#114: a complete farce / ep.2
“Rinko-chan, just pull out the parts I’m actually in.”
Not sparing so much as a glance at the stack of A4 paper packed into a box roughly the size of an early seasonal gift hamper, Kotone kept mowing down enemy soldiers on the living room’s 4K television.
Rinko, for her part, wasn’t looking at the script bundle either, killing time on her phone instead. That script. She’d already heard about it from Touko, and given it had apparently been written in three days, she’d assumed it would be some slight, forgettable thing, easy enough to memorise overnight. Turned out that assumption had been dead wrong.
“No way. Way too long. Also, this isn’t even actually my job.”
“It’s for your beloved big sister, though?”
“I know that, but still…”
Reluctantly setting her phone down, she flipped through the phonebook-thick script, dreading even having to look at it.
A Corner of the Office. Written by Yanase Touko.
An indecisive woman named Charlotte coincidentally reunites with her recently-broken-up ex — a hard-charging career woman named Mikoto — at her new workplace. The two of them, having only ever missed each other, eventually go through a series of ups and downs, ultimately defeating a scheming romantic rival, and land back together for a happy ending.
“I hate rooting for the protagonist, like, to death. Even reading shoujo manga, I’m always rooting for the romantic rival instead.”
“Projecting much.”
“I mean, come on, the runner-up girl’s always way better, right?”
“You’re saying that about yourself?”
Kotone laughed at her, but it didn’t particularly bother Rinko.
When exactly had this turned into something she could just laugh off? Maybe it was thanks to that crude, endlessly repeated bit of comfort — “time heals all wounds” — worn smooth from overuse in her ears.
There was one thing she could point to, though, and she glanced at Kotone’s profile. Impressively skilled, honestly. Not once looking down at the controller in her hands, eyes fixed entirely on the screen, gunning down enemies, all while carrying on a full conversation with Rinko besides.
“Your woman’s got a pretty good look going on, doesn’t she, Rinko-chan?”
Her feelings for Mikoto had died off completely, turned into something she could joke about, because she was in a different love now. It irritated her, a little, that the tired old cliché — the best cure for heartbreak is a new love — had turned out to be true for her, cheap and predictable as it made her feel.
“Guess so.”
She wanted to be by her side, so certainly that she no longer needed to double-check her own feelings.
“So, wanna get married?”
“Next life, maybe.”
“Might not even be a pretty woman next time, y’know. Could turn out to be some hairy old man.”
“Even next life, I won’t accept anyone but Kurosu Kotone.”
“That’s an impossible request.”
“Yep. Impossible.”
She’d long since gotten used to Kotone slipping in a proposal whenever the opportunity arose. Brushing it off easily, she flipped further through the script. The romance between the two women was drawn in an almost abnormal level of intensity. Practically unhinged, at this point.
“What’s even the point of a fake performance like this, anyway. It’ll get found out immediately.”
“That’s where—”
Kotone must have meant to say something about skill. She gave her own toned arm a light pat and let a knowing smile play across her lips.
“—both the lead and the crew are sharp enough that even a hopeless sister like her can pull it off convincingly.”
“…You think?”
“More importantly, shouldn’t you be worried about yourself? You’re in this too, y’know.”
“I’m actually pretty decent at acting, as it happens.”
“Impressive, coming from a woman of the night.”
“I’m your woman now.”
Glancing sideways at Kotone, apparently rattled enough to get shot dead in-game, Rinko kept flipping through the script.
A manager’s job is, fundamentally, bespoke. Just as every talent’s personality differs, so does the specific shape of managing them.
In Kotone’s case, on top of the usual template duties — schedule coordination, sales negotiations, delivering care packages during drama shoots, running social media and the fan club — there was an endless stream of miscellaneous chores. Script-checking was one of them.
Flipping through the pages, Rinko highlighted every instance of Kotone’s name in fluorescent pink and stuck a tab on it. Repeating this without missing a single one. Checking her own scenes first was simply how Kotone did things. Understanding the overall storyline came later, absorbed gradually during table reads.
“Hey, Rinko-chan~?”
Rinko brushed away, with nothing more than a small shift of her body, the hand Kotone had extended toward her back. That was the thoroughly hopeless thing about a woman like Kurosu Kotone — the second she caught the faintest hint of affection, she’d turn on an obviously fake sweet voice and start clinging.
“Working.”
“C’mon, it’s fine, right?”
The real motive lurking behind “it’s fine, right?” was painfully transparent, and it wore on her patience. She wanted Kotone to understand, just from the sight of the red pen and sticky tabs in her hand, that she wasn’t in the mood — and more than anything, that Kotone was simply bad at this. Terrible at it, in fact.
“Listen. I know you’ve gotten by this whole time purely on your looks and your status, but that doesn’t work on me.”
“Ahaha. What are you even saying? You’re supposed to be my number-one fan.”
Even now, she still hadn’t grasped a single thing. This hopeless woman, who’d been trading on nothing but her own natural, God-given beauty her whole life.
Rinko had held her tongue about it for a full year, careful not to provoke someone who genuinely believed she was good at this — but her patience had finally run dry. Setting down the highlighter and sticky tabs, she seized Kotone’s shoulder as she leaned in close.
“You’re bad at seduction. Fatally bad.”
“Huh…?”
What are you even saying? That beautiful face — the same face that had, until now, always served as the go-to tool for luring people into a night of fun — went slack with confusion.
“You really are beautiful. The most beautiful in the world. I’ll vouch for that. But there’s no atmosphere, no real seduction in your words, not even a hint that you actually see the person in front of you as someone worth loving, even as a pretense.”
“H-hold on, wait a second? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You rely too much on your face. Other women might just get swept along by looks alone, but not me. I’ve been looking at your face every single day and night, more than enough to get sick of it. I know better than anyone just how good-looking you are.”
“So… what does that mean…?”
“It means you’re bad at seducing me. And because you’re bad at seducing, everything that comes after it is even worse.”
Delivering criticism that felt strikingly out of place for the middle of a bright afternoon, Rinko watched Kotone’s cheeks flush redder and redder by the second. Served her right.
“Do you ever think about meeting me halfway, thinking about what I actually want?”
“I do think about it! That’s exactly why I raised your salary, and why I picked out furniture and appliances based on your taste!”
Ugh, this woman really doesn’t get it at all.
“Your version of ‘meeting me halfway’ is careless. I never once asked for a raise, did I? I said that thing on TV looked nice, sure, but I never once said I wanted you to buy it. And honestly, throwing away perfectly good things — I can’t even believe that.”
I wonder if drum-type washing machines are actually convenient. I heard roast beef comes out delicious with a sous vide cooker! Tried that Ring Fit thing with Touko-san the other day, and man, was it rough — I’m way out of shape.
Almost all of it had just been idle comments, muttered while half-watching TV commercials.
She’d only wanted to make conversation, and yet the very next day, an Amazon delivery arrived with a sous vide cooker, a Switch, and a Ring Fit. Three days later, the washing machine had been swapped out entirely, forcing her to buy an entirely different laundry detergent to match.
Of course, given how much Kotone earned, none of it registered as any kind of real expense.
But that was exactly why Rinko refused to let herself be seen as some woman angling for gifts, or as someone cheap enough to be swayed just by being bought things.
“Then what was I supposed to do!?”
Starting to say more, Kotone caught herself and took a deep breath instead.
Past experience had taught her, over and over, that getting confrontational never actually resolved anything. Normally, this was the point where Rinko would snap “forget it!” and slam the door on her own heart entirely.
“…Isn’t living together supposed to mean exactly that, though?”
Twisting in for an embrace, she caught the faint scent of Kotone off her slightly sweat-dampened neck. Honestly, this scent alone, this warmth alone, would have been more than enough — but Kotone always insisted on doing something extra on top of it. As her cousin Aoi liked to put it, “does stuff nobody asked for.” Accurate, honestly.
“I only do it because I love you…”
“I know that much, so think a little harder.”
“About what…?”
“About me. About what I actually want.”
“…A kiss, or something?”
Rinko’s exasperation swept her anger away entirely.
What remained was pure pity for the woman known as Kurosu Kotone. A hollow sort of admiration, wondering what kind of life could produce someone this hopelessly obtuse, and how on earth she’d ever managed a career as an actress.
Well, fine, she decided.
She’d been the one to choose this, after all, so whatever complaints came of it would land squarely back on herself.
“…If it’s not a kiss, then what? A hug?”
“This isn’t a quiz show.”
The flustered, uncertain tone in Kotone’s voice made her laugh, and even that, she found, was something she could love.
Kotone wasn’t the only one who needed to think about how to love properly. If she wasn’t going to understand it on her own, Rinko would have to meet her halfway. Properly say what needed saying.
A Kana Nishino song crossed her mind. Whatever this relationship of theirs was, it surely sat somewhere well beyond the lyrics of that particular hit song.
Should she just make Kotone swallow her own capricious set of instructions? Or should the two of them write a new manual together, from scratch?
“…Fine, whatever. For now, just kiss me.”
“That’s got even less atmosphere, doesn’t it?”
If those were her options, she’d choose the second one. Rewriting things together.
Genuinely, exhaustingly hopeless and clumsy as Kotone was at this, there wasn’t much choice left but to accept it — finding whatever love was hidden inside the clumsiness, the carelessness, the sheer lack of finesse.
“Your clumsy version is fine.”
“Being told ‘clumsy’ isn’t exactly making me want to.”
“Then you want lip service instead? Tell me a kiss alone feels so good you’re about to come, and hurry up about it.”
“That’s just a straight-up lie at this point.”
“Then just do it. A clumsy kiss.”
She had no idea what to do with herself. Watching Kotone’s face fall into an almost comically dumbstruck expression, Rinko searched for what to say next.
Like the classic manga trope of an angel and devil, black and white, clashing head-on over the moral high ground—
“Gyahaha! Did you see that, angel Rinko!? Kotone’s reaction, hilarious!”
“This is basically the same thing that gold-digging blonde witch does! You devil!”
“Huh!? You’re the one having fun toying with a woman who keeps saying she loves you, same as her! Go on, tell me what you actually love about her!”
“Teasing Kotone!”
“Same as me, then, isn’t it!”
“We’re—”
“‘REALLY ALIKE, AREN’T WE~♪’“
“‘Ah! Synced up again!’”
—there was no clash, in the end. They ended up reconciling, singing together in a cheerful little duet.
The only real clash was between their lips, and the tense, defensive kiss gradually loosened, unraveled, until she could savour it properly. Come to think of it, lunch had been delivery ramen. Kotone’s, shoyu; Rinko’s, tonkotsu. Maybe, in terms of clumsiness, a kiss like this made them even.
“…Did you come?”
Wanting to savour the ridiculousness a little longer, she asked for seconds. This time, taking the lead herself, pressing Kotone down with the pair of large, otherwise entirely useless breasts Kotone claimed to love so much.
“Came, totally came. Soaked already.”
“That’s obviously a lie…”
The bright red, flustered protest that followed was exactly what she’d wanted most. She wanted to feel every last drop of love hidden inside these clumsy little expressions, none of it left unnoticed.
She thought, right now, she could almost understand what that gold-digging blonde witch — Charlotte — apparently meant by “how to love someone.” Though it irritated her, that things always ended up landing in the same place regardless.
“Really, really. You’ve gotten so much better.”
“Then how about I confirm it with a little lip service?”
“Ugh…”
Thoroughly disappointed. Doing stuff nobody asked for, as usual, Kotone.
“That’s exactly the part that’s no good. Seriously unbelievable…”
Grabbing the nearest cushion, Rinko pressed it firmly over the idiot’s face and went back to work.
She’d already met her halfway. Now it was her turn to meet her halfway too, and cut it out with the unnecessary extras. Until she managed that, this would just have to stay on hold a while longer.