Afraid
01
“When i wake up I’m afraid somebody else might take my place”
In Akutagawa’s eyes, the worst kinds of people were those who are gifted.
Those who put an extreme amount of effort into perfecting their talents only gain a fraction of what the gifted are already born with. Child prodigies who can cultivate their talents with the ease of wind outshine those beneath them until they're driven to the point of despair. In his line of work, he's watched many of his peers slowly lose hope in achieving their dreams after facing the reality that their skills only go so far and are simply incomparable to that of a prodigy. Because how could they ever compare to someone who goes nowhere but up?
At age nine, Nakajima Atsushi was what the masses would call a “born star”. A true acting prodigy born once in a millennia because all it took for him to blow up was a post about one single scene in the third rate action-fantasy film “Beast Beneath The Moonlight”. He played the role of an orphaned boy with the ability to transform into a white tiger, but the ability was one that everyone feared for its immense power and the dangerous threat it posed. The heads of his orphanage would ostracise him from the rest of the children under the guise of keeping them safe, he would receive beatings over the smallest mistakes, insults and mockery from teachers and students alike, and an even longer list of other forms of abuse masked as 'discipline’ that would take too much time to list.
One of those ‘disciplinary’ acts was tying the already impassive child to a chair riddled with open wires and dumping him with buckets of water. The agonising screams, the heart shattering expression of pure pain and despair, the broken sobs and trembling as he felt shocks of electricity coursing through his veins at an unforgiving intensity —no one in the audience knew how to react. Overnight, Atsushi had gone viral for his mind boggling, unbelievably realistic performance in the movie and before he could even process the impact of it all, his mail began to pile up at a rapid speed with offers from huge directors around the country.
The silver haired child could be seen at any corner in Japan. In posters promoting children’s snacks and clothing, on billboards promoting his newest blockbuster appearances, in various CFs, and in the popular sit-com viewed and loved across the globe. He was the nation's most valuable asset.
But the result of Atsushi’s extreme rise to fame was the fall of a large number of child actors in the industry. In the presence of Nakajima Atsushi, the feeling of despair was nothing because, when faced with the overwhelming aura that boy carried with him, the only emotion one could feel was fear. Fear that their entire career would come crashing down the second he shows them up.
Agents of these actors began to avoid auditions for any role that Atsushi would audition for as well —not that it mattered because soon after, directors didn't even bother with auditions, they simply held one out of necessity but it was already known that the role belonged to Atsushi. The lack of work in relevant media led to half of these kids quitting entirely to follow more ‘realistic’ paths, some stayed and continued to fill the lesser roles, others chose to become models or idol trainees. Only a handful were able to maintain their statuses due to the popularity they'd already gained before Atsushi’s debut.
Akutagawa was one of them.
Being known as the student of a legendary actor, everyone held high expectations toward his performance, expectations he never failed to live up to. He was good, so good he could afford to separate himself from the judgement of being a product of nepotism, his skills were proof enough that he belonged in front of the camera.
Not that it stopped critics from voicing their opinions, calling him gifted, disregarding his passion, claiming there's no way the strict and picky Fukuzawa Yukichi would take in some random nobody as his successor, but that's exactly what happened. Akutagawa didn't know the first thing about acting and everything he'd achieved came from having one of the best teachers, supportive peers and years of trial and error to learn the right method that suits him; now imagine how frustrating it was to hear those foolish critics and netizens grouping him in with those who didn't even try nearly as hard as he did.
Call him prejudiced or self-centred if you want, you wouldn't be wrong, Akutagawa was every bit just that, and he felt that he had every reason to feel that way when Fukuzawa constantly reminded him that his secure fame and influence didn't mean he was invincible.
“There's no such thing as an irreplaceable actor, Ryunosuke.” He told his successor. “Believing that there's no one out there who can match up to you will be your biggest downfall. There is always someone better.”
Akutagawa was eleven, why would he possibly take those words to heart? Fukuzawa was wrong, he was just trying to scare Akutagawa so he could work harder, he wanted to put Akutagawa in his place, stop him from becoming more legendary than he was. Millions of dumb reasons ran through his mind, not because he was in denial but because he was immature and overconfident.
Only upon encountering Atsushi for the first time did Akutagawa realise his own stupidity.
18/10 [9 years ago]
Dazai reminded him a total of four times to bring a coat and umbrella to the filming site, twice the night before and twice that morning. Akutagawa rolled his eyes each time and assured that he would not forget.
He forgot.
But it's alright because the crew had set up a gazebo for shelter from the pouring rain and provided him with a blanket for warmth —albeit the blanket was thin as paper and the gazebo was so poorly rooted it narrowly avoided falling apart at even the slightest gust of wind. He wasn't about to acknowledge either of those issues though because that would mean admitting he'd made a mistake and Dazai was, once again, right.
The itinerary for the day was supposed to be an outdoor scene where the protagonist's younger self gets into a huge accident during a storm. The director stated that he wanted the scene as realistic as possible so filming on the rainiest day of the month was the perfect time. Because of that, even though filming should have ended weeks ago, this one scene was the only missing piece to complete the movie but not once did it rain for an entire three weeks.
“Cut!”
Finally, freedom. Soon as he heard that sweet word, a drenched Akutagawa rushed back to the tent, praying his manager was considerate enough to fetch a dry set of clothes for him to wear after seeing that Akutagawa had failed to do so. Just as he'd hoped, a white hoodie and pants were shoved into his arms the second his manager saw him.
“That guy is insane.” Oda tuts. “What kind of maniac makes a thirteen year old stand in the rain for almost an hour? Anyway, I heard Nakajima-kun is in the studio next door.” He told Akutagawa. “I asked Ango and he said that if you've got nothing left to do here you can go over there and watch them.”
“Mhm.” Is all he responded with when in fact, he really wanted to curse his manager. Curse him for making a suggestion like that, knowing damn well that Akutagawa wouldn't want to step foot in that studio to watch Nakajima Atsushi act the part he should have been playing.
Everything had been set in stone, Akutagawa auditioned and was sure he'd landed the role fair and square, but two weeks later he'd gotten news from Oda saying that the screenwriter wanted someone “younger” to play the lead, that she insisted on casting Atsushi even though he hadn't even auditioned, so it's with deep regret that Akutagawa didn't pass. He was offered a supporting role in return but rejected it, not wanting to be one of those actors who are casted out of pity, so in the end, he rejected the whole movie entirely. Now he's being invited to watch the kid do what he should have been in there doing? Oda and this Ango guy must have seen him as a joke.
“I know what you're thinking.”
“I’m not.”
“I only asked because I thought you might want to get a look at Nakajima’s acting. You're always saying you don't get what's so special about him, go find out.” Oda nudged him, a styrofoam cup of warm tea in hand.
Akutagawa took the tea and considered. Back then, Akutagawa didn't care much about other actors his age so he didn't know much about Atsushi besides the fact that the boy was younger than him, his junior and super famous for some reason. He didn't watch the movie “Beast Beneath The Moonlight” nor the sit-com “Stray Detectives” so he didn't get why the entire country raved on about his acting —even Dazai had highly praised him a few times, that did make him slightly curious, but not enough to go out of his way and look up his work, and definitely not enough to watch him film this movie.
“Who knows,” Oda continued. “You might finally be able to make a friend.”
Akutagawa glares. “I have-”
“Dazai and Kunikida do not count. They're older than you.” Oda interrupted.
“Nakajima is younger.”
“...”
“...”
“Just go, or I’ll tell Gin that it was you who ate the cake she baked for that Tachihara boy last week.”
“...She'll stab me.”
Oda grinned.
•••
“Warm…” Akutagawa muttered the minute he entered the studio.
From every corner, staff bustled around, helping actors, fixing props, chatting amongst themselves; it was chaos. He made a few futile attempts to call out to some of them to ask if they could direct him to whoever the hell Ango was, before deciding to just walk straight through the rush until he found a man who seemed like enough of a loser to be friends with someone like Oda. Sure enough, he spotted a bespectacled, shifty looking guy standing by the monitors and observing while he spoke to a shorter, red haired kid —though, upon closer inspection, it seemed more like the kid was complaining nonstop about something while Ango tuned him out in favour of watching the screen.
“Uh…excuse me?”
The two males averted their attention onto Akutagawa.
“Are you Ango?” He asked. He faced Ango but he could feel the redhead’s scrutinising stare piercing the side of his head, it made him nervous for some reason. “Odasaku said-”
Ango’s face lit up. “Right, you're Odasaku’s kid! So you came, huh? Please, sit down.” He gestured to the chair the redhead occupied. “Chuuya, go find Yosano and tell her about your woes of love, I really don't care.”
His kid?
“I went to Yosano first and she told me the same thing!” Chuuya grumbled. “What, did you really think you were my first choice?”
Ango pushed up his glasses. “I’d like it more if I wasn't on the list at all.” He shooed the boy out of his seat. “Just wait until Atsushi finishes up then you can leave.”
“Wait, I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen this kid. His weird hair looks familiar.” Akutagawa touched his hair self-consciously, Chuuya was scrutinising him again for a few more seconds before giving up. “Whatever, I want water.” Then, he was gone.
What a guy. He could almost rival Dazai.
“Sorry about that, have a seat, Atsushi is about to go on.”
Akutagawa sat down and looked at the screen. It was finally time for him to see the “glorious” Nakajima Atsushi in action, first hand. How perfect he truly was, how he differed from Akutagawa, whether he was worthy of having his praises sung, all of that would make sense by the end. With keen eyes, Akutagawa fixated onto the screen as Atsushi entered.
[“Anything to say for yourself?”]
The King, father of Atsushi’s character, arrogantly sat on his throne raised above everyone else in the room. He leaned on the armrest, looking bored as he glanced down at a kneeling Atsushi, dressed in a tattered suit, being held down by two guards.
[“...”]
Atsushi didn't answer. He continued to keep his face down, tears spilled from his eyes, down the two swords crossed by his neck, and onto the ground. His dishevelled hair hung low, hiding his eyes. The swords were brought upwards slightly and pressed against his neck, even at the lightest touch, the sharpness of the blade made a small cut on the side of his neck. Atsushi held back his wince as a bit of blood drew.
[“Still won't answer, I see. So, you are truly prepared for this to be your last moment.”]
[“...didn't do it.”]
[“Hm? Speak up, will you.”]
[“It wasn't me!”]
His scream was loud, real, it vibrated throughout the studio. He was still facing downwards, refusing to look his father in the eye, to face the reality of his situation.
The King glared at him, disgusted.
[“You still dare to lie even in this state? There are witnesses, you bastard! Your brother is lying in bed, half dead because of you and you have the nerve to lie? Apologise to him, apologise for trying to kill my son!”]
[“I’m…He’s not…”]
Atsushi was weakened, his words wouldn't come out. There wasn't a point in speaking, what more could he say to make them believe his innocence? The court whispered pitiful words, blaming him for his brother's unconscious state. It wasn't him, the bastard did it to himself, he'd set him up. All for the sake of winning an inheritance Atsushi wasn't even considered for in the first place.
Atsushi looked up and- oh…
What the hell is that?
The camera displayed a clear view of his face alone. His expression, his delivery, his teary golden- no, is it purple?
Akutagawa leaned forward.
He finally looked up and made eye contact with his father.
His eyes had been bright gold just a second ago, but that gold became dull and clouded by a purple haze of helplessness and anguish. There was an emptiness in them, a void that conveyed every feeling his character harboured in that moment. His anger, embarrassment, pain, sadness, hatred. All of it.
Before the screen went black and the director called cut, he almost whispered his last words, voice cracking.
[“I’m your son…not him.”]
Akutagawa was stunned motionless in his seat. He gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles whitened. Something salty touched the side of his lip. He was crying. He didn't even know when or why, just that something in him ached after watching that.
“There's always someone better.”
This was it. The thing that set Atsushi apart from the rest. What made him worthy of the ‘gifted’ brand. A part of Akutagawa might have previously believed that maybe he could be called gifted too. That being gifted meant having an innate talent for an art you could cultivate from zero knowledge with time and effort, like he did. What Atsushi had was nothing like that. He didn't have to try, he just could.
Akutagawa realised what that aching feeling was. He was scared of Atsushi. Threatened. He understood why he’d been so easily replaced. He could never live up to that.
Still completely dazed, he saw Atsushi stand up, greet and thank everyone, then make his way over to the monitor. He chatted for a bit with the director, humbly accepting the praises given to him by the staff and director. Then he spoke to Ango, who pointed at Akutagawa and explained who he was. Being introduced to this person made him nervous now. He really wanted to be his friend. He had to be-
“He's the one they switched for me? Why would he come here then?”
…what?
Ango shushed Atsushi. “I suggested to Oda that he come to watch if he felt bored after filming.”
“Oh, well I suppose that if he was so easy to switch out then he must not be that good. So you called him here to learn a thing or two, right?”
“Atsushi!”
At last, he faced Akutagawa and the bastard was smiling. They made eye contact. That gold colour was back, but it wasn't bright —what happened to that brightness, he knew he saw it— the dark purple still stained it, with something vexing this time.
“So, did you?” He asked Akutagawa.
…What the fuck?