised, but he can’t allow himself to care about being tidy when he needs to find his “thing” so urgently. So let papers fly in the air, let his clothes drop from couch to the floor – now is not the time to care for earthly matters! He can always pick it up later, or wait until Tsukasa or Nene come to visit and pick it up for him.
Finally, he finds it.
A scenario for a play called “The Storyteller”.
He wrote it in middle school, when he had nobody but paper to listen to his ideas. It was a play about a couple of artistic people – a writer, Anita, and an actor, Seymour, who are now going through a rough patch in their relationship. They fight, they want to break up, they want to pursue their dreams and become something bigger. In hindsight, maybe he should have picked something more sophisticated: a detective story that they wanted to play on Wonder Stage or a war drama about a knight and a sorcerer he came up with Tsukasa on a random Thursday. But Rui had a soft spot for this story, he always wanted to stage it but never really got a chance to. He was a bit embarrassed to admit that this play was partially about him. Or, more precisely, it’s about the life Rui always dreamt of.
It ends with a couple staying together. The ending was left ambiguous about their careers and dreams, but it still was hopeful: no matter what, Seymour and Yumi would be there for each other.
Because when you’re writing a story about yourself, wouldn't you want for it to have a happy ending?
Rui takes out the business card from his pocket and calls a number written on it, hoping that whoever is calling now will forgive him after an hour's disruption. He makes a mental note that he should warn Tsukasa that he’ll have to skip school tomorrow.
The grown-up world works very fast.
Next morning after scheduling a meeting time with Miyamoto of the HR-department, a man clad in an expensive suit and with an almost blindingly toothy grin, Rui got arranged immediately to meet the troupe's director and with him – the troupe itself. All on the same day. He thinks that a cup of good espresso would be very good at this moment.
He was escorted back to the lobby and with final words of encouragement and brief descriptions of a man Rui is about to meet, Miyamoto took off back to his office, probably to torment more people with his blinding teeth and hour-long boring speeches about theater audience capacity. He shouldn’t have felt bad for calling this guy so late yesterday – Miyamoto clearly feeds off energy from other people, why else would Rui feel so tired at eleven in the morning. He hopes Miyamoto’s next victim is some corporate stooge.
He takes a moment to properly appreciate the theater from inside. It is a fabulous place, metallic decor gives it almost futuristic ambiance. He should bring his friends here someday. Maybe they’ll give him a discount as an ex-intern, tickets here are probably quite pricey. On the periphery of his vision, Rui notices a person entering the building. He switches his attention to him. In front of the main entrance, a giant of a man was standing. Even from a distance, Rui could tell that he was much taller than him. There was no-one else in the theater, so this must be the director he was supposed to meet. The man noticed Rui as well and promptly went to greet him.
“You must be Kamishiro Rui-kun, correct?” The bear man trapped Rui’s hand in a mighty and slightly forceful handshake, “My name is Togawa Yasuo. Glad to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Togawa-san.” Rui answered sheepishly, trying to wiggle his hand free, “You are the troupe’s director, right? I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Bah, drop the formalities, son, you’re making me feel old!” Togawa burst out laughing in a jovial baritone, and his laughter erupted throughout the whole lobby, the man clearly amused by his own joke. Rui offered a polite chuckle from himself, mostly out of cordial feeling rather than because he found the joke funny. After finally calming down, Togawa put his hand on Rui’s shoulder and prompted him to walk with him.
“Let’s get you introduced to the troupe. Everyone is dying to meet you”
From their brisk walk, Rui learned several things about director Togawa. First, his philosophy is to be “larger than life”. That didn't limit to his private life, about which he told in vivid details: parties and meetings, constant buzz of social life and new experiences, the man never let himself miss out on anything; Togawa spread this ideology to his work as well. His productions must be grand and loud, they must be the main talk of the day and, preferably, of the week. He would splurge on budget, props, he’d make his actors work overtime until he’s satisfied, but he will get the perfect picture he imagined. Second, Togawa is a man of principles, and he’s not an easy person to persuade. If he decides on something, he’ll keep stubbornly insisting that his way is the only correct one.
‘A tough opponent,’ Rui noted to himself. He’ll have to adapt to his surroundings, learn how to approach this man if he wanted his ideas to truly shine here. They finally reached the main stage and Rui saw a group of people, Rui counted at least 10, chatting and warming up on top of it. ‘So this is the main troupe.’
“Everyone!” Togawa yelled from the other side of the auditorium. Rui thinks that he was fortunate to cross paths with Tsukasa – his eardrums were trained appropriately for this encounter. They both got on stage and Rui could finally see the faces of people he’s going to call colleagues from now on, “Meet Kamishiro-kun. Our temporary director. But, who knows, maybe he’ll like it here so much he’ll decide to stay with us longer, ha-ha!”
A common indication of friendliness – indirect invitation. Rui is grateful for Togawa’s attempts to help him blend in, but even his imposingly sincere nature couldn’t help with the slight stiffness that filled the room. There was no animosity, no direct disapproval. Everyone was smiling and waving, accepting him at this troupe, and yet Rui felt like someone was choking him ever so slightly – not enough to cause pain but enough to bring noticeable discomfort.
“Well,” Togawa nudged him with his mighty bear hand, announcing more clearly that Rui is supposed to be the centre of attention, “Give him a warm welcome!”
Suddenly, people flocked around him, like they were waiting for this order, assaulting Rui with greetings and questions. There were handshakes, pats on shoulders, chuckles and giggles and zero interest in Rui’s previous work.
“And this is our star, Hibiki Kamiya!”
In front of him was a man, approximately in his mid 20s. He had sharp blue eyes that were adorned with small, barely noticeable wrinkles. His eyes had that steely glint in them, almost like a hawk. He wore a figure hugging black t-shirt and jeans, both casual and also a strict look, that somehow was devoid of any personality but also said quite a lot about the person wearing it. His posture was immaculate, but the way he stood was tense, almost impatient. He was the only one not smiling, but his severe gaze never left Rui. “He’s our lead actor,” Togawa helpfully provided, leading Rui closer to him, “Quite skilled as well! One of a kind professional.” He slapped his hand on Kamiya’s back, making the other stumble on his legs. “Sometimes too much of a professional though, so be sure to keep him in check so he won’t overwork his puny ass, Kamishiro-kun!” The director barked out a laugh, for which he deserved himself a glare from the actor. Rui agrees, though. Strangely crude way to introduce their leading man. Way too personal, too. He offers his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hibiki-san.”
The man just narrows his eyes. It’s an unpleasant look, but not the type Rui is accustomed to.
“So you’re the ‘genius director,’” The man spoke, barely hiding his contempt. Rui holds his ground and keeps his polite smile, “How old are you?”
“I will be turning eighteen in June, sir.”
The man grimaced after hearing the answer. He wanted to say something, but a quick glance from Togawa made him bite down whatever response he wanted to utter.
“...You can call me Kamiya.”
Rui wonders what exactly about him made Kamiya so apprehensive. Usually, people were careful around Rui, tiptoeing around and meticulously picking words to say, because they think he would carve them open and rip out their guts if given the chance. Kamiya was different. There was an air of authority to him, the one that commanded respect. from others, no doubt backed by his skill, if his title of a ‘star actor’ was any indicator. He was confident and clearly wasn’t the type to pick his words. There was also another thing about this man, something extremely noticeable from the first two sentences.
Kamiya was looking down on Rui.
“So, Kamishiro-kun,” Togawa gracefully stood between the two men, hiding Kamiya behind his large figure, “Let’s go discuss how we’re going to work this month. Do you have an idea for what kind of show you want to do?”
“Togawa-san, don’t rush the boy.” A grumpy voice grunted behind the director’s back. “He just came here.”
“Actually,” Rui took out the file from his bag, offering it to the Togawa. He took his shocked expression as a little win of the day, “I have a script prepared already. I would like you to have a look.”
They’ve decided to have a read-through together in Togawa’s office. To Rui’s surprise, Kamiya also joined them too. He suspects that these two go beyond than just co-workers, they are clearly much closer than that. It wasn’t just the fact that Togawa was very protective over his actor, Kamiya was the only one who could speak with their director truthfully, without sugarcoating anything.
‘They seem like a difficult people to handle by themselves. I can only imagine how handful they are as a duo.’ Rui decides that for now he should play it safe: dignified, polite,
They were sitting together on the couch, looking through the pages of the script. Rui was sitting in front of them on a designer-looking chair, fancy but uncomfortable. He decided to not comment on that. He was outnumbered anyway.
“You wrote this script by yourself?”
“Yes. I wrote it some time ago, but I did a revision before bringing it to you.”
The man took the script and proceed to reading it together, Togawa allowing himself to leisurely lean on his colleague's shoulder and looking like a content cat. Kamiya didn’t regard him at all, instead turning his full focus to the text. The atmosphere reminded Rui of middle school a bit, when he’d be called into teacher’s room, sat on a chair and given an extensive list of his failings as a student, as participant of school life and as a person in general; and he would just quietly accept the berating and nod along, not wanting to cause even more ire.
He’s not in middle school any more, though. He knows that he should stand his ground and defend himself if something is to happen. He hopes he won't need to, but he can't shake off the possibility.
There was something off about Kamiya’s expression. He was reading the script very thoroughly, almost diligently, paying attention to every little detail. In any other case, Rui would have felt flattered, seeing how much attention a well-established author gives to his work such attention, but felt different from this man. Rui already knew that he was not going to get any easy praise from him. But the face Kamiya was making while reading – with each read word his scowl became harsher, like every word offended him in some way, it felt daunting. Did he dislike it that much?
Togawa, oblivious to the tension floating in the air, “How about we try out one scene? To see if we’re feeling this one.”
That was rather hasty. Rui had a bad feeling about this. He played along, “Which one would you like to try? I suggest the opening scene–”
“We will act out the first major fight.” Togawa interrupted him. “I want you to both act and direct this scene.”
“You want me to play out this scene with Kamiya-san?”
“Precisely. I also want you to direct the scene.”
Rui raised his eyebrows. This was asking for a lot right off the bat. Togawa, noticing the boy’s surprise, decided to elaborate: “I want to see how you work both as a director and as an actor,” he tiredly rubbed his neck and quickly exchanged glances with his couch neighbour, “this is more for me. I want to understand you as a professional so we could properly adapt to each other.”
This sounded reasonable, but an unpleasant feeling was still lingered. He couldn't make sense of it: why would they need to adapt to each other if Rui was supposed to be the main director, while Togawa was supposed to be just a consultant. Why do they decide on which things to act out without having the trope to participate in reading as well? He lacks experience and knowledge, sure, but this still didn't feel like a proper theatre production.
But he can’t deny that he was curious to see what will come of it.
—----------------
SEYMOUR
‘Anita.’
The very first word was already wrong.
Rui studies the actor’s face, his expression. His posture and his gestures. Everything was so off, so separate from what Rui wrote for this character. He doesn’t stop the scene yet. He needs to see more.
SEYMOUR
‘Anita, we need to talk.’
Rui, keeping his character, keep his eyes fixed eyes on a table, his focus fully devoted to an imaginary notebook in which he writes imaginary lines of an imaginary manuscript.
ANITA
Talk then. I’m listening.
He keeps his tone curt and cold – Anita was the forceful one in this relationship, harsher. A result of being constantly underestimated and put down by a publishing industry. A goal-driven individual that will stop at nothing to achieve her dream.
SEYMOUR
‘I can’t keep going on like this’
Seymour was a softer person with big dreams but small heart. He didn’t like confrontations and always tried to find an easy way out. A kind-hearted coward that wants things to stay comfortable, because he’s afraid of letting the world break his heart again.
This what Seymour was supposed to be. This was what Kamiya was refusing to deliver.
ANITA
‘And what do you want me to do with this information? Coddle you? Tell you that it’s going to get better? That I will become better for you? I never changed myself for any person, and you will not be an exception.’
Anita wasn’t supposed to look at his partner at this scene, but his duty as a director required Rui to watch his troupe mate closely and carefully. He was good. He can see why he is a star actor. He can see where the arrogance comes from. Kamiya doesn’t just act, he lives through the character, merges his feelings with his own and makes them real to the uncomfortable degree. If anyone were to stumble on their little act by accident without knowing it was rehearsal, they would definitely think a real fight is taking place right now.
The problem was that this acting was absolutely inappropriate for this scene. The character was being butchered.
Then unexpectedly, Kamiya came to the table and slammed his fist at it. This wasn’t in the script.
SEYMOUR
‘This is not what I meant! Why do you always turn things so ugly?!”
“Okay, stop.” Rui clapped his hands, putting the scene to a halt. “Kamiya-san, this is not exactly what I meant.” Rui doesn’t say that this isn't what he wanted at all, and that Kamiya completely misinterpreted the protagonist’s actions in this scene. Was he paying attention during the read-through? “There’s too much tension in your movements, too much fury, it makes your character look angry, not anxious. The point is that he doesn’t want to break up, but can’t find a common ground right now.”
“I disagree.” was the response Rui got.
“Pardon?”
“I disagree with your interpretation. I don’t think Seymour is a wimp scared of confrontation.” The words were thrown like a glove, aiming to provoke. Kamiya was standing too rigidly, like he hadn't left the character yet, with his arms folded over his chest and foot tapping impatiently. He even turned his nose up. “I think he should make confident, if rash, decisions, instead of turning his tail at any given moment. You know, like a character with a supposed depth.”
Ah. I see how it is.
“Are you perhaps dissatisfied with my directions, Kamiya-san?”
The actor brought a hand to his chin, feigning a deep contemplation. “How should I put this? For a famed ‘genius director’ I expected something more than a primary school level play.”
A heavy silence filled the set.
The words went through Rui, leaving a wet and cold feeling over his body, like someone doused him with a bucket of ice-cold water. He usually has no trouble biting back, but not in this case. Now he feels like his vocal cords have been torn.
“Now, now,” Togawa entered the scene, let’s not be rude, Kamiya.”
“I’m not rude. I’m being objective. This,” he raised the script in the air, looking at it like it was the filthiest thing on earth, “is a joke. We invited you here because we expected you to bring something unique, as we were promised. Instead, you bring us a Christmas play for toddlers.”
Anger was rising within Rui. He was getting tired of this man’s constant derision.
“I heard your complaints clearly the first time, Kamiya-san. But I’ve yet to hear any proper criticism.”
This only riled the man even further, “If you can’t see the problems yourself, this means you have no idea what a true theater is.”
Rui was ready to bite bark, throw a sharp remark at this man. He may be a great actor, but his talent is wasted if he’s unable to communicate with his peers.
This what Rui told to himself in his mind. He didn’t want to admit that his pride was wounded. This wasn't about his pride right now, this was about the poor production. Rui needs to put this man in his place.
“We shouldn’t be so demanding of Kamishiro-kun.”
Rui bristled at these words and turned to the director. He looked tired and a bit disappointed, his hand rubbing his neck, as he was trying to look anywhere but Rui.
He realised that these two are close friends and will support each other in any situaruin. But Togawa also painted himself as someone who took theater seriously, an unbiased force, as any director should be. At least it was Rui’s impression of him. But apparently, this assumption was wrong.
Overcoming his shock, Rui asks:
“What are you trying to say, Togawa-san? Are you dissatisfied as well?”
Togawa clearly doesn’t want to answer. He sighs and sits down beside the table, rubbing his temples and taking his time before giving Rui any explanation. It felt vindictive. He was being treated not like an equal, but as a child who needed a special approach.
“Kamishiro-kun. What your script lacks is depth. I don’t think a happy ending is appropriate for this play. I don't think both of our main heroes should be sympathetic.”
So this is just adisagreement in interpretation? But what do they know about this story. They aren’t the one who wrote it.
He just needs to make his case clear, to make a proper statement. He can persuade them–
“At our theater, we stage plays that dare ask our viewers the question. We challenge their worldview. Tell me, Kamishiro-kun, what question is your story is trying to ask?”
The words die in his throat.
“I–”
“A true artist makes other people think. Make them analyse what they saw. Your script doesn’t do this at all. You just guide a viewer, holding their hand like a baby. You tell them where they need to feel sad, where they need to be happy just to lead them to a happy ending, where everyone gets what they want.”
Rui wants to say something. He desperately wants to rebute, refute, disagree. He tries to find right words that will convince these adults, that his work holds meaning and weght. But he cant find any.
What “The Storyteller” is about? It’s about connections. It’s about bonds. Rui wanted to tell a story about people wanting to hold onto each other.
He wanted this story to spread hope. To make people smile.
Togawa just shakes his head and takes Rui’s silence as an aswet by itself. “Let’s stop for today. Kamiya and I will review the script today and make edits. We will send them out as fast as possible. Let’s take it easy, we have a whole month ahead.”
Rui comes back home in sour mood. He skips dinner again but this time his mother doesn’t berate him for it. She can probably tell that he’s a bit upset right now. He ignores the messages in WonderlandxShowtime chat, asking him how his first day went. He didn’t want to upset them or make them worry. He can always say that he fell asleed and didn’t see the messages.
He was sitting in his garage, middlessly messing with wires of one of his old drones. At 11 P.M he got an e-mail from Togawa. He scowls but still reads it.
From: Yasuo, Togawa
Kamishiro-kun,
Kamiya and I added some changes to your script. It is not a finished variant, so don’t be shy to leave your comments. Most changes are done by Kamiya, so you can ask him directly as well, I added his address to recipients list.
Rui opened the file.
What was supposed to be a quick skimming of the script turned into in-depth analysis of a text.
Because Rui couldn't recognise his own work.
The core of the story remained the same: a couple going through a break-up. Seymour is still an actor. Anita is still a writer. They have the same ambitions and dreams.
Everything else was rewritten. Seymour became a copy of Kamiya’s character. Anita was now prolific writer, unbordened by failures, so instead of relatable she just became selfish. Their romance wasn’t just rocky, it was straight up abusive and cruel, full of screaming, insults and cheating.
Even the ending was changed. In the end, Seymour and Anita break up. They don't fight for their happiness. They doubt they were even happy at all. The play ends with Anita seeing Seymour’s face on a billboard. She doesn’t recognise him and walks past it.
They completely rewrote the script.
There was nothing left of Rui. Nothing left of his work.
He should be grateful. He’s getting a free lesson from the nation’s best. He’s being guided to become a better director.
But he couldn't feel anything besides blinding rage.
It was his work. They trampled all over it. He didn’t care if they made it better, in his mind, they didn't. He doesn’t care if they think this is more mature. They just poured their adult frustration into Rui’s personal story. Barged in, tore everything to shreds, and now they expect him to accept it as is, because in their eyes they made things “better”.
But the worst part of it all is that
The story of Antigone is tragic, but it teaches to not give up to fate.
The story of prince Myshkin is heartbreaking, but it teaches to never lose your kindness.
Rui doesn’t want to be remembered as creator of misery. He knows how harsh reality can be. He lived through it, he knows it well enough. His art exists to make people happy, to made them smile.
He writes back a message: ‘ I do not accept these changes.’ No pleasantries, no forced politenes.
He opens his notebook and starts writing down. If they want to see ‘the genius director’ then they will get the once-in-a-lifetime experience.