Disclaimer: I do not own Skip Beat! or any of its characters. I only borrown them occassionally for my own amusement.
It was those Beagles that gave her the idea.
She'd confronted the bastard, furious that he was just lying down and taking it when that group of newbie dogs were copying him. Everyone in the Visual-Kei world (to an extent) imitated others, but this group was blatantly copying him. Not just a simple question/answer or piece of song, but a full-out character and style imitation. And the fans didn't care.
She had been infuriated with him. Yelled at him. And she could see that he was breaking. Quietly and slowly, but breaking. But it wasn't because of her!
So she made him respond. She taunted him until he could finally admit out loud – and to himself – that it wasn't alright and that he was pissed.
But then he'd done the unforgivable.
He'd hit her. He'd. Hit. Her.
He left a mark on her face, just as he'd left a mark on her soul.
And with that tiny scratch, the end had come for Fuwa Sho.
She'd clamped down on the urge to scream and rage – to strangle him – and instead went still.
He'd apologized immediately, of course. Even that idiot was smart enough to know when he'd done something stupid. But she'd only looked at him, her aura freezing him in place, before turning and walking out the door.
His fate was sealed.
The next day at the Dark Moon set, he'd appeared, full of remorse and wishing to speak with her. A look was enough to slump his shoulders and send him walking.
Her fellow actors had never seen such a look of icy disdain even from her character Mio. Director Ogata nearly hyperventilated before she came back to herself and smiled cheerfully.
No one even speculated about her having a secret relationship with that Sho-Baka.
A guitar borrowed from one of the Bridge Rock group impressed them and reminded her that she knew everything that he knew. She'd been the one to urge and help him along when he'd become frustrated in learning to play. He'd never had an ounce of patience.
A weekend spent in a park with a brand new fairy covered notebook, and she had songs. Good songs.
A meeting with the President, sitting through several glittery-eyed speeches, and she had his endorsement.
Another weekend spent filling yet another notebook with drawings, ideas, and character traits and she had a persona. She'd always known more than she'd ever wanted to about the things that made the Visual-Kei style. It had been her that went with Shoutaro to browse through all those alternative/Goth stores in order to develop his style.
The President helped a bit, enjoying both the costume design and the secrecy. And when she was finished with the physical, even she couldn't recognize herself in the mirror.
A recording session, an interview, and a music video, and suddenly everyone was whispering her name.
Her Love-Me duties slowly turned into recording sessions and publicity events. The President adored her music and felt that her desire for this new twist was a sign of her love rekindling.
She did not dissuade him of the notion.
Her first concert, she was an opener for Fuwa Sho.
The music was different, a mixture of contradictions. Heavy yet sweet. Sexy yet innocent. Electric yet lulling. Her voice was high, almost child-like. Her songs weaved a tale that everyone could see, feel; they were of love and hate, fantasy and reality, fairy tales and nightmares. Yet the music behind it was heart pumping, electric. The two fit though. She made the screeching screaming music mesh with her lullaby-like lyrics.
The fans left the concert confused and disappointed. The opener had got them excited. Love at first hearing, yet Fuwa Sho, the man they'd come to see, hadn't been as exciting. He'd seemed almost dull in comparison.
She found it ironic that on her on-location filming for Dark Moon, she'd inspired him to fight harder. He left those Beagles in the dust with his new style. His deeper emotions and more meaningful lyrics. But he still began to lose popularity. His songs just couldn't compete with the depth she put into hers. The emotions she could convey. The connection people felt when they heard her, saw her.
The public were captivated. They adored her. The critics raved about her.
Her looks and charisma pulled people to her. Her mystery kept them coming back for more. Her music made them happy in their obsession.
Hime-san was different than anything they'd seen. Girl rockers tended to rely on their bodies as much as their music to get fans. Yet she didn't expose herself as others did.
She was cute, beautiful even, yet she took no extra effort to show that off. Girls could picture themselves as her; guys could picture themselves with her. She was relatable, yet at the same time there was a quality that was almost godlike.
Hime-san was what everyone lusted to have or be, yet never would. So the fans followed her, worshiped her, yet never tried to touch her, because she was precious, perfect.
The attention and praise was enough to swell anyone's ego, even the most down to earth. But she never changed. But she never changed. Because it wasn't truly her that they praised, but Hime-san, her character. And the character was fixed, unchanging.
The fans loved her even more when they realized she was untouched by their praise.
Fuwa Sho slowly disappeared from the limelight. He remained in the industry, fighting with everything he had, but she shone too brightly for him to compete with. Her persona was untouchable and she played the character as she always did: with perfection. She succeeded easily where he struggled, because she was an actress.
She did not try to be the best musician out there. Instead, she created a character that was.
It wasn't Mogami Kyoko that went out on stage and wooed the crowd, it was Hime-san. Hime-san that succeeded in blowing the minds of everyone in the industry.
She started out to crush him. And she did so, without a doubt. But along the way, just as with her acting, she found another thing she loved.
It amused, as much as shocked, her when he finally revealed his secret. Tsuruga Ren, a stage name. A fake persona. He'd been worried that she'd hate him, or be disappointed.
He'd been shocked when she smiled, raised an eyebrow and fell into her own character.
Even without the make-up, wig, color contacts, and clothes, she was easily identified. Her persona had an electric charisma. Attractive yet shocking.
He'd blinked a few times before sitting down and laughing in self depreciation. He'd never even suspected.
She smiled sweetly and told him that the President knew.
His eyes narrowed.