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“Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…”
“Oh, dear, Gyomei, you have one of the most resonant voices I’ve ever heard, but could you please not start crying at the top of the show?”
Mitsuri looked up from her script at her laddered perch backstage; Gyomei was indeed in tears.
“S-sorry,” he rumbled, swiping at his eyes with his arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why--”
“It’s alright. Do you need a minute? We can move on to the brawl scene, the freshmen need a chance to practice with Kyojuro.” Ubuyashiki, with the patience of a saint, gestured over his script to where Inosuke and Zenitsu were arguing over which choreography was right and Muichiro was running his lines; the poor baby was struggling with memorizing. Which was fair -- no other freshman had as big a role as him. Kyojuro was diligently marking through the actual choreography off to the side.
Gyomei shook his head and sniffled heavily. “No, no, I got it. I need to…” He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders back. "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…”
Mitsuri loved when Gyomei said his lines -- his voice was so deep and beautiful, and made the words even more beautiful by saying them.
"From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life…”
Mitsuri looked across the stage to where her star-crossed lover was, only to find Giyuu moping as Tengen sneered through his Queen Mab speech. From the corner of her eye, she saw Shinobu notice the same thing and zip over to tell them to be quiet, an ever-moving, ever-efficient stage manager.
She would have liked to be running her lines with Giyuu, seeing as they were the Romeo and Juliet, but he would barely give her the time of day when they weren’t on stage, and even then! How annoying. Mitsuri suspected he had been cast because he already had Romeo’s melancholy attitude, could fight well with a sword, and was the best looking senior.
Mitsuri huffed a little and instead returned to her lines, adjusting her seat at the top of a ladder offstage left. One particular monologue in act two, scene two was giving her some trouble.
“The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love…”
“O, be some other name!” she whispered to herself, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee… ta…” She grumbled in frustration. “No part of thee…”
“Take all myself.”
Mitsuri felt her heart knock into her ribs.
Obanai had a hand placed on the ladder as he looked up at her from the floor. He moved around so quietly that, with his naturally dark wardrobe, she hadn’t seen him at all.
She smiled shyly down at him in thanks. “And for that name which is no part of thee, take all myself.”
He surprised her by quietly returning Romeo’s next line. “I take thee at thy word. Call me but love and I’ll be new baptised; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
She leaned down to him, continuing the exchange. “What man art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night, so stumblest on my counsel?”
“By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am.” Obanai surprised her by climbing up a few rungs of the ladder. “My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.”
She briefly glanced at her script; he was word-perfect in his recitation.
“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of thy tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound; art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?”
Obanai looked up at her with the steadiest gaze she had ever seen.
“Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.”
Mitsuri broke out in a smile and, with her elbows on her knees, rested her chin in her hands. “How do you know all this?” she whispered.
She’d seen Obanai around. He was new that year, and had naturally gravitated toward the theatre, though he had said he would rather stay behind the scenes. A good thing, Ubuyashiki had said, as their previous tech had just graduated. He fit in well with the boys, particularly Kyojuro, who collected introverts and sweeties like they were stamps. He’d started coming to their movie nights, always at Tengen’s house, and once or twice she’d gone into the kitchen for more snacks and found Obanai there alone, only for him to startle and bolt. It was a shame, really. There was just something about him.
Obanai shrugged shyly. “We did this last year at my old school. I was the only guy.”
“Wow,” Mitsuri said, and she meant it. “You don’t strike me as someone that would want to act.”
He slunk into himself, a little self-conscious, and rolled his eyes. “I don’t. I wasn’t really given a choice.”
She smiled warmly at him and leaned further down, resting her chin on her knees as she busied her fingers with the ruffles of her socks. “I bet you were great. Your voice is really beautiful, and you sound so convincing.”
Obanai blushed, hard, and glanced away, swiping at his bangs. “Yeah, well.”
Mitsuri eyed him for a moment before trying a different approach.
“How camest thou hither? Tell me! And wherefore?” She absent-mindedly tugged at her pink shoelaces. “The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.”
Obanai looked back up at her and whispered, “With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls, for stony limits cannot keep love out.”
Their eyes met. Something trembled within her.
An hour later, Ubuyashiki’s head in his hands after announcing that they needed to run the brawl again because Inosuke kept trying to actually punch Zenitsu, Mitsuri and Obanai had found their way to a pair of seats in the back row.
“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” he said softly, looking at her over her script as he tested her.
She smiled; this line always made her smile. “What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” For some reason, it was even more fun to say to Obanai than to fish-faced, monotone Giyuu. There was something about the way he looked back at her, like he actually meant it.
“The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”
“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and… And…” Mitsuri scrunched her nose in frustration. “What’s this one?”
Patiently, he reminded her, “And yet I would--”
“Oh! And yet I would it were to give again.”
Obanai smiled at her. She’d never seen anyone give a close-mouthed smile so cutely. Come to think of it, she didn’t think she’d seen Obanai smile at all before this. “Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”
What a cute little liar he was. His eyebrows furrowed as he asked the questions, his eyes wondering and searching. As if he was actually Romeo, nervous that she decided she didn’t love him. He was an actor, seemed a natural-born vessel for it.
His worry made it all the easier for her to remember the next line. “But to be frank,” she found herself whispering once more, and blushing “and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have.” Unconsciously, she reached out and placed her hands on top of his. “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”
They both blinked, startled. She dimly realized that she had wanted to kiss him.
“Hey Mitsuri, Ubuyashiki is ready to move on to your scene with the Nurse and Lady Capulet,” Shinobu called from the center of the house.
“Got it!” she cried out before privately turning to Obanai. He held her script out to her and looked away, embarrassed.
“I-- I should, I need to--” he mumbled.
“Obanai,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He blushed and nodded. “Of course. Yeah. It’s nothing.”
Mitsuri nervously scraped her fingernails together before offering, “Would you. Um. Would you mind doing th-- Would you mind running lines with me? Again?” At his look, she added, “You’re just. It’s just. It’s easier. You make it easier. Than with, um. It’s better with you than with Giyuu.”
Obanai regarded her, and she realized how handsome he was.
“Of course,” he said quietly. “If you want me to.”
Shinobu caught Mitsuri on her way to the stage and hissed, “Um! Why didn’t you tell me you had something going on with the new kid?!”
Mitsuri couldn’t do anything but shrug and say with wonder, “I don't know.”