Iori ch. 2: Iori and the Sandwich

I had hoped desperately that my nerves would let up once the Voices Around the World concert was over – at very least, I had hoped that being in my element, finally performing again for the first time in what seemed like ages, would help me relax, ease me back into my life.

It hadn’t, naturally. That was the direction my life had taken since…since Yayoi, and in retrospect, I wasn’t sure why I expected it to stop.

She went out of her way to torture me. If the producer hadn’t reassured me time and time again that the whole event had been planned months in advance (which, admittedly, I still find it a little hard to believe), I would have started to suspect that Ruri set it up specifically to make me miserable.

First, there was the twenty-four hour broadcast, which she seemed determined to drag me into as much as possible. Of course, I’ve never had trouble in front of a camera before, and it wasn’t the first time I’d been under the spotlight for an extended period even behind the scenes, but she seemed determined to go out of her way to put me on the spot, to humiliate me around every turn, to hammer the idea that we’d become best friends into the minds of our – no, her – fans.

…I played along. Even when she brought…HER, of all people, on staff, I played along. Even when she had HER shadow us at every turn, when she showed me up in front of HER over and over, I smiled and I took it without complaint.

Even when she pushed us into talking, into exchanging awkward platitudes after…after the coffee shop – which seemed to be all anyone ELSE was interested in talking about – Ruri smiled the same, vapid smile, and acted like this must have been exactly what I wanted.

I drew the line at the concert itself, and I was so, so relieved when our companies agreed to cancel the second half.

It wasn’t because my life was put on the line yet again because of her…because of Chiaki-san. …I wasn’t afraid. I knew she’d protect me. Protect everyone. I don’t believe she likes to admit it, but that’s the kind of person she is. No, it’s…

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal. It shouldn’t have stuck with me as much as it did. But under recent circumstances…

For the third time that day I scrubbed at my lips with a paper towel. The concert was days ago, and already this had become a sort of unhealthy little ritual, every time I got a break. I could still feel a gentle, uncomfortable warmth, could still taste peppermint lip gloss. The kiss was not in the script. It was not in the script at all – it was, in fact, expressly against my contract with 2020. No excessive physical contact, the producers had both agreed it was reasonable.

…They tasted raw, and if my reflection was to be believed, they were turning an unhealthy, flushed red. I didn’t need to be anywhere for the evening, thankfully, but I’d still have to put lipstick on at very, very least. Hopefully it wouldn’t…hurt, or something.  I hadn’t had much experience with injuring my lips before.

…Stupid. It was so stupid to fixate on a stupid kiss. It was publicity. It was a show. The response was phenomenal. Chirpee exploded. Nobody believed it was real. Nobody even realized how surprised I was. Looking back on it, this sort of stupid stunt was exactly the kind of thing Ruri Kirishima would pull, and I should have expected it.

I pursed my lips and ran my tongue across them again. …It would go away on its own. I needed to stop trying to force it, it hadn’t worked before after about ten thousand showers and it wasn’t going to work now. At least with Ruri it wasn’t… …I wanted to think she didn’t intend for it to be terrible. Maybe it would have been nice, in other circumstances.

Maybe.

I was barely two steps out of my dressing room before someone called my name – another one of the idols from 2020 Pro, the German S-idol. Wakahisa…something, Ruri called her Mappi-chan. I’d only had a few chances to meet her, and I wasn’t necessarily unhappy about that. Her voice had a piercing, nasal quality to it, and every time I’d met her she seemed to be absolutely furious about something or other.

…Even so, she seemed as though she was trying to keep a smile up, to force some small comfort. It gave me a terrible feeling of foreboding, and the bundle of clothing she shoved in my arms only confirmed my suspicions.

“Minase.” A heavy sweater, a long skirt, sunglasses and…a wig. “We’re going incognito tonight. Try to look cheap.”

---

We sat in relative silence as rain pounded on the beat-up little car I had been dragged into, casting the city into shades of distant, oppressive gray. It was the Mitakihara from those days, only a few weeks ago. The Mitakihara that refused to be hidden behind brilliant lights and empty songs of love. It was her Mitakihara tonight, and my heart ached a little as I wondered what she was doing.

Probably shooting up a warehouse of mafiosos, drunk two-thirds stupid on her own misery. …Did the rain make her feel lonely, too? I caught myself sighing as I leaned on the icy-cold window. The stupid wig itched. The stupid sweater itched. Maki – that was her name, Maki – had sworn up and down that she hadn’t let that awful little sweat-demon near them, but the pins that kept my hair from spilling out of the week were jabbing into my scalp.

A choice string of irritated German snapped me out of my reverie of self-pity, along with the dim realization that the radio had been switched off a few bars into…I don’t know her name. Some other 2020 idol’s honey-voiced rendition of an old Frank Sinatra song.

“Not a fan, I take it,” I murmured. It was a welcome interruption to drowning in thoughts about you-know-who.

“I’ve heard it about fifteen million times too many. You will too, I promise.” …Come to think of it, this was one of those songs that tended to be playing at all hours inside the 2020 Pro building. I hadn’t thought much of it. “It helps Wondergirl relax,” she added, as though that explained everything.

A few minutes passed in silence, and when I found my mind drifting toward you-know-who again, I turned to Maki instead.

“So what is all this about, exactly?” After a moment, I added, “I have a handgun in my purse, if this is some plan to bump off the competition. Don’t think I won’t do it.” I grit my teeth as the car filled with an uproar of laughter. Apparently every single thing Maki Wakahisa whatever-it-was did was loud.

“Don’t make me laugh when I’m trying to drive, damn it.” The superior smirk she flashed me convinced me of something I hadn’t been entirely certain of yet: I hate everyone at 2020 Pro. Every single person. All of them. For that moment I hoped that I could scowl so hard at Wakahisa that it might crash the car and kill…her.

Just her.

“…God, you’re pissier than Ruri. I get it, you’re still freaked out. That’s fine, whatever. Do you even know how to use it?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I’ve been shooting for longer than YOU’VE been sitting in Ruri Kirishima’s shadow, Miss Wakahisa.” The both of us jerked violently as she slammed on the brakes, a dark look crossing her face. The car behind us honked furiously as it screeched to a halt, and I could see her fingers digging furiously into the wheel. She stared over at me with brilliant, burning blue eyes, and I crossed my arms and stared evenly back. After a deep breath, we started moving again and she murmured another string of scathing German.

“Say what you like about my father, but I’ve never been fond of being called a whore.” I could scarcely keep the smug smile off of my face. I really try not to indulge in things like this often, but it was nice having someone who responded with something other than a vapid laugh, like one you’d give a child.

“You fuckers deserve each other,” she hissed.

Another couple of tense minutes passed before either of us spoke. Against all common sense, it was me; I probably would have apologized, probably SHOULD have apologized, but for one moment I didn’t feel like I was being…well, shit on. And I missed that desperately.

“So what is all of this incognito nonsense for, again? You never specified.” Maki gave me a dangerous glare from the corner of her eye, then seemed to resign herself to my continued existence.

“Wondergirl didn’t feel safe abroad,” she started, insincerity dripping from each word like grease from Karasawa’s hair, “so she started whining to Mr. P. We sent out a body double this morning, and she sent for her best friends to pick her up at the airport.”

Best…yes. Sure. Of course.

“Get used to it. While you’re working with 2020, you’re Kirishima’s bitch. Just be glad you’re one of her ‘best friends’ and not one of the dozens girls she’s crushing under her silky green heel.” I opened my mouth for a rebuttal, but Maki continued louder. “And unless you WANT to be one of those dozens of girls, you get to share the same shit sandwich as Karasawa and me, and you’re going to take a big fucking bite, and you’re going to smile. And if you don’t, then you’ll get another sandwich, and you’ll take another, even bigger bite, and you’ll smile wider until Ruri – and, by proxy, Mr. P – is satisfied.”

“…Am I always going to die a little bit inside when I think about it?”

“It’s a shit sandwich, Minase. What do YOU think?”

---

Wakahisa’s charming metaphor still rang in my ears an hour and a half later as the three of us huddled around a small table in front of some cheap chain ice cream parlor, doing our best to ignore the two security teams mere tables away.

Ruri had immediately dug into a monstrous pile of mint, atrocities of flavor all mixed together in a pile large enough to kill a six-year-old. Maki opted for a more classical triple-fudge bowl with wafers sticking out if it and one of those names that implies one will be wheeled out on a stretcher from a chain of violent heart attacks.

I got two scoops of French vanilla and wondered how badly it would destroy my diet. Honestly, Hatachikawa-san really let the idols in 2020 run away with every inch he gave them, didn’t he? I wondered idly if they did this kind of thing all the time. …And if they were more toned than I was. There was no way to look without being awkward, and even if I tried, Ruri would probably grab my hand and hold it to her stomach until one of us called the police.

“I really missed this. It’s been way too long,” Ruri sighed  with a little smear of green on the edge of her lip. Her tongue darted out a half-moment later to nab it, and Maki made a face.

“It’s been a week. A week and a half, tops.” Her reply was flat and cold as she slipped a delicate spoonful of chocolate into her mouth. I…had not expected 2020 Pro’s top S-idol to be the graceful one of the two. “And you were in Paris, right? So how many pastries did you sneak onto the plane? How many did you eat on the way over?”

“Maki-channn, you knowww my batteries run on sugarrr. And that’s not even what I meannnt!” Ruri’s whine was as distinct as ever, though she managed to keep it down to a low sulk. I was…honestly impressed that she’d managed ‘incognito’ as well as – if not better than – Maki and me.

When we’d gone to pick her up, I expected the usual bombastic lack of subtlety from her, but…well, I didn’t even see her until Maki snorted and waved her over. Her hair was lazily tied back, soft and clean-looking but not out of the ordinary, and without her usual makeup and fashion…sensibilities…she looked like she might have been a touch older than me, actually. Even the way she’d waved us down was gentle and reserved.

‘…Don’t give me that look, Iori-chan,’ she’d said. ‘You’re not even a performer if you can’t act at least this much.’

“So did you get any recording done while I was gone, Iori-chan?” She must have noticed me doing my best to ignore them. “Mr. P said it was kind of rough on you, doing it without a partner.”

The truth of it was, it HAD been rough. It wasn’t my first foray into voice-acting, but as much as I hated to admit it, Ruri lent the entire project a certain energy and momentum when we were working together, something that Hatachikawa-san had noted was missing when I tried to record on my own. …It wasn’t quite as fun to sit there in a booth alone, either, as obnoxious as Ruri could be.

…It really had been kind of a lonely week, and the realization killed me just a little inside. I glanced to Maki, who was giving me a sort of sympathetic look of all things. Almost pitying. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and I murmured that I was fine.

“…Iori-chan. Look…” Ruri stared down into her ice cream bowl and fiddled with her spoon. “We’ve kind of commandeered a lot of your life lately, and I know I…well, I wasn’t really…” Her expression turned pensive as she stirred her mint-bomination.

“She’s trying to say that she fucked up,” Maki grunted before slipping another spoonful of chocolate into her mouth.

“…Right. I was wr… …Some of the things I did were…umm…”

“Say it.” I didn’t exactly mean for it to come out with the force that it did, and it left the both of them silent for a moment. I continued.

“Say you were wrong. Admit to me, right here, that you were stalking me during one of the worst periods of my life. That you were harassing me – torturing me – because you assumed I didn’t understand how serious the situation with…with Matsuda-san could get. Of course I understood. I was there when she saved me from being…” Don’t lose momentum. Say it. Just say it. “…gang-raped and quite possibly murdered for a bunch of…a bunch of disgusting perverts. For a bunch of…amoral fucking deviants.”

“Iori-chan…“ The shock on her face was obvious, and it made my heart flutter. Maki seemed to be holding back a laugh.

“And I am not your…your ACCESSORY. I’m not biting into your stupid sandwich. You are not my best friend, you will NEVER be my best friend, and stop trying to replace her. She’s only been…been gone for two months. Have a little fucking shame.” I kept my voice as low as I could, forced myself to take a breath, to end it there before I got too carried away. Before she started crying because someone actually called her out.

…I felt bad for exploding, later on. It occurred to me that she probably was trying to apologize. That maybe she already knew what she did wrong.

“She’s got you dead to rights, Wondergirl.” …but I didn’t feel that bad, and Maki was doing everything she could not to laugh. Ruri’s aqua-green eyes bored into me, a storm of emotion brewing behind them.

One of the most valuable things I had come to learn when dealing with other idols: do not break eye contact. Do not back down. Not for a second. At 765, we were something close to a family, for the most part. Other companies were not so kind. 2020 was certainly not.

…I slipped a spoonful of half-melted French vanilla into my mouth. It tasted like victory. A small victory, but victory nonetheless.

“…I can end your career in a phone call, Minase,” she started, quietly. Supposedly, it was true, but it was a large claim to boast. Whether it was the ice cream, mental exhaustion, or the fact that I snapped just a little bit that day, I felt lucky. “You can apologize if you want. I’m listening.”

I took another spoonful, then another, as Ruri stared me down, as Maki forced down a roar in her chest. I vaguely suspected that I’d been set up. That Wakahisa’s big speech before was something she made just to try and send me over the tipping point. I realized that right then, I cared more about finishing my ice cream than about how angry Ruri Kirishima was.

I was nearly done when one of us finally broke the silence. It was me, of course.

“Your ice cream is melting, Ruri-chan~” I pushed it out in the most sickly sweet tone I could imagine. Frankly, I was mocking her. Her face was stretched into a distant, predatory smile.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“You know what? Yes. That’s all. That’s it.” One last bite, and I gingerly nudged my bowl away. “Make your phone call. Find another Murder Mayumi. It isn’t worth the indignity anymore.”

Then she did the last thing I expected. …Her cold smile melted away into a sheepish one, and she scratched idly at the back of her neck.

“…I’m sorry, Iori-chan.” As Ruri spoke, I heard Maki’s spoon hit the table. Apparently she dropped it.

She…what?

“I was wrong. I put you through a lot without really thinking about how you felt about it. I’ve done the same thing to Mappi-chan before, it’s like…I get this THING where I…you know, you kind of get it, right?” I shook my head, and she sighed. “I try to help people but there are some personality types that like…they just set off this NEED to mess with people.  I guess it’s what I really like about you, that you’re…you know? Like this. But you’re not scary like Maki, either. You’re…”

“I’m…?” I had no idea how to react.

“You’re really cute, Iori-chan!” She blurted it out, a tinge of red crossing her face. “I really, definitely want to be your friend! I was trying but I got everything mixed up. I’m really, really sorry. Maki tried to tell me I was really messing things up, but I ignored her-“

“Again.”

“-so I really hope we can keep working together, okay?”

…It was exactly what I needed to hear, right then. I think…that was what she wanted. I think that was her whole idea. Maybe something she’d been building up to for weeks.

But maybe I’m just paranoid.