New 2020 Fanfiction

Training Helen

Genre : Romance/ Mild Hurt/Comfort themes. 

They meet, she hugs him and he improvises. Ensues a series of trials and errors in which Masumi is dazzled into submission by Maya's genius while said genius learns that her fan smells delicious and is a tad childish.
(According to Volume 10, Masumi was supposed to stay the entire weekend at his lake house. Just saying.... )

Status : COMPLETE

 

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TRAINING HELEN

 

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NOTES

1: If you read Glass Mask again, you’ll notice one sentence that could change everything.
In Volume 10, when Masumi Hayami went to check on Maya at his lake house, as she was immersing herself in the role of Helen Keller, he had intended to stay the entire weekend, and the Yamashita were surprised to see him leave so soon after he arrived. That is because Masumi was so shocked by his own reaction to Maya’s hugging him that he purposefully and quite literally ran away from his feelings.

So of course, re-reading the manga (during lockdown, here) my mind ran wild with this idea: what if Masumi had not run away that day. What if, as intended, he stayed a few more days, helping Maya to get into the part without risking her life in the process. What if, during these few days, a deeper bond had formed between the emotionally handicapped businessman and the naive young actress.

2: for hardcore fans, know that Miuchi Sensei gave enough clues to tell you where the lake is, so if you want to visit it one day and daydream, it’s the Shirakaba lake in Nagano Prefecture. You’re welcome.

3: Also, at some point, Maya thinks about the possibility of Mr Purple Rose bathing in the same water as her. That’s because Japanese families often use the same bath water at night, as they first wash up with a shower set separated to the tub and then dip in the hot water for relaxation purposes once they are clean. The water stays at a constant temperature due to an elaborate heating system so the whole family can use it.

Now that this is all said and done, I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you want a sequel, with the aftermath of the weekend after the role of Helen, please let me know.

 

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PROLOGUE

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“Hayami-sama, I’m really sorry to say this but something is wrong with that girl. She really doesn’t behave like a normal 16 years old. We’re scared of leaving her alone in the house. At this rate, she’ll kill herself”

From what Masumi could make out of what a positively alarmed guardian had managed to explain, his favorite actress had decided to blindfold herself and put wax in her ears, cutting herself off from the outside world and quite effectively exposing herself to any danger that should befall her without anyone present to keep watch and make sure she’s safe. As if that wasn’t enough, she had also shut all the blinds, probably to make sure no sunlight could ever direct her away from any potential obstacle, and started wrecking the house as she was struggling to complete the simplest task, like feeding herself. 

As much as he cared about his summer house, the idea of having Maya surrounded with shards of broken glass and ceramics and encountering the sharp blades of a tin can lid every time she ventured into the kitchen was what had him most distraught. The Yamashita had of course guaranteed that they cleaned the house into a safer state, but after witnessing the young actresses’ strange behavior, they had felt leaving her alone again was about as reassuring as leaving a crawling toddler in a construction site. Of course, their alarm was justified, Masumi grimaced inwardly, as he was himself finding a recurring pattern in his protegee’s learning method. The more dangerous the better. Her sadistic circus trainer of a teacher had made sure to implement the notion so deep in her mind, that she would eventually come up with it herself. Masumi winced as the memory of him walking in on them rehearsing the role of a doll replayed in his mind. He could still distinctively feel the crack in his hand, as he had pulled her arm to help her up. The resonating sound that had ensued. The blood…

He laid in bed that same night knowing far well he had little chance of sleeping at all, as various scenarios of Maya hurting herself in his own house came haunting him like so many boogeymen. The irony of having her rehearse in his own estate was surely that he knew the place so well, he would vividly foresee how each piece of furniture and home decor he owned could potentially knock, trip, bruise or cut her. 

Struggling with a newfound and unsettling sense of personal responsibility, he argued that the little whimsical girl he had come to know as Chibi-chan was stubborn enough to endanger herself anywhere, the only difference being that he would probably have heard nothing of it. Then again, hadn’t he intervened and invited her to a remote house in the countryside (where no one would hear her scream), she would certainly have practiced her extreme version of studio acting in her own apartment, with her friend acting as safety net to at least try to prevent her from breaking her neck, so he figured he was partly responsible for her current peril. 

However, the issue of his anonymous persona remained. Naive though Maya may be, there was just no simple way to explain his sudden appearance at lake Shirakaba, stepping through the threshold of this specific house unannounced and unwanted without raising suspicion. The moment she would see him...

Masumi sat up in his bed, the sudden realization leaving him nonplussed and a tiny bit horrified by the direction his thoughts were leading him to. She would not see him. She was blind and deaf at the moment. Were he to casually step through the doorway, her only reaction to their encounter would be...Masumi stopped his train of thoughts, as something dangerously close to hope had snuck in his mind. He focused on planning his next move.

It was 5am, the sun was slowly rising, and Masumi packed his bag, texting Takashi Yamashita to bring breakfast for two, that he'd be there in about 3 hours and was going to stay a couple of days. Before leaving he pinned a Purple Rose to his jacket. Just in case.

You’re a madman, Masumi. 

 

 

 

SATURDAY

 

Eyes tied shut, Maya knew she was awake.

What time is it? 

It is still night, or morning already? 

I can’t go back to sleep...but I don’t really feel awake either.

My mind is foggy.

Her stomach complained, she felt it without hearing it. 

I’m hungry...are the Yamashita’s coming to bring food? 

Her skin felt overly sensitive, describing the world around her. Heat, fabric, wood...But most of the world was within her now, as she would spend what seemed like hours completely still, dwelling in her own thoughts and dreamland. Sometimes, if she stayed really still, she could even feel her heart beating in her own chest.

Her stomach growled again.

I don’t care if it’s night or day, I can’t wait for the Yamashita to come and feed me breakfast, I need to go to the kitchen right now.

She started her long and slow journey out of the guest room, that is, if that was where she was. She remembered sleeping on a cushy bed, but at this point there wasn’t really anything that could certify to her current location. Lost as she was, she used the wall to direct herself, determined to find her way down to the kitchen. 

On her way to the corridor, she imagined the delicious breakfast Rei used to cook, and probably enjoyed now with Sayaka in her absence. She had offered to sleep over at the apartment to keep Rei company while Maya was away. She could practically hear their laughter from where she was, the room basking in the fragrance of homemade miso soup. 

Her blindfold was feeling wet. Was she crying? 

I’m at the stairs. This time be careful, Maya, don’t--

Her inner pep talk was interrupted by the ominous sensation of something rolling under her foot, which threw her off balance. Her backside took most of the shock and she was downstairs before she knew it, with pain and frustration surrounding her like red hot angry clouds. 

I was being careful! 

She heard her pitiful whimper resonating inside her, like she would hear her voice under water in the bath. Helen probably couldn’t even hear that.  Helen!  

She punched the floor as hard as she could, the new pain vibrating through her entire arm and slightly distracting her from her previous frustration. 

I am tired of this! This is pointless! I miss seeing the sun, hearing the birds! I want to go home; I want to talk to people!  

He had arrived just in time to see the fall. His initial plan had been to enter some time before the Yamashita scheduled breakfast, so he could greet her and appraise the situation on his own to determine if his presence was indeed necessary. However, seeing how despite the guardian's previous clean up his summer house now resembled a violent crime scene, and judging from the cuts and bruises on her legs and arms, he knew he had made the right decision to come and check on her. If left to her own devices, at this rate, she would audition from a wheelchair. 

As he reluctantly took his first step toward her, Masumi repeated in his mind all the ways he should not turn this first meeting into a disaster. If he was fairly certain of the role he had to play, the hazardous parameter of the equation was sitting in front of him, still unaware of his presence, and it made him feel nervous.

Masumi Hayami, Vice President of Daito, and leader of the Entertainment industry. Nervous to meet a small girl 11 years younger than him.

He was only a few feet away when Maya made an attempt at standing up, and failing miserably, she fell into the safety net that he had rushed to provide, namely his own arms. 

Masumi heard her gasp in shock and his body froze that same second. After waiting for her to recover from the first surprise, he knelt down to give her more stability and right her in a more comfortable sitting position. Probably because he was aware of the possibility of a sprained ankle, he found himself to be handling her as if she was a sand statue ready to crumble under his touch at any time. She raised her bewildered head to face him, and Masumi made a silent wish this makeshift and obviously wet blindfold was still sufficiently opaque. It was apparent she could not recognize him when she softly freed her arms from his hold to take his hand. Completely still, and feeling as if he was observing the scene from an outsider’s point of view, Masumi complied lifelessly as her turned his palm up and, her finger caressing the surface in strokes he recognized to be written Japanese, he started deciphering the words: “Who-are-you?” 

The question was candid, and it demanded an answer. Masumi had expected as much, and he acted out what his mind had shown him times and times again from the moment he left until this point. Masumi gazed down at the rose on his jacket, plucked it out, and gently laid it on her palm, closing the fingers on the petals. Maya gently stroked the flower for a minute, her breathing as uneven as his, and raised it to her face, inhaling its scent. Her tiny face shot up in his direction as if she’s been electrocuted, and as she reached out for his hand again this time, he gave it to her already palm up, waiting.  Her index finger was shaking with eagerness and suddenly nothing else existed in this world but her finger and his palm, each syllabus burning his skin with invisible ink. “Are-You-Mr.-Purple-Rose-?” she asked. He put his other hand on hers top of hers, enclosing her hand in the only yes, he could articulate. 

The burst of pure emotion followed immediately. Her face lit up in a warm grin as she raised on her knees and threw herself in his chest, her arms encircling him in a tight embrace as he heard her sobbing uncontrollably. 

Heat rushed to his ears in reaction to his body being attacked by her so suddenly, as she was now everywhere. Her knee was on his leg, her hands were on his back, her face was on his chest, and even her tears were on his shirt. But more than the unexpected display of affection for which he felt utterly unequipped, it was her emotional state that confounded him the most. That a meeting with her fan would provoke in her such intimate response was lost on him.  Ever since he’d given her that first bouquet after the premiere of Little Women, she had named Mr Purple Rose her one and only true fan for whom she was overflowing with a gratitude she seemed eager to declaim to whomever would listen. This girl was so small and yet so passionate, a paradox that always fascinated him to the brim of adoration. Her father was dead, she ran away from home, her mother was missing, her theater company was torn apart, she lived in an old and tiny apartment with her sick and abusive teacher, and even the church she went to practice was destroyed. Yet, faced with this fan, this stranger she’d so longed to meet for the past three years, she threw herself body and soul in complete trust and sincerity.

And he was so undeserving of it. 

As disappointing her hopes would by far be the most crushing of betrayals, he closed his arms over her and tightly returned her desperate embrace, pressing her head on his chest as she let out a relieved sigh of comfort. All that he knew in that instant, was that he would do anything to protect that tiny girl who was sobbing in his arms with bruises on her legs, even if forsaking his sanity was the price to pay for it. 

He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the nearest sofa, closely examining the expression of trusting anticipation her face was making. There, as he got up and went to look for the first aid kit, she screamed “Wait, don’t go!” her voice was loud and unusually high pitched, an effect caused both by the nervous breakdown she was experiencing and the fact that she could hardly hear herself. “Who are you? You always help me and I don’t even know your name! I’m so thankful to you. I always, always think about you whenever I feel down. Please, at least tell me your name!”

He practically ran to get the kit so that she wouldn’t think he left. The girl’s misery was triggering an urge to cover her with warm blankets and rock her to sleep, but he figured a simple care of her injury would be more appropriate. With the mess she had created, and his complete ignorance of her medical record and vaccination card status, he clearly didn’t want to have to rush her to the hospital with an infected wound. To signal his return, he awkwardly brushed her shoulder as softly as he could, which still caused her to jolt slightly at his touch. Taking her palm - a gesture that really shouldn’t make him that nervous - he wrote “I-am-staying-a-few-days”.  Her mouth fell open at those words. “But-you-have-to-promise-to-keep-your-eyes-shut” She nodded almost violently. He repressed a laughter at the sight of her characteristic eagerness, though he was hardly ever on the receiving end of it. “I-will-not-tell-you-my-identity” he added in a handwriting that he hoped transcribed his intended warning tone “But-I-will-keep-your-Helen-company. Think-of-me-as-Helen’s-relative”

 That would work, he thought with satisfaction. She had already promised to remain blind the entire weekend, and now that he implied, she should remain as Helen, she would not try to find him out. She could actually practice, which she desperately needed, and he would make sure that she would stay safe, which he desperately needed. Masumi observed her reaction, as Maya’s frown lasted for a minute, weighing his offer. Then slowly she nodded, her tensed shoulders finally relaxing. Thank god! Masumi sighed inwardly; his relief sweeter than anything he’d ever felt in his life. 

Now he could stay. 

 

 

He is in front of me, Mr Purple Rose! Sitting on that sofa, writing on my hand.  He is real. He is here!  

She had felt such a muffled vibration coming from his chest with irregular thuds when he hugged her back, and it had taken her a minute to realize with pure amazement that it had been his heart. How intense his emotion must have been for it to drum in such an erratic rhythm!  Could it be that he won't show his identity because he's shy?  The thought did cross her mind a few times, when she would let her mind wander into the usually painfully sweet daydream of meeting her fan. She would imagine a reserved and soft-spoken old man who would see her as his long-lost granddaughter. Now that she had been close enough to feel the warmth of his embrace, though she couldn’t meet his gaze, her assumption about his sensitive and kind nature was thoroughly confirmed, which comforted her beyond measure. What an amazing person he was…

Mr Purple Rose. 

Something cold and metallic brushed against her knee. As she touched it in an effort to identify it, she concluded it was a small box, with a handle on top, and he was opening it. In reaction to her confusion, warm hands firmly held hers and he wrote “You-are-hurt” with a tension and sharpness that seemed similar to an admonishment. 

A first aid kit? 

Suddenly the stench of rubbing alcohol blinded her senses, and warm fingers slid under her left knee to hold it slightly upward, as something cold and wet touched her skin on her kneecap. Antiseptic? She twitched, a reaction that met the answer “You-should-take-better-care-of-your-body” Oh, but he was definitely chiding her for her clumsiness! Embarrassment heated her face. “I-want-my-Helen-to-make-you-proud” she wrote in an attempt to defend herself, secretly hoping this confession wouldn’t alarm him, though she figured what she had screamed earlier had been a much bolder admission. “You-can’t-act-with-a-broken-leg” He answered, his fingers showing no sign of relaxing. In turn she replied “I'm-trying-to-be-careful” pouting slightly as, though she never had a father figure to compare this with, she was fairly convinced that’s what being scolded by your dad must feel like, which she judged to be highly unfair as she had been trying her best not to cause trouble. A gush of mint scented air rippled on her face in fresh tiny waves. Was he chuckling? The band aid now safely stuck on her knee, she felt his hand slide from under her knee to reach her ankle, and Maya repressed a wince. “Does-it-hurt?” She nodded, and he lifted her foot to lay it on his lap. She jolted when a cold and gelatinous texture wrapped her ankle, spread by both his hands and her toes curled in embarrassment. Then a piece of fabric came firmly covering the solution and maintaining her ankle in a tight hold. Bandaging? She felt his movement with every turn of the cloth, under, above, left, right, and then it was tightly shut and he gently put her leg back where it was. Maya heaved a relieved sigh; glad this mortifying session was over and done with. It was just her luck to finally get her first meeting with her most devoted fan, only to be clumsy enough to cause him to stoop to massaging her feet. She was about to take his hand to scratch out some apologetic characters as swiftly as possible, when she realized he wasn’t done with her yet. 

The now familiar minty breath was close to her neck, and gentle fingers now cared for the cut on her arm just below her shoulder. She couldn’t hear or see, but as her touch had apparently multiplied a thousandfold in the span of a couple of days, each millimeter his finger touched as he applied disinfectant was burning her, the invisible duvet of her skin screaming in a high pitched, almost bright tone. He was applying the band aid on her skin in such a slow, cautious, almost meticulous fashion, his breath washing her neck in cool and regular waves, she could feel her heart drum in her ears. Hands tightly gripping her skirt, she didn’t know how long she’d be able to withstand this proximity. Breathless, her blood reaching an alarming boil, she was about to recoil when a vibration from the sofa indicated to her that the box had been closed, and he got up, leaving her alone sitting still and stiff, not knowing what to do. 

To distract herself from the near panic attack she just suffered, she recounted all the information she had gathered so far: People had described him as a man with a calm voice. He seemed tall and strong...strong enough to carry her as if she was weightless. His hands didn’t have the slightest wrinkle, but a faint smell of tobacco lingered on them. His clothes smelled of laundry powder, but it was mixed with cologne. Cedarwood? She couldn’t tell, but it had a magnetic pull to it. This mix of this specific cologne, laundry powder, tobacco and mint... it all seemed oddly familiar. 

 

“I want my Helen to make you proud”

Putting the first aid kit away was the perfect excuse to step away from her for a second to catch his breath. The bathroom mirror returned his expression of self-disgust with potent clarity. 

What are you doing, Masumi? She’s 11 years younger than you, still in high school. She’s not suitable for you. It’s inappropriate. 

But just then, as his hands were mending her different injury, he couldn’t help but notice the deep flush that had painted her face. When his face was concentrated on her arm, the warmth of her cheek was radiating onto his own…

“I always, always think about you whenever I feel down.”

No amount of splashed water seemed to successfully cool him down.  Masumi, what are you imagining? She’s just a kid. She was probably just embarrassed to have you taking care of her like that. He smirked at his own vanity. What has gotten into you? It’s not like you. From the beginning, your behavior with her has been irrational. Remember how you almost tried to stop her from going on stage, just a few weeks ago? Take a hold of yourself! 

The front door bell interrupted his train of thought. The Yamashitas! Welcoming this distraction, he hopped down the stairs to greet them. 

Takashi and Tsuneko worry about Maya’s well-being was painted all over their face. “You arrived really early Hayami-sama,” Tsuneko said while unpacking breakfast on the table. “Is the young miss Maya alright?” She had glanced at the sofa, where Maya was still sitting absentmindedly. Masumi did his best to reassure his faithful neighbors and tenants “She’s fine, really. She’s an actress and needed an environment to practice. Her method is a bit...extreme, as you can see.” He added with a darker tone. “Ah…” Tsuneko stuttered, frenetically arranging the bowls and pouring miso soup into them in a manner that screamed “I’ll mind my own business.” Takashi side glanced at the actress with an expression of pity that Masumi commented with an apologetic smile.

“It’s just like her to act like that. I should have warned you in advance.” 

“No, don’t mention it, Hayami-sama.” The middle-aged lady raised an intrigued eyebrow at her husband, who seemed just as taken aback by the warmth that had colored Masumi’s voice when mentioning the actress. “I have an idea: why don’t you both go outside while I clean this morning after breakfast? Some fresh air would probably do her good.” 

Masumi dazzled the couple with a grateful smile. It was actually a good idea. In her biography, Helen Keller mentioned she would often play outside. 

Maya was walking awkwardly toward them, her nose raised upward like a puppy sniffing a barbecue. Of course, Masumi thought, without sight or hearing, smell and touch had to take over, and food must have smelled more strongly to her. A loud growl came out of her tiny body, and Masumi chuckled to the sight of her clutching her stomach. She seemed positively famished. 

They all sat down, Masumi seated next to Maya. The Yamashitas glanced at him as though to warn him. “Last time she ate in front of us, she wasn’t really...well, ladylike.” 

Chibi-chan, not ladylike? Masumi could hardly retain his laugh. He understood better what they meant when Maya groped around the plates and eventually grabbed a piece of okra, which she popped straight into her mouth. She did the same with her rice, not even trying to locate her chopsticks. Overlooking the couple’s disapproving and worried look, he kept gazing and her, unconsciously smiling. You’re really giving it your best, Chibi-chan.

He was going to help her. Protect her during this extreme and quite frankly mind-boggling experience, and he would be doing so out of sheer altruistic sense of duty. That was all. 

“I understand that you don’t want to eat next to us in this situation.” Masumi said. “Don’t feel obligated to keep us company. Just drop the food here once a day, I’ll take care of the rest.” The couple glanced at each other, wondering if that meant the young master actually intended to cook, but nodded anyway. 

When Maya seemed satiated, Masumi took her hand, earning another little jolt from her, and wrote: “Let-s-go-outside.”

 

Outside. How did it feel for Helen to be outside? 

Now that she was truly blind and deaf, her experience was completely different. It was scarier to make a single step forward.

 Instinctively, she found herself trying to locate Mr Purple Rose newfound distinctive scent, just to make sure that he wasn’t going anywhere, as she hadn’t yet recovered from the awe-inspiring reality that she was indeed in his presence and he was staying. She noticed that even when he stood a few feet away from her, she would still be able to catch a faint scent, enough to follow him, or direct herself in his direction. Nevertheless, she was not about to risk losing his scent when she had just met him a few hours before, so they remained as close as possible, sometimes being so desperate to even clutch his sleeve, pretending it to be to steady her steps. This didn’t seem to bother him so much, as he himself would sometimes grab her arm whenever she was in any danger on tripping on a root, though he would then swiftly withdraw his hand as soon as she found her balance. The gesture would always leave her in a confused state of both dreading his touch, then missing it. 

They stopped at the destination he had chosen for their stroll, namely a tree, as Maya noticed when he took her hand and made her touch the trunk. He then wrote the most incredible suggestion on her other palm: “Try-to-climb-that-tree” Maya let out something that probably must have sounded to him like a chipmunk’s squeak, since he added “Do-not-worry” his warm finger concluding the persuasion with the most magical sentence “I-will-be-there” 

She still wasn’t convinced that climbing a tree was the best idea, even with his help. She already had difficulties walking on solid ground without making a fatal fall. Where did this strange plan come from?

As if he read her silent question, he continued “Did-you-know-Helen-used-to-climb-trees?”

What? Helen did that? 

A girl with three handicaps, who couldn’t see, hear or talk, was brave enough to climb trees?

Why? How did it feel for her, to climb higher, to be in a tree? How do you even climb on branches you cannot see? 

She had to find out. 

Facing Mr Purple Rose with all the determination she could muster, she addressed him a firm nod. 

He then let go of both her hands, and his scent became fainter. Was he giving her space? 

First, she had to figure out what kind of shape this tree had. She fumbled around, trying to make out the general width of the trunk in her mind. It was pretty large, like an assembling of three or four trees into one. It was probably old, and beautiful to watch. 

I want to see…

There were enough branches to go around and try at least one step. 

Bracing herself, she transferred the weight of her body on her arm, pushing down the branch at her left, while her foot tried to find support on the little hump she was felt on the trunk. After a moment of hesitation when she considered one last time the stupidity of the whole endeavor, she threw reason into the lake and pushed on her leg as hard as she could, leaping off the ground. 

The sensation was beyond anything she'd expected. He was only a few inches off the ground, but her body felt as if it was hanging from a cliff, inducing an exhilarating vertigo. She reached for another branch, and then another, climbing higher and higher, until she found herself sitting comfortably, her back resting on the trunk, both legs hanging from her wooden seat. She had absolutely no idea how high she was, and was only aware of the resinous and green fragrance surrounding her. 

My sense of touch is telling me what is in contact with me. My sense of smell tells me about my surroundings. 

She wondered how far this sense of smell could go, and remember that Mr Purple Rose had promised to stay close. But could she find him, when the tree she was resting on was oozing with such a strong, almost sweet scent? She relaxed her body with her head resting on the trunk and tried to focus. 

Tobacco, Mint, Cedarwood cologne, Laundry powder.

She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with information, scanning every scent, dismissing anything that wasn’t him. When at first, she couldn’t find him, her heart dropped in her stomach. She was alone. Where was he? He said he’d be there. 

Her hands started groping the air, the trunk, she branches, her nose inhaling left and right. Panic made her hyperventilate, trying to find him. The trunk started vibrating below her, and suddenly she captured it. Tobacco. Was he climbing the tree? She breathed in again. Mint. He was getting closer. Cologne. He was right below her. She stretched out her hand and her fingertips brushed a strand of hair. Found him!  

The relief of confirming his presence surpassed the panic that had overwhelmed her seconds ago. She immediately relaxed as her hand rested on his head, and without even considering how rude that was, she let her fingertips brush down on his forehead where his hair was falling, and linger on his cheek. His face was so smooth, with his cheekbone high and his jawline strong. He was probably in his twenties. 

His hand stopped her inspection, which had the effect of brutally bringing back to reality. “Afraid-of-heights?” She bit her lips in embarrassment. The mint and tobacco rippled on her face again. Was he chuckling again? Was he teasing her? She felt positively vexed that her devoted fan was capable of both chiding her and teasing her in the span of a few hours. “No” she wrote with eagerness to prove him wrong “I-was-afraid-you-were-gone”. 

The ripples stopped. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “I-am-not-going-anywhere” Judging from his handwriting, had he said this sentence instead or written it, she was sure he would have done so in a grave and solemn tone, because his answer sent a chill down her spine. She could trust him. He told her not to worry, that he would be there. He wouldn’t leave her for no reason. Though he seemed to take pleasure in admonishing and teasing her, he was still her precious, devoted fan. 

A light breeze brushed her hair forward and covered them both with the lake’s fragrance. She turned her face towards it. It seemed like the sun was shining on her, heating her cheeks. Without turning her face away from it, she stretched her finger out, and Mr Purple Rose had his palm ready for her “It-s-so-peaceful-here” She laid her hand palm up, waiting for him to answer “I'm-glad-you-like-it” The way he traced on her hand was just like how people described his voice : calm, and soft. His fingers were full of kindness. 

Maybe Helen could also notice that. People’s way of interacting with her was just like their tone of voice. 

She couldn’t tell exactly how much time they spent there, resting in that tree, enjoying the warmth of the sun, breathing in the fragrance of the lake. Always keeping his scent in the back of her mind, her hand hung next to his face, in case he wanted to say something, but he didn’t interrupt her at any point. He was doing just what he said we would: keeping her company. 

Refraining from asking questions wasn’t an easy task. She wanted so dearly to know at least a name to call him by. But he had given her everything, from tuition to shelter, and this was the only condition he ever mentioned, his only favor: Do not investigate. She didn’t know why he seemed so adamant in remaining anonymous, but she couldn't refuse him that. 

Now that she thought about it, the simple fact that he stayed with her was a huge dent in his secrecy. Sure, she still had no idea what his face and voice were like, or his name and occupation for that matter, however he had provided her with so much information simply by letting her hug him earlier! She could now make up his height, his built, his age, his hair, his hands, and even his scent. 

He was allowing her to explore Helen while remaining safe. He was staying by her side, protecting her even to the risk of having his identity found out, trusting that she wouldn’t peek. Gratitude swelled in her chest; she fought her tears as seamlessly as she could while stretching her fingers again “Mr-Purple-Rose” she wrote “Thank-you-for-staying-with-me” His palm twitched slightly “I-will-try-to-understand-Helen.” 

He turned her palm upward and replied.

 “It-will-be-my-honor-to-help-you.” 

 

Why was this little button of a woman inspiring him such admiration? He still vividly remembered how thunderstruck he had felt the first time he saw her on stage. Only a year later, as she stood on in front of an audience of peers rivals and jury from around the country to improvise a full length 13 characters play alone , he found himself at the verge of starting a Fanclub in her honor, to which he would of course be president, and which mission would consist entirely in constantly announcing her arrival to peasants as they laid her path with rose petals. Now, two years after that, here he was, literally at her feet and disposal, with her index finger deciding on his every move, and he reveled in it. 

Maya twitched her body, rooting him out of his reverie, as she started swinging one leg over the log, and then froze with a perplexed expression on her face. Masumi instantly knew what was wrong. It was one thing to climb up, and it was another to climb down. Ready for anything, he braced himself and waited for her cue. 

Her arm reached forward, trying to find a branch to support herself but her body weight wasn’t properly balanced and Masumi saw it one second too late: she was slipping. 

She let out a panicked cry and her arms started moving frenetically; searching for something to grab and prevent her fall. Masumi was already outstretching both his arms, catching her waist and pulling her to him, but he miscalculated the way her weight would influence his own stance, and as they both fell, Masumi held her tightly with one arm, his other arm trying to control the damages

Good thing they were not too high. When his arm met the ground, he was laying on top of her, still holding her so that her head would not touch the ground. 

“Maya, are you okay?” he shouted.

No answer. He sighed, Idiot, she can’t hear you. 

He pushed himself up, pulling her with him in a sitting position. She immediately grabbed his shoulders, eyebrows shot up anxiously as she reached for his hand, on which she feverishly wrote “Mr- Purple-Rose---Are-you-alright?” She was worried about him? Of course, she was blind now, and couldn’t see if he was hurt or even slightly scratched. 

 “I-am-alright. You?” She nodded, straightening herself. 

This girl, Masumi thought as he felt delayed panic come back with a vengeance. It's the second time she falls this morning! Who knows what could have happened! 

“You-should-be-more-careful” he wrote, his tension palpable in his handwriting. She pouted “You-are-the-one-who-told-me-to-climb-it.”

The answer came as a shock as he widened his eyes to observe her. Is she seriously arguing with me right now? His tension broke up in a hoot of laughter. There was no changing her! To his surprise, she smiled at him “You-laughed” she wrote, grinning in triumph. 

His heart skipped a beat. Could she actually hear him? See him? Had she been pretending this whole time? Suddenly nervous, he still wrote “How-did-you-know that?” 

She seemed hesitant to reply at first, her chin ducked down, as if she was searching for the answer. Finally, she took his palm, and while she was writing her answer, her other hand mimicked her explanation. “When you’re-calm, -your-breath-feels-like-that…” her hand made slow waves between her face and his and Masumi absentmindedly noticed how graceful her wrist could be, “But-when-you-laugh, it’s-like-this...” Now her hand was making erratic, short fanning movements toward her face.

Maya! 

Of course. She couldn’t see or hear, so her other senses were more active. She used the air current around her to interpret her environment. 

What an amazing girl!

They walked a while around the lake, and Masumi could see that they were about to arrive at a livelier spot, with a small pier as well as shops and various food stands. He glanced at Maya. Was it a good idea to guide her there? On the other hand, she was probably hungry. 

As they got closer and closer to the pier, Masumi clearly heard Maya’s stomach make a distressing sound. He turned to her, and she had slapped a hand on her stomach. Oh no, Maya, you’re not going to hide this. He took her hand “Hungry?” She shot her head up in amazement “How-did-you-know?” He laughed “You-were-as-loud-as-a-lion” She frowned. “That-is-literally-impossible.” which made him laugh even louder. In turn, Maya made a face he’d never seen before: hollowing her cheeks and pinching her lips, she looked as if she was fighting a smile. 

How strange. When it was Mr Purple Rose doing, she seemed to enjoy being teased. When he was Mr Purple Rose, he was allowed to sit with her, speak with her, and even tease her. If only she knew that the man standing next to her was in fact Daito Corporate’s Demon, her reaction would probably be to push him away with the strength of a thousand kittens and express her disappointment that the earlier fall didn’t kill him, all the while suggesting he somehow made them fall on purpose as a part of his diabolical plan to take over the world.

Judging by her nose’s direction, she seemed tempted by the Takoyaki stand, and he inwardly congratulated her on her excellent taste, and the little savory octopus flavored balls did look wonderful even from afar. As he walked toward it, he noticed that she had less and less difficulties following him whereas earlier this morning she was almost always glued to his sleeve. It was as if she could see him or hear him normally, as if she was aware of his presence somehow.

Overlooking the worried glances of the cook, he bought a box of steaming, golden and fragrant Takoyaki covered in the best toppings, namely seaweed, savory sauce, mayo and bonito flakes. Maya was licking her lips like a little child as Masumi decided to lead her to the docks, and she followed him closely, her nose tilted upward and the nostrils dilated in a hilarious expression of famished eagerness. 

They arrived at their destination, specifically at its threshold, and Masumi caught Maya’s arm just before she made the final step that would have thrown her into the lake. In front of them was a little boat, but of course Masumi was the only one who knew that. His eyes glistened with the genius idea that dawned on him. He decided to tell her nothing, simply handing her the box before bridal carrying her into the boat, reveling in the adorable animal sound she made as he lifted her up and stepped in their less than stable vessel. Masumi, you should really refrain from using her helplessness as an opportunity to tease her, however tempting that may be. You’re here to help her. So, focus! He seated her in front of him and waited for her reaction. 

She remained frozen for a moment, her head slowly turning left and right. Her feet made small circular motions in front of her, as she freed one arm from her tight hold of the Takoyaki box to touch the bench she was sitting on. Masumi decided to give her another clue by slightly shifting his weight, causing the boat to rock with him. Her head shot up with realization. Riding a boat as Helen, that was an experience the others probably weren’t thinking about. How do you feel, Maya, when you can’t see nor hear, and the very ground below your feet is unstable? How does it make you feel? 

He rowed a few minutes before stopping right at the middle of the lake. Maya was still gripping the bench, in obvious unease. He hoped she wasn’t feeling too dizzy. Here, alone with her where no one could see them, he could almost forget that she was still unaware of who he was. She was following a complete stranger, a man she trusted with her life even though she had never met him. He even wanted to break that illusion and untie her blindfold to reveal himself, but he should not be deceived. The moment her eyes meet his, all traces of trust would be gone, leaving only disgust, dismay and disappointment. He should remember that. 

But now she was not in front of Masumi Hayami. She was with her beloved fan, in a boat during lunchtime, and she was hungry.

“Let’s-eat!” he wrote on her forehead playfully, and briefly considered making this a thing as her eyebrows twitched to this unexpected touch. The impression of anointing her with the command to eat also played a part in his delight.  

She gladly complied and opened the box. Masumi saw her hand almost immediately dig in - gosh, but she was famished - only at the last second she stopped herself and after hesitating for an instant, she extended her arm in his direction, with her head tilted on the side in a warm expression that was yet another first in his experience, and that clearly meant you first!

Masumi interpreted the sudden butterflies in his stomach as hunger, brushing aside the fact that he just called Maya cute in his mind, and focused on lunch. Fortunately, Takoyaki were the perfect comfort food, as their rich flavor and soft texture would make any brain explode with endorphin and accept the distraction without a second thought.

Their lunch time continued in silence, Maya eating eagerly in front of Masumi's fond gaze, and then she scooted over to the edge of the boat to dip her hand in the water, her head resting on the hull with an effortless and blissful smile on her lips. Masumi grabbed hold of the rows again and took her around the lake, the boat smoothly rocking her to sleep. His mind consciously focused on the movement of his arms, Masumi kept his breathing steady, convincing himself that letting her use him as her own private venetian gondolier and feeling privileged to be able to stare at her while she’s napping wasn’t all that alarming. I mean look at her; who wouldn’t want to be in my place? 

 

Smell, temperature, touch...these were the things that allowed her to notice that she was awake. She didn’t know long she had slept, but she could tell at least a couple hours had passed, as the smell in the air had shifted to a deeper hue and the boat had warmed agreeably under the sun, making the hull and the bench much cozier than when she first dozed off. Everything was now perfectly still. For the first time since putting on this blindfold, she was feeling absolutely comfortable. It didn’t even bother her that much that she couldn’t see or hear. Instead of a cold and dark silent abyss, this condition was now wrapping her in a warm and quiet bubble of peace. 

Helen, is that how you felt? 

She sat up; her body electrified by inspiration. She was walking closer and closer to Helen’s heart. Her limbs and chest were starting to grasp her emotions and spirit. Just a little bit closer, just a little while longer and Helen will be within her, directing her every move. She wanted to experience more, feel more, find out more! 

“Are-you-alright?” 

She startled. She didn’t notice he had taken her hand; the excitement of her realization had been too intense for her to be aware of much of anything else. She didn’t quite understand his question though, as she was absolutely ecstatic. “I am fine” was all she said though “I think I’ve made progress. Helen’s heart...I think I understand it better. I’m almost there.” 

“What-can-I-do?” 

That was a very good question. What could he do to help her get closer to Helen? There must be something…

“Can-we-go-back-to-the-house-please?”

That would leave her time to think of a better answer, she thought as he helped her out of the boat. Now that she really reflected on the matter, and as hard as it was to admit, having someone to talk to wasn’t really helping, especially as that someone really made her want to interact as Maya Kitajima. He was her most devoted fan, the one she’s been longing to meet for over three years now, but if she wanted to dive into Helen Keller’s heart, she had to forget Maya, and she had to stop talking to him. 

As they reached the house, she took his hand and wrote almost painfully “There-is-something-you-can-do-to-help-me.” She braced herself, and added “Can-you-stop-talking-to-me?” His hand stilled in hers, so she continued feverishly to dispel any misunderstanding “Helen-doesn’t-know-how-to-write.” and to make crystal clear that she didn’t want to cut all ties, she concluded with: “We-need-to-find-another-way-of-communicating”

The wait lasted for an eternity, but finally the answer came, in the form of a playful hand ruffling her hair in understanding. She giggled, relieved that he didn’t take offence. 

The afternoon that ensued was that of a peaceful Saturday at the Keller house, namely Helen trying to find some toy to play with in a house that didn’t seem to have any - she settled for a wooden statue she found displayed on a counter, and Mr P.R Keller either catching her at the last minute or simply being in the room, smoking and doing whomever knew what. She didn’t like it when he smoked, though captivating the smell may be, it seemed to blur the line of the mental shape she had formed of him. If this habit made him easier to locate, the scent was so intense it covered everything else around him and, for lack of a better word: blinded her. 

 Maya found that forbidding herself from reaching for his hand was more challenging that she even imagined, especially after he prevented her from falling down the stairs once again; but she made her gratitude obvious in any way she could, in the form of apologetic grins and sleeve tugs, to which he would unavoidably reply by messing with her hair more than her dignity should have felt acceptable. 

In fact, the more annoyed she would look, the messier her hair would end up, as her new companion seemed to enjoy teasing her until she felt like she was wearing a nest as a hat. She even found herself exaggerating her reaction to see how far he would go, but he was so limitless in his playful routine, she eventually felt she should turn to him if she were to study 6-year-old Helen’s habit. By the end of the afternoon, she had added childish in bold letters to her mental description chart of him:  

X

Mr Purple Rose: The Man, the Mystery, the Legend

Gender: Male

Name: Unknown

Age: 20 something

Height: About 6 feet tall?

Built: Fit, muscular, probably size M, I don’t know, where do I write “can carry a 45kg girl like an infant without flinching?”

Face: smooth skin, high cheekbone, strong jawline (I almost cut myself caressing that face)

Voice: reportedly calm and soft

Laugh: prefers to chuckle, but I feel like he could be surprisingly loud sometimes.

Scent: Divine (more specifically, cedarwood cologne, laundry powder, tobacco and mint)

Handwriting: probably spectacular, definitely vary on mood though

Personality: Kind, generous, intelligent, thoughtful, protective, slightly patronizing and CHILDISH, I mean Oh my God can you not!

X

Playtime came to an abrupt end when the fragrance of grilled meat and vegetables woke up her stomach with a vengeance. She stumbled her way into the kitchen and bumped into a very hard hipbone wearing an apron. She was greeted with a caress on her head so gentle that she almost heard it say “Here you are” with a motherly tone. 

Her fist clenched on the apron, and she felt the characteristic mint and tobacco scented ripple of his laugh on her face again. He took her hand to guide her to the bathroom upstairs. When he gently dipped her hand in the bathtub and her fingers came in contact with warm water, Maya wondered when he had left her side to go draw her a bath. Probably when the cigarette smoke was still filling the living room. He ruffled her hair again, in a manner that meant “Bath before dinner”. He then guided her hands around the shower set next to the bathtub. Stool to her left, soap bar for the face by the wall, body lotion next to it, followed by shampoo at the far-right end. Touching her forehead, arm and hair, he explained which was which, before guiding her to the little wooden counter, to show her the fresh towel she could use. 

It was as if she was in that bathroom for the first time, as it all felt completely different from when she used it the night before. Where she felt unsafe and lost only twenty-four hours ago, she now felt comfortable and confident with all of the marks he was providing her. When he let her touch a set of fresh clothes, she recognized her pajamas and blushed when she imagined him going through her suitcase to set all of this up. Gratitude was the most overwhelming feeling of all. She repressed an urge to hug him again, as he brushed her hair one last time, and guided her hand to the door before closing it, to show her he was giving her some privacy. 

 

Masumi returned to his Japanese curry preparation - one of the few dishes he actually could cook that didn’t involve frozen gyoza and beer - and steadily pretended that his hands weren’t shaking, and that he wasn’t still mentally in that bathroom as the shower started to run. He was not flustered at the idea of Maya dipping in the bath he drew her and he certainly was not imagining what she would soon look like in those pajamas. 

He was not, because Maya was sixteen, naive and overly trusting and although he now admitted that his admiration for her did border on sheer idolatry, said idolatry only extended to the platonic, artistic, even spiritual realm, and certainly not to the physical one.

However delicate her wrists may be. He added to himself, clenching his teeth and pouring diced carrots into the mix. 

By the time he heard footsteps from the stairway, the table was set, the curry was simmering and the rice cooker was set on “keep warm”. Untying his - or rather Tsuneko Yamashita’s - apron, he went to check in the hall if she needed any help climbing down, hoping her feet were dry enough. His face turned blank when he saw her. 

With her damp hair wavering below her shoulders and her pink flower pattern pajama slightly too big for her, she looked disturbingly twelve, in the cutest, most mortifying possible way. Self-loathing filled his mouth as he recalled imagining her in her bath a few minutes before - though quite against his own will to his defense. Still, the gap between them seemed multiplied and emphasized by the fact that her fingers were barely reaching through her sleeve, and that the only thing missing from this childlike tapestry was a teddy bear. Worst of it all, the horrifying truth that despite her looking like a middle schooler, he still found her alarmingly adorable, was making his hands sweat with fear and disgust. 

Catching himself on that last thought, he shook his head and reached for her hand, this time to guide her to her seat. Standing behind her just like he did in the bathroom, he took both her hands and directed them to her plate, glass, spoon and napkin. She addressed him an appreciative nod, and sat down as he went to fetch the rice and curry. As he saw Maya eating a spoonful of the meal, which was received with obvious and flattering delight - as even an inexperienced cook like himself couldn’t make Japanese curry taste bad - Masumi wondered if she was reflecting on how eating with a spoon must have been difficult for six-year-old Hellen Keller, who before Anne Sullivan’s arrival never fed herself using anything other than her mother’s hand or her own. Keeping in mind that did see her eating with her hands that same morning, he concluded that this display of table manners was related either to the naturally liquid texture of the curry or to the fact that she was eating the first meal he's ever cooked for her. 

Tomorrow I might have to push her limits, he thought, but for now, let her have her well-deserved curry. 

When they were done, Maya awkwardly fumbled around to gather the plates in an effort to somehow contribute to the chores, which Masumi found sweet but unnecessary and quite frankly dangerous. He directed her to the stairs and gave her a gentle nudge to indicate she should proceed with brushing her teeth and going to bed, before returning to the kitchen. She didn’t comply immediately, but first took the time to turn back and - look - a him, or so it would seem, only with her nose tilted upward in a manner strikingly similar to the Hellen he’s seen in the 1962 movie. The illusion lasted for a minute or so, but when she finally started climbing the stairs, hope had swelled in his chest that she might actually win this audition. 

When he himself came out of the bathroom that evening, a towel still hanging from his shoulders, he froze to see Maya sitting in the corridor, though he would have expected her to already be sleeping. Her palms were resting on the floor, and the moment he opened the door she stood up as fast as she could to face him. It dawned on him that she had been waiting, using her hands to feel the vibration of the floor indicating his footsteps. Maya’s adaptive abilities were indeed impressive in all situations, but the fact that she was still tripping in the stairs and wrecking the house out of sheer helplessness twelve hours ago, and that now she was only one step away from growing a sonar was simply incredible. 

And yet there was this other fact, more distressing. The fact that she had her head tilted up at him, disheveled and ready for bed, alone with him in his own house at night, and she had no idea how endearing she looked. 

Biting her lips, she stepped closer to him - which made him want to retreat in the bathroom, lock himself there and sleep in the tub - and tugged at his sleeve, addressing him a sheepish smile. Masumi’s eyes widened with the realization that she was silently wishing him goodnight, and gesturing it in her characteristically adorable manner. Beaming, he returned her greeting by patting her head “Goodnight, Chibi-chan” he whispered, and he went to the master bedroom, hoping that his conscience will let him sleep.

 

 

SUNDAY

 

 

It was refreshing to know that at least she fell asleep at a proper bedtime, and that would wake up for breakfast. Just like the Keller’s household and servants served to Helen as human clocks, Mr Purple Rose’s schedule was giving her marks to align on. Besides, after running from one emotion to the next, bathing in warm water and eating what she decided was her new favorite meal in the whole world, she was certain that she would fall asleep in a matter of seconds after touching the pillow. 

That was, of course, without considering how her own brain was going to harass her through the night. The chosen theme of her obsession that night being how incredibly disturbing it had been for her to walk up to him as he stepped out of the bathroom. She had of course intended to do so, simply to greet him goodnight before going to bed. She had not, however, predicted the way his scent would have made her feel, as he came out still steaming from the bath, his body temperature so high she could feel it from a foot away. But his scent! It was as if something indescribable deeper below the cedarwood cologne had risen to the surface and multiplied the fragrance, and it had made her blood boil instantly. She had of course already assessed his scent earlier in the day and decided to mentally call it divine, as the mix of all its elements was nothing short of that, but she had never felt such an immediate and physical reaction to it. Just recalling it in her head now, under the warm protection of her blankets, was making her breathless. What is happening to me? 

The idea creeped in her mind; an idea too potent to dismiss: did he bath in the same water?

That night, her dreams took her to a feverish whirl of comforting touches and enticing scents, swirling in a blur of foreign and frightful emotions, that she will keep but a foreboding trace when she wakes up the next morning. 

The fragrance of fresh miso soup is what brought her back to the real world. She opened her eyes naturally in her blindfold, sunlight piercing through the layered fabric slightly coloring her world in reddish hues. Inhaling deeply, she rose to her feet and went to brush her teeth in the bathroom. She was already focusing on her molars when it occurred to her that she had not tripped, or so much as hesitated to find her way to the bathroom as well as her toiletry bag. She had known exactly where everything was, and could direct herself easily from the guest room to the bathroom even half asleep. 

After five years of living in her own bubble, Helen’s handicap was not about how to move around and do simple tasks, but how to communicate with others. She couldn’t eat properly, not because she was handicapped, but because no one successfully taught her how to and why. 

Language. The fact that things have names! The play ends in a climax, as Helen realizes that the water Anne Sullivan is splashing on her can be spelled with the letters she shows in her hand. That final connection was the entire goal of the play, this one step between 0 and 1 that opened the gates of her mind and allowed her to learn about the outside world.  

My Helen is the Helen from before that. How did Helen communicate when she didn’t know about language? 

She didn’t know the word Hello, but she knew the joy of encountering her father in the morning. She didn’t know the word Love, but she felt affection for her mother, and went to her for comfort and warmth when she was afraid, sad or hungry. She expressed everything physically, taking whatever she needed whenever she needed it. If she felt the need, she would hug her mother, not even trying to know if that was the right time. If she felt hungry, she would simply take food from other people’s plates, regardless of how this was perceived. If someone refused to give her what she needed, she would throw a tantrum. As she was already limited, the little she could do to express herself, she would do one hundred percent, intensely and without restraint. 

A little tyrant, but so lonely, incapable of simply saying “I’m sad”. 

Living in her own bubble, sometimes peaceful, sometimes scary, both a bedroom and a prison. 

Helen! 

She spat the water in the sink and wiped her mouth, her hand trembling with adrenaline. She breathed in, slowly and steadily, and when she breathed out, she was perfectly still I am Helen. 

 

Masumi had set the table with a number of side dishes to accompany their rice and soup. Most of them, of course, were simply unpacked and reheated from the Yamashita’s Tupperware. He was wondering if he should go wake the princess up, but at that moment he heard her slippers shuffling from the guest room to the bathroom. She’s awake, he thought cheerfully. Covering the bowls with their wooden lids to keep the miso soup warm, he ensconced himself in his seat, lighting up a cigarette as he waited for her to come down. 

Look at you, Masumi, you’re even waiting for her to eat breakfast. This girl has you wrapped around her finger. 

The creaking stairs signaled her arrival, and he jumped up to greet her, a reaction that was met in his mind with utter disdain, as most of his brain was still fighting the irrational pull the actress held on him. 

As he stepped in the hallway to watch her climb down, he was surprised by the evident ease of her walk. Yesterday, this simple task of walking down the stairs had been hazardous if not deadly, but this morning she was simply caressing the banister for guidance rather than support. 

She stopped a couple of steps before the floor, their head at the same level, and then her face lit up in an expression of pure glee. Masumi felt a pang of anticipation just a second before she practically jumped to encircle his shoulders in a tight hug. His neck pulled forward, he caught her waist to steady her with one arm, the other gripped to the banister for support. Before he could even wrap his mind around what was happening, and the effect it had on him, she stuck her nose to his ear and inhaled a deep, slow breath, retaining the air in her lungs for a few seconds before releasing it with a sigh, humming with ease. 

Heat came rushing as violently as the first time she’d hugged him, only this time he was but too aware of the delicate figure under her oversized pajamas and the fact that her hair now smelled like his shampoo. The realization that she had just sniffed him and moaned triggered his mind to provide him with sudden images of other, much more intimate contexts for her voice to make that sound. He wanted to pull away, but his body wouldn’t obey him, stilled in a trance that if broken would only lead to him acting on the desires that pulsed through his veins. 

Deliverance came from his assailant herself, as Maya suddenly let go of him and pushed him aside, quite brutally, to make her way to the kitchen. Still not fully recovered, Masumi's eyes followed her movements in shocked numbness. She reached the table with surprising ease, and he saw her face ducking over it, sniffing the meals displayed in front of her. 

That’s strange, he thought, is she not going to sit down? 

But then it dawned on him. Maya would indeed sit down, just like she would probably only tug at his sleeve in a shy morning greeting. Helen wouldn’t. His doubts were confirmed when the actress took out the lid from the bowl - dropping it on the ground - and dipped her finger in the miso soup. She winced at the temperature, but then pulled the bowl to her lips while still standing, gulping it voraciously, ruining her clothes in the process. 

It wasn’t Maya who walked down the stairs. It wasn’t Maya who hugged him so innocently and breathed in his ear like he was her favorite flower. It was Helen. 

He spent his breakfast observing her, his inner jury already pulled into her performance. In front of him, as he was sipping his coffee, she would reach for rice, fish and vegetables as she pleased, walking from one end of the table to the other, stuffing food into her mouth, drinking water from the pitcher. Compared with the previous breakfast, when she would reach for food by hand, only sitting down and in a significantly shyer fashion, she was now completely without restraint, almost feral. Good, Chibi-chan, he thought, you’re getting there. Her performance was so captivating, he feared that tearing his gaze away from her for a second would rob him of a beautiful and fascinating experience, and he had to remind himself to eat. If you perform like that in front of the jury, you’ll win this audition, there is no doubting that. He thought, as he couldn’t see how even Himekawa Ayumi could come up with a more mesmerizing rendition of Helen’s movements and energy. 

When food was no longer interesting to her, she left the room without a second thought, this time not caring the least about the utter mess she had made. Masumi covered his eyes and let out a mirthful sigh. This girl! She definitely overcame her timidity. The idea that Maya now felt sufficiently at ease in his presence to let him clean after her was more appealing that it should have been, but he brushed his guilt aside, too amused by her cheeky conduct to pay attention to his unravelling spirit for once. 

Once the dishes left to drip on their tray, he eventually went back to the living room, holding his briefcase, to find her daydreaming on the sofa. Since she seemed inhabited by Helen’s heart, he had decided to observe her carefully while picking up the report on the Kabukiza renovation project where he left it the day before. 

She had retrieved the wooden statue - a souvenir from his trip to New Zealand - and was caressing its limbs one by one, stretching her own legs to match the character’s stance. She led the little wooden man around the living room, making him explore the furniture, like any child would play with a doll and take it on sparkling adventures. This occupied her for far longer than he would have imagined, as she practically ran from one room to another, her toy surfing on the walls and banisters, but after a couple of hours she sat on the living room carpet, her face expressing a sort of daze, and suddenly hugged the statue to her chest. 

The sentence: is she lonely? had barely occurred in his mind, that she rose on her feet again, tossed the statue aside, and outstretched her hands to direct herself toward the living room table where he was. Was she aware of my exact location this whole time? He wondered, though he figured on second thought, judging by the state of his ashtray, that he probably was easy to pinpoint. 

Once she’d reached him, she did the most unreal thing he could have imagined: she wrapped herself around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, slightly pouting in melancholia. 

She’s being Helen, he told himself, she’s being Helen, she’s being Helen. 

Third time’s a charm. Finally recovering his normal breathing, he turned his face to her, her cheek still resting on his shoulder, and patting her head like he would a small child, he said - more for himself than anyone else: “There there Helen, what’s going on? Are you bored?” 

She heaved a deep, almost pitiful sigh that made him crack up in a chuckle. Gosh, but she’s cute. As this was too adorable to withstand, he ruffled her hair to tease her, expecting frustration in return, but instead received an elated grin from her as she tightened her hold on his arm. Her expression matched that of a puppy that loves to be pet. This eagerness triggered an urge to further touch her, to tease her and tickle her, hug her... 

Overtook by fear, he tried to free his arm, but the young Helen was adamant in keeping it a while longer, a stubborn expression of her face.He shook his head in disbelief, breathing unevenly and trying to force the mask of Helen’s relative on himself, tearing his mind out of the gutter. Inwardly counting down from ten, he returned to his papers, surrendering his arm to her. She stayed in this position longer than Masumi could hold his illusion, and by the time she released him, he had to unbutton his collar to breathe, and realized that he could not remember a single word out of the ten pages he had read in her presence. He pushed the file aside and dropped his head in his arms, exhausted.

Lunchtime was just as eventful as breakfast, to Masumi’s delighted consternation, and Maya ended up with both her hands covered in thick meat sauce. Masumi had laughed to his heart’s content at the show of an ignorant Helen just greedy for the steak, and struggling to chew it, as he had not cut it for her beforehand. Difficult to tackle red meat without a knife, huh, Chibi-chan? But now every object, wall or piece of furniture she would bless with her delicate touch would be smeared with grease, and as the Yamashita had promised to come by before two, he was sure that this time Tsuneko wouldn’t let him clean after her, and that a debate would ensure during which someone would undoubtedly utter the sentence “over my dead body”.  Actions had to be taken. 

She was about to retreat to the living room when he gently took her arm. She nonchalantly pushed him away, her nosed not even flinching. He insisted. She froze and her head shot in his direction. Masumi knew then when he saw her reaction that she was not going to go gently. Six-year-old Helen Keller did not compromise, and Maya knew it. He anticipated as much. Come on, Chibi-chan, show me your angry Helen.  She pressed her lips together in an annoyed pout and pushed harder to free her arm, but he tightened his hold, and Helen winced. He directed her to the kitchen sink and turned the faucet on. The moment her hands touched the water, Helen started struggling, beating the air and stomping her feet. He pulled her in front of him, placing her between the sink and his body. She was stuck. Both his hands were on her wrists and he forced them to meet the cold water. She whimpered fiercely, as if this was the worst possible sensation. When she seemed to somewhat calm down, he let go of her right wrist to reach for the handwash. Rookie mistake. 

She used that unguarded moment to turn her full body toward him, and her right arm pushed everything it found: his shoulders, his chest, and his neck. No matter how hard she pushed, Masumi was unmovable. This had little to do with his stance and everything to do with the fact that he was suddenly well aware of how much their bodies were pressed against one another. 

Don’t rehearse with an actress if you can’t stay in character!

He grabbed Helen’s right wrist again, ignoring her fulminating protests and turned her back, blocking her firmly in place with his hips. Cuffing both her wrists with one hand - the image made him chuckle, because she was so tiny! - he pressed some soap on their hands, and started to make the mixture foam, rubbing Helen’s hands thoroughly and battling with himself not to yield to the rush of indecent thoughts that threatened to overflood his mind. 

When his hands covered Helen’s and he noticed he could rub her fingers individually without meeting any resistance, Masumi turned his eyes toward Maya’s face. Her ears were bright red, her lips parted to let out a string of shallow breaths. She couldn’t be physically tired, as Masumi knew far too well that their little struggle didn’t compare to Tsukikage’s teaching methods. But then why did she stop resisting, and why did she look breathless and... flustered?

As they stayed perfectly still and the clear water rinsed both their hands, Masumi had a moment of realization. Probably it was all mere wishful thinking but, for a moment he had a feeling of pure clarity. That they were no longer pretending, that she wasn’t Helen, he wasn’t her relative; they were Maya and Masumi, pressed against each other, their hands touching under the water. For a fleeting instant, he was certain that they were both sharing the same breath, the same emotion, even the same heartbeat. 

Electricity shot through him and he stumbled back, releasing her. She immediately ran away and upstairs, and he heard the door of the guest room slam behind her. 

The running water was as loud as a waterfall. Masumi dropped to the floor, covering his eyes with a hand, breathe in... breathe out...he told himself, but his heart was not having it. Breathe in... breathe out he told himself, but he could still feel her body warmth on his clothes. Breathe in...Breathe out…

 

Maya slammed the door behind her, and she pushed her forehead on the wooden panel, breathless. 

She had held Helen’s role to perfection from the moment she had left the bathroom that morning, not hesitating to treat Mr Purple Rose as Helen’s relative. She had eagerly hugged him with all of her strength, inhaling his scent to her heart’s delight and seeking comfort from him when she had felt lonely later on, letting him tease her - and quite frankly enjoying it a tad too much. If she was completely honest, she didn’t know how much of that had really been Helen and how much had been her own impulses. Nevertheless, in all those interactions, she had felt free and detached from her own self, and living solely as Helen. She had felt no shame in mistreating his food, no embarrassment in bothering him in the living room and she hadn’t blushed the slightest when she ate the expensive-smelling steak with her bare hands, cutting though it with her teeth.  

However, the moment he had freed her wrist and she had turned to fight him again, she had been unable to hit his face, thought that would have been the most effective solution. Instead, she had pretended to struggle pushing his chest around. She had been so focused on acting; she had simply brushed that moment of weakness aside and labelled it as basic respect. 

But then when he had started washing both their hands with soap, and his body had been so close to hers, pressing her against the sink with his imposing figure towering above her and imprisoning her, he had felt so warm, so warm that his scent had oozed from his body and swallowed her, his cologne intoxicating her until she’d been completely stunned. She’d simply found herself incapable to focus. Suddenly her mask had slipped off her face, shattering on the floor. 

So of course, when deliverance had come, she’d run. She’d run to her room without noticing that she’d known exactly how to, without tripping even once, without having to think about it. 

Her knees gave in, and she slid on the floor, sobbing in confused helplessness.

Why did he have to smell so good?  

After a couple of minutes had passed and her breathing had gone back to normal, she decided to use this much welcome interlude to change her clothes, as she presumed her pink pajama was in a dire state.  She found a dress that felt easy to put on. Running her fingers on the collar, she recognized one of her flowery summer dresses, one with a white lace collar decorating it. 

Once she made sure - by touching the fabric on her chest - that the dress wasn’t put backward, she decided she should not remain alone in the room for too long, especially after storming out of the kitchen with tears in her eyes. Still not entirely recovered from her earlier confusion, she subconsciously dreaded even more the idea that her devoted fan might have been put off by her attitude and left. 

Make him proud, Maya, she told herself. Don’t let your mask break again. 

Closing her eyes in the blindfold, she emptied her mind with a few deep breaths, and recalled the feeling she felt in the bathroom. Helen before Anne. The lonely tyrant, living in her bubble. My Helen ! 

 

 

There was no telling Tsuneko to leave the dishes to her young master. Such an offer, when he made it, had sounded to her as heresy. 

“Are things going the way you want, Hayami-sama?” Takashi asked. 

I think I might be a dangerous deviant and I’m considering turning myself in. “Everything is going perfectly well.” He grinned at the caretaker with perfectly feigned confidence, his old habits coming back to save his skin when he least deserved it, as always. 

Takashi addressed him with a satisfied nod as Tsuneko folded the rag after drying the last plate. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come tonight?” 

“Quite sure” Masumi replied, although a wiser man would not have allowed himself another second alone with this petite actress in that house. 

“Very well,” Takashi said, clearing his throat as he noticed the blindfolded teenager on top of the stairs, holding the banister. “I leave you two…to it then.” And they left, closing the doors behind them. 

Masumi widened his eyes. I leave you two...to what? Wait, no this isn’t what you think! Come back! Don’t leave me alone with her! He banged his head on the door, a tad too strong, and let out a sigh. He turned to face Maya, and was relieved to see her wear something that looked more age appropriate. It didn’t help him deny the undeniable, but at least he didn’t feel as much like a criminal for it. 

She stepped in the living room, and inspected the table where he sat that morning, as well as the armchairs and sofa. She’s looking for me, he concluded. His chest swelling with warmth, he walked towards her and surprised her by cheerfully ruffling her hair, in a way to say “Here, found you”. She beamed at his contact and even let out something that sounded close to a giggle, and Masumi knew he was in front of Helen again. Relief overwhelmed him, that she had not been affected by their previous interactions. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted her reactions and her running away had simply been Helen’s way of winning the match. He smiled. This was much better that way. 

That afternoon, Helen learned a new game. She found a ball of yarn laying in a basket, and as she dropped it, the ball went running around the house, leaving a trail of thread in its way. Picking up the edge of the tread, Helen started pulling on it to find the missing ball, winding the yarn around her hand. Once the entire ball would be retrieved, she would climb the stairs, and dropped the ball again from there, only keeping the edge of the thread in her hand, and started all over again. 

At first, Masumi wondered where she was going with this, but the more he would watch her, the more evident it became that she was enjoying herself. A slight absentminded smile was drawn on her face, so light it was barely visible, but she was definitely having fun. Helen played like that the entire afternoon, Masumi watching her from the sofa as he tried to read the Kabukiza renovation report once again. 

It was around 6 PM that the wind started blowing through the curtains. Masumi walked up to the window to close it, when he saw dark clouds hovering above the lake. 

A storm was coming. 

 

Last Night

 

 

As they were eating dinner - understand: as Masumi was eating dinner while Maya was picking handfuls of cold noodles from the plate and stuffing them into her mouth - it occurred to Masumi that the weekend was already almost gone. He was awaited at 9:30AM the next morning for a meeting with the administration board regarding their stand on the Kabukiza renovation project, which meant he would have to leave the lake house at 6:30AM. As he dipped his somen into the sauce, he wondered where his two days had gone. He gazed at the young Helen in front of him and sighed: he was going to have to leave her.

Worse, he was going to have to go back to being Hayami Masumi. The man she hates, the enemy of her teacher, the demon of Daito. 

During those two days, she had not looked him in the eyes once, and yet it was as if she had gazed into his mind countless times, touching him, moving him, captivating him. He had let her lead him left and right, into the forest, by the lake, on the boat, by one swift gesture of her finger. All the while he had thought he had been the one helping the other. What a fool he had been. 

Now he had to figure out a way to say goodbye to her. 

When he got out of the shower that evening, there she was again, exactly like the night before, eagerly waiting for him in endearing stillness in front of the bathroom door. He stopped in front of her, incapable of moving even an inch of his body. The possibilities were limited. 

There was of course the most extreme solution, which was to untie her blindfold and let her gaze at him, which would result in a flood of disappointed tears and bitter insult, no doubt. Then there was the alternative of simply reaching for her hand one last time, writing a few words of praise and encouragement. Only Masumi couldn’t think of a statement that would both convey the warmth of having been in her company for an entire weekend, and the ice-cold realization that the time had come to finally separate. 

That is why he decided to simply pat her head. His hand stretched forward and though he had intended to go for a gentle, friendly pat, his hands then moved on its own, and he saw himself - as if from an outsider’s point of view - softly sliding on her hair, to once, but three times, in a tender gesture that could only be called a “caress”. The house was silent, both of their bodies still, to the exception of his hand brushing down her hair, so softly. Only when she parted her lips to pant, did he catch himself. His cheek burning him, he walked away from her to return to his room, leaving her static in the corridor facing the bathroom door. 

Outside the wind was blowing, a summer storm howling its threats from above the lake. He shut his bedroom’s blinds and cautiously locked his window before going to bed. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the sound of the storm gathering its clouds, or because of his own anxiety, but after half an hour of closing his eyes and turning in his bed, Masumi couldn’t find a way to sleep. Sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp, he opened one of the poetry books piled up on the nightstand, as those helped him calm down and sleep. The one he opened was by Korean poet Kim In Yook. He started reading aloud, his voice low and steady: “Mass is not proportional to volume…” 

The Physics of Love 

Mass is not proportional to volume.

A girl as small as a violet. A girl who moves like a flower petal is pulling me toward her with more force than her mass.

Just then, like Newton’s apple, I rolled toward her without stopping until I fell on her, with a thump. With a thump.

My heart keeps bouncing between the sky and the ground.

It was my first love

 

On his third reading, he had to remind himself to breathe. His mind was swallowed by the acute truth that these few verses had poured into him. 

His strangled voice barely could repeat the words, but his lips kept moving in a trance. When his lungs recovered from his shock, and he took a deeper breath again, it was as if he was inhaling sunshine. The poet had lifted the veil of denial from his eyes, and he saw clearly for the first time in, who knows how long. 

“I love her.” He whispered, immediately covering his mouth in consternation. Not simply dazzled by her talent and envious of her passion, no “I’m well and truly in love with her!” 

Through the usual mix of self-loathing and jaded dismay, a light of pure joy was clearing its way into his heart. As if the realization that he was indeed in love with a girl eleven years younger than him was not to cause alarm and panic, but of cheers and celebration. He was mad. He was raving mad. 

He would probably have gladly spent the remaining of the night pondering over the extent of his descent into insanity, but the sharp sound of shattered glass jolted him out of bed. It came from the guest room! He ran through the corridor in a few seconds, barefoot and his pajama half buttoned, to witness in the guestroom a horrifying scene. 

Maya was frantically hitting the wall with a bloodied palm, while her left hand was stuck in the window frame. It seemed that she had broken the window in an attempt to free herself - or was it from pain? Masumi couldn’t tell, but what shocked him the most was the fact that the only sound coming from her mouth were muffled moaned, strikingly similar to vocalizations made by deaf people when expressing strong emotions. She didn’t even call for help. 

His face and hands felt cold as he walked towards her, her wailing echoing within him, so much that he almost winced every time her voice would emit this obvious cry of pain and frustration. There was something else in her voice, something lonely that took him back to an hour before when he left her in front of the bathroom, when he thought caressing her hair was a suitable goodbye. Her hand was hitting the wall with such a sorrowful rhythm that it is that hand that Masumi stopped first. 

Covering her right palm with his, he bowed to touch the top of her head with his forehead. “Stop it Maya, I’m here” he whispered, and somewhere deep down, he vainly hoped she would hear him. She immediately stopped struggling. 

It took him all of ten seconds to free her hands from that frame, but by then her blindfold was soaked with tears, Maya sobbing uncontrollably. It could have been the pain, as both her hands were hurt, but Masumi doubted it was the case. He suspected that she was having as many difficulties letting him go that he himself had of departing. He led her to the bathroom and sat her on a stand as he treated her wounds. The hands that had been stuck only needed disinfecting and bandages, but her right hand had punched through the glass, and shards were still stuck in it. As he focused on finding them all with tweezers, squinting his eyes for a better view, Maya slowly recovered from her emotion and her breathing became gradually more even. When he finally attached her bandage safe and tight, he ruffled her hair a little, just to tease her, and successfully managed to pull a timid smile from the corner of her lips. 

Returning to the guestroom was downright impossible, as the window was blown open and the strong wind and rain were turning the room into a little indoor tornado. Standing in the door frame, Masumi didn’t exactly know how to compute that fact, experiencing difficulties separating his inner responsible adult to his inner lovestruck teenager. Maya certainly understood his dilemma, as she decided to assist him by making the choice for them both: she pulled his sleeve and walked them to the master bedroom. 

Again, it was as if he was witnessing the entire event through the eye of the house itself, or its haunting spirit’s. He saw himself following her, his arm pulled decidedly in the direction she had chosen. Once more, he was at her disposal, the only difference being that now some light had been shed on the reason why he was so incapable of resisting her pull. It was all Newton’s fault. 

She fumbled until she reached the bed, and immediately slid under the covers, her little body curled up, her head resting on his pillow. She inhaled deeply, just as she had done that morning, and exhaled with relief. Then, her hand patted the other side of the bed, and she pulled her head up to turn it toward him, obviously inviting him in. 

His heart was racing in his chest. Hesitant first, he finally decided to obey her, though panic was slowly creeping in, he couldn’t refuse her. There was a line though, and he sure hoped Maya didn’t plan on breaching through it. In that case, his own sense of propriety would commend him to stop her, no matter how painful, or how tempting. 

However, as he laid next to her, she simply smiled and crawled closer to him until they were almost touching, and rested her head on the pillow just below his shoulder. If he moved even slightly, his leg would brush against her knees, his chest against her folded arms. She was so tiny, so tiny next to him. The words of the poet echoed in his mind “A girl as small as a violet...is pulling me toward her with more force than her mass.” Her gravitational pull stronger than his will, he reached for her hand, desperate to express something, anything, without crossing the forbidden line. He wrote “And-so-our-weekend-ends” He hadn’t spoken a word, yet his throat still tightened as he traced the last character into her trembling palm. With equal intensity, she replied “It-will-remain-in-my-heart-forever”

Just then, like Newton’s apple, I rolled toward her without stopping until I fell on her...

They fell asleep soon after, their hands inches apart, heart beating in harmony 

…with a thump. With a thump.

My heart keeps bouncing between the sky and the ground.

It was my first love

 

 

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Thank you so much for reading this fiction, I really hoped you liked it. I had to add this poem "the Physics of Love" because I'm sure that's one Masumi would definitely sympathize with. I loved writing it, and if you want a sequel, please let me know, I have tons on ideas on how this weekend could change the dynamics between Maya and Masumi, especially after she goes off to work for Daito. 

Anyway, don't hesitate to comment and tell me what you thought of my story. 

Lots of love, 

Wawadji 

 

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Ok, this was written more than 10 years ago, this was my first fiction and I barely knew english. It doesn't make any sense and I don't even remember why I chose that title , but I still love it. I think it's hilarious. So here you go. I didn't touch it, or changed a thing. Behold and be dismayed. I regret nothing.

 

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note : Being a fervent fan of the manga, I would fully understand the need of the people who would read that short story to rip my head off. Please be aware while reading it that this one shot is only a private joke I wanted to write down.

Benzaï !

Following some events which we won't loose our time and yours by telling you all the details, the Vice-President Masumi Hayami had been abducted by a gang of gangsters. Which was certainly not to please Maya, our dear actress, who always forbade everyone to put his finger on him: If someone had to kill the jerk, it had to be her. End of the discussion.

So, when she heard that Masumi Hayami had been kidnapped, she got utterlyangry. Her face became red, her eyes were almost jumping off their socket, and believe me or not, smoke was actually escaping from her nostrils. Who the hell dared to provoke her that obviously?

To prevent the scandal, all the Daito's employees had been told not to call the police: the Corporation's hand men would handle it themselves and were in waiting for the Chairman instructions. However, that order of discretion toward this case didn't kept the office ladies from crying all the day, but well, that was a lost cause. Who knew what those gangsters were doing to their precious and handsome boss's face? Indeed, who knew?

Actually, those delinquents were doing quite nothing to him, besides letting him tightly tied to a dying wood chair in a dark shed, glaring at him and juggling with their baseball bats while asking themselves what they could do with him now that they know for sure that this workaholic wasn't loved enough by anyone to get a ransom. Damn! Even his own father wouldn't do a thing!

Yeah, Masumi thought it might be intelligent to tell those bastards his whole childhood story, especially the part when he had been abducted when he was a child and that his father, who didn't want to bother paying a ransom, said he had no son and let him on his own. The poor Hayami had to get rid of the gangsters all by himself, running to the dock and jumping in the sea. That touching story made one guy whip a tear. He died a few minutes later.

So, now that the gangsters were fully aware (if they actually could be fully aware of anything) of the fact that this wealthy man was totally useless, due to his cold-hearted old man and to his own jerky and cruel personality, they were trying to ponder whether they should kill him or not.

But then, something happened. Something no one would ever have expected. Something that made the gangsters startle as one man. And Masumi would have startle too, if he hadn't been stuck on this freaking chair that was truly going to collapse at any minute. A big muffled sound, pointing out that someone was simply trying to open the locked door with a sledgehammer, was resounding in the whole shed. All the gazes where now turned toward the double gate that was more trembling after each blow. The criminals tightened the hold on their bat, waiting for the great danger that was coming. Some were trembling, some were sweating, some had their legs shaking, and one didn't even make it and faint on the ground. When, after a minute, the lock collapsed and the door opened, a dazzling light blinded the gangster for a moment, and then, calmly walking out of the light, a woman made her entrance.

Well, it wasn't exactly a woman. More like a plain and short teenager with long brown hair holding a sledgehammer on her shoulder.

Maya Kitajima tried to fight a half-crocked smile, which, according to the gangsters, meant something like: I'm so going to kill you, guys…You don't know who you messed up with! Trust me: you are dead. DEAD! With a "D", like Death, Dying, Disaster, Damage, Darkness, Demon, Damnation…

And damn-fool, but well…

To Maya, this little fragment of facial expression simply meant: Oh yes! I knew that the entrance from the middle of the light with the sledgehammer would work. Tsukikage-sensei may be right: I'm a genius.

And to Masumi, it…well, he simple couldn't think. Like: at all. Forever. Please. Mommy!

The girl calmly walked toward the men who were pondering if they should step back. She looked at the one who seemed to be the boss (the first she saw that didn't look like a total fool) with her ice cold eyes, her face now completely unreadable, pointed at Masumi with her chin and said:

"Let him go."

Her tone was full of authority, and it was indeed an order she was giving. No possible discussion. The gangsters glanced at each other, truly considering the option of just obey and save their ass. But at last someone did notice the girl they were facing was just one girl, which only meant ninety-three pounds of breakable bones. And this guy said "No". This amazing speech immediately put him at the head of the clan. Maya turned her head toward him, icy.

"It wasn't a question." She said with her glare so scary that even Masumi swallowed loudly. "Let him go now."

The new boss stiffened his body, as if he was expecting a blow, clenched his teeth and repeated himself: "No."

Maya's free hand turned into a hard fist urging for a fight, but the girl managed to say calmly: "Why are you so…uncooperative?"

"B-because you are a g-girl, a-and nothing but a Chibi-chan." He stammered.

Masumi's heart stopped for a second. Oh. My. God. He didn't…

Yes, he did. And after having said that, everything blurred weirdly. No only his way too brave action had make him on the verge on fainting, but also the girl reacted at his answer really violently. All he knew was she said something like "I…am not…that…short." In a really scary way, like she was about to explode…and then next thing he knew was that he was lied on the floor, alone in the shed, his heard hurting badly, with the other guy who fainted and the one who died in a mysterious way after having cried to Hayami's story.

The other, who didn't loose consciousness, experienced something even weirder. Actually after having heard the infamous sentence, Maya turned into a bull about to charge again, with the smoke escaping from her nostrils and the red face. And yes, she really said "I…am not…that…short." Only then, what the guy fortunately didn't remember was that she actually threw the sledgehammer to his face. And then everyone thought he passed away.

While the criminals' eyes were following their former leader's fall, Masumi couldn't get his eyes off Maya. She seemed so confident, and so aggressive and strong, forgetting how weak and breakable she actually was. How come she could get herself into such a great danger as of coming all alone in this shed to "talk" to those guys? And more than everything: what the hell with the sledgehammer? Where did she find the strength to break the door and to throw it that hard to this guy face?

More terrifying: was she really doing that to save him? Was she putting her life in danger for his sake? Why? Did she make a death-wish?

"Now", Maya went on as if nothing just happened "could you please free this man?"

The men glanced at each other for a while, waiting for someone to step forward and speak. A guy made up his mind, and after a short prey during which he tried really hard not to cry, he looked into Maya's temporally red eyes and stammered:

"W-who are you, t-to give us orders l-like that?" It is not fair…Damn! I wanted to seem severe and charismatic, but I think I failed…

And yes, he did. Indeed who could stand before Maya's mad eyes? The girl smirked, raised her chin and said: "Me? I am Maya Kitajima, the daughter of the great boss Koyuki Kitajima."

"You mean…the boss of a clan of Yakuza?" The speaker stammered, sweating so much we couldn't say if he didn't pee on himself or if he did.

"That is exactly what I meant, yes." She said coldly.

To Masumi, Maya had pretty much the same kind of relationship with Yakuzas than a bird could possibly have with a tire, so this sentence could have been rather funny in an other situation; but since during the five passed minutes this little actress he thought as weak and in need of constant protection had break in a shed by exposing the lock with a sledgehammer, and then threw the very same heavy sledgehammer to a gangster's face, all this in order to save the man she hated the most on planet Earth and wanted dead; he didn't react to her statement about being the daughter of a Yakuza's clan's boss.

"And now, are you going to let go off my boss or what?"

"Y-your b-boss?" The man was about to faint.

Maya sighted with disdain, which didn't suited her at all, and said, her eyes closed with exasperation: "Could you please stop repeating all my sentences with this awful stupid face and just do what I'm demanding?"

This time, Masumi truly believed he crossed the door to another dimension. He was standing in some kind of parallel universe, where Maya is self confident enough to "demand" something to a whole terrified gang.

The speaker squealed, bow at almost ninety degree and hurried to unleash an astonished Masumi Hayami. He even helped him to stand up. Masumi got aware that he wasn't really able to walk for now, being tied tightly to this weak chair- that collapsed as soon as it got free, how predictable – didn't do any good to his blood stream. Maya named another order.

"And I want a car. You must have at least one car, right?"

She glanced at the whole gang with such a icy glare that a key flew toward her in only one second, and she caught it with one hand. Someone that didn't want to be remarked stammered:

"I-It's a black v-van."

The smile she addressed him was even more frightening than her glare.

"Thank you." She glared at the man that was helping Masumi to walk. "I'll do it myself."

She walked toward them and put Masumi's arm on her shoulders to help him. The gangster stepped back with fear and respect. While they walked out of the shed, followed by something like fifty amazed eyes, Masumi slowly recovered his ability to walk. They silently searched the black van, which was parked in a piece of waste ground, near the shed. When they reached it, Maya said:

"Hayami-san, can you walk?"

"Hum…yes, I think."

She immediately let go of his arm to straighten herself, and he almost fall down.

"Then take the wheel, I can't drive."

He blinked once, and after having recovered from being given an order by this girl, and after having definitely decided to stop thinking at all, he obeyed. But inside the car, Maya turned into a completely different person. Well, actually, she rather turned back to her old normal self. Her whole body trembling, her knees on folded on her chest, her hand grabbing her hair, she stammered, her voice high-pitched:

"What are you waiting for, let's go, we got to go out of here!"

Again, Masumi just obeyed. The engine started with a big noise and the wheel squealed for a moment, struggling to get out of the mud. Maya almost cried: "No, please no!" and then yelled at the car "Oh, come on!" She punched the dashboard, and the van finally made it and got on the road. Masumi, more astonished than ever, while seeing Maya sighing deeply, kept driving as far as he could. After a moment he said.

"You know, you just saved my life."

No answer. He went on, a bit uneasy. He had to go on that topic. This was important. But he wasn't sure about either he wanted to know the answer or not.

"It's really surprising. Me, the cold-heated workaholic you hate." He tried to banish the wave of hope that was filling his heart, but he couldn't help but asking: "I wonder why you would do something like that…"

He still got no answer. Don't look at her…do not look at her…

"Of course it must have been a piece of cake." He went on, trying another subject. "Having a gang boss for father…"

Maya squealed. Masumi finally glanced at her and what he saw let doubt seep into his mind.

"Chib-" Sledgehammer! "Maya…you do have a father, who is a Yakuza's clan boss, don't you?"

Another squeal. Masumi swallowed loudly.

"Maya, answer me."

"No I don't!" She cried out loud, and Masumi's hands held the wheel tighter. "Well, I-I don't know, maybe!" She trembled very much now. "He-he died when I was a baby, so how could I know!"

"You…were…bluffing?" Masumi said slowly, trying to keep his composure.

"Yes!" She said with a high-pitched voice. "Besides throwing things into people's faces, I don't know how to fight at all!" This time, Masumi was the one squealed. But, grinding his teeth, he did his best to stay calm. "So, I was angry a-and I didn't think too much, I just thought that if I acted as a bad girl, this might do and they would let you go!"

This was more than he could bear.

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!" He yelled.

Masumi braked suddenly and parked the van on the side of the road. He undid his seat belt and turned his head toward Maya.

"What if they hadn't believed you? What if they decided to fight you? What were you thinking?"

"Well…" she said sheepishly "I didn't think so much…"

"Why did you do that?!" He cried out of rage. She needs protection. She definitely needs protection! "Why did you go so far to save me?! Are you crazy?!"

Actually this wasn't the first time that he worried about her mental health. There was this time when she stand on stage despite her 40°C fever, after having spend almost the whole night in the rain to become sick on purpose in order to understand her character. This other time, when she didn't hesitate to stand on stage all alone to play fourteen characters by herself because her partner were stuck in the road. There was also this time when she had been living while being tied with bamboo to retrain her movements, all this to fully understand the doll she was going to perform on stage. And recently before she came to work for his company, when she blindfolds herself and blocked her ears to understand Helen, the blind and deaf girl she was going to perform. She hurt herself many times when she was doing something without thinking or caring about the consequences. But every time he thought "she is crazy", there was always a good connotation behind this thought, mostly admiration. Not this time.

This time, this was pure craziness and stupidity.

"Why on earth would you do something like that? You should have let the police settle this!"

"But the police wouldn't have done anything!" She cried.

"Of course they would, I'm Hayami Masumi."

"Yes. And because of that name we had been told not to call the police!" She replied, starting to be really angry. "That "The hand men of the company were waiting for the Chairman's instructions"!"

Masumi swallowed loudly. His father wouldn't have done a thing: he knew that by experience. But the situation was still making no sense. "And you, Ch…Maya, decided to go save me by yourself."

"Yes." She said with a little voice.

"Why?"

"Because…" She interrupted herself, searching a good answer. "I was angry."

Masumi pondered this answer for a moment, without knowing how to take it. She went on.

"No one has the right to touch you, I decided." She said. "If you ever had to be killed by someone, this someone would definitely be me!"

After a silence, Masumi looked deep into her brown eyes and said: "You hate me this much?" Strange thing, he was taking it more as praise. Hope was filling his heart again in a really strange way, so intensely that he wasn't able to fight it. He didn't even want to.

"Yes! I hate you!" She answered fiercely, her gaze daring him. "I claimed dibs on your murder, and no one has the right to take it from-"

But she couldn't say one more word, because two soft and warm lips were suddenly on hers.

"And then I…I kissed her!" Masumi cried out loud, his head held by his two hands, still not ready to fully believe it.

"You did WHAT?!" Mizuki exclaimed, after having thought that things couldn't have turned even weirder. But that might explain the blank look she had when she came back at her apartment.

"I-I don't know, I just grabbed her head and kissed her! I don't know what happened to me!"

"Well, now at least you have to admit that you are deeply in love with her." Mizuki said with a great grin on her face. "Now we are going somewhere!"

"Please, don't say that…this is a disaster!" He hid his face in his arms. Mizuki fought a laugh. "I wasn't prepared to that! Why is this happening to me?" He raised his head out of his arms, his gaze lost and begging.

"If you had listened to me, you wouldn't have put you in such a situation!"

"But I thought you were wrong!" He groaned. "Just thinking that I may be in love with a girl that is elev-"

"With all my respect, sir, you don't kiss people you may be in love with, like that, out of the blue!"

He hid his face again, completely desperate.

Yes, I guess I have to admit it…

"And then, what happened?" Mizuki asked.

"Well…I don't exactly know how long it lasted…but she didn't reject me the whole time."

"Wow." His secretary said with her eyes wide with astonishment. "That's good, isn't it?"

"I…don't think so." Masumi said, reliving the situation. "It was more like she couldn't move at all. As if she was shocked. Then, when I realised what I was doing, I let go of her and restarted the car. And I drove her to her apartment."

Mizuki stayed still for a minute or two, as if she was expecting something else to come.

"What…that's all?"

"No…"he answered, uneasy. "I said something."

"What did you say?" She asked, expecting the worse.

He looked at her. "Let's just say that I didn't think either. That's what I said."

"You are hopeless."

L’album

1^er Janvier.

Cela fait un mois maintenant, depuis que j’ai dit à Maya que j’étais M. Rose Pourpre. Je présume que tout ce passe bien. Elle a une confiance absolue en ma parole. Cela me met mal à l’aise. Je pourrais être le pire des hommes qu’elle ne s’en rendrait pas compte et me suivrait n’importe où. Cela m’effraie. Si je le voulais, je pourrais complètement me servir d’elle sans que ça ne la dérange. Elle ne s’en rendrait même pas compte. Il est bien trop facile de la duper : il faut la protéger.

Je n’ai plus de nouvelles d’Hayami Sama. Il ne répond plus au téléphone. Depuis ce jour là, il ne m’a jamais plus demandé comment le plan se déroulait. Je suis très inquiet, je dois l’avouer. Comment va-t-il réellement ?

J’ai pris l’habitude de rencontrer Maya au restaurant Lonlon tous les Mardi. Elle a toujours cet air joyeux, avec ce sourire sur son visage et cette lumière chaleureuse dans ses yeux. Je suppose que tout ce passe comme prévu : elle semble heureuse.

Mais combien de temps cela va-t-il encore durer ?

Hijiri referma le petit livre sur son bureau. Il avait décidé d’écrire ses impressions tous les mois depuis qu’il avait mentit à Maya. Ce petit texte suffirait probablement pour ce mois-ci. Il soupira. On était Mardi aujourd’hui, et ce soir là, il la reverrait.

Sans même s’en apercevoir, il sourit. 

***

-         Non mais c’est pas vrai, Maya !

-         Hein ?

-         Tu recommences !

Maya baissa les yeux et vit que sa tasse de thé s’était transformée en fontaine et que la marre de thé grandissante menaçait l’album qu’elle voulait donner à M. Kirino. La théière était toujours dans ses mains.

Cette fois encore, sa première réaction fut de pousser un petit cri. Rei sauva l’album et profita de l’occasion pour observer attentivement l’objet.

-         Qu’est-ce que c’est que ça, Maya ? Demanda-t-elle tandis que son amie continuait de nettoyer.

-         C’est un cadeau pour M. Rose Pourpre. Répondit-elle en souriant. En remerciement pour le coffret de maquillage qu’il m’a offert.

Intrigué, Rei l’ouvrit. C’était un joli album rempli de photos de ses pièces. Presque tous ses rôles étaient représentés. Rei se mordit la lèvre.

-         Tu as intérêt d’avoir raison de lui faire confiance. Imagine un peu que ton fan soit en réalité…

-         Rei, je t’ai dis que je ne voulais pas revenir la dessus.

-         Moi, je dis ça…

Et elle reposa l’album.

Cela faisait un mois maintenant que Maya avait enfin pu rencontrer son fervent admirateur, et elle n’était toujours pas descendue de son petit nuage. Takumi Kirino était quelqu’un d’exceptionnel. Ca ne le dérangeait pas de se déplacer tous les Mardi soir pour la voir, alors qu’avec son travail il ne devait pas avoir beaucoup de temps libre. Cette pensée la remplissait de gratitude. Elle adorait lui parler : elle pouvait enfin libérer toutes ces questions, toutes ces choses qu’elle avait toujours voulu lui dire et qui était resté enfermé dans son cœur. C’était si soulageant !

Elle avait enfin choisi son prochain rôle. Elle avait rencontré Ryuuzo Kuronuma, un réalisateur de génie qui lui avait offert le rôle de Jane, une jeune fille-loup. Immédiatement enthousiasmée tant par le rôle que par l’histoire, elle avait commencé à désirer jouer Jane coûte que coûte. Les répétitions avaient déjà commencé et Maya avait été stupéfaite de voire que son partenaire interprétant Stuart n’était autre que Yuu Sakurakoji. Il y avait un moment qu’ils ne s’étaient pas vus, et Maya avait été vraiment surprise de voir l’allure virile qu’avait son ami à présent. Il avant grandit, ses épaules s’étaient élargies et était devenu vraiment bel homme. Maya avait aussi rencontré Mai, sa jolie petite amie qui s’était avérée être encore plus petite qu’elle (un moment de pur soulagement où elle avait du se retenir de hurler « Dieu merci ! » et de courir chercher Masumi Hayami pour lui prouver qu’elle n’était pas si petite que ça finalement.) Cette rencontre l’avait rendu un peu nostalgique et elle s’était surprise à penser à sa relation avec M. Kirino.

Elle avait cru qu’avec le temps passé loin l’un de l’autre, plus rien d’étrange ne pouvait se passer entre elle et Yuu, mais elle s’était trompée. Quelque chose était arrivée.

Elle était seule avec lui dans une salle, travaillant une scène entre Stuart et Jane. Stuart était censé essayer de forcer Jane à parler en mettant ses lèvres dans les bonnes positions. Tout se passait bien quand soudain les masques se brisèrent. Ils redevinrent Maya et Sakurakoji, et leur proximité devint embarrassante. Les mains de Sakurakoji entouraient son menton, emprisonnant son visage. Il murmura alors son prénom et se pencha pour l’embrasser. Au dernier moment, Maya réussit à le repousser, le rejetant radicalement et indéniablement. De cet incident deux choses s’imposèrent à son esprit. Premièrement : Sakurakoji avait encore des sentiments pour elle. Et deuxièmement : quelque chose en elle l’interdisait de se rapprocher physiquement d’un garçon, et cette « chose » avait un rapport avec Takumi Kirino. Elle ignorait ce que c’était, mais quoi que ce soit, elle en était bouleversée. 

Ce même jour, M. Rose Pourpre lui envoya des fleurs ainsi qu’un cadeau : un coffret de maquillage rose. Quand elle le reçu, elle se sentie remplie d’une agréable chaleur. C’était si gentil de continuer de lui envoyer des fleurs comme avant !

Alors, en remerciement, elle avait décidé de lui offrir un album où elle aurait collée des photos de ses différentes représentations. Elle espérait vraiment que ça lui plaise.

Maya jeta un coup d’œil à l’horloge, il était sept heures et demie, il était temps de partir. On était Mardi aujourd’hui, elle ne voulait pas être en retard.

***

-         Toutes mes excuses Maya ! S’inquiéta Hijiri. J’espère que tu ne m’as pas trop attendu !

-         Non, bien sûr que non, je viens juste d’arriver ! Répondit-elle, craignant qu’il culpabilise de l’avoir faite attendre.

-         Tu es sûre que tu ne me dis pas ça pour me faire plaisir ?

Mince, cette panique était contagieuse. Maya secoua frénétiquement la tête.

-         Mais non je vous assure ! Vous n’êtes pas du tout en retard !

-         Comment te croirais-je ? Tu mens pour me rassurer !

-         Mais non, jamais, je le jure !

Hijiri culpabilisant, Maya essayant de se faire pardonner une factice erreur, cette merveilleuse dispute aurait pu s’éterniser, si le barman ne s’en était pas mêlé.

-         Hey ! Le Gentil Couple ! cria-t-il.

Les deux intéressés tournèrent la tête vers le moustachu quadragénaire qui essuyait un verre en les regardant d’un œil amusé.

-         Vous êtes tous les deux en avance !

Hijiri et Maya regardèrent leur montre exactement en même temps. Quelques clients pouffèrent.

-         Mais c’est vrai : il n’est même pas encore huit heures !

Ils échangèrent un regard, avant de partir dans un fou rire qui ne se calma pas avant dix minutes.

Ils étaient des habitués connus du café. Toutes les serveuses avaient le béguin pour Hijiri et le barman ne se lassait pas de les surnommer le Gentil Couple, même si ça ne faisait guère que cinq semaines qu’ils se donnaient rendez-vous là. Tout commença lorsqu’Hijiri offrit un verre à une serveuse au cœur brisé. La jeune femme rougit jusqu’aux oreilles et bégaya

-         Merci, monsieur. Vous êtes vraiment gentil.

Et le barman de répondre.

-         N’essaye même pas de le draguer Sakura, c’est un gentil Couple !

Le plus étrange était qu’Hijiri n’avait même pas essayé de lui préciser qu’il n’en était rien. En fait, il appréciait assez le surnom, et adorait voir Maya s’empourprer d’embarras et perdre ses mots à chaque fois que le barman s’exclamait

-         Mais c’est notre Gentil Couple que voilà ! J’arrive tout de suite !

C’était tout simplement hilarant.

Enfin, lorsqu’ils se furent calmés, Maya remit l’album à Hijiri. Surprit, celui-ci le prit.

-         Ce n’est pas grand-chose, mais je me disais que ça vous plairait, probablement.

Encore plus intrigué, Hijiri l’ouvrit et y découvrit des dizaines de photos de Maya sur scène. Toutes les pièces dans lesquelles elle avait joué se trouvaient représentée dans ce petit livre vert. La reconnaissance lui coupa le souffle.

-         En remerciement pour le coffret. Précisa-t-elle. Ca m’a beaucoup plu.

-         Le coffret ? Répéta-t-il, perplexe.

-         Le coffret de maquillage que vous m’avez donné ! Il est si joli, je l’adore !

-         Attends, mais je ne…

Il s’interrompit et retint une exclamation en se mordant la lèvre inférieur et détourna les yeux pour cacher sa surprise. En effet, il n’était pas celui qui lui avait donné de coffret de maquillage.

C’était Masumi.

Il était à présent plus dur de cacher ses émotions. Il essaya de toutes ses forces de ne pas bondir de sa chaise pour téléphoner à son ami et exiger des explications. Pourquoi diable avait-il fait ça ? Après l’avoir laissée partir, après avoir arrêté de répondre à ses appels, il offre un cadeau à Maya en utilisant son ancien alias ! Hijiri n’aimait pas ça. Il risquait de se voir compromettre. Et maintenant, grâce à lui, il devait rattraper la situation.

-         Bien sûr, oui ! Le coffret ! Désolé, je dois être un peu fatigué…

-         C’est vrai ? Peut-être devrions-nous partir plus tôt pour que vous puissiez vous reposer !

Elle avait vraiment l’air inquiet, et une fois de plus, son dévouement le touchait d’une manière surprenante.

***

Quelques minutes plus tard, M. Kirino et Maya sortirent du restaurant. Maya était aux anges. Mr Kirino avait accepté son cadeau et lui avait même sourit, alors qu’il était fatigué par son travail épuisant. Elle ne devait vraiment pas en demander trop et se montrer reconnaissante.

Le  barman les avait encore utilisé ce surnom embarrassant. Et une fois de plus, M. Kirino n’avait pas réagit. Qu’est-ce que cela signifiait ? La considérait-il comme sa petite amie ?

Elle rougit. D’une certaine manière, cela lui plaisait. Elle leva les yeux vers son visage lisse et rougit encore plus. Avec ses longs cheveux caressés par le vent, il avait soudain l’air gentil et sérieux à la fois. Il avait souvent cet air là, cette peine mystérieuse dans ses yeux perdus dans le vague. A cette vue, son corps réagissait étrangement. Une sorte de besoin pressant de se rapprocher de lui, de le toucher et de rencontrer son regard. Mais elle réprimait toujours ce désir embarrassant et détournait les yeux.

Sauf que cette fois, elle ne pouvait pas s’en empêcher. Elle prit son bras et le serra contre elle pour qu’il la regarde.

***

Quand elle s’était emparée de son avant bras, Hijiri avait légèrement sursauté. Il tourna la tête et vit son regard, plein d’une tendresse soucieuse. Son expression avait dû l’inquiéter. D’ordinaire, il se serait contenté de lui sourire pour la rassure, mais il ne pouvait pas s’empêcher de la trouver adorable. Jeune et naïve, comme toujours. Elle devrait avoir conscience de ses actes. Un autre, moins bien attentionné, pourrait tirer parti de cette situation bien trop facilement.

***

Au même moment, Masumi était dans sa voiture à regarder par la fenêtre, quand soudain il les vit. Immédiatement, il ordonna à Mizuki d’arrêter la voiture.

Maya, pendue au bras d’Hijiri, un regard débordant d’intensité tourné vers lui qui n’en finissait pas de la regarder. Il ne prêta pas attention à l’exclamation à peine retenue de Mizuki. La vérité, c’était qu’il ne pouvait s’arracher à cette vue terrible et détourner simplement les yeux. Il était à l’agonie, certes, mais aussi hypnotisé.

Jamais il n’aurait cru Maya capable d’un tel regard dans la vie réelle. Ces expressions ensorcelantes n’appartenaient qu’à la scène, et ne pouvaient jamais figurer dans le regard de sa Gamine ; en tout cas, c’était ce qu’il avait toujours cru. Comment pouvait-elle le regarder ainsi ? Elle le connaissait à peine ! Comment pouvait-elle faire à ce point confiance à un homme qu’elle ne connaissait que depuis un mois ? Comment avait-elle pu le croire lorsqu’il avait prétendu être M. Rose Pourpre ?! Tout au fond de son cœur, Masumi avait espéré qu’elle ne le croit pas, même s’il avait dit qu’il voulait qu’elle soit heureuse, au fond de lui…

Comment avec être pu l’abandonner aussi facilement ?

La jalousie le dévorait, mais ce n’était pas le pire de son agonie. Le pire, c’était la colère, la fureur.

Quelqu’un pouvait-il lui dire ce que ce regard faisait dans les yeux d’Hijiri ?

Ils étaient là, devant lui, tel un parfait petit couple ! L’adorable petite amie, et son beau jules gentil et protecteur qui se regardent passionnément. Comme si tout allait bien, en toute confiance dans ce monde d’amour. Maya semblait heureuse, mais Hijiri avait dépassé les bornes. De quel droit pouvait-il la regarder comme ça ?! On croirait qu’il est amoureux d’elle !

C’en était trop. Il bondit hors de la voiture.

Storm

Maya really thought that once home, she would have all the time she needed to think through this situation. But she was barely inside that the caring and worrying look of her friend was trapping her. She started by asking about the details of her performance after the premiere of Isadora. When Maya told her about her complicity with Masumi Hayami, her friend’s lips parted lightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t do so. Maya knew exactly what this was all about: the very fact that Masumi Hayami, vice-president of the biggest Japanese entertainment company, would actually endanger his own image only to publicize her; was indeed very surprising. But Maya knew the reason of this strange kindness. Kind of, like a farewell gift.

Rei talked during the rest of the evening about this boy she met at the coffee shop she waitressed at. The funny part was that, like most the Petit Prince’s customers, Kei, twenty-four years old, firstly thought the waitress was truly a waiter. Moreover, Rei’s behaviour didn’t help, for using impersonal or masculine ways of talking at work in order to get generous and hopeful tips from the female customers. Anyway, the two of them talked and after a moment, they became friends. It was only this evening, after two entire weeks of friendly chat, that Kei finally opened his eyes. And this discovery, so it seemed, only get them closer. Maya laughed to the sight of her friend blushing while telling her all about the moment when the handsome young man took her hand. Half-joking, Maya made her bet she would take him to the Forgotten Wilderness, so she could get to meet him.

When at last, Rei said and yawn that it was getting late and that she should go to sleep if she wanted not to be late next day morning, Maya’s seeming cheerfulness vanished and she put her forehead on her crossed arms.

“Come on Maya, wake up: He killed your mother!”

A tear fell on the table wood. Knowing that Mr Purple Rose was responsible of her mother’s death turned her stomach. She was rejecting this thought with her soul. But it was a fact. Acknowledging Masumi Hayami as Mr Purple Rose, her beloved fan, was putting her benefactor as the culprit of the accident. He locked her up. If he hadn’t done it, she might still be alive by now. She knew that for some times already, yet now this fact took a complete other kind of significance. A brand new horror.

Yet, as strange as it might seem, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. How many times did she try already? How many times did she swear she would despise him for ever? And how long did it take before he would eventually fill her heart with warmth, energy and curiosity again?

“Hayami-san...”she whispered.

Even now, even knowing he lied to her about so many things, just speaking his name out loud was making her longing to see him again, to hear his voice. She smiled at her own simplicity.

“Masumi...”

She blushed in spite of herself. Silly, to call his first name so casually, even alone, was making her feel she was giving her an impression of privacy with him. She sighed. Her heart was forgiving him everything, all the crimes, all the lies, all the deceptions. Of all the wounding things he told her once, none mattered now. If she could see him again, talk to him, like before, she would certainly be happy. She bitterly desired to go back. Please, that someone take her back! Take her back to this rowing boat on the lake with him, or at the planetarium, or at this table of restaurant in front of him! Take her back to this blessed moment when he held her hand! She had been so often in his company, so often alone with him, she hadn’t even realized how precious those privileged moments were; and that she should have used them to get to know him better. She should have treasured those moments with him! Now she wanted to see him again, she wanted it so badly! But now nothing would ever be the same.

“You should answer that”

He showed himself very clear in his way of saying that. He knew the man on the phone was Kirino Takumi, and yet he looked into her eyes and asked her to pick it up. This moment made everything crystal clear. He staged this farce to get rid of her. He didn’t want to be Mr Purple Rose anymore. He had enough of this. All those years he took care of her, but now he had enough. He wanted to move on. He had fallen in love with this beautiful woman he was about to marry, and couldn’t afford to send roses to a petty actress like her anymore. This marriage was going to make him happy.

That was why he chose to entrust her to Takumi. This man swearing to love her, and that she liked. Kirino-san was a good person; she was feeling safe with him. He was a friend to her, and for a while, she was happy that Mr Purple Rose was someone like him.

This marriage between Shiori and Masumi was also an alliance between two great groups. This was a huge benefit for Daito, and that might also be why Masumi left her. A horrifying doubt took her. Maybe all those years meant nothing to him. She was just an actress, a product he could use and throw away anytime. And this time just came. This thought tightened her heart even more.

He didn’t love her. She had every reason in the world to hate him. Yet, she knew she would never feel hatred toward this man ever again. This enmity had long hidden her true feelings, and now they were revealed there was no going back: She loved him.

And because she loved him, because she always did, she would agree to act along this role play. He made her happy all those years, and it would be selfish not to do the same now. She would let Hayami-san marry the woman he loved. And she would let Kirino-san pretend to admire her since the very first day. Yes, things were better this way. This was what her sense was telling her to do, but her moaning heart was begging her not to give up. 

The worst part was that she liked Kirino-san a lot! Hayami-san entrusted her to him, certainly because he was trustworthy. This was a charming, sweet, friendly man! She was feeling safe with him, like with a good friend. Things might be tensed since he confessed his love to her, but she could vividly remember the moments of joy and complicity they exchanged the evenings in his apartment. If his feeling toward her were sincere, and if it was what Masumi wanted, she would make two beloved persons happy by doing it. Why wouldn’t she then?

***

While Maya was resigned herself to ever confess her love, Shiori Takamiya, for other reasons, couldn’t manage to find sleep as well. Back home, after having slammed the front door, demanded a cup of tea to her household, yelled it was too hot, then too cold, fired one of her housemaids, throw with all her strength a vase on the floor, which shattered with a loud noise of broken china, and yelled some more; she isolated herself in her bedroom. Yet, while she was pacing around her magnificent canopied bed, she wasn’t feeling the slightest better. No, she would only find peace when she would have make sure Maya Kitajima would never make a step closer to her husband-to-be.  After long and painful thoughts, she decided the best way was to prevent her from winning the Award that was supposed to fling her up at the top of the competition and give her access to the part of the Crimson Goddess. She was convinced that, Maya away from the object of Masumi’s obsession, she would certainly loose a lot of interest in his eyes.

She needed a plan. Something that would help her getting Maya off the course. Shiori got an idea.

The next day, during the afternoon, Shiori went to the gym where the students of Ondine were usually practicing. There she found Ayumi Himekawa, in the dance room, doing barre training. Her body was covered with sweat, and Shiori asked herself how long the beautiful young lady was there. She rapidly noticed her presence, in this room full of mirrors. The young woman first seemed stunned to see her, and then bowed respectfully, although a bit too lightly for a formal greeting.

“Takamiya-san” She said while grabbing a towel to dry her neck. “Why do we have the honour to have you here?”

Shiori slowly and silently walked toward the young lady to make her feel the weight of her superiority, but Ayumi seemed not the slightest impressed and was still wearing the same smile of polite interest when Shiori finally said:

“I just came to see how nervous you were” 

“Nervous?” Ayumi repeated while frowning with perplexity.

“Indeed: nervous.” Shiori went on, calm. “I’ve heard that the play that would start tomorrow evening would be quite decisive for you career.”

“Are you referring to the Forgotten Wilderness?”

“Indeed I am.” Shiori smiled knowingly “If the play is a success, and that Kitajima-san get an Award for her performance, you would have to fight for months. That’s why I came to see how nervous you were. “

And, ending her last sentence, she intensely and intelligently gazed at Ayumi who felt her hair on her neck stand. She swallowed.

“You think I hope she’ll fail?”

“It’s,” Shiori answered “what every person in your situation would hope. Her failure would get you the great part of the Crimson Goddess on a silver plate.”

Ayumi didn’t answer to that. Indeed, she knew all that. But she also knew that she would be incapable to act the Crimson Goddess correctly of the competition of Maya doesn’t push her far enough. She wanted Maya to win this Festival. Many were the outsiders who thought like Takamiya-san. Yet, there was something in the tone of her voice; that she didn’t like. Shiori went on.

“However,” she smiled at her “I like to think women as important as us don’t base their success on vain hopes.”

“What do you mean?” Ayumi asked, with the feeling that she already knew the answer.

“In the current state of the situation, if Maya get to act as she planed to, she will be rewarded at the Festival. It’s a fact that no naïve hope will change. But, like I said, women like us don’t hope for victory: they simply get victory.”

Ayumi couldn’t believe her ears. Shiori Takamiya finally revealed her true face. This viper meant she would be capable of anything to get Maya down. Why? The answer was crystal clear: she was at the Premiere of Isadora too; she saw the complicity between Maya and Hayami-san. Ayumi chinned up.

“Absolutely. I will definitely win.”

Believing she got her on her side, Shiori widened her cold grin. But Ayumi hurried to add:

“When Maya will officially a candidate for the part of the Crimson Goddess, I’ll win, thanks to my acting talent.”

The venomous smile of Shiori froze. She realized her mistake. Ayumi was more loyal that she thought she would be. She took a deep breathe and tried to covered it.

“Absolutely.” She said. “Of course, that’s what I meant.”

“Of course.” Ayumi said with a mocking smile.

“You understood me well.”

“Then it’s perfect!” Ayumi laughed.

“Yes, isn’t it?” Shiori laughed back nervously.

“Well, if you have nothing else to say.” Ayumi said cheerfully “I’m going to get back on my training.”

“Sure! Be my guest!”

“It was surely delightful, Miss.”

“Indeed. Goodbye.”

And Shiori hurried to leave with the little of dignity she had left. Once the door was closed, Ayumi sat on the floor, distraught. It was bad. She would never get over it if her one and only rival was evinced because of a stupid jealousy issue. She would not allow it. She had to do something! Outside, the night was already on the street, and Ayumi thought sighing that if she didn’t react now, twenty four hours from now, Maya might not be in the right disposition to act out the miracle everybody was expecting.

***

Big day. Everybody had to be inside the walls of the theatre by seven in the morning to rehearse all day. They had worked without a break all morning, and now Maya was throwing herself on her sandwich. Sakurakoji was looking at her tenderly.

He had spent the entire day before trying to understand what Ayumi told him during the reception for the Premiere of Isadora. She told him that Maya was more that just an actress to the Vice-President Hayami. At first he thought he was betting everything on her future performance of the Crimson Goddess, but that would have been forgetting Ayumi. Finally, a frightening doubt took his mind: that the Vice-President, this man told cold and stranger to all forms of empathy, could have weaved emotional bonds with Maya, to actually fall in love with her. Ever how absurd this idea seemed to him, Ayumi seemed to believe it to be true. He knew Masumi Hayami was a desired and coveted man, and that he had an irrefutable charisma that got him to set his authority in the entertainment world despite his very young age. He also knew that Hayami-san was dating the beautiful Shiori Takamiya, but that their engagement, even announced, didn’t happen yet. If it was true that he had feelings for Maya, and if he succeeded in charming her with his natural presence, it would not be difficult to him to end his relationship with the heiress and to date Maya officially and that, that was what Yuu feared most.

So, he decided to gather his courage and tell Maya:

“It’s amazing how many phone calls from journalists we’ve got since your performance. Thanks to you, it’s going to be a full house every night!”

“Thanks to Hayami-san, actually.” She said. “He decided to make that show for me.”

“I see...”

Here were his doubts confirmed. Maya was already feeling grateful to the Vice-President. He was going to eat her alive very soon. He should warn her. But when he was about to say something, her phone rang. Now expert in the handling of a touch screen, Maya had no problem answering it. She started speaking with a cheerful a loud voice when she recognized her friend Rei that promised to call to check on her. When she finally ended the discussion, it was time to get back to work, and Maya just told him “Rei told me they say a storm is coming tonight.”

Bad news over bad news.

***

On the stroke of one, Masumi’s lunch time was over and he headed to his office like he used to. However, before he could open the door, Mizuki, who had been briefing him about this afternoon schedule, warned him that someone was waiting for him in there. To his stunned eyes she only responded by a sceptical pout telling the guest didn’t wish to pronounce herself about the reason of her visit. So, it was with circumspection that Masumi came into his own office.

Ayumi Himekawa stood to his arrival and bow as she should before sitting on the sofa when invited by Masumi that sat in front of her.

“It’s always a pleasure to receive you, Miss. What can I do for you?”

Ayumi smiled. She hadn’t got so many occasion to talk with the young producer in private, but he had often be invited to her home by her parents, so that he knew her since childhood. Yet, he always showed a cold politeness to her, calling her “Miss” even when she was a little girl. It was hard to her imagining him being friendly to anyone. The only exception was whenever he was in a certain young actress company; then he could loose his cold and condescension manners to a warmer behaviour, anger or laughter. Being a fine observer, this detail didn’t escape Ayumi, who quickly did the right parallels.

Her speech was ready.

“Hayami Sama” she said slowly “I’m afraid the subject that brings me here is one of the most delicate. It deals with your privacy, which I couldn’t interfere in if it wasn’t for a professional matter, concerning the career of someone I respect very much, and my own.”

She had now his all his attention, and when Hayami-san, who wasn’t hiding his surprise, encouraged her to go on, she tried to stay calm and still.

“Are you sure you know Takamiya-san?”

“Excuse me?” He exclaimed, widening his eyes.

“I wanted to know if you were sure you knew the person you are keeping company to.”

“And how, exactly, could it matter for your career?”

The producer’s voice was now icy and abrupt, as anyone’s that asked a report of his privacy. Ayumi took a deep breathe, to be sure she was calm, before going on.

“It matters if Takamiya-san a doubts about your...implication in Maya’s life.”

There was a silent moment. Ayumi took advantage of it and asked.

“Does she know you are the one sending her roses regularly? Or does she just know your attachment to her is beyond professional interest?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Hayami-san said and he crossed his arm on his chest. “I had been Kitajima-san employer for some times, but it doesn’t go any further.”

“No offense, sir, but I think that what happened during the reception for the premiere of Isadora doesn’t show us that. It actually shows that you care for her success enough to use your own image to publicize her. You wanted to help her.”

Ayumi breathed again. He had to stay calm if she wanted her speech to have power. But she was feeling the Vice-President gaze on her and dared look in his eyes. That’s when he said:

“Is that jealousy, Himekawa-san? Are you jealous I wanted to help her?”

“Sir, I’m begging you: do not insult me.” She answered firmly.

He raised his eyebrows to this direct answer to his guess. He was about to say something but Ayumi spoke first.

“Having said that, you do well going on that subject, because it’s actually what brings me here.”

Masumi leaned forward, feeling they were now going somewhere. He saw the young lady straighten herself, swallow and look into his eyes.

“I’m acting since I’m a child, and the past ten years my celebrity kept growing. Many were the young actress that wished they would be my rivals, and all were jealous of me. Then I was protected by my connections and my family, but I still got to see what a jealous girl is capable of. I also know that when this jealousy is motivated by love, some people can be really cruel. So, I’m asking you again: Takamiya-san does she know you are in love with Maya?”

“Now I see where this is going to.”

An entire minute ran off without another word. Ayumi felt she has to stay quiet and wait for him to talk. And he finally did.

“What brings you to believe Takamiya-san could ever want to hurt Maya? Aside from the fact that you are imagining I have views of her?”

“Being given that you just called her by her fist name, I seriously doubt I’m imagining anything, sir.”

He bit his lips. He gave himself. Just for a moment, he was distracted by the memory of his conversation in the parking lot with his fiancée, and neglected his words. Ayumi gazed at him knowingly and went on.

“Your fiancée came to see me yesterday evening, during my dance training at the gym. She was vague, but I have the clear feeling she wanted me to make Maya fail during the premiere of her show, tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“She might have kept her speech vague, but I’m no stupid girl.”

Hayami-san sighed.

“Look, I admire the loyalty you have to your rival – I really do,” he added gazing intensely at her with warm and honest eyes and Ayumi realized the enchanting charisma this man under an icy coat could have. “But I think this is a misunderstanding. I don’t think a woman as delicate as Shiori Takamiya could be capable of this sort of things.”

“Many are the rich girls that are being taught since childhood how to behave like the ideal spouse: obliging, docile, seemingly fragile. Delicate, like you said, sir. But in this education of traditional Japanese women, those girls are also being taught how to hide their true feelings.” She added tensing her gaze.

Between them the silent was deep and tensed, and Ayumi feared to have offended her employer not purposely. She smiled with honesty and said:

“This being said, I’m sure you already know all that.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, then, as Ayumi was about to look down by respect, Mizuki came inside to warn Hayami-san his one thirty rendezvous was there. Relieved, Ayumi stood up and bowed deeply.

“Thank you for letting me come in your office.”

“That’s nothing! Beside, I didn’t.”

Ayumi glanced at Hayami-san just one second and bowed again even deeper to apologize; and left.

***

Maya couldn’t stop staring at the theatre’s first floor window. It was five o’clock and the storm started fifteen minutes ago. Since then, the rain couldn’t stop pouring like a waterfall. The show started four hours from now and the media were already advising the locals to stay home tonight. A premiere without audience: that surely wasn’t a good sign. She was about to go join the other when something caught her eye. The lights of a car lightened the flooded street. She immediately recognized that car and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Takumi going out of there, his coat above his head to keep himself dry.

She ran down the stairs and announced his arrival to the others, and everyone hurried to the entrance hall. The translator was welcomed by a wave of rain and applause. An actress got over-zealous and took and hung his drenched coat. Kirino-san was wearing a cocktail suit, which made him look particularly classy. Maya’s stomach tightened. This outfit wasn’t without reminding her someone. The only difference was that Takumi mixed elegance with warmth. Kuronuma was over the moon and he said humorously.

“Welcome Kirino-san! At least now, we know we have an audience!”

The team laughed joyfully, even Maya who for a second had forgotten her worries. However, when she met the eyes she was searching, Maya blushed and her seriousness was back.

They isolated themselves in her dressing room. Her heart was beating so hard and loud she was convinced he could hear them. She feared she had offended him the last couple of days. Since they fought in his car, they never saw or talked to each other. Maya never answered his calls, too troubled by the events. Now she feared he would not talk to her. She turn round and stared at him. He looked strange, even a bit afraid.

“I’m so sorry.” She stammered, and Takumi widen his eye with surprise. “I didn’t answer your calls, it was rude. It’s just—you see, I—I was busy with my rehearsals and, to be honest—I—” 

“Maya,” he interrupted her. “You don’t have to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, not at all! Kirino-san, you didn’t do...”

“Please, Maya, let me finish.”

He sat with her on a couch and his eyes full of intense emotion looked into hers. Maya swallowed.

“The other night...my behaviour was everything but correct. You were upset, and I didn’t listened. Instead, I got angry, that was so immature! Please, forgive me.”

Hypnotized, Maya just nodded slowly. Takumi sighed with relief and the smile he gave her relaxed the atmosphere like magic.

“I know that in the theatre world wishing good luck is actually bad luck, but...”

From his jacket’s inside pocket, he pulled a magnificent white rose, and gave it to her. Maya took it very carefully and breathe its scent with pleasure.

“A white rose?” She said without hiding her surprise.

She knew well that the man in front of her wasn’t her admirer, but giving her a rose of a different colour before the premiere of her show had to mean something. Takumi looked down, shameful, and the glances he gave her feverishly now and then clearly showed his helplessness and doubt.

“What happened the other night, disconcerted me, you know. I’ve been thinking...about the last couple of months, about the things I told you, and the moment we spent together and I realized that...I have no idea of how you feel about me!”

He was almost on the verge of tears now, and Maya could see how hard this confession was to him. He sighed to calm down and went on with a little bit evener voice.

“Maya, can I ask you something?”

Speechless, Maya just nodded again.

“If...if we had met a different way, if I had never seen Little Women, if...if I had never sent you roses” he said, breathless. “Do you think you would like me still?”

His angst was palpable. Maya stared wide-eyed, her heart burning with empathy. Was he about to tell her the truth? Why would he do that? Anyway, his honesty was obvious; he would never be capable of pretending such an emotion; and this moved her way more that she imagined.

“What I really want to know is,” Takumi went on while flooding her eyes with his unbearable distress. “It’s whether you like me because you feel obligated to me, or...if there is really something, between us.”

Then, Maya knew she had her answer. Since she knew the true identity of Mr Purple Rose, she hadn’t stop asking herself if the feelings Takumi confessed to her were real, or if it was nothing but a part of the role Hayami-san asked him to act. Now that she knew, there could be no doubt. He loved her, it wasn’t all an act. It was a true love that was making him suffer for weeks, or months. And this thought was touching her deeply. Overwhelmed by tenderness, she took his hand. 

“Kirino-san....I like you very much! I like you, because you are...kind and funny and...because you play violin!” She added laughing. “Not because you are Mr Purple Rose. Well, I mean,” she stammered, trying not to uncover her knowledge, “It matter, of course, but it’s not...”

But she didn’t get to end her sentence. Two sweet, warm lips had shut hers and she didn’t dare breathing.

Everything seemed to be completely out of her control. Her veins brutally responded to this attack and a fiery, ardent desire was terrifying her. She wished she could escape but her febrile body wasn’t obeying her, and Takumi’s hand on her back trapped her and squeezed her dangerously tight against his body. Her hand on his was also trapped, and their fingers entwined together. She raised her free hand, with the intention of rejecting him, too scared by all those new sensations that loaded her body with electricity, but she caught herself grabbing his neck to kiss him back. Her fingers rummaged through Takumi’s hair and her befuddled mind was forbidding any thought.

“Maya!”

They parted in a fraction of second. Maya opened her eyes, asking herself when she closed them and look up to Sakurakoji who just came in the dressing room.

“Kuronuma Sensei...sent me to tell you that...you need the start focusing on Jane.” He stammered, extremely embarrassed.

But Maya was just half-listening. She was feeling dizzy and was not realizing what just happened yet. Kirino-san stood almost immediately, and after a last smile toward her, he left. As soon as he was out, Yuu said, without coming any closer.

“Maya, you have to promise me something.”

The young woman raised her heard, intrigued by the grave tone of her partner. He sighed.

“Promise me that this is going to be forgotten once you’ll be on stage. “

“I promise. » She lied.

Barely relieved, Yuu stepped back and was about to leave when he remembered something and added “Kuronuma Sensei think you should try to sleep for an hour or two. It’s barely five thirty, and the show start at eight o’clock. You’ll be up in time, so try to rest, okay?”

Maya nodded.

Once Yuu out, Maya had plenty of time to relive what just happened. By the way, what, exactly, did happen? He kissed her. And she kissed him back. At first, Maya had felt exalted by the brusque change in her relationship with Takumi but then, she felt overwhelmed by a wave of consternation and shame that put her at the verge of tears. She just kissed Takumi. No, it was way worse than that, she desired that kiss. Yet, she wasn’t in love with him! If that kiss has happened a month sooner, she might have believed to be in love, but now that she knew what real love felt like, she couldn’t lie.

She had the feeling she had done soothing terrible and shameful. As if she had betrayed Masumi. But she also felt an attraction toward Takumi that prevented her from rejecting him. Those opposing feelings were rushing inside her. She thought she accepted to be with Kirino-san! It was what Hayami-san wanted, it was what would make his friend happy, and she even felt pleasure doing it. Yet, now that she was alone, she was feeling unclean and unhappy.

This was beyond betraying Hayami-san. Truly if he happened to hear about that kiss, he would certainly not feel betrayed. No, she just kissed someone though her heart was someone else’s, and by doing that, she betrayed herself.

She was feeling exhausted. This intensive rehearsal day and the emotions she felt drained her strength. She lied on the couch and closed her eyes.

The clock was showing six thirty. Hijiri was feeling everyone’s tense backstage, and was listening to the actor’s feverish whisper with a remarkable peace of mind from his seat, in the middle of the empty stage room. He had still his head in his little cloud since he kissed Maya. The way she reassured him had completely freed him. One day, he kept telling himself, one day he would tell her the truth; when she would be ready. Maybe she would stay with him. His hopeful heart was making him imagine the best scenarios. Was she thinking of him, right now? He was eager to see her again, but he knew he had to wait until the end of the show. The shadow of her kiss was still drifting on his lips, and he seemed that her hand was actually tattooed on his neck. He longed to kiss her again.

Suddenly the door creaked open and Hijiri sighed before turning his head to see who could possibly go and defy a storm to see Maya’s play. Of course, here Masumi came. He had hung his coat in the entrance hall, but his hair was drenched with rain.  Hijiri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sir, no offence, but you are actually reminding me of Sneezy.”

“I don’t see how I could possibly be mistaken for a dwarf.”

“No” Hijiri laughed “Not the dwarf, my puppy! He had this same look and hair when I found him.”

“Hopefully, this poor creature died years ago.”

“Don’t rub salt on it” he said cheerfully “That’s just cruel.”

“What are you doing here this soon? It’s not even seven o’clock.”

Hijiri gave him a wide triumphing grin.

“Keeping an eye on my girlfriend. What are you doing here?”

“Surprisingly,” he answered pensively, “quite the same thing...”

Hijiri was about to ask for more details, but Masumi was already going backstage, pretending to have some unfinished conversation with Kuronuma. Masumi strode through the actors that were revising their line a last time and stared at him with shock. In the dressing rooms corridor, he stopped in front of a door marked with the name “Jane”.

“Kitajima!”

The young girl opened her eyes immediately, perfectly awake and sat on the couch. Her teacher was before her, smiling. Maya felt something warm and thick sliding from her back to the floor and noticed a blanket had been put on her.

“Did you do that?”

“No, it was already there when I came in.” He said before adding laughing “Kitajima: I like you, but taking care that the lady would not catch a cold isn’t my first business tonight. We are trying to see if the generating set would be capable of taking over if the storm cut the power.”

“I see.”

“Come on, I let you and Sakurakoji sleep the more I could, but now you’ve got to get ready, the show start half and hour from now.”

Maya was already on her feet. She was feeling right and on form. Kuronuma left to let her get dressed and Maya put her skin-like coloured leotard that will be her first costume. Then she tied her hair and trapped them in an old-pantyhose-made hat and started to put her make up. Once ready, she fixed her long, tangled up, dirty wig on her head. Then, she closed her eyes

She focused on her breathe, calm, even. Slowly, she relaxed one by one every muscles of her body. Her mind unwound, and opened. She remembered the forest, the hunger, the wandering, the cave, the hunt, the mother wolf, and her wide eyes hypnotizing her. She remembered everything the felt then. Her face in the water came up. Everything, all the details of her days and nights alone in the wild, she brought them all back to the surface, as if they happened the day before.

Then she remembered the training, the scenes. She remembered Jane. She pictured her, running naked with her sisters, playing in the plains, watched by their caring mother. She absorbed her feelings, they became her own. She made her chained heart vanish to let Jane’s exist, free. Then, only then, she was ready. When she opened her eyes: Maya was gone.

Jane came backstage. In the audience room, the darkness was waiting for the curtain to rise. The few noises we could only hear backstage were overexcited whispers. Yuu put his hand on her shoulder, but Jane went on stage to place herself on the top of the hill, and when silence was complete and that the curtain began to rise, she started howling.

Quatre : Appels téléphoniques

-          Tiens, c’est pour toi.

-          Ca ? Oh, non Monsieur, je ne peux pas accepter, c’est trop. Je n’en ai pas besoin !

-          Fais-moi plaisir. Insista-t-il avec un  sourire horriblement séduisant, et Maya du se rappeler de respirer alors qu’il ajoutait : De cette manière tu pourras me parler dès que tu en auras envie.

Maya fixait toujours le téléphone portable scintillant qu’elle avait dans les mains, pensive. Vers la fin du dîner, sous prétexte de vouloir vérifier s’il marchait, elle avait prit une photo de M. Kirino avec. Elle ne réalisa que ses pieds l’avaient ramené chez elle que lorsqu’elle se retrouva devant la porte d’entrée.

Rei et Sayaka était toujours debout, l’ayant attendu toute la soirée. Dès qu’elles l’entendirent entrer, elles réagirent au quart de tour.

-          Alors, c’était qui ? S’exclama Sayaka.

-          Oh Maya, je suis désolée ! Tu tiens le coup j’espère ? Demanda Rei.

Cette dernière phrase intrigua. Elle leva les yeux vers son amie.

-          Comment ça, tu es « désolée » ?

Les deux jeunes filles se regardèrent un moment. Rei avait l’air au moins aussi confuse que Maya. Sayaka étouffa un cri :

-          Tu veux dire que tu savais qui c’était ? Se scandalisa-t-elle.

-          Non, je n’ai fait que deviner. C’était tellement évident après tout…

Maya écarquilla les yeux de stupeur.

-          Tu connais Takumi Kirino ? Dit-elle, stupéfaite.

-          Takumi Ki…

Rei s’interrompit et se mordit les lèvres. Elle eu soudai l’air très gênée.

-          Non…non, j’ai dû me tromper…je me suis trompée.

Maya ne comprenait toujours pas ce qu’elle avait voulu dire. Avait-elle cru que M. Rose Pourpre serait quelqu’un qu’elle connaissait ? Quelqu’un qu’elle n’appréciait pas ? La première chose qu’elle avait dite à son retour était qu’elle était désolée, mais de quoi ? Maya retourna cette phrase un millier de fois dans sa tête pour en trouver le sens, mais Sayaka l’interrompit dans ses pensées.

-          Bon, bref, alors ? C’était qui ?

Apparemment, son amie n’en pouvait plus d’attendre.

-          Il s’appelle Takumi Kirino…

-          Il est beau ?

-          Sayaka ! Gronda Rei en levant les yeux au ciel.

Par chance, Sayaka était trop occupée à faire la moue à Rei pour remarquer que Maya piquait un fard. En fait, beau, ça oui qu’il l’était. D’ailleurs…

-          Mais oui, tiens c’est vrai ! Il est bien plus jeune que je ne l’avais imaginé. Dit-elle, et lorsqu’elle vit que Sayaka ne faisait aucun effort pour cacher son grand sourire, Maya s’empourpra d’avantage en poursuivant : Il a environ trente ans. Peut-être trente et un. Je crois qu’il n’a que douze ans de plus que moi.

-          Ce que veut dire que la question demeure : Il est beau, oui ou non ?

Pour cacher son expression, Maya plongea son visage dans son sac à main à la recherche de son téléphone portable. Rei et Sayaka essayèrent de ne pas avoir l’air trop abasourdies lorsqu’elles virent le magnifique – et bien trop cher – iPhone qu’elle leur montrait. En fait, Rei se demandai plutôt si Maya serait un jour capable de s’en servir, alors que les yeux de Sayaka débordaient d’envie.

Elles voulurent dissimuler leur étonnement devant la photo de Takumi Kirino, et échouèrent lamentablement. Rei fronça les sourcils.

-          Mais…ce n’est pas cet homme que j’ai vu te remettre un message de la part de M. Rose Pourpre, une fois ?

-          Exact ! Dit Maya. Il était censé jouer le rôle d’intermédiaire entre M. Rose Pourpre et moi. Mais c’était un mensonge en fait, la vérité c’est qu’il est M. Rose Pourpre !!!

Mais Rei n’était pas soulagée pour autant. En fait, c’était plutôt l’inverse. Et si ce premier mensonge n’en était pas un…et si le véritable mensonge, c’était en fait cette apparente vérité…

Elle se perdit dans les méandres de ses suppositions. La seule chose dont elle était sûre était que quelque chose n’allait pas. Pourquoi M. Rose Pourpre refuserait-il de rencontrer Maya en étant lui-même, mais accepterait de jouer le rôle d’un intermédiaire ? Ca n’avait pas de sens, s’il ne voyait pas d’inconvénients à la rencontrer, il aurait mieux fait d’être honnête avec elle depuis le début, pourquoi faire autant de mystères ?

Rei fronça encore plus les sourcils, ce qui passa totalement inaperçu. Ses deux amies étaient bien trop excitées, Maya pleurait presque de joie. Elle semblait être la seule personne qui considérait cette nouvelle situation avec prudence.

Si sa première supposition était la bonne…pourquoi diable cet homme demanderait-il à M. Kirino de faire une chose pareille ?

Soudain, les trois filles sursautèrent lorsque la photo se mit à clignoter, accompagnée par une petite musique. M. Kirino l’appelait. Le cœur de Maya manqua de s’arrêter. Elle rougit jusqu’aux oreilles, tourna le dos à ses amies et décrocha.

-          A-Allô ?! S’exclama-t-elle d’une voix suraiguë.

Elle l’entendit pouffer légèrement.

-          Bonsoir Maya, c’est Takumi. Dit-il.

Sayaka, qui essayait d’écouter la conversation, eu un grand sourire.

-          Ecoutez-moi cette voix !!! Gloussa-t-elle. Et il l’a saluée en utilisant son prénom ! Tu crois qu’il veut qu’elle le tutoie et l’appelle « Takumi » ?

-          Sayaka, silence ! Siffla Rei.

Takumi pouffa à nouveau. Maya s’horrifia.

-          Ne me dites pas que vous avez tout entendu ? Gémit-elle, embarrassée.

-          Je le crains fort. Ria-t-il. Mais ce n’est pas grave. D’ailleurs c’est vrai, tu peux me tutoyer…et m’appeler par mon prénom si tu veux.

Sayaka étouffa un petit cri, voulu échanger un regard avec Rei et vit que cette dernière avait toujours les sourcils froncés. Maya était plus rouge que jamais.

-          I-Il n’en est pas question ! balbutia-t-elle, provocant un nouvel éclat de rire chez Takumi.

-          Je voulais m’assurer que le téléphone marchait. Dit-il calmement.

-          O-Oui il marche. Merci, vraiment, vraiment beaucoup ! Répondit-elle, surexcitée.

-          J’ai passé une merveilleuse soirée. J’espère que nous nous reverrons bientôt.

Maya sentait ses jambes s’affaiblir.

-          Bien entendu, tu peux m’appeler dès que tu en a envie. Continua-t-il de sa voix douce et tranquille. Tu ne me dérangeras jamais. C’est très important pour moi de savoir comment tu vas.

Sayaka fit semblant de l’évanouir. C’était assez amusant à voir , mais rien en cet instant n’aurait pu faire sourire Rei. Son visage était empreint de dégoût. Elle en était certaine à présent, cette personne avec qui elle parlait n’était pas son admirateur. Elle n’avait évidemment aucun moyen de le prouver, et ce n’était qu’un pressentiment,  mais elle ne croyait pas un mot de cette histoire de faux intermédiaire. Lorsque Maya raccrocha enfin et se tourna vers ses amies, ses yeux étaient pleins de larmes. Rei essaya de ne rien laisser paraître de sa colère, mais avant qu’elle ne  pu faire quoi que ce soit, Maya s’était jetée dans ses bras, pleurant à chaudes larmes.

Sayaka était aux anges.

***

Hijiri était encore dans l’ascenseur menant à son étage – désolé : appartement – lorsqu’il raccrocha. Non, il n’imaginait rien : effectivement,  Maya pleurait. Avoir entendu à quel point son existence était précieuse à ses yeux l’avait émue aux larmes. Cette fille était incroyable. Il ne savait pas pourquoi, mais cette réaction excessive l’attendrissait. Il pouvait aisément imaginer la tête qu’elle faisait à présent. Elle était si naïve.

L’ascenseur s’arrêta. Hijiri entra dans son nouveau foyer, et s’écroula sur un sofa, comme à l’accoutumée.

Les yeux brillant d’émotion et le visage souriant et mouillé de larmes de Maya éclipsaient toutes ses autres pensées. Comme le tableau scintillant de l’innocence parfaite et authentique. Une innocence dont il abusait.

Son téléphone sonna.

-          Oui ? Hayami Sama…oui. Elle a beaucoup aimé le diner, oui….Hayami Sama, je suis sincèrement navré…oui, Monsieur, je le lui ais donné. Bonne nuit, Monsieur.

Il se sentait plus honteux que jamais. M. Hayami avait vraiment l’air d’aller mal…et lui qui s’amusait à imaginer Maya, pleurant de joie pour lui….

Il soupira. Il balaya l’appartement des yeux  et son regard s’arrêta sur la bibliothèque. Il se leva et attrapa l’album de lycée de Maya. Il s’assit confortablement dans un fauteuil et l’ouvrit. Les photos le réconfortèrent d’une certaine façon, comme si la tendresse et la pureté de la jeune fille le lavaient de l’intérieur. Certaines le firent même rire, comme celle où Maya essayait de cuisiner quelque chose qui semblait plutôt brûler. Cette fille était vraiment quelque chose.

Il regarda l’album encore et encore, jusqu’à l’aube.

***

Masumi faisait les cent pas au travers de la longue pièce. Peut-être devrait-il attendre un peu plus longtemps. Peut-être étaient-ils encore au restaurant. A cette pensée son cœur lui fit mal. 

Peut-être qu’ils s’amusaient tellement qu’ils ne voyaient pas le temps passer.

Non, il ne devait pas y penser. C’était sa décision. Il devait tourner la page.

Il le fallait.

Mais il n’en pouvait plus d’attendre. Il saisit son téléphone et appela Hijiri.

-          Hijiri ! Alors…tu…tu l’as fait, n’est-ce pas ?

Il soupira. Il dû éclaircir sa voix avant de répondre.

-          A-t-elle…a-t-elle apprécié le dîner ?

Il couvrit ses yeux en écoutant la réponse, et il avait du mal à respirer calmement. Il fit de son mieux pour le cacher, mais n’importe qui s’en serait aperçu.

-          Est-ce que tu lui as donné le téléphone ? Merci. Merci, Hijiri. Bonne Nuit.

Et il raccrocha.

Un silence parfait régnait à présent dans le salon. Trop parfait, même. Il s’empara du tisonnier de la cheminée et l’abattit violemment sur le vase le plus proche. L’objet  explosa, et les fragments de porcelaine brisée se rependirent  en grand nombre sur la moquette rouge, avec l’eau et les fleurs.

Il ne se sentait pas mieux pour autant.

***

Il était tard, et Sayaka dormait profondément à présent. Maya et Rei étaient aussi allongées sur leur futon, mais l’une comme l’autre avaient peine à fermer les yeux.

-          Rei…est-ce que je peux te poser une question ? Chuchota Maya.

-          Bien sûr.

-          Alors voilà : qui pensais-tu que c’était ? M. Rose Pourpre. Tu pensais que c’était quelqu’un d’autre, n’est-ce pas ? Tu nous as dis que ça te semblait évident. As qui pensais-tu ?

Son amie ne répondit pas immédiatement. Elle réfléchissait. Lui dire ou ne pas  lui dire : telle était la question. Elle pouvait toujours lui mentir. Elle pouvait lui dire qu’elle pensait que c’était Yuu Sakurakoji. Non, en fait elle ne pouvait pas. Premièrement parce que Yuu était un gentil garçon, certes, mais jamais il n’aurait pu remplir ce rôle, n’ayant ni l’argent ni l’imagination. De plus, lui ayant demandé si elle tenait le coup, alors ça ne marcherait pas. Il valait mieux lui dire la vérité.

-          Rei ? Insista Maya.

Rei soupira. Eh bien, s’il le faut…

-          J’ai cru que c’était Masumi Hayami.

***

La chambre était plus calme que jamais. Maya pouvait entendre le vent faire trembler les volets. La respiration de Sayaka était toujours aussi profonde et sonore, elle rêvait encore. Elle pouvait presque entendre son propre cœur, battant si fort qu’elle sentait qu’il allait exploser.

-          M. Hayami ? Répéta-t-elle lentement.

-          Oui.

-          Maintenant je comprends pourquoi tu pensais que je serais choquée.

Rei hocha la tête.

-          Mais….M. Hayami est si…enfin Rei comment peux-tu imaginer une chose pareille ?

-          Tu ne le vois donc pas ?

Tout en regardant le plafond dans la pénombre, Rei s’expliqua.

-          Il est si gentil et attentionné avec toi. Bon, je le reconnais, « gentil » n’est peut-être pas le mot qu’il convient : il a son caractère, c’est vrai, et parfois il peut se montrer dur, mais c’est toujours pour ton bien. Il te fait voir la réalité en face, et il te donne sans arrêt de bons conseils, comme lorsqu’il t’a dit de te montrer polie et respectueuse même envers les gens que tu déteste. Lorsqu’il t’a obligé à aller voir la pièce d’Ayumi, il s’est peut-être montré violent, mais en jouant ce rôle de méchant, il t’a forcée à réaliser le chemin qu’il te restait à accomplir. Il t’a laissée vivre chez lui pendant que tu te sentais déprimée ! Il t’a même montré publiquement de l’intérêt en t’offrant des fleurs devant de nombreuses personnes importantes après ta pièce! Il n’avait pas à le faire, mais grâce à lui tu as reçu de nombreuses offres de rôles. S’il ne se souciait pas de toi, crois-moi, il ne se serait pas donné cette peine ! C’est un homme important, pourquoi ferait-il tout ça pour une fille qui ne veut même pas faire partit de sa compagnie ? C’est pour ça que j’ai cru qu’il était ton admirateur. Mais je suppose que je suis trompée…

Oui, peut-être me suis-je trompée, pensa-t-elle. Peut-être pas.

Maya s’assit et fixa Rei, choquée.

-          Mais, est-ce que tu oublies ce qu’il a fait à ma mère ?

-          Bien sûr que non ! S’exclama Rei. Mais comment aurait-il pu savoir que Mme Kitajima s’échapperait de l’hôpital ? Elle ne serait peut-être pas morte si elle était restée bien au chaud !

-          Mais enfin est-ce que tu entends ce que tu dis ? Rei, il l’a enfermée !

-          Mais c’était pour que tu aies du succès. Il voulait te faire de la publicité !

-          Ca ne change rien, ma mère n’était pas un outil ! Je n’en reviens pas que tu sois en train de le défendre…

-          Maya..soupira-t-elle. Ecoute, réfléchis-y, d’accord ? Maya je peux t’assurer que Masumi Hayami ne prends soin d’aucune autre actrice comme il prend soin de toi.

-          M. Hayami…prend soin de moi ? Répéta-t-elle, confuse.

Elle n’avait jamais vu les choses de cette façon. Pourquoi cet homme ferait-il une telle chose ? Elle ne représentait rien pour lui. Rien du tout.

Bewilderment

Even at this late hour, the Tokyo’s mid-town streets were crowded. Barely out of the Shibuya Theatre’s main building, which belonged to the ISDC chain (International Stage of Daito Corporation), was Maya alone walking in the crown that was hurrying up in the large Shibuya’s streets. From the 109 Tour was a great clamour rising, due to the hundreds of girls that, while squeezing themselves against the doors, were waiting for the latest fashion items to be put on the shelves at midnight. In other circumstances, this view of urban madness would have made her laugh, but her heart was full of a dreadful bitterness as she was heading to the nearest subway station, her arms holding her abdomen.

“Maya...Maya, are you crying?”

Yuu had put his strong hand on her arm, and she had pushed it with more vigour than she had wanted to.

“Leave me alone!”

The expression of his eyes then had been a mixture of concern and surprise, and she ran away.

Nothing was real. Everything she believed in, all those she was trusting never did but lying to her. Was it a single truth in all the things she heard those past four months? What about Takumi? Who was he really? Oh, how hard it was to think now! Masumi Hayami just offered her a wonderful publicity, she never felt so happy than since Takumi Kirino invited her to diner, and the simple thought of seeing them again, either of them, was making her heart go helplessly crazy. But nothing could justify, or legitimate such a betrayal: to actually make an impostor out to be the man she had always been so eager to meet! How much were they up to plot in order to deceive her? Were the feelings Takumi confessed to her sincere? And why, why Masumi hid his identity?

***

It was in those kinds of moments that Masumi was glad to be taller than most of his follow countrymen. Nothing was so convenient to look for someone in a crowd as having a being a head taller than the people next to you. Only, no matter how hard he looked for it, he couldn’t find the object of his thoughts. His worry became even worse when a young greenhorn – who he judged to be a little too handsome - announced to his drunkard genius of director that their muse just went away. Imagining Maya Kitajima, all alone, five feet tall for ninety-two pounds at such a late hour in the street – or worse! : In the subway – of Tokyoinfuriated him, and he superbly ignored his beautiful fiancée-to-be, who apparently wanted to introduce him to some kind of diplomat, whose name he didn’t even try to keep in mind, and strode out of the Shibuya’s Theatre.

***

Her phone rang, but she didn’t wish to speak to anyone for now. She kept walking slowly, wiping her tears as they flowed along her cheeks. Her cell mobile vibrated a full minute during before stopping and a text informed her that she had been send a vocal message. She listened to it. After a few seconds of parasites, a voice wounded her heart.

            “Maya it’s me...Takumi...Listen, I’m at my office and I’m currently watching the local news. They are talking about you right now! Here, listen to that.”

An icy voice covered her friend’s

            “...is currently the subject of all the drama’s lovers’ conversations. Indeed, just a few minute ago, the guests of the reception celebrating the premiere of the most awaited play, Isadora, got the chance to witness an impressing acting display, staging the Vice-president of the famous Daito Corporation, Hayami Masumi, and the young actress Kitajima Maya. This last one showed her new character, the wolf-girl Jane, to a captivated audience, as you can see on this photograph...”

The program presenter faded away and Takumi spoke again.

            “And this is only the beginning. The photos are currently being posted on all the local and even national news websites, and we can forget Twitter that’s spreading the links at light speed. You better not stay by yourself; I feel that the journalists are going to get interested in you. Anyway, call me back.”

Maya noticed the inch of worry that nuanced his voice and wondered whether she could trust it or not. Four month during he deceived her, how could she know if he was telling the truth now? Her heard was heavy in her chest. She didn’t like that. Being forced to doubt, to be wary, not knowing who to believe and who to be careful with. Until now, everything had been so easy. She ever had but one rule in that matter: Trust everyone, except Hayami Masumi. And Onodera, but well, he never came to talk randomly to her, so she never had to worry. Now, she found herself wanting to believe in Masumi Hayami, and doubting Takumi Kirino, whom she felt so close to those last few months! Her life seemed to loose its balance. How bad she would have wanted to talk to her dear Tsukikage-Sensei right now!  

But she wasn’t here, and the only person who ever even slightly comforted her beside her professor was Mr Purple Rose. Well, it came up that he actually was Masumi Hayami, that man whom she sustained a so complicated relationship with, varying from hatred to friendship while going through those moments of strange complicity that moved her so much inside. Recalling this so successful improvisation, and remembering his so intense gaze when she got up on her feet, a burning electrical discharge made her shiver. An enjoyable feeling...only wasted by the bitterness she couldn’t get rid of. Why did he lie to her, all those years? Even though he knew, he always knew how badly she wanted to meet him! What did he felt then when, overwhelmed by thankfulness she threw herself into his arms, four years ago? Even though, in over six year, nothing. Nothing but flowers and card, and after that a lie even bigger. Why? 

            “Maya?” Behind her, a suave voice called her name. A voice her heard recognized before her mind.

Surprised, she turned round almost immediately and saw Hayami Masumi, standing before her, and trying to cover his gasping breathe with a pleasant smile. His eyes, however, reflected the sincere worry that made him run to her.

Maya looked away. She hoped that the darkness would hide her face striated with tears, but it was never night in Tokyo, especially in Shibuya and the light coming from the shops’ windows and the outsize advertising posters on the buildings offered to Masumi the distressing sight of her troubled face. Blushing with shame, Maya hadn’t the strength to help herself from crying, and even if she spared no effort to fight her sobs, the spasms in her voice gave her away when she managed to articulate:

            “Hayami-san...what are you doing here?”

Speaking his name was painful to her, more than any other word, she noticed it too late. She couldn’t even look at him in the eyes. Her anonymous admirer, her first fan, the confident of her dream! She was feeling so stupid and weak for having dreamed so much now.

            “Maya...are you okay? What’s going on?

As he was getting no answer, he tried to guess. He smiled, and said with an inch of humour.

            “Chibi-chan, is it your part that put you in a state like that? Too much emotion for you?

            “Yes, that’s it,” she answered without looking at him. “The emotion.”

Masumi was caught on the hop. He had hoped to provoke her to give her energy back, as always, but it hadn’t worked this time. He tried again.

            “This in not the kind of behaviour that would help you getting the Award, you know. And we can forget the part of the Crimson Goddess!”

He used his same cold laugh, which was received by a new tear on her cheek. The young woman was obviously trying not to cry in front of him, but apparently she couldn’t contain everything in her. It was graver than he thought. Trying not to panic, he stammered:

            “About later...you did a great job. And if I hurt you, I apologize...”

            “No. No I’m fine”

She wanted him gone. Gone before she could burst into tears, or screams. His presence by her side was unbearable: shame was filling her self with tears and electricity was making her blood boil. He knew everything about her, from the beginning. All this time, like her friend Rei told her, he took care of her, gave her everything. Scholarship tuition, Tsukikage-sensei’s hospital, the part of Helen Keller, and all those roses! Yet, four months ago, she decided to get rid of her, why? She would really like to know why he lied to her, but she was afraid of the answer she might get. Perhaps because she already knew it? That a man like him, so powerful, so wealthy, so influent, would never feel anything but pity for the poor orphan actress that she was. That was why he never told her who he was: there was simply no point.

            “You should go back inside, and talk to the journalists.”

            “No!”

She didn’t mean to shout. The memory of their performance had been too violent. She could clearly see, remember this moment when Shiori arrived and drag him away from her. His fiancée-to-be. She was beautiful, with slender features; any man would immediately fall in love with her. Her voice was smooth and the whiteness or her skin delicate. He certainly loved her. Wasn’t it four months since they started dating?

She finally raised her eyes to him, and met an unreadable gaze. He had come closer to her, and she had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. Shiori wouldn’t have to, she thought. Her pain of being betrayed switched to a complete other kind of sorrow. He introduced her to Kirino Takumi when he started dating Shiori. That’s why you abandoned me, Mr Purple Rose? She thought. To marry her?

That changed everything. If he left her to be faithful to the woman he fell in love with, how could she ever blame him? It was rather what one could expect of a honest an respectful man. That was what reason was telling her.

But she was angry with him! She was blaming him! Why, why hadn’t he ever told her anything? She was, neither pretty nor intelligent, she was aware of it, but she reckoned she had the right to know! To know who protected her during her entire adolescence, and helped her to become who she was now! To know who haunted her dreams and hopes!

Masumi was breathless. Something had awakened, inside Maya, and he hadn’t provoked it, at least not intentionally.  And it was not a good sign, because that thing she was seeing now was nothing like a childish anger or the internal struggle of a frustrated teenager. Her eyes were full of a deep sadness and anger, a sort of revulsion she had never addressed him before. The look itself was more wounding than all the insults she ever uttered to him. It cruelly pierced his self, reaching his very soul. Without reason, he was already feeling guilty. She was about to say something when the vibrations of her cell phone cut her surge. With an irritated move, she took the mobile in her hands and looked at the tactile screen with an unreadable look, without picking up.

            “You are not taking it?” He managed to ask.

The strange look she gave him surprised him even more.

            “Who is that?”

But Maya didn’t answer. She was still taken aback and bit her lower lip. Out of impatience, he grabbed the phone and glanced at the name that was displayed on the screen. Takumi Kirino. He swallowed painfully. The vibrations in this hands didn’t stop, Hijiri desperately wanted to speak to her. Sighing, he gave her the phone back and said.

            “You should answer that.”

Maya close her eyes a moment; her teeth still imprisoning her lower lip, an unconscious move that had the tendency to awaken some urges that made him step back. Finally, she pressed the key and raised the phone to her ear without opening her eyes.

            “Kirino-san? Yes, I’ve got your message. I am between the Shibuya’s Theatre and the subway station facing the 109 Tour. Thank you.”

She had said all this with a remarkable calmness, and Masumi suspected her of having used her talent for acting in order to stabilize her. It so it was, this would mean she would have made a big step forward to play with the big boys, he thought. She faced him again, trying to keep her look unemotional, but Masumi could discern her fought sadness which he still couldn’t tell the source. Her refusal to unburden your heart to him was alarming. He was feeling like she was escaping him, that was loosing her. And he had thought they were closer, because of their performance!

            “Kirino-san said he was coming to pick me up.”

This sentence was putting and end to their short conversation. Masumi was now feeling more frustrated than ever. He just saw her crying, in front of him, without knowing the reason, when ten minute sooner they were living an absolute symbiosis. And now here she was, closing herself like an oyster. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she spills her secret out, but he feared the sight of her crying. He cowardly ran away before Hijiri would come back and take her away from him.

***

Alone in the underground parking lot, Masumi lightened a cigarette, which would soon be siding the five other crashed on the ground. Maya’s face was floating before his eyes like a dram, and he wanted to consume his cigarettes until the nicotine would calm his veins and the smoke would cloud over this distressing sight. Why was she crying? Did Hijiri know? Was it something he did, something he said? He sighed. He was tired of carrying this load. He carried it for so many years. Why had he to make her cry each and every time things between them were starting to get better? Only this time, it was worse, he didn’t ever know if it was his fault! But what else could it be? Who else could make her mood go so radically wrong in just a minute?

            “Where were you?” A weak voice behind him asked.

He sighed. That was the last person he wanted to speak with right now.

            “Busy.”

Well, that at least was not too vague. He smirked. However the delicate creature didn’t let herself getting impressed and walker closer to him.

            “You know, you shouldn’t smoke...”

            “Are you really going to tell me what to do?!” He screamed.

This time, Shiori froze, shocked by the hard and angry tone. Tears came up to her fake eyelashes and Masumi almost immediately regretted his words: he already got his share of female tears for at least a week.

            “Masumi-sama... “She whispered affectedly 

He sighed. He was unfair to her; she had nothing to do with this.

            “I’m sorry.”

Having got what she wanted, she gathered herself and took advantage of this moment of weakness to tackle the subject of her concern.

            “This child is always in your mind.” She said almost accusatively.

Far from denial, he pulled on his cigarette once, and said: “Indeed she is. She is...very talented.”

It was the only confession he could authorize himself to make. He sighed again, his too loud and heavy sigh coming to Shiori’s ears. But he didn’t pay attention to her, a faraway look in his eyes, gazing at the wet marks of rust on a pillar. Was she with him now?

***

Hijiri was feeling that something was wrong. Since the very moment she got into he knew: she was hiding something from him. Of course, after a merely four month and one letter, he couldn’t possibly claim he knew all about her personality and attitudes, but some sign couldn’t lie neither. She wasn’t looking at him, she was speaking until she was spoken to, and she had this little way of knotting her fingers. That much clichés at once couldn’t possibly be a good sign. And she even refused to go to his place – his condo was on the beautiful Shibuya’s Koen Dori Street, meaning just five minutes away. So, during the fifteen minutes they were on the road, he racked his brain to find an explanation. The only believable conclusion he came up with was that Masumi Hayami found a way to upset her again. He thought of the pictures he saw of the Jane’s performance. The pictures were impressive indeed, but they were also showing a fight opposing Maya to Masumi, and giving the build of the two different protagonists, it was easy to imagine which one ended up with most bruises.

            “He’s been brutal with you.” He said. “I’m sincerely sorry he put you through this. Don’t take it personally; he was just being boorish, as always.”

That’s when Maya’s reaction caught him on the hop. She screamed “Boorish? He helped me!”

Intrigued by her reaction and her response as well, Hijiri allowed himself to tear his look away from the road one second to show her his interrogating eyes. “He did?” was all he got to make her speak again.

It wasn’t that surprising that Masumi would want to promote her in such an occasion. But that Maya would recognize that, that was less common. And he didn’t like that, in a way.

            “It was all planed! And this, in order to make good publicity on me!”

            “You mean...you knew that was going to happen?”

            “I wanted it to happen! And anyway, it was...fun.”

He saw the young woman’s eyes go darker without understanding why. He focused on the road. Anger slowly started to fill him up until he was completely overwhelmed. Hearing her qualifying what happened with Masumi ‘fun’ was irritating him and he clenched more firmly the wheel.

            “I thought you weren’t feeling well because of what he did to you!”

            “What do you imply by that?”

Didn’t really had a clue? How could she find this scene entertaining? In what kind of world was she living?

            “He hit you, he could have hurt you!” He cried. “Being lynched in front of a greedy audience: that is your idea of having fun?”

            “If he did hurt me, he didn’t mean to!”

            “Really? How can you be so sure of that?’ He screamed, aggravated to hear her defending him.

            “He wouldn’t do such things intentionally! He is not...”

            “Come on Maya, wake up!” He yelled. “He killed your mother!”

He immediately regretted those words. The conversation had tuned into a fight, though it wasn’t meant to be one. His anger vanished suddenly. He replayed the whole argument and got shocked by his own violence. No answers echoed his fury, and he couldn’t help but glancing at her. His heart failed to stop.

Maya was frozen on her seat, her wide opened eyes flowing a stream of tears on her pale cheeks. This wasn’t the fight; it was something else, something deeper. She wasn’t sobbing, she wasn’t moving, she wasn’t even blinking, but her eyes staring at the road weren’t going to stop crying. Worried, Hijiri pulled over and stop the car.

            “Maya?”

No reaction. The young lady was still frozen, her lashes motionless. Hijiri was feeling even guiltier. He didn’t like this sight. He had to do something.

            “Maya...I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Without saying a word, Maya started breathing in short gasps, as if she was afraid of something. Tears were still running along her cheeks, and wetting her pretty dress. Panicking, Hijiri put his hand on her shoulder and felt she was incredibly stiff. Seeing how she wasn’t reacting, he shook her a little.

            “Maya? Maya, say something!”

Her breath came in shorter and louder gasps. Her hand reached her chest, as if something was hampering there, and she panicked. Hijiri finally got what was going on, and unfastening their car belt he said.

            “Listen to me; that is what we are going to do: you are going to put your head between you knees. Come on, Maya, go ahead. I’ll help you.”

Slowly, he pushed her neck while she was doing it. As she was still suffocating, he caressed her back, whispering: “That’s it Maya, you are doing great. Now breathe. Breathe.”

It took several minutes for Maya to calm down. Saddened, Hijiri poured out apologizes and restarted the car after a moment. They spoke no more during the rest of the route. Maya was curled up on her seat, her head leaning on the window. She wasn’t crying any more.

***

The journalists left the reception room at last to go write their articles, and Yuu Sakurakoji was now alone. He scanned the room, looking for Maya, vainly hoping she would came back, but she was still gone. He sighed. He noticed that he wasn’t the only alone person in the room, and it wasn’t like Ayumi to be a wallflower. Yet, she was smiling peacefully. He came closer to her, intrigued, and started the conversation.

            “What did you think of the show?”

She glanced smartly at him and smiled, saying: “Which one?”

“Both.” He answered, smiling back at her.

            “Well, I’d say Isadora was admirable, if we only consider the technique, but the acting was a bit shallow to be. But about Maya’s performance...” Her eyes had a faraway gaze as she remembered the incident. She grinned. “Well, it was surprising, as always. She completely fulfil me expectations.”

Yuu laughed and shared a look of complicity with the young lady. After a moment, he tackled the subject of his concern.

            “There is, however, someone who did something unexpected: the Vice-President Hayami.”

Ayumi gave him a surprised look. “Unexpected?”

Yuu, who thought he wasn’t being understood, explained himself “Indeed. Who would imagine that someone like him would ever help an actress the way he did.”

“She is not just any actress!”

“Of course, I know that: she is wonderful. But I meant: who ever saw him do anything...for anyone’s sake?! Even for you, he would never have done that!”

Ayumi laughed cheerfully and looked deep into his eyes.

            “I think you misunderstood me...what I meant was that Maya wasn’t just any actress to him.”

***

In the underground parking lot, Masumi Hayami was still smoking, without paying any attention to Shiori. If he had done so, he would certainly have noticed the clenched fists of her bride, as well as the expression of deep hatred that disfiguring her pretty face.

Kitajima Maya...

Trois : Chaque petit détail comptait

En entrant dans le restaurant, il réalisa qu’il avait encore le choix. Il pouvait tout aussi bien s’asseoir en face de la jeune fille et lui dire que M. Rose Pourpre ne viendrait pas. Et après il pouvait lui dire que le véritable M. Rose Pourpre n’était autre que Masumi Hayami. Il commença à imaginer son visage, réagissant à cette révélation.

C’est là qu’il réalisa qu’il ne savait même pas laquelle de ces deux nouvelles lui briserait le plus le cœur. En cet instant il comprit enfin pourquoi son ami avait été si loin : pour ne pas avoir à choisir la manière dont il décevrait son seul amour, mais plutôt pour  pouvoir la rendre heureuse. Il n’était pas près à prendre un tel risque.

Ca allait être dur. Et douloureux, vraiment douloureux. Mais s’il réussissait à tenir fidèlement son rôle, Maya ne connaitrait plus jamais le malheur. Tout ce qu’il avait à faire, c’était s’asseoir sur cette chaise, lui raconter cette pseudo-vérité, prendre soin d’elle pour quelque mois, afin qu’elle soit capable d’ouvrir son cœur à quelqu’un d’autre le moment venu. Lors, il serait son meilleur ami, puis un ami très proche, puis juste un ami, puis un ami de longue date, et enfin, un précieux souvenir. Il pouvait le supporter. Voilà pourquoi il s’assit sur cette chaise, en face s’elle, souriant, agonisant, et se présentant comme M. Rose Pourpre. A présent il n’avait plus d’autre choix que de s’en tenir au plan. Chaque petit détail comptait.

Elle n’arrivait pas à y croire ! Hijiri Karato, cet homme qu’elle avait rencontré pour la toute première fois un an et demi plus tôt, cette personne à qui elle parlait si librement de ses sentiments pour son admirateur, était en réalité M. Rose Pourpre. Quelle chose étrange, et inimaginable, et incroyable : c’était lui ! Lui, depuis toujours, depuis le tout premier jour, tout le temps.

Quand il était venu la soutenir lors du casting pour le rôle d’Aldis, prétendant être un journaliste, c’était lui. Quand elle avait les yeux bandés, dans cette villa et que M. Rose Pourpre la serrée si fort dans ses bras, c’était lui. Quand elle désirait tant aller au lycée, mais qu’elle n’en avait pas les moyens, c’était lui qui avait payé ses frais de scolarité. Hijiri Karato était la toute première personne, en dehors de Tsukikage Sensei, a voir jamais cru en elle.

Et le voilà, en face d’elle, pour la centième fois. Sauf que cette fois, tout était différent. Ce soir, il était M. Rose Pourpre. Réalisant cela, elle se sentit débordante de la plus merveilleuse de sensation. Elle éclata de rire.

-          Quel soulagement ! S’exclama-t-elle.

-          Je vous demande pardon ? Demanda Hijiri à moitié en train de paniquer. Qu’est-ce que vous voulez dire ? 

Débarrassée de toutes peurs, Maya s’empara des mains de Hijiri tout en continuant à rire et le regarda droit dans les yeux. Figé sur place, et en proie à une sérieuse inquiétude, le jeune homme attendit sa réponse.

-          L’espace d’une seconde, expliqua Maya, j’ai bien cru que vous alliez me dire que mon cher fan ne viendrait pas, comme, vous savez, l’autre fois…

Sa joie se ternit un peu lorsqu’elle évoqua cette anecdote, mais elle continua, recommençant à rire à gorge déployée.

-          Mais j’avais tord ! Vous êtes ici parce que c’est vous ! M. Rose Pourpre, c’est vous !

Hijiri ne pouvait plus bouger. Ses yeux, scintillant comme des diamants, le pénétraient profondément comme s’ils essayaient de lui faire pleinement comprendre quelque chose, en l’occurrence à quel point il était merveilleux, amusant et étonnant de le considérer comme étant l’inconnu aux roses pourpres. Ce regard étonné le captivait, et lui fit comprendre ce qu’il y avait de si spécial chez cette fille. Elle n’en savait probablement rien, mais ses yeux avaient un pouvoir démentiel sur les gens. Ils l’incitèrent même à rire avec elle.

Soudain, la jeune fille se rendit compte de l’endroit où ses mains s’étaient retrouvées, et les retirait précipitamment. En la voyant rougir, Hijiri toussa exprès, en essayant d’être le plus naturel possible, et détourna les yeux.

Voilà qui était embarrassant.

-          Mais il y a quelque chose que je ne comprends pas. Continua Maya. Pourquoi maintenant ? Pourquoi ne l’avez-vous pas dit avant ?

Nous y voilà, pensa Hijiri. Le spectacle commençait. Et, bien entendu, il connaissait son texte.

-          Je ne voulais pas détruire notre lien en vous disant la vérité. J’avais peur.

Il ferma les yeux pour qu’elle ne puisse voir son état. Elle ne devait pas s’apercevoir du dégoût qu’il éprouvait envers lui-même en cet instant, ça gâcherait tout. Il reprit ses esprits et remit son masque sur son visage. Il leva les yeux et rencontra les siens. Deux grands yeux brun  abasourdis.

-          Peur ? Répéta-t-elle, perplexe. De quoi ? De moi ?

S’il n’avait pas été agonisant de douleur, il aurait sûrement éclaté de rire. L’expression sur son visage était juste trop drôle.

Je fais peur, moi ? Se demanda Maya. Ca, pour sur ça en expliquerait des choses, mais ça serait aussi bien surprenant. Comment qui que ce soit pourrait être effrayé par quelqu’un comme elle ? Etait-ce quelque chose qu’elle avait dite, ou faite ? Elle était encore en pleine méditation lorsqu’Hijiri l’interrompit.

-          Je sais que vous détestez Masumi Hayami. Dit il, et il observa qu’un frisson la parcouru en entendant son nom.  Et étant donné que je travaille pour lui, je pensais que vous…

-          Oh.

C’était là la meilleure réponse qu’elle avait trouvée. Elle avait été distraite par la sensation brûlante de sa main, qui la chatouillait encore.

-          Ca ne va pas ?

Maya sursauta, revenant soudain à la réalité. Hijiri la regardait d’un drôle d’air. Gênée, elle secoua sa main en répondant

-          Non, il y a rien.

Quel était ce regard ? Pensa Hijiri Là, dans ses yeux, lorsque j’ai évoqué Masumi Sama ? Un frisson d’horreur lui parcouru l’échine. Et si ce piège, cette pièce, était basés sur une erreur ? Et si Maya n’éprouvait plus de haine envers son ami à présent. Et si…

Mais il était déjà trop tard, non ?

-          Alors, M. Hijiri.

-          En fait, l’interrompit-il, je ne m’appelle pas Karato Hijiri.

Prise par surprise, Maya écarquilla les yeux.

-          Mon nom est en fait Takumi Kirino. Mentit-il en la regardant droit dans les yeux.

Elle sembla encore plus étonnée qu’auparavant. Ses lèvres répétaient silencieusement son pseudonyme.

-          Comme je l’ai déjà dis, continua-t-il avec un sourire affable, j’avais peur. Cette peur m’a conduit à faire des choses stupides. J’en suis navré.

Mais elle secoua la tête et dit gentiment, un grand sourire illuminant son visage :

            

-          Vous n’avez pas besoin de vous excuser, tout va bien…M. Kirino ! Ajouta-t-elle après une seconde hésitante.

Etes-vous heureuse, maintenant ?

Cette question ne sortait plus de sa tête. Durant tous ces mois où il lui avait délivrés des messages de la part de son meilleur, de son seul ami, il avait eu tout le temps de connaître sa personnalité. Chaque message ou cadeau qu’il lui remettait de la part de M. Rose Pourpre étaient perçus comme des dons du ciel. Rien en ce monde n’était plus facile que de rendre cette jeune fille heureuse. Pourtant, la voir souriante était sans doute l’une des plus belles choses qu’il n’ait jamais vues. Sauf qu’en cet instant il ne méritait pas de voir cela. Masumi Sama était celui qui était supposé apprécier ce diner, voir ces yeux, grands ouverts, débordant de plaisir et d’interrogation.

-          Je suis si heureuse de pouvoir enfin vous rencontrer, M. Rose Pourpre, M. Kirino ! Dit-elle joyeusement.

Hijiri répondit par un sourire douloureux.

Pendant une minute, ils ne firent que se regarder dans le blanc des yeux. Mais pour ne pas laisser le silence s’installer, Hijiri entama la conversation à nouveau.

-          Dites moi, Maya Sama, avez-vous…

-          Oh non, vous pouvez me tutoyer ! Dit-elle précipitamment.

Hijiri eu un sourire empreint de gratitude et il hocha la tête. Mais Maya ne le laissa pas finit sa question.

-          D’ailleurs c’est vraiment injuste ! Dit-elle. Vous me connaissez depuis que j’ai treize ans, vous savez absolument tout de moi ! (Hijiri en doutait) Mais en ce qui me concerne, je ne sais strictement rien de vous !

Et bien, voilà qui n’était pas surprenant. Masumi l’avait prévenu, elle allait être curieuse à son sujet. Il allait donc lui demander ce qu’elle voulait savoir et elle répondrait…

-          Absolument tout !

En plein dans le mille. Hijiri pouffa de rire.

Une fois de plus, il allait devoir réciter son texte. Il retint un soupir.

Hijiri passa le reste du diner à lui raconter sa vie. Comment ses parents était morts quand il n’avait que quatorze ans : un accident de voiture. Comment il avait vécu avec sa grand-mère jusqu’à sa mort alors qu’il avait vingt ans, lui laissant la fortune de toute une famille. Comment il avait utilisé cette fortune pour payer ses études à l’Université de Tokyo. Il lui raconta tout à propos de ses voyages en France, aux Etats-Unis, et en Chine, parsemant ces lieux de fausses anecdotes. Il lui dit aussi comment, durant sa jeunesse, il avait désiré devenir acteur, mais avait abandonné après quelques années parce qu’il manquait de talent. Puis il lui dit comment à trente trois ans il s’était vu engagé comme traducteur pour la Daito, travaillant beaucoup pour Masumi Hayami en personne, pour tout ce qui concernait le commerce et les relations internationales. Comment de temps en temps il devait aller voir une pièce ou un film et en rédiger une critique pour la Compagnie.C’est dans ce cadre professionnel qu’il s’est retrouvé un beau jour à la première des Quatre Filles du Docteur March. Tout ces détails permettaient à Maya de comprendre qu’il avait douze ans de plus qu’elle, ce qui était la seule chose vraie de tout son récit.

Au début, il n’était pas facile à Hijiri de s’en tenir à son rôle, parce que Maya demandait beaucoup de détails, que les instructions de Masumi ne couvraient pas toujours, alors il devait étoffer son personnage lui-même. Mais, au fil des heures, il réalisa qu’il était devenu plutôt bon à ce jeu. Il comprit aussi que s’il le voulait il pouvait mentir ainsi pendant des semaines et des mois sans problème. Après tout, Maya lui faisait confiance, elle ne remettrait jamais sa parole en question.

Il était dégoûtant.

Deux : Vous comptez encore lui bander les yeux peut-être ?

Deux jours plus tôt.

Il était minuit passé dans l’énorme salon du manoir Hayami, pourtant Masumi était encore debout, et contemplait les flammes qui léchaient le mur du foyer et noircissaient ses pierres. Peut-être allait-il acheter une nouvelle cheminée, une en verre, plus moderne…

Il avait appelé Hijiri dès son arrivée chez lui et lui avait demandé de venir aussi vite que possible. Hijiri avait accepté. Depuis, Masumi n’avait pas cessé d’attendre, le regard sur le feu de cheminée.

Il allait le regretter. Mais ses sentiments à lui ne comptaient pas. Maya méritait d’être heureuse.

Le Bonheur…savait-il seulement ce que c’était ? Le saurait-il un jour ?

Il soupira.

Evidemment, sans Maya, inutile de songer au bonheur.

-          Masumi Sama, Monsieur Hijiri  est ici.

-          Faites-le entrer.

*

-          Je dois vous avouer Monsieur, dit Hijiri, que j’étais un peu inquiet après votre appel. Qu’y a-t-il donc de si urgent qui ne puisse même pas attendre jusqu’à l’aube ?

-          J’ai pris une décision, Hijiri, répondit à mi-voix Masumi, ses yeux toujours autant concentrés sur le feu de bois. Il posa un bras sur le manteau de la cheminée avant de poursuivre : et je voulais l’énoncer à haute voix avant de changer d’avis.

Son ton d’avait rien de rassurant. Quelque chose n’allait pas. Attendant la suite de son discours, Hijiri resta silencieux. Une minute s’écoula. Puis, toujours sans regarder son ami, Masumi se décida à dire :

-          Il y a un dossier sur le bureau. Ouvre-le, c’est une photo.

Ce n’était pas un dosser, en fait. Plus un genre de grande carte blanche agrémenté de dentelles dorées. Intrigué, Hijiri s’en empara.

-          Ca pour sûr elle est jolie, reconnu Hijiri en levant un sourcil. Qui est-ce ?

-          Shiori Takamiya. C’est aussi la petite fille du PDG du Groupe Takamiya. Je vais l’épouser. Après tout elle est…

-          C’est là votre concept du sens de l’humour, peut-être ? L’interrompit Hijiri.

-          Ce n’est pas une blague Hijiri…soupira Masumi, Crois-moi.

-          Et comment le pourrai-je ? Vous venez de m’annoncer votre intention d’épouser une riche héritière. Enfin je vous en prie, Monsieur avec tout mon respect, ça ne vous ressemble pas !

Masumi ne répondit pas. Une autre minute s’écoula silencieusement. Karato finit par écarquiller les yeux.

-          Puis-je demander ce que M. Rose Pourpre pense de ce… (il jeta un bref coup d’œil à la photo), projet ?

-          Il est d’accord. Répondit froidement Masumi.

-          Il est d’a…Hijiri s’interrompit, consterné. C’était incroyablement absurde. Il respira profondément, essaya de se reprendre avant d’ajouter : Et qu’en est-il de Maya Sama, Monsieur ? Il devait avoir tenu compte de ses sentiments. Ne me dites pas que vous avez l’intention de continuer à lui envoyer des roses tout en étant marié !

-          BIEN SUR QUE NON !!! Hurla soudain Masumi. Bien sur que non…

Il soupira et regarda enfin son ami dans les yeux. La douleur dont été imprégnée ses traits était si intense que Hijiri en perdit toute sévérité. Il soutint son regard, abasourdi.

-          Alors dans ce cas…qu’allez-vous faire, Masumi Sama ?

Masumi soupira. Il se retourna pour replonger son regard dans les flammes. Il ne pouvait se résoudre à lui dire les mots en le regardant, face à sa réaction. Il y aurait de la colère, du dégoût ou peut-être de la tristesse et de la pitié. Il serait plus facile d’éviter le contact visuel. Il appuya son front contre son poignet sur le manteau de la cheminée, et prit une profonde inspiration.

            - Cette fille me déteste. Elle me hait vraiment. Jamais elle ne sera capable de me pardonner pour tout ce que j’ai fais par le passé. Je sui l’homme qui a tué sa mère ! Masumi sentit une douleur puissante dans sa poitrine, mais il n’y prêta pas attention. Il savait que ses crimes continueraient à le hanter pour le restant de ses jours. Il l’avait déjà accepté comme la moindre des choses à faire. Mais elle tient à rencontrer M. Rose Pourpre. Des années qu’elle l’attend patiemment. Il…lui manque, d’une certaine façon. J’ai cru qu’en attendant suffisamment ses sentiments pour moi – enfin, pour son admirateur – s’affaibliraient, mais c’est en réalité le contraire qui se produit ! Tôt ou tard elle finira par souffrir de mon, de son absence. Et je ne veux pas que cela arrive. Jamais. Je l’ai fais trop souffrir, alors je ne laisserais pas M. Rose Pourpre faire de même.

Maintenant, il devait le dire. Il le fallait.

-          J’ai donc décidé qu’il était temps pour elle de le rencontrer.

Masumi entendit un cri étouffé derrière lui. Qu’en penser ? Etait-ce de la surprise ? De l’horreur ?

-          Ma foi, c’est…une excellente nouvelle, Monsieur....

-          Ca ne peut pas être moi, Hijiri ! S’exclama Masumi

C’était presque une plainte qui lui avait échappé.

-          Je ne peux pas…je ne peux pas être lui, Hijiri ! M. Rose Pourpre. Je ne saurais. Ca la tuerait !

Hijiri analysa prudemment cette dernière phrase qu’avait prononcée son ami, essayant d’en discerner le sens caché, mais il se retrouva complètement perplexe et désemparé. Il décidait d’épouser quelqu’un qu’il ne connaissait pour ainsi dire pas, tout en voulant révéler la vérité à Maya. Tout cela sans que Maya se doute qu’il s’agisse de lui. Cela n’avait pas le moindre sens. Sauf si…

-          Vous comptez encore lui bander les yeux peut-être ?

-          Non, et je te le répète : la dernière fois elle s’était bandée les yeux TOUTE SEULE

-          Certes. Répondit Hijiri avec un léger sourire. Mais sa question restait sans réponse. Alors dans ce cas, Monsieur, qu’allez-vous faire ?

-          Je vais…la laisser partir. Soupira-t-il.

-          Je vous demande pardon ?

-          J’ai pris la décision…Continua Masumi en choisissant ses mots avec le plus grand soin, de confier le rôle de M. Rose Pourpre à quelqu’un d’autre. Quelqu’un qui pourra être avec elle. A ses côté… Ajouta-t-il pour lui-même et ces mot le transpercèrent comme une lame chauffée à blanc.

Hijiri retint une exclamation d’horreur.

-          Êtes-vous sérieux ?

Masumi acquiesça.

-          Mais, Mais Monsieur vous ne pouvez pas faire une chose pareille ! Maya n’est pas un jouet, c’est une personne, une personne qui vous fait confiance !

-          Non, tu te trompes, elle me hait. Celui en qui elle a confiance…ce n’est pas moi.

-          Mais si, bien au contraire ! S’emporta Hijiri. M. Rose Pourpre fait partie de vous, vous ne pouvez pas demander à quelqu’un de…et puis de toute manière quelle est donc cette personne à ce point fiable que vous seriez prêt à lui confier l’amour de votre vie ?

Masumi se retourna, faisant face à Hijiri. Celui-ci eu un mouvement de recul.

-          Non…

-          Hijiri, gémit Masumi, c’est…

-          Monsieur, cria Hijiri, vous ne pouvez me demander cela !

-          Hijiri !

-          NON !

-          Mais c’est toi-même qui m’as demandé de devenir notre médiateur, le pont entre elle et moi !

-          Oui, reconnu-t-il, c’est vrai, un pont, c’est ce que je voulais être, un messager pour qu’elle puisse communiquer avec vous ! Je n’ai jamais voulu être VOUS !

-          Hijiri, implora Masumi, je t’en supplie…

Mais Hijiri marcha déjà à grands pas vers la porte d’entrée. Lorsqu’il s’empara de la poigné de la porte, il se retourna vers Masumi et dit :

-          C’est non, Hayami Sama. Je suis navré Monsieur mais je ne puis.

Et il partit, claquant la porte derrière lui.

*

Il était près de midi quand il fut réveillé par des coups frappés à la porte. Le soleil lui chauffait le visage, une sensation qu’en temps normal il aurait trouvé plaisante. Après sa dispute avec son ami, il avait eu du mal à s’endormir et avait trop dormi. Bien qu’éveillé, il garda les yeux fermés et couvrit ses yeux clos de son avant-bras.  De cette manière il pouvait retenir la dernière image fugace de son rêve un peu plus longtemps.

Maya, son visage éclairé par un sourire innocent, ses yeux débordant de gratitude. Pas de doutes, pas de questions, rien que du…bonheur.

Sauf que ce regard ne s’adressait pas à Masumi, ainsi qu’il aurait dû. Non, c’était lui qu’elle regardait : Karato Hijiri, et cette trahison lui retournait l’estomac.

On frappa encore. Il ouvrit les yeux.

Son salon était inondé de la lumière du soleil. Oh, oui c’est vrai : il avait atterrit sur le sofa. Rien de tel pour se réveiller avec un torticolis, d’ailleurs.

On frappa une nouvelle fois et il se dirigea vers la porte.

Deux hommes en costume lui faisait face. L’un d’eux, le plus petit, lui tendit une feuille de papier – qui avait l’air tout aussi glacial qu’officiel. Pas de bonjour.

Hijiri prit la feuille et jeta un bref coup d’œil à son contenu. Le titre à lui seul annonçait la couleur. « Avis d’expulsion ».  Il demanda quand même.

-          Je peux savoir ce que cela veut dire ?

-          Vous n’avez pas été prévenu.

Hijiri répondit par un hochement de tête.

-          Et bien, vous avez l’après midi pour vider les lieux.

-          Vous voulez dire : que je parte, de mon appartement ? Demanda-t-il, incrédule.

-          Cet appartement n’est plus à vous désormais.

-          De qu…et depuis quand ?

Il n’eu aucune réponse à cela. L’homme tout de noir vêtu continua

-          Le propriétaire viendra faire l’état des lieux à huit heures. Vous feriez mieux de vous dépêcher.

-          Je vous demande pardon ? Mais cela n’a pas de sens !

-          Veuillez signer ici, s’il vous plait. Dit le plus grand en lui désignant un blanc laissé en pas de page à cet effet

-          Quoi ? Il n’en est pas question ! Je ne signerais rien, je vous répète que tout cela n’a pas le moindre sens !

-          Ecoutez, c’est juste par courtoisie qu’on…

-          Répétez un peu ?

-          Tout est déjà réglé sur le papier, alors vous pouvez refuser tout ce que vous voulez, ça ne changera rien.

-          Mais attendez, vous ne pouvez pas me virer de chez moi comme ça, je veux dire ce n’est pas…

-          Je suis navré, mais nous ne sommes que des messagers.

-          Mais j’ai toujours payé mes factures, et à l’heure ! Je n’ai pas de…enfin vous ne pouvez pas faire ça en tous les cas !

-          Avec tout le respect que je vous dois, Monsieur nous venons de le faire. Vous avez jusqu’à la fin de l’après midi. Passez une bonne journée.

Et ils partirent.

-          Passez une bonne journée…répéta-t-il, dérouté.

C’était quoi ça ? Une tornade ?

*

            - Comment ça, ‘vous l’avez fait’ ? Cria Hijiri.

Assis dans son fauteuil, derrière son bureau, Masumi regarda son ami dans les yeux avec un calme surprenant. C’en devenait fresque froid.

-          Pourrais-tu s’il te plait arrêter de paniquer ? Demanda-t-il.

-          Vous m’avez jeté hors de mon propre appartement ! Comment suis-je supposé réagir ?

-          Evite au  moins de paniquer, c’est ennuyant.

Bon, là c’était vraiment froid.

-          A ce propos, continua-t-il, tu en as déjà un nouveau. D’appartement.

Il fit glisser un morceau de papier sur le bureau. Il y avait une adresse écrite dessus. Selon toute vraisemblance, son nouvel appartement se situait dans le centre même de Tokyo, dans un quartier ou même le plus petit studio valait une fortune. Ce devait être une blague.

-          Ne t’inquiète pas pour tes affaires. J’ai envoyé plusieurs personnes les déplacer là bas.

-          Vous pouvez REPETER ? S’exclama Hijiri. Il avait l’impression d’être sur le point de craquer d’une minute à l’autre. Masumi avait intérêt à lui fournir une explication valable.

-          Et je te donne aussi ma résidence secondaire.

Hijiri était sur le point de répondre par une réplique cinglante, mais il su soudain ce que toute cette manigance signifiait. Il eu un mouvement de recul et regarda son ami d’un œil sombre.

-          Hayami Sama…vous savez que je ne peux pas faire ça.

-          Mais tu n’as pas le choix…c’est un ordre.

-          Vous ne pouvez m’ordonner de la séduire.

Parce qu’il était bien question de séduction. Il n’y avait pas d’autre mot pour ça. Et cette trahison là, il ne pouvait pas l’accomplir. Ca l’écœurerait trop. Masumi méritait mieux que ça, et Maya aussi. Il ne pouvait s’y résoudre.

Comme il l’avait prévu, cette réplique brisa le masque glacial que Masumi portait. La douleur se lisait sur son visage. Pour se cacher, il lui tourna le dos et regarda par la fenêtre. Hijiri entendit un soupir.

-          Prends bien soin d’elle.

Hijiri écarquilla les yeux. Il savait. Il savait qu’en lui confiant le rôle de M. Rose Pourpre, il le désignait presque immédiatement comme le petit ami de Maya. Un jour, elle tomberait amoureuse de lui. Son meilleur ami lui abandonnait son premier, et unique amour. Il la lui confiait. Pas juste le rôle de bienfaiteur, elle aussi.

-          Ca vous est donc égal qu’un jour, elle tombe amoureuse de moi ?

Pas de réponse. Mais il n’avait pas l’intention d’abandonner si vite. Il voulait d’entendre dire.

-          Est-ce là ce que vous voulez ? !

Masumi lui fit face, le regardant dans les yeux.

-          Oui.

Les deux hommes se regardèrent dans le blanc des yeux pendant une longue minute. Avec horreur, Hijiri comprit que son ami était sincère.

-          Je n’ai pas encore dis oui.

-          Pas encore.

Hijiri ne répondit rien. Masumi plongea son regard sur la rue une fois encore et après un bref instant, il posa le bout de ses doigts sur le verre épais de la vitre. Marchant avec l’une de ses amies – Etait-ce Sayaka ? – Maya se promenait avec une glace dans la main. Elle avait l’air si joyeux.

-          Réfléchis-y, veux-tu ? Murmura-t-il. Et va voir ton appartement. Tout ce que tu as à savoir sur ta nouvelle identité se trouve là bas.

-          Ma nouvelle id…

Mais Masumi ne lui laissa pas le temps de réagir.

-          Nouveau nom, nouveau passé, nouveau travail – tu as bien un bon niveau en Anglais, en Chinois et en Coréen, n’est-ce pas ? – Nouveau passeport, nouveau compte en banque, etc. Maya sera curieuse à ton sujet, alors je t’ai facilité la tâche en te trouvant des choses à lui raconter.

Sa voix se brisa en prononçant son nom.

*

Ce que Masumi avait oublié de lui dire, c’était que l’appartement en question se trouvait au sommet d’un immeuble immense, avec une énorme baie vitrée, qu’il prenait à lui seul tout un étage et qu’il y avait dans la pièce principale une volé de marche qui conduisaient à un toit en terrasse aménagé en jardin bien garnit en roses pourpres et duquel on pouvait admirer la plus belle vue de Tokyo qu’on puisse imaginer.

Quand Hijiri tourna la clé dans la serrure, ses yeux furent tout d’abord éblouis par le soleil qui inondait la pièce. Puis il vit devant lui un loft incroyablement moderne. Extrêmement ouvert, avec presque pas de portes, mais plutôt des paravents en papiers de riz ou des semi cloisons pour séparer les différentes pièces de l’appartement. Le sol était entièrement recouvert d’un beau parquet ciré, même dans la salle de bain. Pourtant, le loft avait quelque chose de chaud, et de douillet, et ce grâce à de nombreuse petite choses colorées comme des tapis ou des lampes. Il y avait aussi une quantité incroyable de fleurs, pour la plupart des roses pourpre mais pas seulement, et un grand piano installé près des fauteuils et canapé du coin salon. Pendant un moment, Hijiri eu une drôle d’impression. Cet appartement avait l’évidente vocation d’accueillir Maya un jour.

Hijiri vit que ses affaires avaient été rassemblées dans un coin, mais il n’y prêta pas attention. Il vi une étagère pleine de CD, avec même quelques vinyles. Il s’approcha de la bibliothèque. Elle était extrêmement bien remplie, et la plupart des livres traitaient du théâtre, comme des pièces, ou des livres de théorie sur l’histoire du théâtre du monde entier. Il remarqua que toutes les pièces dans lesquelles Maya avait figurée étaient toutes réunies sur une même étagère. Il vit aussi son album de lycée. Un cadeau qu’elle avait fait à Masumi. Sur l’un des quelques murs, il vit son diplôme encadré et sentit son cœur se serrer. Le sentiment d’être entrain de trahir était à peine supportable.

Alors comme ça, Masumi pouvait aller aussi loin…peut-être qu’il n’avait donc pas d’autre choix.

Sur une table, il y avait une liste d’instruction.