#kiichu
To: @witchervesemir
From: @kiichu
Hey, here’s the extra gift I promised! This was so much fun to write, and I hope I created a believable cast/universe. There’s some fun things on the Ao3 page, so I encourage you to please read it there!
“Oh my gosh, is that you… Jumpy!?”
“K-Kanny!?”
“CUT!”
A loud screech and the slap of a clapperboard startled the young man and woman out of their acting illusion, two sets of eyes flying towards the director.
“What’s up?” Junpei Tenmyouji asked, crossing his arms. The rest of the actors on set had relaxed their stances, chitchatting amongst themselves for the time being.
“That was good, but I didn’t really feel the emotion,” explained the director, Kotaro Uchikoshi. “Junpei, you haven’t seen this girl in years - she’s your childhood best friend.”
“And probably his first love.” The actress of the girl in question, Akane Kurashiki, piped in, elbowing her co-star. “You didn’t really seem that surprised. Or rather, not I-can’t-believe-you’re-here-on-this-murder-ship-too surprised.”
Uchikoshi laughed. “That’s a good way to put it.”
Junpei nodded, taking the advice to heart. He’d wanted to be an actor ever since he was a kid, and had slowly built up a resume throughout the years. Now in his late twenties, he still had enough of a babyface to pass for the college-aged male lead of the upcoming movie, Zero Escape: 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors. When he’d auditioned, the director hadn’t had a name for the character - and, to his surprise, chose to name the protagonist after Junpei himself upon seeing his performance. There really was no greater honor, and Junpei considered himself beyond lucky for this opportunity. The least he could do was listen when the man gave him acting advice.
“Akane,” Uchikoshi continued, “you were great - just need more of that ditziness, y’know?”
“Tone up the ditz? Can do!” Akane exclaimed, twirling around in emphasis.
With a huff of laughter, Junpei watched his co-star in awe. Akane Kurashiki was a well-known actress, starring in several important roles in pivotal movies the past decade. She was a beautiful young woman in her twenties, continuously growing a loyal and large fan following.
It downright made Junpei nervous, being in the presence of such talent, but Akane was a kind and patient person. He could really learn a lot from her, and recognized his privilege for this opportunity.
Akane’s younger brother, Aoi, was also in the movie, playing her character’s sibling as well. Aoi had been cast as the rowdy and sarcastic Santa not because of his actual relation to Akane, but because he was just that damn good at it. Aoi had tried to explain away his talent by saying that Santa’s protectiveness for June stems from his own for Akane, but it didn’t change the fact that the performance was believable and admirable.
Really, everyone in the room with Junpei was so damn brilliant at acting.
If this movie was going to be as great as they all hoped, it would take every one of the actors’ efforts to make it work. And really, the cast had been nothing but supportive to one another, so Junpei found the confidence to believe in the film’s success.
“Alright, everyone! Back to your places!” Uchikoshi called, and the cast scrambled to their original places. “Roll sound. Camera ready? Action!”
“Are you seriously doing a Tiktok right now, Yotsuba?” The actor playing the mysterious amnesiac ‘Seven’ - Yamamoto - chuckled as he walked into the break room, seeing his younger coworker performing a dance in the corner.
The girl jumped, her bright pink wig sliding a bit out of place. “Yamamoto!” she hissed, adjusting her headpiece. “Ugh, this thing weighs a ton.”
“I’ll bet. All that hair and the earmuffs and stuff… I don’t envy you.” Suddenly, Yamamoto felt grateful his character only wore a hat on his head, and he didn’t need a wig.
Yotsuba gave a dismissive gesture. “Not a problem, I’m gonna take it off soon anyway. And hey, to answer your question - yes, of course. Can’t help it, there’s a dance trending and I had to join in the fun!” She giggled. “Besides, it gives some promotion for the movie, so why not?”
“How do you all know what’s popular on the app, anyway?” Yamamoto asked. “Like, I have one of those Tiktoks, but I don’t really get how it works. There’s always something new going on.”
Yotsuba Field took a deep breath. “Yeah, explaining that to you would take all night. Ask Kubota or Nijisaki - they’re boomers too, but get it better than you do.”
“Hey, I resent being called a boomer.” Kubota Teruaki, the actor for the trembling character of the ‘9th Man’, cheerfully stepped into the break room. “Because I do have lots of followers. My contract lets me post little preview clips of the movie, too.”
Nijisaki, another friendly actor with an extremely minor role, strolled in behind him. “Nothing about your character dying in the first twenty minutes of the movie?” he asked.
“Of course not.” Kubota wrinkled his nose. “But you have to wonder if they’re going to edit the trailers to make it seem like I’m there at later points.”
“Probably. They did that with the actress for Sayaka Maizono in Danganronpa, you know?” Yotsuba pointed out.
“Makes sense. At least you have a speaking role, Kubota. Me and Kagechika get grunts of confusion, and then we’re corpses.” Nijisaki laughed.
A hand clapped down on his shoulder, a low raspy voice announcing the presence of another actor. “Yes, sorry about that! Oops!” Gentarou Hongou, the actor behind the spoiler murderous villain, Ace, snickered. “I kinda wish my guy would just chill out. Eat a Snickers bar, or something. He could’ve been best friends with everyone! The cool dad character! But nooo.”
“He’s not very charming once the scary faces come out. Or so I’m told,” Light added agreeably from behind him.
“Yeah, I don’t see him topping any popularity lists…” Hongou lamented.
“I don’t ‘see’ him at all.” Light’s lips curled to a smirk as he opened his sightless eyes, earning him a giant groan from everyone else in the room.
Aoi and Hazuki were just coming into the room and heard that line, and Aoi promptly threw his head back in exasperation and groaned. “Oh my God…”
“Sorry, sorry,” Light chuckled, not seeming sorry at all. “But, Hongou, it could be much worse - remember the original script that got cut? I guarantee if that leaks, there’ll be tons of creepypastas about the ‘deleted scenes of 999!’. They’ll say someone burned alive in our incinerator set during that scene or something.”
“Creepypastas?” Yamamoto echoed. “Do I want to know?”
“My kids mentioned something like that years ago, when they were teenagers,” Hazuki pointed out. “Is that the slender man?”
Yotsuba snorted, trying to cover her mouth in politeness but failing miserably. “Like with Tiktok, not explaining that.” She nudged Hongou and Light. “That does remind me, though, of my own deleted scene. The one where I go ax crazy?”
“They deleted that?!” Nijisaki gasped. “But it was such a cool scene…”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make much sense in context, I guess. They’re not supposed to really know until the editing begins, but I was told it was going to be cut from the final movie.” Yotsuba shrugged. “Sucks, but what can you do? Uchikoshi says he’ll talk about it in the DVD interviews and stuff. That’ll definitely make it talked about online. And hey, any traction is good, right?”
“I guess so,” Aoi said. “But anyway, I think we’re all about done for the day, right? Akane and Junpei are finishing up their scene, so… how’s going for some pizza sound?”
Everyone in the room exchanged a pleasant glance. This was nothing new to them, as the entire cast was on friendly terms with each other and frequently went out after work. Usually, the only reason someone wouldn’t come with the group would be family obligations, such as Hazuki or Hongou picking up their kids or grandkids, or a scheduling conflict like Yotsuba’s model work.
However, that particular day, the entire cast was thankfully free.
“Oh, but what about the kid actors? From the incinerator? My little self?!” Akane gasped.
“Ah, they went home hours ago…” Aoi replied. “Damn labor laws!” he joked, shaking a fist in fake frustration.
Hazuki nudged him with a roll of her eyes. “Then how about we order them food the next time they’re all back on set? Yamamoto, don’t they have a scene with you in a couple days?”
“Yep! We’ll be starting the boat escape scene,” Yamamoto replied. “That’ll be a fun day. Wet, too.”
Light rolled his sightless eyes. “Side effect of having several boat sets to work on.”
“Hey guys,” Yotsuba cut in, stopping any further conversation about work, “about that pizza?”
The group rumbled in enthusiastic agreement.
Gentarou Hongou stepped out of the dressing room in his new costume for the day. It wasn’t anything fancy, really - a blue pinstripe suit and a lab coat overtop, with a fedora to match. The younger actors originally had protests to the fedora in particular, but the director argued that it would make Ace seem even more like a dick, so they went with it in the end.
Being a more seasoned actor, Hongou had embraced the wrinkles he’d gained over the years. It was exciting to evolve his talent to different roles, roles that had been all but locked to him before simply due to his age. The ‘wise old man’ was certainly fulfilling to play, but Hongou had to admit he’d been having fun hamming it up as Ace. Being the first twist villain of the movie, Ace had to be played as a deeply unstable man seemingly out of nowhere - and the evil faces Hongou got to do! Oh, they were so fun . Sometimes, Hongou couldn’t believe that he got paid for this stuff.
That day, he was set to film a flashback scene, and Ace was significantly younger (Hongou even had to shave…!), so the makeup department got to work smoothing out the lines on his face. By the end of it, he was on set with Yamamoto and a bunch of kids at the incinerator backdrop.
There was a particular scene, however, that made Hongou a bit nervous. Ace had to drag the younger version of June into the ‘incinerator’ - typical evil bastard stuff - but he had to grab the little actress’s wrist and actually pull her. They’d practiced it before, to make sure she’d be safe and he was pulling in a way that didn’t hurt her, but he still had his concerns.
Yamamoto’s costume made him look considerably younger, as well, with prominent makeup and no beanie. Hongou nodded to the other man as he walked onto set, noting June’s child actress hovering nearby.
The little girl didn’t hesitate to approach Hongou, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Wow, Mr. Hongou - you look way different!” she chirped. “Just like Mr. Yamamoto!”
“Amazing what some makeup will do, hm?” Hongou chuckled. “I don’t even think my wife would recognize me like this. Maybe she’d think I’m more handsome this way.”
The little girl giggled, the sound putting Hongou a bit more at ease. “She’s super excited to shoot today. Was yammering on and on the minute she walked outta makeup,” Yamamoto rumbled.
“I’m glad you’re not scared of me,” Hongou admitted sheepishly, kneeling down to look her in the eye. “I’m going to be making some pretty silly faces, and they might seem a bit intense in the moment.”
“Oh, I know!” the girl exclaimed. “It’s just acting - I know that, Mr. Hongou. Don’t be too worried if I seem scared, okay?” She patted him on the shoulder with a beaming smile. “I’m not, I promise! Everyone here is so nice, I’m so glad Mommy let me be a part of this! I’m having so much fun!”
Ah. Hongou smiled at her warmly; her youthful energy reminded him of his daughter when she was the same age. “Well then,” he rasped, “I say we have a scene to shoot, don’t you?”
The little actress nodded. “Let’s do this!”
“Ah, how wonderful to see you decided to come back.” Hongou said his lines with practiced ease, staring down at the little girl opposite him with the eyes of a killer. Or, at least, he tried - it was hard to get into the headspace of a faceblind character without actually being faceblind himself.
They tried to cast someone with prosopagnosia for the role, but there weren’t any auditions - and Hongou had a pretty good idea why. This situation wasn’t like Light, who was actually blind as Snake was - the disability in Ace’s case was not being portrayed in a respectful or realistic manner, so it wouldn’t exactly be the role of a lifetime for an actor with prosopagnosia.
Little Akane’s actress trembled as she turned around and faced him; Hongou had to remind himself of her earlier reassurances, and hope she remembered his. The girl shook her head, taking a step back away from him.
“Come with me,” he recited, “We must continue the experiment.”
Hongou really tried to play up the ‘deranged’ look - Ace was really off the deep end, even in the past! - and hoped he was selling it. The little girl was very talented, definitely giving the impression she was genuinely terrified. Hongou wondered absentmindedly what acting school she went to, or if her parents were in the business.
Unfortunately, he was so lost in that train of thought, he missed the cue for his next line, and fumbled out the words, “Stop snuggling, goddammit–” He stopped short, rumbling out a deep laugh, “D-did I really say snuggling?!”
His scene partner giggled in response. “Mr. Hongooooou!!”
More laughs sounded from behind a nearby prop door. The young actors for Santa and Snake’s kid portrayals were waiting to pop out and call for Akane, as well as Yamamoto.
“Oh my God, Hongou,” Yamamoto said, his voice muffled behind the door.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hongou chuckled. “I’ll get it right this time. No snuggling allowed on my ship.”
Uchikoshi gave a chortle of his own. “It’d be a much different movie.”
“Not nearly as exciting, though,” Hongou replied with a smirk. Conflict does make a story, after all, and 999 ’s conflict was pretty damn interesting.
“Okay, okay - from the top, people!” Uchikoshi cried out, clapping a few times to get everyone back into their places. “And no snuggling this time!”
“You– Akane!? You’re Zero?!”
Akane couldn’t contain her laughter as Light, Yotsuba, Yamamoto, Hongou, Kubota, and Hazuki all read through the latest piece of their scripts. From the beginning of shooting, only Akane, Junpei, and Aoi were told about the end twist in an effort to make the surprise feel as real as possible. The last pages of the script were hidden from most of the actors until the final shooting days.
Up until that point, everyone had been under the impression that Aoi was Zero. Sure, they knew the twist about Akane and Aoi being siblings, but weren’t aware Akane was part of the operation at all. In fact, the script had actually said the contrary up until the last minute ‘change’ (or, more accurately, the last minute switch to the real script).
“Oops?” Akane shrugged lightly, giggling as her friends gaped at her. “Sorry!”
“Holy shit,” Hazuki whispered. “Holy shit, I like that twist.”
“It makes a bit more sense in hindsight,” Hongou pointed out. “Something was weird about you, Akane.”
Akane bopped Hongou on the arm. “Like you’re one to talk!”
“Fair point.” Hongou just gave a sheepish grin.
“Do you know how hard it was to keep this a secret from you guys?” Aoi asked with a grumble. “Really really hard.”
“Yeah, Aoi’s mouth is big enough that I was afraid he’d spoil,” Akane sighed, shaking her head. Her brother was a bit of a loudmouth after all - just like his character. “But seeing as his career depended on his silence, I’m glad he pulled it off.”
Aoi put his arm around Akane playfully. “Hey, I seem to remember you and Junpei whining about how we couldn’t spill the beans, either.”
“Shh, don’t tell them that!” Akane exclaimed.
“Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter much now that we do know. And I’m glad Uchikoshi went this route.” Yamamoto chuckled, reviewing the new script. “Seems we just have that final car scene to shoot.”
Hongou groaned loudly. “Not that scene…”
“Shut up and wear your duct tape and ropes,” Hazuki laughed with a wink.
Yamamoto snorted, turning the script to the last page. “And then that’s about it for a while, huh? Until reshoots, if we need any.”
A murmur of agreement fluttered around the room, everyone simultaneously coming to the conclusion that their fun was almost over for now. It was a shame, really, that things like this couldn’t last a bit longer, but that was showbiz. They’d all been through this before - everything must naturally come to an end. Take away the costumes, director, scripts, and sets, and all you had left were a group of people.
But at the very least, they were a group of people that cared about each other and promised to stay in touch.
And in the end, that made it all worth it.
