![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
puss_nd_bootsTitle: You Who Are Unforgettable
Chapter: Sequel to You Who Are Irreplaceable
Author: Boots
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, romance
Warning: Just language
Pairing: Junji x Mahiro (Kiryu)
Disclaimer: Kiryu is property of BP Records, I own the story only. This fic is also based on elements from the motion picture Bohemian Rhapsody, which is property of 20th Century Fox.
Summary: Mahiro says he’s come to terms with his conflicting feelings over the very unusual way he earned a major acting award – but he’s still dealing with conflicting feelings and the pressures of sudden fame. Fortunately, help and advice are about to come from an unexpected source.
Comments: My April fill for the monthly challenge, using Moodboard 1 (Spring) and the following quote: “I’m not forgotten, even now. I think of better days and better life. I hope you will have good days by yourself.”
When you win one of the Very Big Awards that are out there in the entertainment industry, your life most definitely changes.
Mahiro was well-prepared for this when he won Best Actor at the Japan Academy Prize awards. He knew the press attention would quadruple and the offers for more work would flow like water. He knew that he was going to be able to pick and choose his future projects.
He was not aware, though, that it would be flat-out EXPLOSIVE – and he’d be getting attention even from other countries. He received an E-mail from an American director looking for him to be in an upcoming film.
“Let me guess,” his boyfriend Junji said as they lounged in Mahiro’s apartment – where they usually ended up when both had downtime. “The part’s either a Yakuza boss in a crime drama or an enemy soldier in a World War II film.”
“Nope,” Mahiro said. “A Japanese spy in an espionage drama. I mean, is this guy aware that I don’t speak a word of English?”
“Maybe he thinks that you are SUCH a good actor, you will be able to fake speaking it,” Junji said.
Mahiro put his phone face-down on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, arms above his head. “It’s a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time, I swear. It’s the kind of offers I only dreamed of when I was a teenager, but . . . it’s just SO MUCH.”
“You’re not still feeling guilty about it, are you?” Junji said, quietly.
Mahiro closed his eyes. He knew exactly what Junji was talking about. His feelings upon being nominated for the award, the nagging guilt over getting the top acting prize when he’d used his family’s onmiyouji arts and actually channeled the dead rock star he was portraying . . .
“No,” he said. “Not anymore. I’ve come to terms with it.” But even as he said it, he felt a little prickle of a negative feeling. Was he completely telling the truth when he said he didn’t feel guilty anymore? But . . . he couldn’t dwell on that, could he?
“Good,” Junji said. “Because I’d have to hit you if you did.” He stood up and stretched. “You can think about what’s next after tomorrow’s event.”
“I’ll be happy for the distraction,” Mahiro said. Oh, yes . . . the next day’s event. Mizuno Day. It just so happened that the man he’d portrayed – and channeled – had his birthday early in April, right when the sakura was peaking. How appropriate for a man whose life had been short and brilliant, like the blossoms themselves. His fans had turned it into a combination hanami and fandom fest in Ueno Park, where they drank sake, played his music, and had Mizuno cosplay competitions.
Mahiro had been the guest of honor last year, when they’d been in the middle of shooting – the fans had wanted to get a good look at the man who was playing their god. This year, he not only was guest of honor again, but the press would be there as well, to get pictures of Mahiro in full Mizuno costume among the cherry blossoms and the fans.
“It’s going to feel funny,” Mahiro said, quietly, “being in his costume and not . . . being him.”
He turned his head toward the window, watching the curtains billow in the spring breeze. A spectacular pink and orange sunset was outside. Mizuno had loved sunsets like that, he thought. One time, he kept photographers waiting for hours so he could be photographed against those colors for a CD booklet.
It was amazing how bits and pieces of Mizuno’s thoughts still drifted into his mind – even months after the channeling experience.
“Do you miss him?” Junji said.
“Sometimes, I do,” Mahiro said. “It’s the most intimate experience there is, channeling someone’s spirit. You know all his thoughts, and he knows yours. Most of all, you’re never alone. I do miss having his mind melded to mine sometimes. He had some damn good ideas about things. The fans were right – in a lot of ways, he was wise beyond his years. I think I’ve learned a lot from him.”
“You’re making me jealous of a dead guy, you know,” Junji said.
“What the hell?” Mahiro turned his head toward him.
“Kidding,” Junji said. “Although the idea of sharing thoughts with someone IS pretty sexy.” He walked over to the couch where Mahiro was lying and sat on the floor next to it. “Listen, don’t stress out about all these offers coming at you from all sides, okay? You’ve got agents. Let them sort it out. That’s what you pay them for.”
“I know,” Mahiro said. “But I DO feel a little overwhelmed. Even WITH having agents.”
“I can take some of those offers off your hands, you know,” Junji said, jokingly.
“You haven’t done so bad since the film yourself, you know,” Mahiro said. Indeed, Junji had been offered a couple of leads in TV dramas – something he didn’t dare dream of before the movie.
“Not complaining,” Junji said. “Of course, that means if we’re working on separate projects, we won’t be on the same set together all the time like we were for the movie. I think I’m going to miss that most of all.”
“You CAN text me when you’re not shooting, you know,” Mahiro said – when his phone pinged at him. “What now?” he said, picking it up.
“Stalker?” Junji said, teasingly.
“That’s not funny,” Mahiro said. “Mizuno had a stalker once. He was terrified. She managed to find out his address, home phone, everything, and she’d lurk in the bushes outside his house. She broke in and stole a pair of his underwear once.”
“Whoa,” Junji said. “Why wasn’t THAT in the movie?”
“He wouldn’t have wanted it to be in there even if the screenwriters knew about it,” Mahiro said. “Like I said, it was traumatic.”
“Damn, the book you could write about that guy,” Junji said.
“And I wouldn’t,” Mahiro said. “His secrets . . . have to stay secret. That would be betraying him. I mean, what I did . . . it was a level of trust beyond any normal relationship.”
“I’m jealous again,” Junji said.
Mahiro looked at his phone and let out a deep sigh. “Casting again.” He paused. “Although this one looks really interesting. It’s a movie about the Shinsengumi.”
“Pass that one on to me if you don’t want it!” Junji said.
Mahiro put the phone back on the table and just stared at it, quietly. What have I gotten from this experience – from the channeling, and the awards, and the fans? he thought. What does it all mean, in the end?
* * *
The section of Ueno Park devoted to Mizuno Day was a riot of activity already when Mahiro arrived. He had two bodyguards – an idea that seemed almost absurd – on either side of him, and the crews that had done his wardrobe and makeup for the movie had transformed him into Mizuno once again.
“He’s here!” someone shouted – and then there was a stampede of both fans and press, all waving cameras. Mahiro felt like a human tsunami was rushing toward him, ready to crush him. The bodyguards, accompanied by some of the park guards, started pushing them back.
“Leave him alone, you animals!” one of the guards shouted. “Mahiro-san can only stay here if you act civilized!”
Oh, God, Mahiro thought. This didn’t happen last year. I was able to interact with them. Is this the power of that award? Is THIS what it was all for?
The guards let the organizers of the event – the president and vice-president of the official Mizuno fan club – approach him through the throngs. One was holding a basket of brightly colored eggs and chocolates, the other a bakery box, which she opened to reveal a pile of beautiful, pastel macarons.
“We’ve brought you gifts, Mahiro-san,” the woman with the eggs said, bowing politely. “And we want to thank you so much for how well you portrayed Mizuno-sama. It’s as if he came back to life.”
If only you knew, Mahiro thought. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the basket. “It’s lovely – and very spring-y.”
“We just know he would have loved your performance if he could have seen it,” the other woman said, bowing and handing him the box.
Oh, he saw it, Mahiro thought. In fact, he GAVE it. “That means a lot,” he said. “Knowing his fans appreciated what I did is worth more than the awards. Only. . .” He looked at the throngs behind the guards, who were now waving in unison and chanting his name. “Don’t they seem a little extra-excitable right now?”
“It’s because of you,” said the woman with the eggs. “Now that they’ve seen your performance – well, they believe you could actually channel Mizuno himself!”
Mahiro suddenly jumped in place, nearly dropping the gifts. Oh, my God, he thought, she knows. She figured it out. I’ve been exposed . . . no, wait, there’s no way she COULD know, right? I’m being paranoid. Am I always going to feel like this?”
He saw both girls looking at him with deep concern. “Mahiro-san?” said the one with the bakery box.
“Bug in my face,” he said, quickly.
“That’s the only bad thing about spring coming,” said the woman with the eggs. “The bugs are here, too!”
Mahiro let out a small, rough laugh. Oh, God, he thought, is this what this day will be like? Is this what my LIFE will be like?
* * *
After he handed off the gifts to his bodyguard to put in the car, he was rushed off by the press, who wanted to get their shots of him with the sakura.
So he was posed under a tree, with petals dripping down over him; on top of a staircase, being framed by branches; in front of a lake, with sakura in front of him and swans behind him. Every time it seemed they were finished, that he could finally take a breath, someone came up with another pose, another photo scenario.
The last shot recreated one of Mizuno’s most famous pictures, standing with an open umbrella held over his head against a barely-cloudy sky. Okay, they’re done, he thought. I have breathing room – right?
“Mahiro-san!” one of the fan organizers was yelling. “You have to come over here!”
“Why?” he said, hoping his voice didn’t convey weariness.
“To judge the cosplay contest, of course!”
Oh, yes. He’d forgotten that being one of the cosplay contest judges was among the guest of honor’s duties. He should have remembered that from last year. Well, that five-minute break was going to have to wait.
They plunked him down on a big, folding chair, like a portable throne, and a parade of cosplayers passed by him. He was beginning to feel a little like a sultan being presented with members of his harem in order to make his choice for the night.
How am I going to choose, he thought. How am I . . .
“The third one from the right,” whispered a voice in the back of his head. “She got every stitch correct – down to the color of the trim on the sleeves.”
That’s funny, he thought. What is that? Where did it come from? It feels like . . . no, that’s not possible. I didn’t invite Mizuno’s spirit. And it hasn’t happened since . . . since we were shooting.
He shook his head – and realized that the head judge of the contest was calling his name. “Mahiro-san?” she said. “Mahiro-san, what’s your choice?”
He quickly pointed out the cosplayer that the voice in his head indicated. “That one!” he said. “And sorry, I felt a little overwhelmed. So many choices, and all of them good . . .”
“That’s perfectly all right!” she said. “I’ll go with Mahiro-san’s choice for first place, too – the costume is beautifully constructed. The rest of you?”
This is all starting to get to me, he thought. If I’m imagining Mizuno’s voice in my head again . . . I must really be going nuts.
* * *
After the contest, he was photographed with the first prize winner, then all the winners, then small groups of fans. Okay, he thought, just accept that the day is completely shot. You’re not going to be able to catch a breath at all. There’s going to be no sitting under the trees and having a leisurely glass of sake this year. You . . .
And then, there was a rumble of thunder. The group had been so busy in their revelry, they hadn’t noticed the dark clouds that were rolling in. People were letting out squawks and shrieks and running for shelter.
Mahiro ducked under one of the bigger, lusher trees. Fortunately, the branches provided shelter from the rain – although if it gets struck, he thought, I’m fried. Well, that will make one hell of a headline, won’t it? Japan Academy Prize Winner Zapped Into Oblivion?
He let out a deep breath and leaned against the trunk, thinking that at least it was quiet right now . . .
Until a voice said, “You really aren’t handling this well, are you?”
Mahiro sat bolt upright. That was no ordinary voice – because he didn’t hear it with his ears. It was more like he experienced it in his mind. Which can only mean one thing, he thought. That voice during the costume contest really was . . .
Sure enough, sitting cross-legged in front of him was a shimmering image of a male who looked similar to him, although a bit taller and broader in the face. He knew that look all too well – he’d seen it in the mirror for months.
“Mizuno?” Mahiro said.
“As if you’d have to ask,” the other man said. “It’s nice to see you face to face. I haven’t done that in a long time. Since before you started the film, I think – when you switched from summoning me to channeling.”
“What are you doing here?” Mahiro said. “I didn’t call you!”
“Do you think I need to be summoned to know when you need me?” the apparition said. “After we shared headspace for as long as we did? I think it’s cute that your boyfriend is jealous of that, by the way.”
“You know about that conversation?” Mahiro looked surprised.
“I know about a LOT. Like I said – the kind of bond that we shared isn’t easily broken. Which is how I know you’ve been having a hard as hell time with fame.”
Mahiro looked down. “I wouldn’t call it hard as hell . . .”
“Then what would you call it? Feeling like you’re drowning? Not being able to get a breath? Being under scrutiny every minute? You think I don’t know what that’s like?”
“But YOU handled it with grace,” Mahiro said. “I KNOW that. I didn’t sense any anxiety about fame in you at all. In fact, you loved the spotlight more than the breath of life itself!”
“You didn’t know me back in the early days,” the spirit said, looking rather amused.
“I certainly did!” Mahiro said. “I PLAYED you in the early days, remember? Or, rather, I hosted you while you played yourself?”
“Yes, and there’s only so much a screenwriter can put into a movie, isn’t there?” Mizuno said. “They didn’t show me flipping out the first time I was asked personal questions during a press conference. Or my first experience with fangirls hanging around the livehouse door when we were trying to get out – which was a flat-out panic attack. Or, you know, the whole STALKER thing.”
“I should have remembered that last one,” Mahiro said, sheepishly. “Junji and I . . .”
“Were just talking about it, I know. Fame sucks sometimes. Once you become a public figure, your life isn’t your own.”
Mahiro looked confused. “You . . . had panic attacks over fangirls? BEFORE the stalker?”
“Freaked the fuck out. I thought I was going to collapse from not being able to breathe.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Mizuno?”
“I AM Mizuno,” he said. “But going through that helped me become the person I am now. The person the world wanted to see on screen. You just have to accept that there’s a public you and a private you. The public one? Fair game for anyone. That’s the one that the press and the people are going to assault night and day. But they can’t touch the REAL you. The person you are in your heart. The one that only your close friends and your boyfriend know about.”
“And YOU, of course.”
“Of course, me. Like I said, my knowledge of you isn’t going to go away because you’re no longer channeling.” He paused. “Why the hell do you like old, cheesy anime so much? That stuff wasn’t even good back in the day!”
Mahiro bristled. “You have no say over my TV preferences!”
“Well, I don’t have to see it through your eyes anymore, sure! But still . . . geez, dude, watch some classic films every once in awhile! It’ll broaden your horizons!”
Mahiro sighed. “You’re Mizuno, all right.”
“But anyway . . . I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now. It’s okay. I felt overwhelmed, too. You just have to make sure that you give yourself some breathing room and space – times for the REAL you. And you have to remember that the public persona and the REAL you are two different things.”
“They won’t LET me have breathing room,” Mahiro said. “You saw what happened out there!”
“Oh, hell, yes,” Mizuno said. “But you have to accept that’s going to happen. And afterward . . . you just get in your car, go home, pour yourself a nice drink and put it all behind you. Close the door between your public and private selves. Let other people take over your career when you need to. You’ll find that when you can do that? It’s easier to shake off stuff like THIS” – he pointed beyond the trees to the crowds – than you think.”
Mahiro looked in the direction he pointed and said, softly, “At least you EARNED it.”
“Come again?” Mizuno said.
“The attention. What you did out there . . it was all YOU.”
“Are you having guilt trips over what we did to make the film again?”
Mahiro looked at him, slowly. “I try not to . . . but it happens sometimes.” And now he was admitting what he’d been in denial about. The guilt he’d thought had gone away . . . didn’t.
“Oh, for the love of Christ, Mahiro! You don’t need to feel guilty. You DESERVED to play me and you know it.”
“Did I? It was all channeling . . . it was all YOU.”
“Only once the cameras were rolling. I didn’t help you with your audition, did I? Would my bandmates have recommended that you be cast in the film if they didn’t see me in you?”
“Well . . . no.”
“And you’ve impersonated me on red carpets. And in photo sessions. And just now, out there, when they were doing the cosplay shoot. I didn’t give you one bit of help, and you were me to a T!”
“Well, that’s because . . . I know how to act like you now.”
“Damn right you do!” Mizuno said. “You HAVE earned the right to be me, dammit! And you deserved those awards – even with our partnership!”
Mahiro gave him a rueful smile. “Partnership? Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Well, what are YOU calling it? And if you say ‘cheating,’ I’ll smack you.”
“You can’t. You have no physical form.”
“I can give you one hell of a headache, though! And don’t think that I won’t!”
Mahiro sighed. “All, right. Partnership. Or collaboration.”
“Collaboration – I like that!”
“But giving someone an acting award for channeling?”
“Mahiro . . . just what are awards given for?”
“Um . . . excelling in your field? Being a unique talent?”
“Yes, exactly! A unique talent! That’s exactly what you showed, isn’t it?”
“Just what do you mean?”
“Channeling! It’s a unique talent! Nobody else can do that, right? Well, nobody that you know of.”
“Um, well . . . you DO have a point . . .”
“Of course, I do! The goal was to do the best possible movie about me, right? And you arrived at that goal. Sure, you took a bit of an unconventional route to get there, but you did it using a unique talent. Nobody else could have played me the way you did!”
“You played yourself!”
“And I couldn’t have done that with any other actor! With any other guy, I would have just stood there unseen and unheard shaking my head as he got it blatantly wrong! With you . . .”
“I allowed you to get it right?”
“More than that. You let me LIVE again, at least for awhile. I got to see my friends. I got to be onstage – even if it was just a re-creation for a film. I got to see and think about my life. The fact that you let me do all that . . . I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Mahiro smiled, softly. “It was my pleasure, believe me,” he said.
“And the fact that you wanted to get it right badly enough to even think of channeling? Do you know how deeply I was moved by that? I mean, you thought THAT much of me.”
“I was afraid that if I got you wrong, my career would be ruined, you know,” Mahiro said.
“But you still wanted to honor me.”
He wasn’t lying, that was for sure. “Well, yes,” Mahiro said.
“And for that alone, you deserved those awards,” Mizuno replied. “That was your commitment to getting it RIGHT. Not every actor would be that determined. I mean, you wanted to make sure that I was PROPERLY remembered, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you assured that I will never be forgotten, ever. For that . . . you deserve good things. Only the BEST things. So, yeah, if I ever catch you feeling guilty again? Those will be fighting words.”
Mahiro smiled at him. “You know the right things to say at the right time, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift, what can I say?”
“I think the reason I was having a hard time with all this IS that I was feeling a bit guilty, still,” Mahiro said, softly.
“You didn’t think you deserved it.”
Mahiro nodded, silently.
“I think you deserve it! And that’s what counts, right?” Mizuno moved as if to clap him in the back – only to have his hand go right through Mahiro’s body. “Damn. This whole spirit thing really sucks sometimes.”
“I could channel you again, if you ever need the physical substance,” Mahiro said.
“I’d love it,” Mizuno said. “Maybe someday we can let my bandmates in on the secret of our partnership.”
“I think they’d like it,” Mahiro said – as he saw a slight glimmer beyond the branches of the trees. “Hey, I think the rain stopped.”
“You’d better get out there, then,” Mizuno said. “Your public awaits!”
“Yeah, it does,” Mahiro said. He looked over at the spirit. “Thank you.”
“I’m here for you any time,” Mizuno said. “You know that.”
“I know. But thanks again.” Mahiro stood up – then turned around. “And Mizuno? Happy Birthday.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s that day, isn’t it? That’s why the fuss. Thanks.” The spirit started to fade from view. “And I’ll see you around.”
Mahiro watched Mizuno go, and then he turned, parting the branches. The first thing that met his eyes was a baby deer curled up on a patch of flowers near the tree. Above him was a rainbow, arching over the remaining clouds.
This scene looks like I feel right now, Mahiro thought. Renewed. Talking with Mizuno was exactly what I needed.
A cluster of the fangirls spotted him. “Oh, there you are!” they said. “Mahiro-san! Come join the sing-along!”
Of course, Mizuno Day always ended with a sing-along, where the fans joined in on the songs that meant so very much to them. Just like Mizuno himself.
He’s right, Mahiro said. I don’t have to feel guilty about using my unique talent for giving Mizuno back to them – just for awhile. And I’ve gotten something out of it, too, haven’t I? I’ve gotten a unique relationship unlike any I’ve ever had. A partnership, in every sense of the word.
“Coming!” he called, walking toward the fans. He was a lot happier, and more comfortable, about all of this now.
* * *
Much later, Junji arrived in Mahiro’s apartment as the latter finished changing back into his street clothes. “So how did it go?” he said. “I saw the thunderstorm. That must have sucked.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Mahiro said. “In fact, I welcomed it.”
“Because it gave you a break for a few minutes?” Junji went into the kitchen and pulled out a pile of takeout menus.
“Well, yes,” Mahiro said. “I kind of needed that.” In more ways than one, he thought.
“Figured it was takeout night tonight, by the way,” Junji said. “Not a time either one of us wants to cook.” He sat down on the couch with the menus. “Have you given any more thought about what’s next? Are you going to let the agents handle it?”
Mahiro thought about what Mizuno said – about the public versus the private. I really do have to keep them separate, don’t I? he thought. And turning over my future roles to agents is one way of doing that. It separates my career from, well . . . me.
But there was one role that he’d been offered that intrigued him. One that offered the possibility of honoring someone that needed to be honored – like the Mizuno role had.
And it also offered the possibility of using his channeling gifts again, in order to let the person play himself. Another partnership. Another unique relationship – like only someone like him could have with the person he was portraying.
“I think,” he said, “I’m just going to tell them I’m taking the Shinsengumi movie.”
Junji looked surprised. “Really?” he said. “Not the American one?”
“I think it offers the opportunity for a unique . . . partnership.”
It really is a unique talent, isn’t it? He thought. And I’m going to own it, and make it all mine.
Chapter: Sequel to You Who Are Irreplaceable
Author: Boots
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, romance
Warning: Just language
Pairing: Junji x Mahiro (Kiryu)
Disclaimer: Kiryu is property of BP Records, I own the story only. This fic is also based on elements from the motion picture Bohemian Rhapsody, which is property of 20th Century Fox.
Summary: Mahiro says he’s come to terms with his conflicting feelings over the very unusual way he earned a major acting award – but he’s still dealing with conflicting feelings and the pressures of sudden fame. Fortunately, help and advice are about to come from an unexpected source.
Comments: My April fill for the monthly challenge, using Moodboard 1 (Spring) and the following quote: “I’m not forgotten, even now. I think of better days and better life. I hope you will have good days by yourself.”
When you win one of the Very Big Awards that are out there in the entertainment industry, your life most definitely changes.
Mahiro was well-prepared for this when he won Best Actor at the Japan Academy Prize awards. He knew the press attention would quadruple and the offers for more work would flow like water. He knew that he was going to be able to pick and choose his future projects.
He was not aware, though, that it would be flat-out EXPLOSIVE – and he’d be getting attention even from other countries. He received an E-mail from an American director looking for him to be in an upcoming film.
“Let me guess,” his boyfriend Junji said as they lounged in Mahiro’s apartment – where they usually ended up when both had downtime. “The part’s either a Yakuza boss in a crime drama or an enemy soldier in a World War II film.”
“Nope,” Mahiro said. “A Japanese spy in an espionage drama. I mean, is this guy aware that I don’t speak a word of English?”
“Maybe he thinks that you are SUCH a good actor, you will be able to fake speaking it,” Junji said.
Mahiro put his phone face-down on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, arms above his head. “It’s a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time, I swear. It’s the kind of offers I only dreamed of when I was a teenager, but . . . it’s just SO MUCH.”
“You’re not still feeling guilty about it, are you?” Junji said, quietly.
Mahiro closed his eyes. He knew exactly what Junji was talking about. His feelings upon being nominated for the award, the nagging guilt over getting the top acting prize when he’d used his family’s onmiyouji arts and actually channeled the dead rock star he was portraying . . .
“No,” he said. “Not anymore. I’ve come to terms with it.” But even as he said it, he felt a little prickle of a negative feeling. Was he completely telling the truth when he said he didn’t feel guilty anymore? But . . . he couldn’t dwell on that, could he?
“Good,” Junji said. “Because I’d have to hit you if you did.” He stood up and stretched. “You can think about what’s next after tomorrow’s event.”
“I’ll be happy for the distraction,” Mahiro said. Oh, yes . . . the next day’s event. Mizuno Day. It just so happened that the man he’d portrayed – and channeled – had his birthday early in April, right when the sakura was peaking. How appropriate for a man whose life had been short and brilliant, like the blossoms themselves. His fans had turned it into a combination hanami and fandom fest in Ueno Park, where they drank sake, played his music, and had Mizuno cosplay competitions.
Mahiro had been the guest of honor last year, when they’d been in the middle of shooting – the fans had wanted to get a good look at the man who was playing their god. This year, he not only was guest of honor again, but the press would be there as well, to get pictures of Mahiro in full Mizuno costume among the cherry blossoms and the fans.
“It’s going to feel funny,” Mahiro said, quietly, “being in his costume and not . . . being him.”
He turned his head toward the window, watching the curtains billow in the spring breeze. A spectacular pink and orange sunset was outside. Mizuno had loved sunsets like that, he thought. One time, he kept photographers waiting for hours so he could be photographed against those colors for a CD booklet.
It was amazing how bits and pieces of Mizuno’s thoughts still drifted into his mind – even months after the channeling experience.
“Do you miss him?” Junji said.
“Sometimes, I do,” Mahiro said. “It’s the most intimate experience there is, channeling someone’s spirit. You know all his thoughts, and he knows yours. Most of all, you’re never alone. I do miss having his mind melded to mine sometimes. He had some damn good ideas about things. The fans were right – in a lot of ways, he was wise beyond his years. I think I’ve learned a lot from him.”
“You’re making me jealous of a dead guy, you know,” Junji said.
“What the hell?” Mahiro turned his head toward him.
“Kidding,” Junji said. “Although the idea of sharing thoughts with someone IS pretty sexy.” He walked over to the couch where Mahiro was lying and sat on the floor next to it. “Listen, don’t stress out about all these offers coming at you from all sides, okay? You’ve got agents. Let them sort it out. That’s what you pay them for.”
“I know,” Mahiro said. “But I DO feel a little overwhelmed. Even WITH having agents.”
“I can take some of those offers off your hands, you know,” Junji said, jokingly.
“You haven’t done so bad since the film yourself, you know,” Mahiro said. Indeed, Junji had been offered a couple of leads in TV dramas – something he didn’t dare dream of before the movie.
“Not complaining,” Junji said. “Of course, that means if we’re working on separate projects, we won’t be on the same set together all the time like we were for the movie. I think I’m going to miss that most of all.”
“You CAN text me when you’re not shooting, you know,” Mahiro said – when his phone pinged at him. “What now?” he said, picking it up.
“Stalker?” Junji said, teasingly.
“That’s not funny,” Mahiro said. “Mizuno had a stalker once. He was terrified. She managed to find out his address, home phone, everything, and she’d lurk in the bushes outside his house. She broke in and stole a pair of his underwear once.”
“Whoa,” Junji said. “Why wasn’t THAT in the movie?”
“He wouldn’t have wanted it to be in there even if the screenwriters knew about it,” Mahiro said. “Like I said, it was traumatic.”
“Damn, the book you could write about that guy,” Junji said.
“And I wouldn’t,” Mahiro said. “His secrets . . . have to stay secret. That would be betraying him. I mean, what I did . . . it was a level of trust beyond any normal relationship.”
“I’m jealous again,” Junji said.
Mahiro looked at his phone and let out a deep sigh. “Casting again.” He paused. “Although this one looks really interesting. It’s a movie about the Shinsengumi.”
“Pass that one on to me if you don’t want it!” Junji said.
Mahiro put the phone back on the table and just stared at it, quietly. What have I gotten from this experience – from the channeling, and the awards, and the fans? he thought. What does it all mean, in the end?
* * *
The section of Ueno Park devoted to Mizuno Day was a riot of activity already when Mahiro arrived. He had two bodyguards – an idea that seemed almost absurd – on either side of him, and the crews that had done his wardrobe and makeup for the movie had transformed him into Mizuno once again.
“He’s here!” someone shouted – and then there was a stampede of both fans and press, all waving cameras. Mahiro felt like a human tsunami was rushing toward him, ready to crush him. The bodyguards, accompanied by some of the park guards, started pushing them back.
“Leave him alone, you animals!” one of the guards shouted. “Mahiro-san can only stay here if you act civilized!”
Oh, God, Mahiro thought. This didn’t happen last year. I was able to interact with them. Is this the power of that award? Is THIS what it was all for?
The guards let the organizers of the event – the president and vice-president of the official Mizuno fan club – approach him through the throngs. One was holding a basket of brightly colored eggs and chocolates, the other a bakery box, which she opened to reveal a pile of beautiful, pastel macarons.
“We’ve brought you gifts, Mahiro-san,” the woman with the eggs said, bowing politely. “And we want to thank you so much for how well you portrayed Mizuno-sama. It’s as if he came back to life.”
If only you knew, Mahiro thought. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the basket. “It’s lovely – and very spring-y.”
“We just know he would have loved your performance if he could have seen it,” the other woman said, bowing and handing him the box.
Oh, he saw it, Mahiro thought. In fact, he GAVE it. “That means a lot,” he said. “Knowing his fans appreciated what I did is worth more than the awards. Only. . .” He looked at the throngs behind the guards, who were now waving in unison and chanting his name. “Don’t they seem a little extra-excitable right now?”
“It’s because of you,” said the woman with the eggs. “Now that they’ve seen your performance – well, they believe you could actually channel Mizuno himself!”
Mahiro suddenly jumped in place, nearly dropping the gifts. Oh, my God, he thought, she knows. She figured it out. I’ve been exposed . . . no, wait, there’s no way she COULD know, right? I’m being paranoid. Am I always going to feel like this?”
He saw both girls looking at him with deep concern. “Mahiro-san?” said the one with the bakery box.
“Bug in my face,” he said, quickly.
“That’s the only bad thing about spring coming,” said the woman with the eggs. “The bugs are here, too!”
Mahiro let out a small, rough laugh. Oh, God, he thought, is this what this day will be like? Is this what my LIFE will be like?
* * *
After he handed off the gifts to his bodyguard to put in the car, he was rushed off by the press, who wanted to get their shots of him with the sakura.
So he was posed under a tree, with petals dripping down over him; on top of a staircase, being framed by branches; in front of a lake, with sakura in front of him and swans behind him. Every time it seemed they were finished, that he could finally take a breath, someone came up with another pose, another photo scenario.
The last shot recreated one of Mizuno’s most famous pictures, standing with an open umbrella held over his head against a barely-cloudy sky. Okay, they’re done, he thought. I have breathing room – right?
“Mahiro-san!” one of the fan organizers was yelling. “You have to come over here!”
“Why?” he said, hoping his voice didn’t convey weariness.
“To judge the cosplay contest, of course!”
Oh, yes. He’d forgotten that being one of the cosplay contest judges was among the guest of honor’s duties. He should have remembered that from last year. Well, that five-minute break was going to have to wait.
They plunked him down on a big, folding chair, like a portable throne, and a parade of cosplayers passed by him. He was beginning to feel a little like a sultan being presented with members of his harem in order to make his choice for the night.
How am I going to choose, he thought. How am I . . .
“The third one from the right,” whispered a voice in the back of his head. “She got every stitch correct – down to the color of the trim on the sleeves.”
That’s funny, he thought. What is that? Where did it come from? It feels like . . . no, that’s not possible. I didn’t invite Mizuno’s spirit. And it hasn’t happened since . . . since we were shooting.
He shook his head – and realized that the head judge of the contest was calling his name. “Mahiro-san?” she said. “Mahiro-san, what’s your choice?”
He quickly pointed out the cosplayer that the voice in his head indicated. “That one!” he said. “And sorry, I felt a little overwhelmed. So many choices, and all of them good . . .”
“That’s perfectly all right!” she said. “I’ll go with Mahiro-san’s choice for first place, too – the costume is beautifully constructed. The rest of you?”
This is all starting to get to me, he thought. If I’m imagining Mizuno’s voice in my head again . . . I must really be going nuts.
* * *
After the contest, he was photographed with the first prize winner, then all the winners, then small groups of fans. Okay, he thought, just accept that the day is completely shot. You’re not going to be able to catch a breath at all. There’s going to be no sitting under the trees and having a leisurely glass of sake this year. You . . .
And then, there was a rumble of thunder. The group had been so busy in their revelry, they hadn’t noticed the dark clouds that were rolling in. People were letting out squawks and shrieks and running for shelter.
Mahiro ducked under one of the bigger, lusher trees. Fortunately, the branches provided shelter from the rain – although if it gets struck, he thought, I’m fried. Well, that will make one hell of a headline, won’t it? Japan Academy Prize Winner Zapped Into Oblivion?
He let out a deep breath and leaned against the trunk, thinking that at least it was quiet right now . . .
Until a voice said, “You really aren’t handling this well, are you?”
Mahiro sat bolt upright. That was no ordinary voice – because he didn’t hear it with his ears. It was more like he experienced it in his mind. Which can only mean one thing, he thought. That voice during the costume contest really was . . .
Sure enough, sitting cross-legged in front of him was a shimmering image of a male who looked similar to him, although a bit taller and broader in the face. He knew that look all too well – he’d seen it in the mirror for months.
“Mizuno?” Mahiro said.
“As if you’d have to ask,” the other man said. “It’s nice to see you face to face. I haven’t done that in a long time. Since before you started the film, I think – when you switched from summoning me to channeling.”
“What are you doing here?” Mahiro said. “I didn’t call you!”
“Do you think I need to be summoned to know when you need me?” the apparition said. “After we shared headspace for as long as we did? I think it’s cute that your boyfriend is jealous of that, by the way.”
“You know about that conversation?” Mahiro looked surprised.
“I know about a LOT. Like I said – the kind of bond that we shared isn’t easily broken. Which is how I know you’ve been having a hard as hell time with fame.”
Mahiro looked down. “I wouldn’t call it hard as hell . . .”
“Then what would you call it? Feeling like you’re drowning? Not being able to get a breath? Being under scrutiny every minute? You think I don’t know what that’s like?”
“But YOU handled it with grace,” Mahiro said. “I KNOW that. I didn’t sense any anxiety about fame in you at all. In fact, you loved the spotlight more than the breath of life itself!”
“You didn’t know me back in the early days,” the spirit said, looking rather amused.
“I certainly did!” Mahiro said. “I PLAYED you in the early days, remember? Or, rather, I hosted you while you played yourself?”
“Yes, and there’s only so much a screenwriter can put into a movie, isn’t there?” Mizuno said. “They didn’t show me flipping out the first time I was asked personal questions during a press conference. Or my first experience with fangirls hanging around the livehouse door when we were trying to get out – which was a flat-out panic attack. Or, you know, the whole STALKER thing.”
“I should have remembered that last one,” Mahiro said, sheepishly. “Junji and I . . .”
“Were just talking about it, I know. Fame sucks sometimes. Once you become a public figure, your life isn’t your own.”
Mahiro looked confused. “You . . . had panic attacks over fangirls? BEFORE the stalker?”
“Freaked the fuck out. I thought I was going to collapse from not being able to breathe.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Mizuno?”
“I AM Mizuno,” he said. “But going through that helped me become the person I am now. The person the world wanted to see on screen. You just have to accept that there’s a public you and a private you. The public one? Fair game for anyone. That’s the one that the press and the people are going to assault night and day. But they can’t touch the REAL you. The person you are in your heart. The one that only your close friends and your boyfriend know about.”
“And YOU, of course.”
“Of course, me. Like I said, my knowledge of you isn’t going to go away because you’re no longer channeling.” He paused. “Why the hell do you like old, cheesy anime so much? That stuff wasn’t even good back in the day!”
Mahiro bristled. “You have no say over my TV preferences!”
“Well, I don’t have to see it through your eyes anymore, sure! But still . . . geez, dude, watch some classic films every once in awhile! It’ll broaden your horizons!”
Mahiro sighed. “You’re Mizuno, all right.”
“But anyway . . . I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now. It’s okay. I felt overwhelmed, too. You just have to make sure that you give yourself some breathing room and space – times for the REAL you. And you have to remember that the public persona and the REAL you are two different things.”
“They won’t LET me have breathing room,” Mahiro said. “You saw what happened out there!”
“Oh, hell, yes,” Mizuno said. “But you have to accept that’s going to happen. And afterward . . . you just get in your car, go home, pour yourself a nice drink and put it all behind you. Close the door between your public and private selves. Let other people take over your career when you need to. You’ll find that when you can do that? It’s easier to shake off stuff like THIS” – he pointed beyond the trees to the crowds – than you think.”
Mahiro looked in the direction he pointed and said, softly, “At least you EARNED it.”
“Come again?” Mizuno said.
“The attention. What you did out there . . it was all YOU.”
“Are you having guilt trips over what we did to make the film again?”
Mahiro looked at him, slowly. “I try not to . . . but it happens sometimes.” And now he was admitting what he’d been in denial about. The guilt he’d thought had gone away . . . didn’t.
“Oh, for the love of Christ, Mahiro! You don’t need to feel guilty. You DESERVED to play me and you know it.”
“Did I? It was all channeling . . . it was all YOU.”
“Only once the cameras were rolling. I didn’t help you with your audition, did I? Would my bandmates have recommended that you be cast in the film if they didn’t see me in you?”
“Well . . . no.”
“And you’ve impersonated me on red carpets. And in photo sessions. And just now, out there, when they were doing the cosplay shoot. I didn’t give you one bit of help, and you were me to a T!”
“Well, that’s because . . . I know how to act like you now.”
“Damn right you do!” Mizuno said. “You HAVE earned the right to be me, dammit! And you deserved those awards – even with our partnership!”
Mahiro gave him a rueful smile. “Partnership? Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Well, what are YOU calling it? And if you say ‘cheating,’ I’ll smack you.”
“You can’t. You have no physical form.”
“I can give you one hell of a headache, though! And don’t think that I won’t!”
Mahiro sighed. “All, right. Partnership. Or collaboration.”
“Collaboration – I like that!”
“But giving someone an acting award for channeling?”
“Mahiro . . . just what are awards given for?”
“Um . . . excelling in your field? Being a unique talent?”
“Yes, exactly! A unique talent! That’s exactly what you showed, isn’t it?”
“Just what do you mean?”
“Channeling! It’s a unique talent! Nobody else can do that, right? Well, nobody that you know of.”
“Um, well . . . you DO have a point . . .”
“Of course, I do! The goal was to do the best possible movie about me, right? And you arrived at that goal. Sure, you took a bit of an unconventional route to get there, but you did it using a unique talent. Nobody else could have played me the way you did!”
“You played yourself!”
“And I couldn’t have done that with any other actor! With any other guy, I would have just stood there unseen and unheard shaking my head as he got it blatantly wrong! With you . . .”
“I allowed you to get it right?”
“More than that. You let me LIVE again, at least for awhile. I got to see my friends. I got to be onstage – even if it was just a re-creation for a film. I got to see and think about my life. The fact that you let me do all that . . . I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Mahiro smiled, softly. “It was my pleasure, believe me,” he said.
“And the fact that you wanted to get it right badly enough to even think of channeling? Do you know how deeply I was moved by that? I mean, you thought THAT much of me.”
“I was afraid that if I got you wrong, my career would be ruined, you know,” Mahiro said.
“But you still wanted to honor me.”
He wasn’t lying, that was for sure. “Well, yes,” Mahiro said.
“And for that alone, you deserved those awards,” Mizuno replied. “That was your commitment to getting it RIGHT. Not every actor would be that determined. I mean, you wanted to make sure that I was PROPERLY remembered, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you assured that I will never be forgotten, ever. For that . . . you deserve good things. Only the BEST things. So, yeah, if I ever catch you feeling guilty again? Those will be fighting words.”
Mahiro smiled at him. “You know the right things to say at the right time, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift, what can I say?”
“I think the reason I was having a hard time with all this IS that I was feeling a bit guilty, still,” Mahiro said, softly.
“You didn’t think you deserved it.”
Mahiro nodded, silently.
“I think you deserve it! And that’s what counts, right?” Mizuno moved as if to clap him in the back – only to have his hand go right through Mahiro’s body. “Damn. This whole spirit thing really sucks sometimes.”
“I could channel you again, if you ever need the physical substance,” Mahiro said.
“I’d love it,” Mizuno said. “Maybe someday we can let my bandmates in on the secret of our partnership.”
“I think they’d like it,” Mahiro said – as he saw a slight glimmer beyond the branches of the trees. “Hey, I think the rain stopped.”
“You’d better get out there, then,” Mizuno said. “Your public awaits!”
“Yeah, it does,” Mahiro said. He looked over at the spirit. “Thank you.”
“I’m here for you any time,” Mizuno said. “You know that.”
“I know. But thanks again.” Mahiro stood up – then turned around. “And Mizuno? Happy Birthday.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s that day, isn’t it? That’s why the fuss. Thanks.” The spirit started to fade from view. “And I’ll see you around.”
Mahiro watched Mizuno go, and then he turned, parting the branches. The first thing that met his eyes was a baby deer curled up on a patch of flowers near the tree. Above him was a rainbow, arching over the remaining clouds.
This scene looks like I feel right now, Mahiro thought. Renewed. Talking with Mizuno was exactly what I needed.
A cluster of the fangirls spotted him. “Oh, there you are!” they said. “Mahiro-san! Come join the sing-along!”
Of course, Mizuno Day always ended with a sing-along, where the fans joined in on the songs that meant so very much to them. Just like Mizuno himself.
He’s right, Mahiro said. I don’t have to feel guilty about using my unique talent for giving Mizuno back to them – just for awhile. And I’ve gotten something out of it, too, haven’t I? I’ve gotten a unique relationship unlike any I’ve ever had. A partnership, in every sense of the word.
“Coming!” he called, walking toward the fans. He was a lot happier, and more comfortable, about all of this now.
* * *
Much later, Junji arrived in Mahiro’s apartment as the latter finished changing back into his street clothes. “So how did it go?” he said. “I saw the thunderstorm. That must have sucked.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Mahiro said. “In fact, I welcomed it.”
“Because it gave you a break for a few minutes?” Junji went into the kitchen and pulled out a pile of takeout menus.
“Well, yes,” Mahiro said. “I kind of needed that.” In more ways than one, he thought.
“Figured it was takeout night tonight, by the way,” Junji said. “Not a time either one of us wants to cook.” He sat down on the couch with the menus. “Have you given any more thought about what’s next? Are you going to let the agents handle it?”
Mahiro thought about what Mizuno said – about the public versus the private. I really do have to keep them separate, don’t I? he thought. And turning over my future roles to agents is one way of doing that. It separates my career from, well . . . me.
But there was one role that he’d been offered that intrigued him. One that offered the possibility of honoring someone that needed to be honored – like the Mizuno role had.
And it also offered the possibility of using his channeling gifts again, in order to let the person play himself. Another partnership. Another unique relationship – like only someone like him could have with the person he was portraying.
“I think,” he said, “I’m just going to tell them I’m taking the Shinsengumi movie.”
Junji looked surprised. “Really?” he said. “Not the American one?”
“I think it offers the opportunity for a unique . . . partnership.”
It really is a unique talent, isn’t it? He thought. And I’m going to own it, and make it all mine.
