Crimson Beneath Your White Paint

Year 1965

The train slows as the announcement comes over the speaker that they're reaching the final station.

Shintaro watches the scenery through the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, and lets out a small, excited breath. The view has changed from quiet outskirts to busier city streets. Traditional rooftops appear among more modern buildings. The evening sun makes everything look golden. Cherry trees stand along the riverside. People walk everywhere. Some ride bicycles. Others carry shopping bags.

It's been a while since he visited Kyoto last time - it was probably during the time they had a school trip there. Back then, Kyoto was just somewhere they went for a few days to see tourist attractions before returning home.

But this time, Shintaro is not just visiting. He is going to live here. Eight months, maybe more, and it's going ot be all about kabuki rehearsals and later performances.

It doesn't feel even real yet. The unreal feeling stays with him as the train approaches the platform.

It's also wild to think that the moment he stepped into the train in Kanazawa, everything from then on would be totally new to him.

Kanazawa had always been home. Shintaro grew up there, found kabuki there, and worked his way up step by step. It all started with curiosity about that traditional art form, but soon became serious as he realized his love for it. He fell into kabuki without really noticing it. And after that, there was no going back.

Slowly, after years of training and performing, his name started to mean something, and people in certain kabuki circles began to recognize him.

It was, of course, only a regional kabuki that Kanazawa had to offer. The stages were small. The audience was mostly older locals who came every year. All in all, it was local and small-scale, and nothing that people across the country would talk about.

Kyoto is different. This is where kabuki has the longest history and where certain surnames are known to have been part of it for generations. The Love Suicides at Sonezaki, the play he is joining as the male lead, was born here, as well. It is one of the most legendary pieces in the repertoire. He can't believe he was chosen for the role.

Shintaro opens a brochure of the old kabuki play of Courtesan and Stork in his hand, and the face of Kyomoto Masaki meets him.

There are people in kabuki you respect, and then there are people who feel like part of the art itself. Masaki is one of those. A name with generations behind it. Someone whose career Shintaro has closely followed for years. And now, through this production, he will have a direct connection to him. Because Kyomoto Taiga, Masaki's son, will play the lead onnagata role.

Shintaro has known Taiga's name for a long time. Being Masaki's only son, he's the heir to the Kyomoto family. And because he's the next in line, he obviously practiced kabuki since childhood. Shintaro has not only heard about him but has also seen recordings and read several reviews of his performances. Taiga has already been performing many times alongside his father, but only recently has he gotten more lead onnagata roles.

It's going to be an honor to work with him, Shintaro thinks.

Shintaro himself isn't from a kabuki family. There has never been a legacy behind him, absolutely no name to rely on. His family is ordinary people with normal jobs; his father works as a salaryman, while his mother prepares school lunches, and that's about it. Yet, in a way, Shintaro takes that as something to be proud of. Sometimes he thinks he has worked harder than those born into it. That while others like Kyomotos have their names, he only has his own effort and skill.

Shintaro puts the brochure away, and his fingers tighten excitedly around the handle of his suitcase as the train finally comes to a stop.

His future waits just outside.

-----

Minami-za theater is right next to the Shijo Bridge. The area around it is lively, with lots of people passing through the busy main street. The river next to it looks absolutely beautiful in the morning light.

Shintaro has seen the building before, but standing in front of it now feels different. It is hard to believe that this will be the stage where he performs. Minami-za is just so legendary.

"Morimoto-san?"

Shintaro turns. A man in his sixties, in a suit and with neatly combed hair, approaches him.

"I'm Nishida from Minami-za. We spoke on the phone."

"Ah, yes!" Shintaro brightens instantly, bowing. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Nishida bows back. "Of course, of course. Welcome to Kyoto. Come on in, I'll take you around."

Inside, the theater building is even more overwhelming. The lobby is already wide and well-maintained. Posters from past performances and previous actors line the walls, and the slightly dim inside lighting highlights them just nicely.

The stage area is larger than anything Shintaro is used to. Nishida leads him through it, pointing out stage mechanics, historical details, and how certain performances have been adapted over the years. Shintaro tries to take it all in, nodding along, but his attention keeps drifting because there's so much to look at. From one detail to the next.

"The stage has been able to rotate since the Edo period," Nishida explains as they walk beneath it. He gestures toward parts of the mechanism. "And there are multiple trapdoors depending on the scene."

After that, they move deeper into the building. Even the backstage area is more impressive than Kanazawa's, with wide corridors and high ceilings that could accommodate large set pieces.

"Alright, here we are," Nishida says, stopping at the dressing room corridor. "You'll be sharing the dressing room with-"

Before he can finish his sentence, a door slides open nearby.

"Ah, perfect timing!"

A man steps out, and Shintaro recognizes him instantly. Kyomoto Masaki is tall with a strong, calm presence. He wears a simple dark kimono that looks elegant on him, while his black hair, streaked with silver, is swept back.

Masaki smiles as he spots Shintaro. "Ah, good day. You must be Morimoto Shintaro."

Shintaro bows deeply quickly. "Yes, that's me! It's an honor to meet you, Kyomoto-san. Thank you for your guidance."

Masaki waves a hand, dismissing the formality. "No need for that. I've heard a lot about you and your performances."

"You have?" Shintaro asks.

"Mm," Masaki's eyes crinkle slightly. "Good things."

Before Shintaro can respond, Masaki glances over his shoulder. "Taiga."

Taiga steps out from behind Masaki.

For a moment, Shintaro just stares. He has seen recordings before, but it is completely different in real life.

Taiga is... really beautiful.

The thought comes to Shintaro instantly. There is something absolutely striking about Taiga's appearance that does not carry through the screen. He looks like he's made for onnagata roles.

Taiga wears a dark blue kimono that falls over his slim frame, the color making his pale skin stand out. His facial features resemble his father's, but they are softer, likely due to his younger age.

"Taiga, this is Morimoto Shintaro," Masaki says. "He'll be the one joining you for The Love Suicides at Shonezaki."

Taiga's eyes slowly move to Shintaro. The look on his face doesn't look warm. He looks assessing, as if he's measuring Shintaro from head to toe, which makes Shintaro feel slightly uncomfortable. But Shintaro bows and smiles at him anyway, wanting to be friendly and make a good first impression for his colleague.

"Nice to meet you!"

Taiga gives a small nod.

"Likewise," he says, but his voice sounds cold and not very sincere.

Masaki, blissfully or deliberately ignoring the awkward tension, claps his hands once.

"Well then, you two will have plenty of time to get acquainted. First rehearsal will be tomorrow already, and you'll be sharing the dressing room."

Taiga gives a small, tight smile that does not reach his eyes. Then he turns and goes back into the dressing room without another word. Shintaro watches behind him, raising his eyebrows a little.

"He seems nice," he comments to Nishida, because he doesn't know what else to say.

-----

Shintaro steps into the dressing room, sets his suitcase down near the wall, and looks around. He barely has time to settle before the door slides open behind him.

Taiga walks in and sits down by his makeup table. He doesn't greet Shintaro. In fact, he doesn't say anything and acts like Shintaro wouldn't be present in the room.

In the end, Shintaro decides to break the silence.

"So," he starts, trying to sound as easy and friendly as ever, "We'll be working closely together."

"Yes," Taiga says flatly.

"You've performed here before, right?"

"Yes."

Short answers. No effort to continue. Yet, Shintaro decides to keep going anyway.

"Then I'll be relying on you!" he says with a smile.

Taiga stops moving. His hand rests on the table. When he turns to look at Shintaro, his face looks bored.

"I think you should rely on your own ability," he says flatly. "That would be more appropriate."

Shintaro blinks. He then gives a quiet, awkward laugh.

"Right. Sure. I mean, I will. I just said that since you already know how things run here."

"I do," Taiga says bluntly.

There's a short pause before he adds, "And I expect you to keep up."

Then he turns again towards his mirror without saying anything more, effectively ending the conversation with that.

They spend the next few minutes in total silence. Shintaro crouches down to open his suitcase instead, pulling out the training yukata he was told to bring. Now and then, he catches Taiga looking at him through the mirror. The looks are quick, but cold and intense, as if Taiga is judging him.

Luckily, soon, a voice calls from the hallway, breaking the awkward silence.

"The rehearsal room is ready for you to start."

Shintaro grabs the edge of the sliding door and pulls it open. "Coming!"

Taiga walks past him quickly through the open door before Shintaro manages even to step out.

-----

The rehearsal room is a big tatami room. When Shintaro and Taiga enter, heads turn. All the actors and instrumentalists nod in greeting.

Shintaro offers a polite bow at everyone. "Good morning."

Taiga says nothing but bows, as well. Then he walks past everyone and takes a seat at one of the cushions without looking at anyone. Shintaro sits down as well.

A moment later, Masaki steps in, followed by the director. The atmosphere in the room straightens immediately.

"Let's begin," the director says, settling into place. "We'll start with a full reading. No blocking yet. I want to hear the rhythm. Let's start with you, Morimoto-san. From the beginning."

Shintaro stands up and comes to the middle of the room. He starts his lines.

At first, he focuses on keeping his breathing steady, and he notices he's nervous. Still, as the scene progresses, something begins to settle. The rhythm of the dialogue pulls him in. He finds the emotional thread of his character and lets it guide him forward.

Taiga keeps looking at him, arms crossed in front of him with a tilted head, looking judgmental.

Then it is his turn.

Taiga's made-up female voice is softer than Shintaro expected, but it carries loudly across the room. There is a nice control to it, and every word lands exactly where it should. Taiga's tone conveys the quiet sadness his character is meant to carry.

The room seems to lean toward him without anyone moving. Shintaro also finds himself being completely drawn in as he follows Taiga.

By the time Taiga finishes his lines, everyone's silent. That was just astonishing.

The director nods. "Good. Then from the next scene."

The rehearsal continues.

After a while, the director calls for a short break. He excuses himself and goes to the side of the room to have a talk with Masaki. Shintaro glances at Taiga.

"Hey," he says, offering a small smile. "That was really good. You did well."

Taiga looks up at him.

"I don't need validation from you," he says.

Shintaro blinks. "Ah… I didn't mean it like that. I was just—"

"I know what you meant," Taiga cuts in. "And you should just focus on your own performance before commenting on mine."

For a moment, Shintaro stares at him. Then he lets out a small, awkward breath, something between a laugh and disbelief.

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

Taiga's gaze lingers on him for a second longer, as if measuring his reaction. Then he looks away.

Shintaro sits back slightly and does his best not to roll his eyes.

Okay. So Taiga is not just a little distant or shy. Talented, yes. But he is actually quite an unpleasant person.

Shintaro utters a quiet sigh through his nose. The next months are surely going to be interesting.

The director claps the wooden ki-clappers together sharply.

"Again!"

Shintaro wipes sweat from his forehead. Kochi Yugo, a servant of the Kyomoto family, tries fanning and cooling Shintaro down with a practice fan, but the paper just pushes the sticky hot air around. Shintaro thanks him anyway and steps forward.

He takes the posture of Tokubei, the tragic, disgraced merchant. He turns toward Taiga, who stands across from him as the courtesan Ohatsu.

Shintaro reaches out his hand, forcing himself deep into the headspace of a desperate lover. He tries his best to drag a heavy grief up from his chest as he reaches for Ohatsu's sleeve.

Taiga responds right away, tilting his head back in a beautiful gesture of sorrow and snapping his fan open perfectly to hide his face. For a moment, they act out the classic scene well. Shintaro moves forward with desperation, while Taiga pulls back with smooth grace.

Then, Shintaro takes another step, leaning in hard as he tries to put all his energy into the end of the line.

And then, all of a sudden, Taiga drops his arms and steps back, totally breaking character.

Deep frown lines on his face.

"No, wait. Your posture falls apart at that moment," Taiga says. "You're leaning way too far forward. Tokubei is heartbroken and desperate for love. He is not begging for spare change on the street."

Over on the tatami mats, a few senior actors exchange uncomfortable looks with each other. Before the silence can grow too heavy in the room, Kyomoto Masaki, who has been watching quietly from the corner of the room, nods but then smiles warmly.

"Taiga is looking at the technical silhouette, Morimoto-kun," Masaki says, his hushed tone instantly calming down the tension. "But your instinct isn't wrong. Tokubei is a desperate man. The raw vulnerability you brought to that line just now was beautiful. We just need to capture that massive emotion inside a slightly tighter frame."

Taiga rolls his eyes at the interruption, looking thoroughly annoyed by his father's leniency and diplomatic words.

"This is traditional kabuki, not some cheap modern television drama. The emotion comes from the perfect form. If you ruin the kata, you ruin the art."

Shintaro can feel his jaw tighten.

"I'm trying to show how desperate he is to a modern audience. If I stay too stiff, the audience won't feel a thing. They are more demanding these days," he says.

"Then the audience should buy a ticket to a cinema instead," Taiga says.

"Let's take it from the beginning," the director cuts in before a real argument could potentially start. "Morimoto-san, tuck your hips slightly more. Listen to Kyomoto-san's timing."

Shintaro swallows the bitter taste in his mouth and nods.

He could handle criticism, but Taiga's arrogance is seriously starting to get on his nerves.

-----

They are about to rehearse the most important scene before the suicide sequence. It is a powerful and painful scene where Tokubei hides under the porch of the Temma House. An enemy sits nearby drinking and boasting, so Ohatsu can't look down. Instead, she speaks out loud. She means her words for the hidden Tokubei, testing his courage and asking if he is truly ready to die with her. In the end, they have to communicate their final promise through touch alone.

The director paces around the room with an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"Kyomoto-san, you sit on the porch. Morimoto-san, you're underneath. When Kyomoto-san lowers his bare foot, you grab it, press it to your cheek, and guide it to your throat to promise you'll die together. It needs to look smooth but desperate."

Shintaro takes his position on the floor, crouching low, pretending to be trapped beneath the floorboards.

He throws himself into the performance, letting out a silent, trembling wail as he lets out Ohatsu's weeping for her lover. He embodies the courtesan's deep despair, her tone conveying the agonizing question of whether Tokubei truly has the courage to follow her into death.

After letting that heavy doubt hang in the air, he slowly extends his right leg, letting his bare foot dangle over the edge.

Shintaro moves forward. He reaches out, palming the sole of Taiga's foot.

He is surprised.

He expected something delicate and soft to match the onnagata role, but it isn't like that at all. While the skin is exceptionally pale and the foot itself is small, it is still undeniably a man’s foot. The arches are strong, hardened from years of traditional training on the cool floors of the theater stages, and Shintaro finds himself admiring the strength of it for a brief second.

He presses the foot against his cheek, trying to show Tokubei's deep love.

Suddenly, Taiga flinches. The movement is tiny, but on a kabuki stage, it's a bad sign.

"Stop," Taiga hisses.

"What is it, Kyomoto-san?" the director asks.

Taiga pulls his leg back, tucking it swiftly beneath his robe. He glares down at Shintaro.

"Morimoto-san's grip is way too aggressive. He grabbed Ohatsu's heel as if he were catching a runaway horse. It ruined the fluid line of Ohatsu's ankle. Furthermore, his face is too tense. He was scratching the top of the foot with his rough jawline. It's such a distraction."

Shintaro sits back on his heels, letting out a sharp, dry laugh because it's starting to get ridiculous. He tilts his head up, looking directly at Taiga with a mocking grin.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Kyomoto," he says with dripping sarcasm. "Are you really that vulnerable of an onnagata? I thought you were supposed to be a professional, but a little bit of stubble completely breaks your concentration?"

Taiga's expression hardens. He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs heavily.

"It is called maintaining the illusion, Morimoto. Though I suppose expecting an amateur to understand the difference between artistic sensitivity and personal weakness is asking far too much."

Shintaro can't help firing back. "Forgive me if my hands aren't as smooth as silk. Besides, in Kanazawa, we don't treat the onnagata like a fragile porcelain doll; we treat them equally like normal human beings."

"And that is why exactly Kanazawa did and will remain inferior," Taiga retorts coldly. "The most well-known rule is that if you can't master the delicate weight of a touch without crushing it, you have no business touching another actor."

"Alright, that's enough!" the director barks, cutting their argument. "We will move on to the dialogue sections next. Let's take ten minutes. Go out and get some fresh air."

Taiga stands up immediately, without giving Shintaro a second glance, and glides out toward the corridor.

Kochi excuses himself with a quick bow to the room before hurrying after Taiga.

Shintaro stays on the floor for a long moment, his chest boiling with exhaustion and anger.

-----

That evening, the big bosses throw a formal dinner party for them at a fancy restaurant overlooking the Kamogawa River to celebrate finishing the first two weeks of rehearsals. The sake is flowing, and the mood is loud and happy among the actors and wealthy sponsors.

Shintaro sits near the lower end of the table, politely answering questions from a wealthy theater patron wearing an expensive tailor-made Western suit.

"Ah, Kanazawa!" the patron booms, holding out his cup for Shintaro to fill. "A lovely city. Very charming theater culture there. But tell me, Morimoto-san, isn't the scale here in Kyoto completely overwhelming for you? It's quite a leap from the province to the old capital, after all."

Shintaro flashes a polite smile.

"Minami-za is indeed a great theater, sir. But I believe the heart of acting is the same everywhere."

"Of course, of course. Hard work can overcome a lot," the man says, though his tone carries a subtle, patronizing edge. He then looks over to the next table toward Masaki and Taiga, who are surrounded by the elite sponsors.

"Still, there is something to be said for bloodlines, isn't there? Look at young Kyomoto. He was born for the stage. You can't just buy or practice that kind of inherent nobility. It's in the bones. It's in his blood."

Shintaro looks in that direction. Taiga is pouring sake for an elderly executive.

As if sensing Shintaro's gaze, Taiga’s eyes suddenly travel across the room over the sake bottle. The cool, indifferent look he gives Shintaro feels immediately worse than an outright insult or a smirk. It's the look a landlord gives a tenant who is late on rent.

Shintaro takes a long drink of his sake and turns his look away.

Suddenly, the door slides open and a tall guy walks in. It's Jesse, a close friend of Kyomotos from high-society circles. He is half-Japanese, the son of an American businessman. He is dressed in a stylish red Western suit.

Instead of joining the wealthy executives or Kyomotos, Jesse looks around the room, spots an open tatami mat space next to Shintaro, and strolls right over.

"Man, these formal parties are always so stiff," Jesse laughs, sitting down next to Shintaro with an easygoing smile.

He turns directly to Shintaro and extends a hand.

"Hey there! I'm Jesse Lewis. Nice to meet you."

Shintaro shakes his hand, surprised by the casual, happy energy. "I'm Morimoto Shintaro. Nice to meet you, too."

Jesse beams. "Ah, I actually knew your name! Taiga told me about you. You're the guy playing Tokubei, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," Shintaro says, bracing himself for another talk about the legacy and heirs.

Instead, Jesse just laughs and waves over a server.

"Hey, can we get two cold beers over here?"

The beer arrives quickly. Jesse pours a glass for Shintaro before filling his own.

"Don't let Taiga get under your skin, man. He's a total annoying perfectionist when it comes to this stuff. Cheers!"

Shintaro clinks his glass against Jesse's and watches as Jesse takes a big sip before lighting a cigarette.

The two of them bond instantly. Jesse is incredibly laid-back, cracking jokes about how mind-numbing the speeches are at his father's corporate banquets. He talks about his family's place in Osaka and easily invites Shintaro over sometime. He asks Shintaro all about Kanazawa, wanting to know what food is best there and what the city is like. For the first time all night, Shintaro actually relaxes completely. He laughs as Jesse downs his beer fast and orders another round.

As the night wears on, more alcohol is being served. Then, one of the older ensemble actors, well into his cups, leans over to Shintaro and pats his shoulder.

"Don't take it to heart, kid," he mutters, hiccuping. "The Kyomoto kid has been doing this since he was four. He didn't have a childhood. To him, if someone's mother didn't use stage makeup as baby powder, you're basically just a tourist in this world."

Shintaro doesn't reply. He glances carefully at Taiga, who is now politely laughing with the sponsors, looking every bit the perfect, untouchable prince. But Shintaro now sees right through that elegant mask. On the inside, Taiga is just cold and unpleasant, a bully who treats anyone without a proper bloodline like total trash.

-----

After the dinner concludes around midnight, the group disperses in different directions. Some take taxis while others have their own personal drivers.

Only then does Shintaro realize he has left his notebook containing the director's specific blocking notes back in the dressing room. He decides to walk back to the theater because it's not that far, and it would be almost on the way to his small flat that the theater has offered him for his stay. At this point, it would be best not to slack at all because he really wants to show everyone (and especially Taiga) that he can master the role more than fine. Better than anyone before.

The streets of Gion are quiet. The only sounds are the occasional roar of midnight taxis and the muffled melody of a sad enka ballad from a basement bar.

The theater building is dark and eerily quiet compared to daytime as he walks through the empty corridors.

Shintaro pulls back the sliding door, expecting a dark, empty dressing room, only to be met by the warm light spilling from the vanity mirror.

Taiga sits before the glass, carefully packing something that looks like his personal cosmetics away into a beautiful lacquered wooden chest.

Shintaro is surprised to see him. "You're still here? I figured you'd be riding home in a private car with your father and the sponsors," he exclaims.

Taiga doesn't look up but continues to arrange small ceramic pots.

"My father left already an hour ago. The theater's head costume designer brought over those Edo-period robes for Ohatsu tonight. They needed to be checked for humidity and fitted to my frame before tomorrow's dress rehearsal."

Without commenting on that in any way, Shintaro walks in and grabs his notebook from the side of his makeup table.

He stands by the door, ready to leave. But suddenly, the built-up frustration of the past few days boils over all at once. He thinks of the constant nitpicking from Taiga and the patronizing remarks from the sponsors. He thinks of the dinner party with all its meaningless chatter among the patrons, where everyone was only interested in sucking up to the Kyomoto family. Most of all, he thinks of the years he spent working twice as hard just to get half as far as people like Taiga.

He turns around and takes a deep breath.

"You know, you could just tell me directly if you have a personal problem with me."

Taiga doesn't stop his actions. He doesn't even bother looking up from his arranged wooden boxes. He simply wipes a smudge of cream from a jar as he starts speaking extremely calmly.

"I don't have a personal problem with you. I just care about the quality of the play. If you find my feedback distressing and find it problematic, perhaps you should re-evaluate your career choice."

"No, you're not being honest," Shintaro says. His voice drops into a harsher, grittier register, no longer speaking the polite standard dialect he has been practicing for the theater staff. "Ever since I met you, you've looked at me like I'm dirt on your expensive sandals. You look down on the way I act, the way I talk, and where I come from. You literally look down on everything about me!"

Taiga places his jar down and turns his head, his pale face illuminated by the bulb-bordered dressing room mirrors.

"If you want honesty, fine," Taiga says, his voice annoyingly calm. "You don't belong in this role. This is The Love Suicides at Sonezaki at the Minami-za. It's a play that requires a deep understanding of legacy. Deep understanding of the old traditional kabuki. Not every regional amateur can play the legendary Tokubei."

Shintaro lets out a sarcastic laugh in disbelief.

"An amateur? I spent ten years pulling myself up from absolutely nothing in Kanazawa. I've been working so hard. I practiced until my knees bled. I've earned my place on this stage through that hard work. Just because my father doesn't have his name carved into a theater plaque doesn't mean my art is worth less than yours."

"That is exactly your problem," Taiga scoffs. "You think this is about hard work. You think that because you worked hard as a salaryman's son, you deserve to inherit a position in a masterpiece. I tell you, you lack the generations of blood, instinct, and basically everything that makes this art alive. You are just an outsider trying to mimic things you don't fundamentally understand. Hard work is the bare minimum. But hard work doesn't buy you a soul."

The words cut deep, striking the exact insecurity Shintaro has tried so hard to bury.

"You are right about one thing. I might be an outsider," Shintaro says calmly, wanting to be just as mean back. "But while you are busy being a perfect, lifeless doll trapped in your father's shadow, repeating the same routine the audience has seen a hundred times, I am going to bring something completely new and fresh to that stage. Let's see which one of us the audience actually remembers when the curtain falls."

Taiga's eyes widen slightly. For a split second, a flash of genuine shock breaks through his icy composure.

Without waiting for him to say anything more, Shintaro turns around and slides the door shut behind him.

The cool night air hits his face as he steps out of the stage door, but his heart is still beating hard in fury and adrenaline that make his whole body feel hot.

As Shintaro walks back to his apartment, he can't help but go back to their conversation again and again in his mind.

It just feels completely absurd.

He and Taiga are supposed to play the most devoted lovers in one of the most legendary plays, but they have already managed to turn all that into a petty rivalry.