"Here already?"
Taishi Gotanda was sitting backwards in a chair with his head lazily resting on the back of the chair. When he saw Kitagawa Ryo coming, he casually waved his right hand as a greeting.
"Well, well. Brought a little tag along too, huh?"
Noticing Ruby trailing behind Ryo, Gotanda let out a teasing whistle.
"What's this? Ruby here to audition? For old times' sake, I could just hand you the role right now."
"Yes, please!"
Ruby bobbed her head eagerly.
"Like hell," Gotanda snorted. "No acting experience? No part. Save the theatrics for home."
He folded his arms, shifting to a more comfortable position before addressing Ryo properly.
"Why'd you drag her along anyway?"
Before Ryo could answer, Gotanda waved it off.
"Never mind. We all know you'd pluck stars from the sky if this pipsqueak batted her lashes. Just don't let her wreck my set."
"I wouldn't!"
Ruby lifted her chin, preening at the indirect praise.
"Yeah, yeah."
Gotanda checked his watch.
"Shall we?"
Ryo nodded.
With this being a low-budget arthouse film aimed solely at festival circuits, Gotanda held absolute creative control. Though not yet an A-list director, this modest project afforded him the freedom major studios wouldn't.
Ryo's star power alone had drawn considerable attention despite the meager pay, attracting actors eager to pad their resumes with prestige work.
"About the sister role..."
Ruby perked up at Gotanda's words.
"In my vision, she requires nuanced emotional range."
"A contrast to Ryo's rebellious older brother. The younger sister embodies compliance, prioritizing family harmony above all. Even when troubled by their mother's actions, she upholds the illusion of their happy trio."
"That complexity demands skill. Take the first act's climax—when the brother, having initially left, returns after the sister's tearful pleas. To sell his reluctant choice, her crying scene must devastate audiences."
Ryo tapped the table thoughtfully.
"Hence the crying audition?"
"Exactly."
Their discussion concluded as the first candidate entered.
"Thank you for your performance. We'll notify you of any updates."
"Your age doesn't quite match our vision for this role."
After several underwhelming child actors, Gotanda's polite rejections grew increasingly rote—until Arima Kana stepped in.
"Hmm."
Ryo's eyebrows lifted at the girl's appearance.
"Know her?" Gotanda whispered, scanning her profile.
"Arima Kana. Child actress debut six months back. Minor buzz. Skills unknown."
After Kana's introduction, Gotanda delivered the standard prompt:
"Imagine your dearest relative is abandoning you forever. You're crying, begging them to stay—"
Before he finished, both men narrowed their eyes.
Kana had already begun.
Her hand grasped at empty air as if clutching a sleeve—masterful pantomime.
Then she looked up.
Humans cry before they laugh. Life begins with wailing.
We smile from joy, weep from sorrow—though sometimes tears come from overwhelming happiness or laughter from rage. But crying inherently communicates raw emotion.
Smiling merely engages facial muscles. Anyone can fake it instantly by curving lips.
Not so with tears. Few command them at will—hence mourners resorting to eyedrops at funerals.
Kana simply blinked.
Suddenly her wine-red eyes brimmed with liquid crystal, threatening to shatter upon the floor.
Unlike previous auditioners, she spoke no lines. Just wept. Silently. Relentlessly.
To Gotanda, who'd seen prodigies aplenty, this was competent but not extraordinary.
Then Kana's right hand twitched. Clutching the imaginary sleeve, she pressed her face against it, muffling hiccuping sobs.
Next came a frantic sleeve-wipe—avoiding snot stains on those nonexistent clothes—smearing tears across flushed cheeks.
A violent jerk. The arm she clung to was yanked away. Stumbling forward, her grasping fingers caught only air.
Finally, legs buckling, she sank down biting her whitening lip, arms wrapped around knees as droplets pattered to the floor.
Even strangers would ache to comfort her.
Watching from the corner, Ruby felt acting ambitions stir.
She too could cry easily.
Stealing a glance at Ryo's back, Ruby recalled her rebirth—that first glimpse of him in the delivery room.
Even now, she'd wake to soaked pillows, unaware she'd been weeping.
One cold glance from him would guarantee tears.
Hoshino Ai once called this "method acting."
But that wasn't it.
This was truth masquerading as performance.
Hence Ruby 's resistance to Ai.
During The Cruel Audience premiere, she'd recognized something in Ai's delivery of "Mom..."
A mirror.
They were the same—starving children treating Ryo as parent-substitute, endlessly demanding his affection.
"You're in."
Gotanda's voice shattered Ruby 's thoughts.
"The role is yours."
Ryo nodded approval.
"Powerful performance."
Kana composed herself, bowing deeply. She felt almost grateful her mother hadn't witnessed this—the woman would've plastered Ryo's praise across every tabloid.
"We're on a tight schedule. Start tomorrow."
With Kana securing the final lead role—the sister—Spider's principal cast was complete.
"Understood."
Unlike her audition, Kana now exuded preternatural calm. She exited as quietly as she'd entered, betraying no triumph.
"Now I remember," Ryo mused after she left. "Last month, some woman shoved Kana's headshots at my agency."
"Another stage mom, huh?" Gotanda scratched his stubble.
"Not our business unless it affects filming."
Scene 1, Take 1—Action!
The clapperboard snapped. Spider had begun.
Steam rose from sukiyaki in a modest home where three seemingly happy family members gathered.
Ryo lifted enoki mushrooms toward his bowl when "Mother" interjected:
"Try them with spicy radish paste. Brings out the flavor."
"Yes, Mother."
"I'll add it later. Want to taste it plain first."
He chewed the unadorned mushrooms.
"The radish isn't actually spicy. I added extra vinegar. Perfect texture too."
"...Yes, Mother."
Defeated, he dipped another bite into the paste.
"This radish came from your grandfather's farm. Homegrown means no chemicals! And free! Stop eating convenience store oden—who knows how old those turnips are."
Ryo nodded, carefully retrieving a beef slice.
"Ah! Must dip in raw egg! That's how we ate it growing up—though we couldn't afford meat like this. Spoiled kids today, so picky..."
He swallowed the egg-drenched beef whole without chewing.
Subsequent slices went obediently into the egg wash.
"See? Had to try it yourself. Would I steer you wrong? Family only shares the best!"
After more eating, Ryo reached for broth.
The ladle trembled in his hands—too hot to lift. Hunched over the table, he sipped directly from the bowl.
"Posture! Slouching now means a hunchback later!"
Straightening, Ryo stared listlessly at his soup before probing the pot again.
"No rummaging! Decide what you want before reaching. Would you do this at a friend's? A girlfriend's? Think of appearances!"
Startled, Ryo retracted his chopsticks—only to snag a hated leek. He forced it down with a blank face.
Now afraid to move, two minutes passed before "Mother" resumed:
"Who knows what goes through kids' heads these days. Focus on school! Or end up like me—cleaning houses and babysitting!"
She glared at Ryo's sullen expression.
"That face! Like I'm torturing you! Can't stand your mother's care, is that it?"
"Putting up with outsiders all day, only to face ingratitude at home..."
Her scolding continued uninterrupted as she cleared the table, dishes clattering in the sink.
Scene 1, Take 1—Cut!
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