#i also tried proofreading this but i probs missed smth idk

[derireo]

chasing the clouds / izumi tachibana

I wrote this due to a comic that ann @ oratoza on twitter made (please follow her!!!!!!) about Izumi going back on stage! As much as that comic was happy, I kind of went down a sad route.. Lol. Hope you enjoy.

「 Read on AO3 here 」 「 2.5k words 」

There was only one more day for practice and then it was opening night. Izumi was anxious as always, for Yuzo still had some things to spew out, and she had only hoped that her actors were up to the challenge to prove him wrong again. She didn't let it show on her face how nervous she was feeling, but her hurried steps as the furious wind blew against her was a sign.

She entered the empty theatre just as the troupe finished their intermission and went back into character, breathless with how much energy she exerted. She didn't mean to be late, but she got distracted by the work that was piling on her desk and forgot what time she was supposed to leave.

Her actors were bantering as it says they should in the script, and Izumi quietly snuck down to the front of the theatre to sit down beside a supervising Matsukawa who seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. Not many of the actors took notice of her other than the ones on stand by, and they waved at her as a greeting.

Her smile was shaky due to exhaustion, but she still nodded her head to tell them to focus on their play.

It wasn't very hard for her to fall deep into the universe that her actors created with their confident voices and the self-assured way they held themselves beneath the stage light. She watched their every moment as they strode across the stage, seeing how the actors kept their eyes on each other as they held amiable conversation.

But then amiable turned into something akin to anguish and woe; their voices slowly growing in volume and ferocity as their character's anger and despair seeped into their bones and made their mouths snap as they barked at the other.

The change was so quick, but so raw that it had Izumi on the edge of her seat as the tears and the scratch of their throats began to make an appearance, and it left their director in awe.

Left her feeling restless as she remembered the times where she'd put her all in a play just like this.

She fidgeted in her seat as she watched the troupe go through their dress rehearsal, fingers anxiously grasping onto anything she could reach like the armrest or the edge of her seat. She was moving so much that it actually distracted Matsukawa, who wasn't paying attention to anything in particular, to the point that he had to ask her if she was okay.

Her stiff nod was enough to convince the man and he quickly went back to daydreaming, but Izumi was still restless. Her brown eyes flickered between each actor that made their way onto the stage, heart thundering inside her chest as their clear, strong voices made its way to her ears.

She watched as their costumes, made by Yuki, fluttered and flowed so naturally as they moved, their lines rolling out of their mouths as if they were having a real conversation; one that wasn't typed out on a script written by Tsuzuru.

Her heart felt like it would burst at any second because these actors that she took under her wing, were blooming right in front of her. She didn't notice how much they had actually grown until this very moment, and she had no idea how to feel. They were so smooth in their blocking, their monologues, their soliloquies; it was like she was being dragged into their world once again.

She breathed in the clean scent of a large concert hall into her lungs to bring herself back to her reality, fingers digging into the armrests that sat on either side of her. Her eyes sparkled in admiration for the actors that stood on that stage as if they were always meant to be there, and she couldn't help the stinging in her eyes as she felt her heart rattle.

As much as she wanted to be on stage and do the things her actors did, she knew that her role as a director was something vital for the rebirth of Mankai. As much as she doubted herself in the beginning and as much as she struggled, she still managed to become something that she was told would never happen.

She was able to come back to the stage, not as an actress, but as someone who lent a hand in growing the best actors in the area. Even though she struggled and had Sakyo watch her every move, she reached this height to spite those who told her that giving up was a better choice for her rather than to continue.

Her mind raced as another part of her begged to be on that stage again, to feel the creak of the wooden planks shake under her feet as she bellowed out her lines in confidence, to feel the heat of the stage light on her forehead as it dawned on her when she looked at her fellow actor, to feel the relief wash down her body due to a job well done on closing night.

That part of her begged and begged, scratched at the corners of her mind to let her have that experience at least one more time.

And she wanted to. She really did. She wanted to give in and take the stage once more, feel how the weight would slowly lift off her shoulders when she looked into the empty audience and spilled her heart out for no one.

But she couldn't. She feared the playful jabs and the honest criticism if someone overheard her weak acting. She feared the silence that would stretch throughout the theatre if she did perform alone. She feared that pouring her heart out again like that would only result in more pain and more loneliness.

She loved her actors. Of course she did. But she could never regain that part of her that pursued acting with reckless abandon. The absence of a father and a detached mother; they were a part of her, but they couldn't help her grow.

In her head, they supported her dreams. In reality, she didn't have anyone there to catch her when she fell; fell from that very high mountain that she somehow managed to climb.

Her heart trembled this time.

It wasn't a violent shake, no. It was a tremble like when your lip shakes when you hold yourself back from crying. It was like the sad whimper of a puppy or a faint mew from a cat.

But she willed herself to keep quiet for the dress rehearsal was not over, but the tears in her eyes slowly grew as she continued to watch the play in front of her. She was captivated by the joy hidden behind their own eyes, and how their smiles sparkled under the light as they bantered in another scene.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line to prevent a sob from suddenly breaking out, but the shaky breath that escaped from her nose would have been enough to alert anybody sitting nearby.

Too bad Matsukawa was half asleep.

She couldn't tell if her body was aching from excitement or sadness and she clung to the armrests as if they were the only things keeping her down.

Her nose was burning at this point, the climax of the story already been reached. Her heart felt like it was falling apart at the seams and all she wanted to do was to look at an audience from the stage one last time; see the expressions of strangers that were captivated by her peformance or were moved by the way she held herself in character.

She wished she was able to make people feel the way her actors make her.

Suddenly, the attention snapped to her when one of the stage lights trailed over towards the spot where she sat, narrowly missing a napping Matsukawa and snacking Kamekichi.

Her mouth clammed shut out of shock when the actors on stage looked directly at her; watched as the tears gathered in her eyes finally fell and rolled down her rosy cheeks. Her shoulders went stiff, brows furrowed together in startled confusion while one of them walked towards the edge of the stage, only a few metres away from where she sat at the front of the theatre.

There was concern in his eyes, hidden behind a mask of resigned sadness for the role he was in. He knelt down at the edge of the stage with an outstretched hand, waiting for Izumi to stand and reach out to him, brush her fingers with his.

He was nearing the end of his soliloquy, and that meant the play was near its end.

"I wonder.. If I had listened to myself all that time ago.." He spoke, loud enough for the empty theatre to hear him, but it felt like he was whispering only to her. The actor beckoned her closer when she barely took a step, and seized her wrist in his large hand to make sure she wouldn't pull away at the last second.

"Would I find myself in the same spot I am in right now? Or would I be standing somewhere else.." He pondered aloud and bent down further to grasp her by the waist and bring her onto the stage with him.

Her tears were quickly drying due to the shock of the spotlight reaching her, and she stared wide eyed at the actor that pulled her up on stage with ease, kindly smiling down at her as he set her down on her feet.

The wooden planks quietly groaned beneath her weight, and the feeling of that creak shaking under her feet made her choke on her breath.

The actor still held onto her hand as he lifted his other one to gently brush away the tears that stained her cheeks, voice soft as if there was a light breeze coming in to sweep his words away into the clear sky.

"..standing somewhere else that felt like home." He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and uttered the last word like it was a secret, bringing his hand to tangle with her hers as he lead her towards centre stage with a fleeting smile.

"Like right now." She whispered. The emotions inside of her built up with each frightful step she took with the actor, fingers twitching nervously between his own as she dared to look out into the empty seats.

The sleeping Matsukawa and perched Kamekichi caught her attention, but despite the comedic sight, a sound that was teetering between a sob and a laugh escaped her, and the dam that held her tears crumbled down once more.

The actor that stood in front of her could only offer her a sad smile as she used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that flowed down her face, teeth clenched into a grimace as her body shook with each cry that left her.

The theatre went dark.

Her small body was suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace, fabric of a costume muffling her laboured breaths as she clung to the hand that kept her weighted, arm coming around to grip at the back of the actor's shirt as she squeezed out every emotion that her heart held.

"This is my home." She said to herself, tears staining the actor's clothing as he held her, gave her the embrace that she never knew she longed for, and brought her close to his chest to hopefully use his calm heartbeat to soothe her.

"It is." He agreed as the stage lights turned back on, the rest of the members of the troupe bounding onto the stage to attack Izumi and the actor with a group hug. Each member's cheer was so characteristically them, one loud with energy, another one quiet with their hand patting her head, and another one stuck between saying something or simply standing there to watch.

There was no part like this in the script where the actor took the hand of an audience member, but he remembered taking a quick glance towards his director and saw the way her eyes shone with tears. He couldn't help but reach out for her when she wore such a painful expression on her face, and the urge to hold her was strong.

Everyone knew how much Izumi loved the stage. They've heard of her stories here and there. Not through word of mouth, but through Izumi with the casual comment or fleeting memory as she watched them move around in the practice studio or outside on Veludo Way.

They've heard of the times when she was told her acting wasn't good enough, heard the times when she was told that her dream was too out of her reach. They've heard of her talk about the person who was her inspiration to act never coming home to help guide her into becoming the actress she had always wanted to be.

They've seen her alone on the stage. They've seen her stand in the centre with the stage light glaring at her as she recited the lines to one of the plays Tsuzuru wrote, or one of the plays that she worked so hard to audition for.

They saw how hard she worked and how frustrated she would be at the end because she just wasn't good enough. They saw those little moments of her just laying down on the stage doing nothing; those moments of her holding her head in her hands as she asked herself why she couldn't execute this or that better.

They've seen her sleeping on this stage on the most loneliest of nights, and have had to bring her back to the dorm so that she'd at least be somewhere warm and safe.

Those little jabs of theirs weren't meant to harm her, but they understood that deep down, despite her smile, Izumi believed it. She believed there was no way for her to improve herself to step foot on a stage like this, and so she kept herself behind the scenes so that she could at least help them become what she had always wanted to be.

She had helped them for so long now, and didn't make a move to help herself.

To heal and to forget the reason why she went back into her shell.

So it was their turn.

It was their turn to help change things for Izumi. Help her work on that stiff acting (she's been getting better) and aid her in how to move with water like fluidity on stage.

They want her to finally feel that hollow creak of wooden planks beneath her feet as she tore into her lines, bellowed them out to the audience in front and truly hear how her words would resonate in the theatre.

They wanted her to understand that even she is able to bloom in front of her very own eyes, and they were going to make it happen.

If I had listened to myself all that time ago.. I'd be standing right here. Doing the thing that I love most.