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“Oh,” says Chinatsu as the elevator doors slide open.
“You’re kidding,” says Chinatsu, “You have GOT to be kidding me.”
Akira smiles and waves. Mako says nothing, gripping her sword and setting her mouth firm.
“My,” says Shizuku.
“Koumoto-san?”
Kojima- Koizumi- whatever his name was, he sounded concerned, probably. Akira couldn’t see his face with her eyes glued to the blonde girl stretching alone in the corner. She was a skinny, petite thing with big wobbly doe eyes. She seemed to hold herself as close to the wall as she could, out of the way of all the other people in the studio. The only one alone in a room full of pairs.
For some reason, looking at her made Akira feel like she was chewing on tin foil.
“Uh, Koumoto-san? Is everything alright?”
“That girl.” Akira leaned down into her own stretch without moving her gaze. “She seems familiar.”
“Oh, you mean Akagi-san?” Ko-Something moved closer, close enough for Akira to smell his sweat. “Well of course she seems familiar, she and her brother were one of the highest ranked couples in our category- they’re like, the best in the Latin division. Come on, you have to have heard about the Akagi pair, right?”
Akira turned to offer him a simpering smile, shrugging. “I guess I don’t pay attention to that kind of thing a lot.”
“‘That kind of thing...’” She can hear him shaking his head. “You know Koumoto-san, for a dancer, sometimes you don’t really seem to care about dancing.”
Akira just smiled.
Akira said: “What did you mean by ‘were’?”
“Ah… yeah.” K-Whatever frowned, as if Akira had brought up something unpleasant he had forgotten. “Well, they’re sort of… I guess they’re not really together anymore. Ever since Gaju… since the older brother, uh… went with Hanaoka Shizuku.”
Ah.
“Hanaoka-san… well, I don’t know if you know about the whole Rose Bride thing-”
“I know. About. The whole Rose Bride thing.” The corners of Akira’s mouth were starting to ache. Her blunt fingernails scrabbled at the mat.
“Uh… yeah. So, you know how it goes.”
Yes. She knew how it went.
“Anyways, I was thinking we should practice quickstep today-”
“I’m actually feeling terribly sick!” Akira announced brightly, bouncing to her feet. “You can practice on your own today again, right?”
“What? W-wait, Koumoto-!”
WhatsHisFace’s voice disappeared as she strode out the door.
Once again, Hiyama Chinatsu has found herself at the top of the strange dueling-arena-slash-stage-slash-dance-floor that hangs casually thousands of feet above the air of Ohtori Academy. Once again, Hanaoka Shizuku‘s face is cold and distant as she slips the role of the Rose Bride on like a glove, and once again, another duelist is standing on the other side of the floor. Another person she would have hoped she would never have to see here. Akagi Mako’s hands seem too small and delicate for the surprisingly robust sword she holds, but she holds it steadily, almost as if in defiance of anyone who would doubt her strength.
The dark duelist’s uniform fits Mako well, making her slim shoulders seem strong and sharp, but Chinatsu can’t find it in herself to complement her.
“Chinaaatsu!”
Ah, and yes. Because the universe thought her being forced to fight the most soft-hearted girl on the planet wasn’t enough of a laugh, Chinatsu’s friend, enemy, and ex-partner all in one is here as well, grinning at her like the cat who’s found the canary.
“Wo~ow, you sure look sharp in that uniform!” Akira clasps her hands together in an over-exaggerated simper. “Doesn’t she, Mako-chan?” Mako keeps her gaze firm, firm enough that someone who didn’t know her well would be distracted from the subtle shake of her shoulders. “It only makes sense- you’ve always fit the boy’s role so well, after all~”
“Aki.” Akira doesn’t drop that disgustingly sweet smile, but Chinatsu feels a tinge of satisfaction at the flicker of her eyes. At the very least, she shuts up for a moment. “What the hell are you wearing.”
“Wh~at, what’s wrong with it?” Akira pouts, smoothing her gown- her gown, which, down to the ruffles at the hips and the little crown on her head, is a perfect mirror image of Shizuku’s Rose Bride outfit. The only real difference is that it’s green and gold where Shizuku’s is crimson and jade. “What’s so weird about a girl wearing a dress? Isn’t it only natural?”
“Oh wow, so what, you’re calling Mako-chan unnatural?” Chinatsu folds her arms, giving Akira a grin that hurts her cheeks. “If you’re going to try to play at Rose Bride, you should at least try to be a better partner.” Another sickly-warm jolt of delight at the shadow that crosses Akira’s face. “You know, being supportive? Listening? Pulling your weight? But I mean, on the other hand, why bother starting now, right?”
“Ah ha ha ha ha ha.” The corners of Akira’s mouth are iron-tight, and that grin is officially a grimace. “Oh, Chinatsu-chan, the irony of you preaching about being a supportive partner-”
“Um, excuse me.”
Despite her hard stare, Mako’s voice is as gentle as ever. Her words still manage to cut through everything.
“If… if you and the Rose Bride are here, you must have gotten my letter. And so…” She looks down at her sword, still refusing to let her stony expression drop. “You must know what I’m here to do.”
They haven’t even started fighting and Chinatsu already feels like she’s been stabbed. “Mako-chan… whatever this is about… we can talk about it, you don’t need to do this.”
Mako looks up, blank-faced, and Chinatsu braces for whatever will come out of her mouth. The threats, the rage. The blustering about how she WILL be the one to kill the Rose Bride.
“Chinatsu-san… thank you.”
“But… you know what this is about.”
And she smiles sadly.
“And you don’t know a thing about what I need to do.”
It would have been better if she screamed.
“Shizuku-chan… is this really such a good idea?”
Shizuku continued shadow-dancing, as if Chinatsu hadn’t said a word. Even the reflection of her eyes in the mirror pointedly avoided her. Chinatsu ran her back teeth over each other.
“I-I mean!” Chinatsu clasped her hands, desperately tried to keep her sunny smile up. “Sure, Gaju is a great dancer and everything, but, this whole Rose Bride thing, doesn’t it seem a bit…”
A cold breath of air ran over the back of Chinatsu’s neck. “A bit what?”
How had- when had she moved behind-?! Chinatsu forced herself not to jump. “Ah- well, you know? The whole ‘engagement’ thing, the way it’s written like you’re forced to be married to someone…”
“Your shoulders are stiff.” Shizuku adjusted Chinatsu’s posture, and she felt her cheeks warm. “I don’t see what the problem is. Don’t pairs ‘break up’ all the time? Don’t magazines talk about partners like they’re married?”
“Th-that’s… I mean, that’s different…” Only, it really wasn’t. Chinatsu always hated that part of the dance community too. “We never call partners brides or anything…”
In the mirror, Shizuku’s reflection nodded. “Right. Men are just always ‘leaders,’ and women are just always ‘partners’ or ‘followers.’”
“That’s not…” Chinatsu turned her head, trying to catch Shizuku’s eye. “Why are you saying that like that’s my fault? I hate it too, you know.”
“I never said I hated it.”
Chinatsu was going to chip a tooth at this rate. “Shizuku-chan, you’re dodging the question.”
“Am I?”
“I- yes, you are!” Chinatsu spun around, tired of talking to the Shizuku in the mirror. “Don’t you feel weird being won?"
“It’s not any weirder than how people usually treat me.” Despite only being in her workout clothes, in her glasses and loose ponytail, Shizuku was radiating that stoic chilliness she usually only had between checks during a competition. “If people are only going to see me as something to be won, I might as well have some power over it.” A glimpse of a shadow crossed Shizuku’s face, and she turned away. “It’s fine. I understand if you don’t know what it’s like, to want even a little bit of control, being a leader for so long-”
“Why is that MY fault?!”
The studio went silent. The few people still practicing pointedly ignored the two girls.
Shizuku stared at her. Chinatsu’s face felt like it was broiling, and her gut churned with a strange blend of emotions. From the day they had met, Chinatsu had done her best to keep her temper in check in front of Shizuku, to build up the image of a cheerful, bubbly girl for her to befriend, and she had torn it all down with a single snap. And yet, the satisfaction of seeing her chilly front give way to a dumbfounded gape was almost worth the embarrassment.
“You have,” and because Chinatsu had nothing left to lose, she stepped forward, dropping her voice to a whisper, “no idea what it’s been like for me. You think I’ve had power? That I’ve had control? Before I met Tatara-kun, I didn’t have anything. Just a parade of men who didn’t care about what I wanted, and who certainly didn’t give a rat’s ass that I used to lead a two-girl pair.”
Chinatsu held Shizuku’s wide-eyed stare for a moment, before turning away. “Fine. I don’t get it. You’re right Shizuku, I don’t know how it’s been for you, I don’t know what exactly you’re hoping to get from this whole Rose Bride thing. But don’t talk like you know what I’ve been through.”
The silence that hung after her words didn’t feel like a victory. After a moment, Chinatsu sighed, going to gather her things.
"That’s what I want.”
“Huh-?”
For the second time in about ten minutes, Chinatsu almost jumped out of her skin as Shizuku appeared behind her, grasping her hand. Her face was smooth again, but her eyes…
Shizuku’s eyes blazed like fire, yet Chinatsu’s insides felt below sub-zero.
"That’s what I want from ‘this whole Rose Bride thing.’ A leader- a partner who will talk to me like that. Someone who doesn’t treat me like I’m an object or act like I'm a goddess. Someone who isn’t afraid to yell at me, and fight me, and…”
A wave of color tinted her cheeks.
“Who makes me feel like I’m boiling and freezing all at the same time.”
Chinatsu stared back at her.
“...I could-”
“Could you?” Shizuku’s voice was whisper-soft. “You know there’s only one way you could do that.”
And then, as if he had been waiting for a cue:
“Shizuku-chan! Sorry I’m late!”
Gaju bounded through the studio door like a dog, oblivious to the electric atmosphere that trapped the two girls. The spell was broken like a cup meeting a hard floor. “The council meeting ran a little over, I had to stay behind…Oh hey, Chinatsu-chan!” He aimed a gleaming, toothy grin at her. “Do you mind if I steal Shizuku-chan from you?”
Chinatsu hated the smile her face instinctively contorted into. “Ah… aha, well…”
“Chinatsu-chan was just finishing up,” Shizuku said, coolly. She dropped the wrist that Chinatsu had completely forgotten she had trapped in a vicegrip. “I was just helping with her posture a bit.”
“...aha. Right.”
A chilly spot lingered on Chinatsu’s wrist for a long time after she walked out of the studio. It wasn’t the first time Chinatsu had noticed that- ever since Shizuku became the Rose Bride, her skin always felt cold. It was almost like she was made of porcelain.
“Is everything okay?”
Neither Shizuku’s voice or face betray a bit of warmth as she fastens the bright red rose to Chinatsu’s chest. But the words, coming from her this deep in the role of the Rose Bride, are enough to make Chinatsu start.
“...bit late to ask that,” she manages.
“I mean,” and even in that flat, mellow whisper, there was something a little clipped there, “are you okay. The way you were talking with that girl was honestly a little scary.”
“Oh.” Chinatsu snorts. Even now she still feels a little embarrassed not holding her feelings back around Shizuku, but even she can appreciate the humor of the situation. “Ah, yeah, she’s uh… we know each other.”
“Yes, I figured as much.” Shizuku holds Chinatsu’s gaze for a second, eyes bubbling with all the questions she can’t ask right now. “I assume you used to dance together.”
“Yeah, it’s… it’s a long story.” Chinatsu’s eyes linger on the opposite side of the floor where Akira clumsily mirrors Shizuku, smile fumbling as she attempts to pin a rose to Mako’s chest with no apparent fastenings. She keeps darting looks at Shizuku, as if she can somehow find out the secret. “Doesn’t this… all seem a little strange?”
Shizuku looks at Chinatsu wryly. “...It seems a bit late to ask-”
“I mean,” and she gestures at the two of them, “it’s all mixed up, isn’t it?” Mako’s strange, dark uniform, the same wardrobe of the past couple of strange, colorless opponents Chinatsu had never met before. But Mako with unclouded eyes, a firm voice, a bright yellow bloom on her chest instead of the unearthly black ones that adorned the others. A Black Rose duelist without a Black Rose. And then there was Akira- where had she even gotten that outfit, anyway? Why was she even here? Mako’s sword was already in her hand…
“...is it just me, or does that sword look famili-”
“O~kay!” Akira clasps her hands together. “We’re ready to go!”
“...did you replace one of Mako-chan’s buttons-?”
“Can we.” Akira’s smile was already looking strained. “Just start.”
Akira hated Akagi Mako’s dull, wet eyes. She was quiet and colorless, pulling her limbs into herself, constantly folding herself as small as possible. Just like so many other young girls who got into dance. Just like all those other girls who partnered with-
“You thirsty?”
Akira smiled, shoving a sweating water bottle into Mako’s wide, fluttering stare.
“You come here a lot! Are you a dancer too?”
Akagi Mako was the kind of girl who made Akira want to puke: demure, quiet, unchallenging, unassuming.
“Don’t you have a partner?”
It was too familiar.
“... my brother…”
So when that picture-perfect surface finally cracked, when she finally began to spill, it was like pulling in a breath of fresh air.
No desks this time. What would have been on them, for Mako? This is the kind of thing Shizuku thinks about when she becomes the Rose Bride. She watches Mako and Chinatsu cautiously circle one another. Already, even from this distance, Shizuku sees Mako leave herself open for a good three seconds before jerkily correcting herself. Shizuku sighs.
She wants to dance.
That’s usually what she does to pass time during the duels anyways. The duelists never seemed to care what she did or didn’t do. She was good at standing still with her palms folded, a pose fitting the Rose Bride, but she much rather use empty time productively. Even stretching would have been preferably to just sitting and waiting like this.
But of course, now…
“It is soOOo nice to meet you, by the way!”
Now she has an audience.
“I’ve heard SO MUCH about you,” Koumoto Akira says, giving her a smile dripping with silicon honey. “EVERYONE talks sooo much about the Rose Bride.”
Butterfly hairclips, Shizuku suddenly realizes. That’s what Mako would have had.
“It was my fault. I was forcing him to do everything.”
Akira shared water bottles with Mako every day. It was kindness.
“And I’m so small… it’s always harder for a leader with a shorter partner.”
Akira practiced with Mako during their afternoons together and let Mako’s delicate voice buzz in her ears in the evenings. It was patience.
“Shi… Shizuku-chan is so talented, a-and beautiful… Gaju was always looking at her. Of course he’d take any chance he could get to get closer to her.”
“...but?” Akira pressed.
Mako’s lips fought a grimace.
“...but…”
Akira fought a grin every time Mako’s face made that shift.
It was cruelty, of course.
“But it’s so frustrating.”
...of course it was cruelty.
“I can’t help being this height.”
It was impossible for that churn in her gut to be guilt.
“And Gaju can get s-so angry! It’s HARD speaking up!”
It couldn’t be sadness.
“I wanted this to be what we bonded over! That’s why I never danced with anyone besides him! But he… the second Kiyoharu-kun was gone…”
Jesus. Akira hated soap opera shit like this. She hated other people’s drama. She hated dance.
“It was like… it could have been anyone, for him.”
But somewhere along the way, Akira realized she didn’t hate Mako.
“I… I’m sorry, Koumoto-san.” Mako sighed, leaning forward like she wanted to rest her head in her own lap. They were sitting against the outside of the studio, watching the sunset. “I’m always the one unloading everything on you, aren’t I?”
Akira watched Mako for a moment, eying her hair as it turned near-orange in the dying light.
“I should offer to help you improve.”
Mako looked up at her, wide-eyed.
“...I should, but it’d probably hurt more than help you,” Akira looked away with a laugh. “I’ve never tried leading, not even once. I’ve always known I would have been horrible at it, so I always just followed. If anything, I’ve probably only gotten this far because I’ve always been dragged around by a good leader-”
“I-!” Mako suddenly leaned forward. “I’m the same way!”
“Ah-?” Akira turned to her, arching an eyebrow. “Aha, no, Mako-chan, you’re talented, you’re not like me at all-”
“I mean, people talk about me like that too!”
Akira paused.
“They, everyone knows I’ve only gotten this much attention because my brother is so talented! He’s the one doing all the work!”
You stupid girl. What do you mean he’s doing all the work. You’re the one-
“That’s why people call me a doll partner.”
Doll partner.
Doll partner.
Chinatsu’s lips, sneering. Doll partner.
Mako-chan, who’s been here everyday. Mako-chan, whose delicate feet are covered with blisters and bandages because she practices standard and quickstep even though she could get by on her talent in Latin alone. A doll partner.
Bull
fucking
shit.
“Kou… Koumoto-san?”
Mako suddenly looked terrified, and Akira realized she wasn’t 100% sure what her face looked like at that moment.
“I-”
“I-!” Mako suddenly squeaked, and dropped into the closest she could get into a bow while sitting. Akira felt a taste like vomit in her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean YOU’re a partner like that!”
“But I just said-”
“It’s just, people had said things like that before, and it felt, it felt nice that someone else understood, and I wasn’t thinking, and I’m so sorry-!”
“Mako-chan.”
“Huh?”
Akira pressed her lips together before speaking, like she was trying to bite back a scream. She pushed her eyes towards the sky instead. “Do me a favor, okay? Quit apologizing all the time. It’s seriously irritating.”
“Ah, I’m sor- AH!”
“...”
Mako flushed, shoving her hands in her lap and staring at them. Akira sighed. She watched the sun finally disappear behind the horizon, her hand absently fiddling with some worn fabric at the knee of her sweatpants.
“...I’ve been thinking…” Mako’s voice was lower than ever. “I… I know it could never happen, but what if… what if I fought my brother?”
Akira turned back to her, eyebrows raised.
“I-it’s just something I think about.” Mako laughed, but her chin was firm. Her whole face was steady in a way that seemed resolute. “But if… if I dueled against him, and I won… then I could prove I was good enough to his partner! Haha. It’d be so funny… it’d be something, if i could do that-”
“You should do it.”
The words left Akira’s mouth halfway before she realized she was thinking it. Mako looked at her, wide-eyed. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.
“Wh- but… no, no, it could never actually happen-”
“Why not? Had Gaju ever picked up a sword in his life before he won the Rose Bride?”
Mako’s mouth trembled but no sound came out. A strange shift went across her face. Realization, but also fear- the understanding that her most devilish fantasy could be reality.
Akira pressed on before she could have a chance to doubt. “You shouldn’t just duel him. You should take the Rose Bride from him,” and Akira balanced on her feet, swiveling to look Mako in the eye, “and make her YOUR partner.”
“H-huh? Me and… Hanaoka?”
“If you make her your partner,” and Akira quite literally pushed forward, until her wide smile was almost scraping Mako’s nose, “you wouldn’t just take the thing he wanted most. You would prove to him that you weren’t just a good partner, you’d prove that you were the better dancer. Better than him.”
Akira waited for Mako to start sputtering again. But that’s impossible! I’m not better! You want me to be her partner? B-but we’re both girls! Instead, Mako just sat in silence for a moment. She gazed up at the stars that had begun to sprout in the sky like little blossoms.
And finally, she said:
“But if Hanaoka-san was my partner… I wouldn’t be able to dance with my brother anymore.”
As if she were Mako’s reflection, Akira looked down at the ground.
“...sometimes, the only way to get someone to look at you is to make it impossible to look at anything else.”
Akira didn’t know why she said that. It wasn’t like she knew what she was talking about. But Mako, for whatever reason, didn’t seem to think it was a disgusting thing to say. Instead, she just tucked her knees against her chest, giggling softly.
“Heh… well, if anything, it’s a nice thought. Me, in one of those uniforms, with a huge sword…”
“You’d look great!” Akira blurted. “And with that girl at your side-”
“The look on Gaju’s face!”
“It’d be hilarious! You’d have to take a picture!”
Mako laughed out loud, before her grin retracted into a small smile.
“Yeah. It’s a nice thought.”
The sound of steel biting steel is unpleasant. Mako grits her teeth at the scrape. She had to grip both her hands on her sword’s hilt to make sure it doesn’t slip as she pushes Chinatsu’s blade back. As it turned out, dueling was both easier and harder than she expected.
“You’re not bad with that sword,” Chinatsu says as she steps back. It doesn’t sound like sarcasm, but she doesn’t look exactly happy either.
Mako feels like some sort of witty retort would fit here, but she’s not really good at those. So, she says the only thing she can think of: “Thank you.” She steps back as well, making sure to keep her sword up and her face still. “You’re pretty… um, pretty good too.”
The truth is, the sword feels like a strange fifth limb, perhaps slightly too big than it should be. Chinatsu, of course, seems to wield hers well, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Must be nice, Mako thinks dully, being strong. Being tall. Tall like Chinatsu. Tall like…
Shizuku.
Chinatsu is darting a glance at Shizuku. The Rose Bride stands like a statue, grandiose and perfect at the side of the battlefield. At her side, Akira is leaning into her, resting a hand on her shoulder, bubbling on with words Mako is too far from to make out. Her face is strange. A perfect smile in place. Two blank eyes accompanying it.
Akira’s eyes on Shizuku. Chinatsu’s eyes on Shizuku. Her own eyes, Mako realizes with a angry jolt in her belly. She feels something in her chest, hard and unfamiliar, and she grits her teeth.
Everything’s always about Shizuku, isn’t it?
Mako lashes out in a wild arc, and is equal parts pleased and stunned (and perhaps, a little guilty) to see a gash appear in the fabric of Chinatsu’s sleeve. But she’s rewarded by her opponent shouting with shock, her eyes finally returning to Mako. She feels something in her chest again, sickly warm and satisfied.
“Please don’t underestimate me, Chinatsu-san.”
“Chinatsu-chan, you can’t…” said Gaju.
“You’re a girl,” said Gaju, half-embarrassed, chuckling.
“Fine,” growled Gaju, drawing his sword. “I just hope you know I’m not going easy on you.”
“Thank you for not going easy on me,” Chinatsu laughed.
Shizuku watched the orange rose petals scatter against the sky.
“W~ow,” purrs Akira, “would you look at that.”
Her words feel fake in her mouth. Everything about herself feels fake while she’s wearing this damn dress- it’s like it’s contagious. Like a virus. But the shock she felt- the shock that rippled through multiple people on the floor at the sight of Mako landing a hit on Chinatsu was the real deal. So somewhere beneath the makeup and ruffles and itchy fabric, Akira hopes her mental “good job” will reach Mako.
But in the meantime… “Mako-chan really is something, huh~” She leans into the Rose Bride, once again hoping the press of skin against skin will make her awful little doll’s face move. “Oh, but Chinatsu is great too!! But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”
“They’re both talented fighters.”
Somehow, the reply is even more infuriating than silence.
Akira spares a glance for the action, but she can’t stop looking at the Rose Bride. Un-aggressively, un-challengingly pretty, nothing like Chinatsu’s sharp, chilling beauty. Perfectly slender, of course. No spare fat anywhere. Those liquidy, bland cow eyes. Like the way Mako used to look to her, but a thousand times worse. Akira almost feels physically ill looking at her, but it’s hard to tear her eyes away. It’s like looking at a tragedy.
Akira has traded all but a dozen sentences with this girl and every cell in her body burns with hatred for her.
“I don’t know if your fiance told you, but I used to be Chinatsu’s partner, you know.”
“Is that so.”
“Yup! I’m sure you know by now how grrrreat a leader she is, huh? She must be the best in this school- I mean,” Akira turns back to the fight to make sure the other girl knows how little her next words mean to her, “YOU of all people would know, right? Considering how many partners you’ve taken.”
She dares the sneak a little glance to the other girl.
“I’m not sure where you heard that. I’ve only had three true dance partners.”
Nothing on her face. Nothing in her voice. But as much as it infuriates her, it just makes Akira’s stomach feel colder and colder. It makes her want to tear anything from this girl’s face.
“Oh, it’s not like I’m a gossip!” Akira lets out a dainty, plastic titter. “It’s just, you know some people like to talk about those things-”
“Oh,” says the Rose Bride. “Well, as I said, I’ve only had three partners. But, yes,” and her cold, flat eyes meet Akira’s. “She’s quite the dancer.”
It’s chilly. It’s so controlled that anyone could miss it. But it’s irritation. It’s anger. “Yes!” Akira’s insides bloom with delight. “Yes, she is, isn’t she!”
“She is. As I’m sure you know.”
It feels like someone’s just handed her Valentines chocolates. Offhandedly, Akira wonders if something might be wrong with her.
The day after Chinatsu won the Rose Bride from Gaju Akagi, she waited outside the door of the office inside Ohtori’s dance studio as Shizuku talked with two of her teachers. One was slim with chestnut-colored hair, the other heavyset with glasses and dark curls. Both wore the same anxious expression. Both talked more than Shizuku did.
“Shizuku-chan, I…” The taller woman adjusted her glasses. “Frankly, I’m happy that you broke up with Gaju-kun. I knew right from the beginning that partnership wasn’t written in the stars.”
“Right, right!” The other nodded. “If anything, you should see this a sign! The Rose Bride system, uh… I know Ohtori loves the whole solving-things-with-duels tradition, but in the end, sword fighting and dancing don’t really… have much to do with each other, you know?”
“Exactly! Nobody truly knows the true history behind that-”
“It’s pretty much outdated, anyways-”
“Horribly archaic, some would even say barbaric-”
“But it’s still working.” Shizuku's voice was flat but firm.
The two older women were silent.
After a moment, as if she were waiting to see if she’d be interrupted, Shizuku went on: “It’s not like I’m trying to disrespect Kiyoharu-kun. If anything, it’d be an insult to him if i didn’t keep improving on my own while he recovered. I just want to dance with the best possible leader I can find. I want to be as good as I possibly can.”
“Yes, but…”
“And I’ve found a great leader.” It was hard to tell, but Chinatsu’s heart twitched a little at the sound of something like pride in Shizuku’s voice. “Chinatsu is one of the most… electrifying dancers I’ve ever met.”
Chinatsu saw the two women exchange a look.
“Y… yes, Hiyama-san is a talented dancer.”
“But… you’re both g-”
“I don’t see why we have to keep going in circles about this.” Three sets of eyes moved to meet Chinatsu as she strode into the office. “I won in accordance with the rules that were set, right? I don’t see the problem.”
She walked to Shizuku’s side, locking eyes with her for a moment. “It’s… hard for me to understand why Shizuku does what she does, but it’s her choice, in the end. If she has to depend on a partner, she should have the power to decide on who it is, right?”
“But-!”
“I could always tell Gaju-san that he’s free to pair with her again.”
Shizuku smiled as the women cringed and looked at the floor.
“Guess there’s no problem, then.”
“But she’s SUCH a good leader, isn’t she?”
She can’t stop.
“Chinatsu always made me feel so safe when we danced together. I was always a bit shy performing in front of other people, but she always made me feel at ease. Like I was the only girl in the world...”
Akira imagines an X-ray of her body. A cartoonish dam bursting somewhere in her chest. A flood of all her ugly, rotted insides.
“That’s why we only ever danced with each other. Other girls tried practicing with her, of course, but they always ended up leaving. Chinatsu liked me because I wasn’t like them. I was the only one devoted to dance like she was.”
Lies and reality are getting jumbled in Akira’s mouth and Akira’s head, but it’s fine. This girl doesn’t know the difference. And what’s important right now is every little chip and crack that Akira opens in her shitty porcelain face.
“But I mean, I’m sure she likes you well enough.” At this point, Akira doesn’t even try to hide the ugly rasp in her laugh. “You’re the Rose Bride, after all. I’m sure you’re... competent.”
The Rose Bride’s shoulders are solid and unmoving. With her face turned to the fight, Akira can only see a slice of her expression. But Akira can feel the air vibrating around her. And it’s amazing. Akira never knew she could be satisfied, getting this feeling from someone who wasn’t Chinatsu. She’s practically drinking it.
“But, I just hope you know,” and Akira starts edging closer, like a cat ready to pounce on a oblivious rodent. “Rose Bride or not, you’ll never know Chinatsu like I do. Sure, you supposedly have the power of the Rose Bride, but I’m the only one who can make Chinatsu burn her brightest,” Akira practically croons in the Rose Bride’s ear, "the one who can make Chinatsu look at me with those eyes. No one else will ever, ever do that. Not a man, not a girl, and especially not y-”
And everything stops.
Distantly, the sound of metal clashing is muffled as if caught under a blanket.
A noise creaks in Akira’s throat.
“What,” she says, “exactly do you think you’re doing.”
The evening after Chinatsu went up, up, up those seemingly endless stairs, a sullen fist knocked on Mako’s door. Gaju’s voice was quiet and dull as he explained what happened. He didn’t look Mako in the eye once.
“I’m just so glad everything’s back to normal!”
Akira's end of the phone was silent.
For a couple of weeks, Akira had always seemed busy whenever Mako had seen her. But one day, out of the blue, Akira had approached Mako after practice and invited her to the cafe her father owned. The two sat in a booth in the quiet yellow light, both with untouched drinks in their hands.
Mako stirred her tea even though her sugar had long since disappeared. “I mean,” she murmured as if answering Akira's unasked question, “the duel thing… it never would have worked. I never could have won against Gaju.”
Akira said nothing. Her manicured nails tapped the sides of her cup.
“I-I mean, he’s so much bigger, and stronger, and it’s true he’s not that experienced at dueling but, I mean, neither am I, so…”
“Mm.” Akira tore open her fifth sugar packet, despite having not tasted her drink yet.
“I just… I think this was probably the best way it could have worked out. It was really lucky, I mean, to think Chinatsu-chan would do something like that for me-”
SCCCCRRRRAAPE
Mako looked up in alarm. Akira’s hand was clenched around her spoon like a lifeline.
“...sorry,” she said, smiling brightly. “Stirred too hard. What were you saying?”
“J-just… that I was glad everything worked out for the best. I’m just happy to be dancing with my brother again. That was all I really wanted, so…”
Mako trailed off as she realized Akira was staring right at her. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Is it?”
And with a single question, Mako knew Akira had seen right through her.
“You’re still mad, aren’t you.” It was hard to read the look on Akira’s face. There was sympathy there, but… something else that made Mako’s blood go cold. Absentmindedly, she shivered. “You wanted to be the one who beat him. You’re angry that someone else took that from you.”
“N-no, of course not! It was never about beating him, I just wanted him...just wanted him to come back…and he did!”
“But will he stay?”
And despite the drink warming Mako’s hand, her insides felt frozen.
“Of c… of course he will,” Mako said, as if she hadn’t laid in bed awake at night under that exact question, even before Shizuku became the Rose Bride.
“Maybe he will,” Akira agreed. She rested her chin in her hand, looking out the window. There was something like a smile on her lips, but her eyes were hard and far away. “Maybe he will. But you can’t be sure.”
No.
“But, if you proved how good you were… if you were good enough to beat the person who beat him…”
No. She couldn’t think about this. She could not think about this for a second.
“He’d know for sure. With the power of the Rose Bride, he’d know that you were really the best partner in this school.”
No. No. No. No. No.
Yes-
“I have to go,” Mako whispered.
When Mako got to her dorm, an envelope was stuck under the door crack. An advertisement for a seminar to be held on school grounds the next day. Mako looked at the rose stamped into the black wax seal, and cut it open.
Tears are running down the Rose Bride’s face.
“Are you telling me there was an elevator here this entire time?!”
“Oh, I never mentioned?” Shizuku replied absently, delicately plucking the overgrown vines sealing the doors shut.
“Last time we were here I literally talked about elevators!”
“You asked me about installing an elevator, you didn’t ask me if there was already one here.”
Chinatsu scrunched her eyes closed, counting to ten.
When she opened them, the dueling arena swallowed her field of vision. It loomed over the two of them- a massive, beautiful, ravenous vulture of a building.
The elevator door now clean, Shizuku pressed the button. Chinatsu moaned. “I really don’t want to do this.”
“Okay.” Shizuku didn’t even turn her head. “Throw the match. You can go back to your dorm, and I’ll go to the challenger and-”
“No.” Chinatsu sighed, running her hand through her hair. “God. Ugh. Let’s just… do it. Let’s get it over with.”
The doors slid open.
“I just… don’t understand you sometimes, Shizuku.”
There was a distant hum as they rose.
“What do you mean?” In the time it took for Chinatsu’s eyelids to shut and open, the gown of the Rose Bride had swallowed Shizuku’s uniform. “I explained to you why I’m participating in this, didn’t I?”
“Yes… yes, you did. I see your logic behind it, I just… I don’t see how the positives outweigh the negatives, I guess.”
“Hmm.” Shizuku swept her hands over Chinatsu’s shoulders. Epaulets sprouted like flowers.
“It’s funny,” Chinatsu murmured, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor as Shizuku ran her fingers over her body. “We’re supposed to be engaged, and I feel like you’re further away from me than ever before.”
“That’s interesting.” Ruffles sprang into existence at Shizuku’s touch. “Because I think the opposite.”
Chinatsu rolled her eyes. “I know we’re ‘close’ right now. I meant figuratively.”
“So did I.”
The hum filled the elevator.
Shizuku touched Chinatsu’s wrist, but ignored the embroidery that appeared on her cuff. Her eyes were devouring Chinatsu’s gaze. “You used to be so far away from me. You always tried to pull your temper in. You always smiled, and played it off whenever something bothered you.”
Chinatsu flushed. “I… I didn’t mean… I just didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you! You were like, an idol to me-”
Shizuku smiled. "I know. And I was flattered, but… more than an idol, I would have preferred to be your friend, you know.”
“You were- you are my friend!”
“But I wasn’t a friend the same way Fujita-kun was. He was the only one you ever let see all of you. To tell you the truth, I used to be so jealous.”
“I…”
At that moment, Chinatsu was suddenly aware of how close she and Shizuku were.
“...ever since I became the Rose Bride, you stopped folding yourself in.” Shizuku’s smile made the back of Chinatsu’s neck prickle. “I started seeing you. The real you. The you who gets furious when things aren’t fair. The you who gets mad over tiny things. The you who loses her temper and then cries because you’re embarrassed about it.”
“T-that’s not exactly a good thing.”
“I think it’s good. You stopped hiding your true self from me.”
“... and you started.”
Shizuku’s eyelids lowered.
“...maybe you just weren’t paying attention.”
“I’ve always paid attention to you.”
And behold, a miracle: Shizuku blushed.
“...there.” Chinatsu flushed, cheeks as red as her hair. “I-if you’re so obsessed with seeing me at my worst, that’s one more ‘me’: the ‘me’ who spouts terrible lines.”
“I didn’t think it was terrible.”
“R-really?”
“Really.” Shizuku was close enough for her breath to warm Chinatsu’s lips.
“O… oh.”
Oh.
The kiss was soft and quick as a heartbeat. Just as Chinatsu was about to let herself melt against Shizuku, she stepped away.
“We’re getting close.”
“R… right.” Chinatsu sighed, smoothing her hair down and silently willing the color in her cheeks to fade. “Well… get ready, then.”
The Rose Bride nodded. “I am.”
“What are you doing.”
Akira’s voice is soft and dangerous, like the distant rumble of thunder. Even if Shizuku’s throat wasn’t clogged and bobbing, she doesn’t think she could give a proper answer.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.”
I don’t know, she wants to answer. Shizuku had learned how to hold her tears so long ago she doesn’t remember learning it. The last memory she has of crying on a dance floor was when she was five. During practice, during a dance, between checks, after the heart-crushing announcements of placements, she had always been able to hold her face steady and dry through it at all- at the very least, until she could find her way to an empty bathroom.
And now, in the most ridiculous possible place, in the middle of the most ludicrous possible scenario, with the worst possible witness, she is crying like a child.
“No.” Akira shakes her head and makes a sound like a laugh, like she can’t believe what she’s looking at. “No. Stop that. Fuck you. I can’t fucking believe-”
If Akira brought a knife to her throat at that moment, Shizuku doesn’t think she could explain why she’s crying.
Is it because under everything Akira said, Shizuku knew what she was really saying?
Is it because that sword is far too big for Mako and she’s still clinging to it like a lifeline?
Is it because Chinatsu, who probably loves dance more than she loves herself, was tossed aside by countless men because she was too much for them?
Is it because the look in Akira’s eyes, the bitterness at being left behind by the person she gave so much to, was painfully familiar?
Is it because she sees the exact same look in Mako’s eyes?
Is it because a dance pair can’t ever be led by a woman?
Is it because Shizuku and Chinatsu will never dance at a competition?
Is it because Chinatsu and Akira will never dance together again?
Is it because Mako and Akira, and Shizuku and Chinatsu, to an extent, will always feel like a second choice?
Is it because Shizuku’s a trophy?
It is because Shizuku’s a doll?
Is it because if Shizuku ever dares to stand out, she will devour her partner alive, and if she tries to keep herself in check, people will sneer behind their hands that she’s a passive little thing that’ll follow anyone?
If Shizuku had to give a reason, a single, definite reason for the awful, greasy tears slipping down her cheeks, the only thing she could probably say was…
It’s because I’m so, so tired.
Instead, she says: “I’m sorry.”
“NO,” and Akira’s voice cracks just as her grin does. The space between her eyebrows crumples like an invisible hand is crushing it. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t you fucking dare.”
“I’m sorry-”
SLAP
Akira’s palm is a hot iron against Shizuku’s face. Shizuku’s world goes pinwheeling, and she hits the floor. DIstantly she hears her tiara hit the cobblestone a second later.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Akira’s fists ball at her sides. Her face is contorting, the corners of her mouth sharp and twitching, like she’s trying to choke back a laugh and scream at the same time. “Ha! Hahaha! Fuck you!!! Fuck-”
And suddenly Akira lunges, and suddenly she is above Shizuku, and she is on Shizuku. In one movement, Shizuku is half-dragged off the ground, Akira’s face in her’s, Akira’s fists clenched on the front of her dress.
“I hate you!!! Do you hear me?!” Spit and tears fleck Shizuku’s face. “I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!” Tears are pouring down Akira’s cheeks, but she doesn’t stop. Shizuku doesn’t think she can . “You think you’re so damn special?! You think you have power?! I have power! I’m the only one who knows the real Chinatsu! I’m the only who’s always been there for her! You’re just another shitty little cow that wants to leech off of her!!!”
“Akira-san, stop…”
“MAKE ME!” Akira’s screams are strange and broken sounding, and Shizuku can hear bits and shards of laughter in there. “You’re the Rose Bride, right?! Make me stop! Show me all that damn power you’re supposed to have! Show me-”
And behind the twisted grin, behind the wild giggles, Shizuku sees something wet and pained in her eyes.
“Show me why Chinatsu wants you and not me!!!”
“I’m sorr-”
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!!!” And suddenly, Shizuku’s throat is sealed shut. Akira’s hands crush Shizuku’s neck, her thumbs pressing into her windpipe. Shizuku is frozen, her mouth desperately gulping for air that won’t come down. “Shut up!!! Do you hear me?! Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP -”
“Wha- AKI!!!"
When Mako politely excused herself from the Koumoto’s cafe, Akira was sure that was the last she was ever going to see of her. She was too kind. Akira had pushed her too hard. I ruined everything again, she thought as she watched Mako’s back disappear. Good.
When Akira was woken up one night later by the sound of pebbles hitting her window, when Mako led her to a nearby bus stop, she was equal parts relieved and disappointed.
“Oh,” she murmured when Mako showed her hand. Akira was unable to tear her eyes from the ring.
“I did it.” Mako said. A wind picked up, causing Akira’s pajamas to gently flutter. Mako was still in the clothes she had worn for practice. “I’ve written the letter, too. I’m going to do it tomorrow.”
Akira’s mouth moved without sound for a moment. When she found her voice, the words made her realize what she wanted from this all along: “I’ll go with you.”
Mako looked sharply at her, and suddenly Akira felt an inch tall. Whatever Mako had done to get that ring, something about it changed her. Her eyes were hard steel, set and determined. Her shoulders were firm and strong. She was more beautiful, and more frightening than Akira remembered. For a moment, she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew.
But Mako said: “Of course. That’s what we planned all along, right?”
Akira blinked. Slowly, a velvet grin appeared on her face. “Of course.” She leaned in, one hand on Mako’s shoulder as she looked down at the ring like it was a child. “Our plan.”
“...Koumoto-san.”
“Hmm? What-”
The lips that landed just outside the corner of Akira’s mouth were as soft as a flower petal. They were gone just as Akira realized they were there.
“Wha-”
Mako’s eyes bored into the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“I-” Akira might as well have been hit over the head with a baseball bat for how jumbled her head was. “D… don’t say sorry…”
“No.” Mako shook her head firmly. “I was going to kiss you, but I realized I should have asked you first. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“...well, then ask me now.”
The force with which Mako snapped her head towards Akira threatened to send her butterfly hair clip flying off.
“...Koumoto-”
Akira snorted. “Come on, you’re going to kiss me before you can call me Akira?”
“A… Akira…”
“Oh for the love of…” Akira took Mako’s soft cheeks in her hands. “Yes. Yes, okay? I give you permission. Just do it.”
And she did it.
It was gentle. It was nice. Akira had let herself be kissed by boys before, but somehow, this was the first time it felt like a first kiss.
Mako pulled back, and Akira had to admit, the sight of her near-translucent skin going completely pink was pretty cute.
“... Akira-san.”
“Mako, what did I just say?” Akira laughed. “Your ears are working, right? You can’t keep using honorifics if we’re going to do this-”
“But we’re not going to do this again.”
Akira’s lips froze around her words.
Mako looked up with that smile, that damn smile that made Akira want to put her fist through a wall. “You don’t like me that way.”
“I…”
I could.
Akira knew she could. Akira knew if she could be satisfied with this, with Mako’s soft, trembling lips, with Mako’s sweet voice and feather-soft hair brushing her cheek-- if she could like Mako, things would be a lot easier for everyone.
It could be perfect. It could be so simple.
“Mako…”
But of course it wasn’t. There was a reason Mako didn’t say it like a question.
“...I’m sorry.”
For her part, Mako hid her bitterness like a professional. Even Akira had a hard time picking it out in the minute lowering of her eyelids, the infinitesimal tilt of her chin. But of course, Akira knew bitterness well. That was the whole reason she was saying no, after all.
“I’m sorry.” For the first time she could remember, Akira wanted the words to mean something. “I… I really am sorry.”
“Akira-san,” Mako laughed. “Weren’t you the one saying not to apologize so much?”
She pulled away from Akira. The two sat quietly for a moment, the few centimeters between them stretching like miles.
“Listen, I… you deserve someone better than me, alright?” Akira’s voice felt strange and foreign in her mouth. “Someone… who likes dancing as much as you… someone who can actually be a leader for you.” Someone whose heart isn’t choked by dreams of knife-sharp words and flowing red hair. Someone who could appreciate something soft and tender without having to coat it with tar and spite. “This… this is why we’re going to do this, alright? Once everyone knows how great you are, once you have the power of the Rose Bride, you’ll going to have to, have to beat boys off with a stick!”
Mako smiled, even as her eyes said she knew exactly who Akira’s words were for. “Okay, Akira-san.”
“Everyone’s going to see how great a dancer you are. They’re going to see you. And no one will ever leave you behind again.” Akira clasped Mako’s hands, and tried with all her might to make it mean something. “I promise. Okay?”
“Okay.”
For a moment they both silently stared at the ring on Mako’s finger.
“Then… then I guess we have to go get everything ready.”
“Yes.” Mako held her eyes shut for a moment, before she stood. “Here.” She slipped an envelope out of the pocket of her exercise pants, handing it to Akira. “Could you put this in Chinatsu’s locker?” There was a weird space in her words, a missing sentence- maybe something like I don’t have to tell you where it is, right?
Akira took the letter, eyes tracing the rose-shaped seal on the outside. “What are you going to do until then?”
Mako paused. She didn’t even turn her head to Akira.
“I need to get my sword.”
“H-hhy, dnna ah thhl yhw-” Gaju spat a mouthful of toothpaste foam into his sink. “Didn’t I tell ya to call if you were gonna come over? What if my roommate was here? What if I had just stepped out of the shower?” Gaju took a handful of water, gargled, and spat. “I’m glad you’re trying to be more assertive, but you still suck at communicating.”
“...”
“...Mako-chan? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Mako locked the door behind her.
On the edge of the battlefield, Akira has struck Shizuku down, straddling her and grabbing her by the neck. “What-” Chinatsu stops mid-swing, whipping her head towards them.“AKI!!! Shizuku!!”
She isn’t even-! “Dammit!” Mako’s voice breaks on an ugly rasp as she cries out, lunging at Chinatsu’s rose. “Don’t ya dare turn your back on-!”
Chinatsu moves her arm like an afterthought.
There’s a strange sound, and a vibration that moves through Gaju’s sword all the way up Mako’s arm, jolting horribly in her funny bone. She yanks her hand back, and she hears the sound of steel scattering on the ground.
The blade of Gaju’s sword lies in pieces around Mako’s feet.
For what may be the first time in her life, Mako screams.
“Shizuku!!”
Past Akira’s contorted grin and tear-slick face, Shizuku can just make out Chinatsu, sword dropped, back to Mako. Even with her blurring vision, Shizuku can make out the hollow look of disbelief on Mako’s face as she stares at her shattered sword-
“Dammit, Shizuku!” Chinatsu’s voice breaks through everything. “FIGHT BACK!!!”
The Rose Bride does not have a will of her own. The Rose Bride can only do what she is ordered.
Shizuku slams her knee into Akira’s stomach.
“GHHRK?!”
Akira wheezes, jerking backwards, hands coming to clutch her midsection. She leans forward, trying frantically to pull air back into her lungs, coughing so hard she almost misses the sound of the other girl’s voice-
She looks back up in time to see the Rose Bride pull back her fist.
Shizuku never understands why people are shocked whenever they get a glimpse of how muscular she is. It’s annoying, honestly- dancing is a sport like any other. Do people think all that footwork doesn’t affect your legs? Sometimes, whenever she’s partnered with some would-be casual dancer, she sees the disbelief that flickers on their faces when they see her holding a stance, or feel the strength of her grip on their arm, and she always feels the same strange mix of satisfaction and annoyance.
At this moment, however, as she knees Akira in the gut, as her eyes bulge and her warped smile breaks apart to let out a strangled sputter of noise, hands releasing her throat to let in blessed, blessed air...
At this moment, Shizuku feels nothing but satisfaction.
“You want to see my power, Koumoto-san?” Shizuku sits up, her hand pulling back and clenching like someone else is moving it for her. “I’ll be happy to show you.”
And Shizuku decks Akira in the face.
Chinatsu stares.
“Holy shit,” she mutters.
Oh.
It’s about to rain.
Akira’s world is nothing but grey, swelling clouds. There is a feeling of something solid at her back, a distant sting of pain pulsing steadily somewhere around her nose, and the rush of something hot and wet oozing down her face. But she sees nothing but a sky about to break into a storm.
There’s a sound of fabric rustling, and the Rose Bride is standing above her. Her hair is a mess, the remains of her tidy bun hanging by her shoulders. Akira can make out bruises beginning to bloom on her neck. Tears are still leaking out of her right eye, but her face is firm.
“...are you alright?”
Akira gives a half-shriek of laughter.
“Fuck.”
And Akira breaks into shaking, heaving laughs.
“Fuck.”
And Akira gasps, and cackles, and guffaws and heaves, as tears begin to spill down her cheeks.
“Fuck,” she giggles, “I’m the fucking worst, aren’t I?”
Shizuku looks down at her as rain begins to prickle her skin.
“I’m sorry.”
The pity in her voice is worse than any punch could ever hope to be.
Mako hasn’t moved. Her head is still bent, the remains of the sword still hanging in her hand.
“You were toying with me.” Her voice is empty.
“Mako-chan…”
“This entire time. You could have won this in an instant.”
“No,” says Chinatsu, and she means it. “Not an instant. I found an opening, but you were good- you took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to put up a fight like this.”
Mako is silent, and Chinatsu moves towards her. Her fingertips graze her cheek.
“Mako-”
SMACK.
It’s not actually a hard hit. Even as the hand clips her chin, Chinatsu can tell Mako’s fist is too loose. She isn’t used to trying to throw a punch. It’s the shock that knocks the wind out of Chinatsu.
“I hate you."
It’s a gusty little whisper, and even though Chinatsu can feel a true bite behind it, the tears spilling down Mako’s cheeks say something else.
“Why were you surprised? Why is everyone always so surprised?” Even standing right in front of her, Mako’s voice is almost small enough to lose. “I’ve worked so hard- I try so hard to keep up with Gaju. With everyone. And people call me a doll anyways. I’m not a doll. I’m not weak.”
“No, no Mako, of course you’re not-”
“But I am!" Mako buries her face in her palms as she screams. Distantly, Chinatsu feels rain begin to dot her shoulders. “No matter how hard I try, I’m always the one dragging my partner down! I’m always the one who gets left behind! Even at my best, Gaju, Shizuku, you- you’re all so much better than me!"
“Mako-”
“Even- even Akira!” The rain pushes her bangs, wet and streaming down her face. “Even she’s just helping me because she wants you to see her!” Mako’s sobs begin to sound eerily like laughter. “How is it that you’re so amazing without even trying?! Even my best isn’t enough! I’m-! I’m…”
Mako sinks to her knees.
“I’m just never enough.”
Rain peppers both their shoulders. Mako’s hands hide her face, her beautiful golden hair sopping and damp around her fingers, like jewelry. Chinatsu’s own hair drips long and wet around her neck. For a moment she imagines it as a noose. The punishment for what she’s done to the girl in front of her.
Chinatsu
is so sick of all of this.
“You know what? You’re right, Mako. You’re never enough.” CLANK. Chinatsu’s sword clatters on the dark stones. She hopes it cracks. “None of us have ever been enough- not me, not you, not Shizuku or Akira. And I’m tired of it.”
And she brings up her hand to her breast.
“And I’m done with this.”
Mako looks up just in time to see Chinatsu’s red rose fall to the ground.
The rain, perhaps mercifully, lets up a little.
A mist falls on the four girls as they look at one another. Chinatsu, almost coaxing her former opponent to follow her towards the others. Mako, wide-eyed and occasionally looking down to see the rose still looped in her button hole. Akira, still on the ground, still staring up at the sky. Shizuku, hair in tangles, and suddenly looking much, much younger than she usually did in that dress.
Akira is the first to speak. “You lost.”
“So did you,” replies Chinatsu. “I should ask you what the hell you thought you were doing, but I take it that punch was enough punishment for you.”
The false Rose Bride grunts.
After a moment, Chinatsu crouches down, balancing on the balls of her feet, putting her right about eye-level with Akira.
“You’re a mess.”
Akira snorts. “Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.”
“I meant your face. You’re covered in blood.” Chinatsu pulls a handkerchief from her pocket, handing it to her. “...here.”
“Ew, you had that in there this whole time? It’s probably soaked with your sweat.” Akira takes it, and Chinatsu wonders if she’s already trying to find a way to forget to return it. “Gross.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Chinatsu’s gaze lands between Mako and Shizuku, who seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes. “I did lose. Mako won. You’re ‘engaged,’ or whatever.” She makes sure to give both of them a look. “What will you do?”
“I-”
“I-”
Malo flushes, and gestures for Shizuku to speak.
“I… the truth is, I am not sure if I want to continue this.” Shizuku spoke slowly, but firmly. “Being the Rose Bride- mind you, I don’t want to diminish your victory, Mako-”
“You won’t! You aren’t!... it was barely a victory anyways.” Mako looks down at her hand, and begins to twist her ring off. “I never wanted… I was just doing this because I wanted my brother to see I was a worthwhile partner.”
“Was it just because of that?” It’s impressive, Chinatsu thinks, how Shizuku can make her voice gentle yet forceful at the same time. Mako’s shoulders fold, as if she wants to melt under the heat of the Rose Bride(?)’s gaze.
But before she can respond, Shizuku goes on. “You don’t have to answer that right now. I doubt you could if you wanted to. But,” and amazingly, a little smile appears on her lips, “as for proving yourself to Gaju, I’d be happy to help you with that. I’m sure he’d listen to my recommendation. Or perhaps a live example.”
Mako looks up. “You… you’d do that for me?”
Shizuku still smiles, but there’s something sad in her eyes. “I own you that much. Mako, I…” She sighs. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“N-no!” Mako sputters, shaking her head so hard her braid almost whaps her in the face. “I’m sorry, I was… so angry. I was so angry, at everyone, and I ended up, hurting everyone, and saying the most awful things, and…” She looks down at the ring in her palm, clenching her fingers into a fist over it. “I was so terrible...”
Dripping wet, with dark purple bruises blooming on her neck and tears drying on her face, Shizuku giggles. “I was pretty terrible, too.”
“But I was more terrible-” Mako’s eyes snap wide open. “I-I mean, no!! You weren’t terrible! I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry-!
A pfffht comes from behind Chinatsu’s handkerchief. “So much for The Cool Mako-chan.”
This time, Shizuku can’t help outright snickering. Mako flushes and Chinatsu smacks Akira in the back of the head.
“No,” Shizuku says, and she gives that sad little smile again. “I was pretty terrible. I know what it’s like, worrying about your partner leaving you behind.” For a moment, Chinatsu can see Akira’s knuckles tightening around themselves. But she stays silent. “I didn’t- no, I did think of it, but I just told myself I didn’t care about what you felt.” Shizuku’s voice is distant and bitter. “After all, the Rose Bride is just a doll without a heart. I was just lying to myself. I’m sorry.”
“A-and!” Chinatsu suddenly blurts. It’s her turn to blush when all eyes land to her. “I’m… I’m sorry too. I’m sorry, Mako, not understanding. For pretending I was a prince. I thought by fighting Gaju I could help you- save you, but… I was an idiot. This isn’t a fairy tale- you needed to reunite with your brother on your own terms.”
“Way to go, making it all about you,” Akira mutters, only to squawk when Chinatsu jabs her in-between the ribs.
“Like you can talk! Don’t you have something to say, too?”
Akira glares coldly at Chinatsu. “And what is that.”
Chinatsu just looks at her.
“For the love of God-” Akira sighs, big and blustery. “Okay- Mako,” and she points at her, “I’m sorry for pushing you into this just to get what I wanted. I’m sure it was very mean and naughty of me.” Her finger moves to Shizuku. “As for you, Hanaoka, I’m sorry I said all those terrible things and called you names and yelled at you and slapped you and tried to choke you. Those were all a bunch of big no-nos.” She turns back to Chinatsu. “And I don’t know why YOU’re looking at me like that, considering I have nothing to apologize to you for.”
Akira looks slyly at Chinatsu, only to be greeted with a sad look.
“You’re right. I think I should be the one apologizing for something.”
“...what….”
“But, I’m still not sure what that is yet.” Chinatsu sighs, tilting her head towards the sky. “And look, don’t yell,” she says, and sure enough there is a dark crease between Akira’s eyebrows signalling an incoming explosion. “Because if you had to explain to me why I need to apologize, you’d just be even more pissed off about it.”
Fighting with all of her strength, Akira manages to keep from throttling the love of her life.
“I still don’t understand what changed between us. I don’t understand what made you hate me so much. But I’ll figure it out someday, okay?” Chinatsu looks at Akira with something like fondness with what feels like the first time in forever. “So can you promise you’ll wait for me?”
“No. I don’t promise at all,” Akira says, lying through her teeth. Tears begin to run down her face again. “You’re the worst!”
“I know,” says Chinatsu, sighing. Mako crouches by Akira, gently stroking her back as she begins bawling into her shoulder. When did they get so close? Chinatsu thinks. Now that’s one hell of a partnership.
“Um, so…” Mako raises her voice over Akira’s sobs. “So, what should we do now?”
Chinatsu exchanges a glance with Shizuku. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Shizuku says, “but I could really use a bath.”
“Me too,” Mako agrees. “I really want to change out of this uniform. It doesn’t suit me at all.”
“I HATE THIS FUCKING DRESS,” comes a muffled voice buried deep in Mako’s shoulder.
Shizuku smiles and nods with sympathy. “It’s the worst, isn’t it? I really prefer ballroom gowns.”
“YOU’RE NOT MY GODDAMN FRIEND, OKAY?” Akira takes a pause to sniff. “BUT YOU’RE RIGHT”
Chinatsu sighs. “Well, don’t they have open baths here? Why don’t we all go?”
“Hmm,” says Shizuku. “It’s getting pretty late. What if someone tells us we can’t?”
“Then Mako can stab them for us.”
“HUH?!” After a few full seconds of Chinatsu worrying Mako will faint, she blushes bright pink. “Oh,” she mumbles, looping her finger around her braid. “Y-you were kidding.”
“Who’s kidding?” Shizuku says, leaning in with a smile. “I’m sure ‘The Cool Mako-chan’ could do it.”
“D-don’t tease me…”
“You all are such weirdos,” Akira mutters, finally getting to her feet. She scrubs her face with one hand, offering the other to Mako. “How can you talk like that with each other after everything that just happened?”
Mako takes her hand. “It’s just like a competition.” She aims a smile at Shizuku and Chinatsu as she stands. “You may fight each other, but you’re still friends.”
Akira snorts like a horse. “Jesus. It always comes back to fucking dance, doesn’t it?”
Nobody knows how the tradition of the Rose Bride started. As such, no one knows how it ended, either. Some say the prince was killed by a wicked witch. Some say he was killed by the original betrothed, who then became the new prince. Some say it was the betrothed who was killed, stabbed in the back by the Rose Bride herself.
No matter how many versions of this tale are told, it always ends with a young woman walking out of the gates of Ohtori Academy.
There is a strange rule in place at Ohtori. If a student were to become curious as to what day it was, or say, what year it was, or perhaps what country they were in, they would be distracted. Something like a lover’s spat, or perhaps a wild animal running loose. They would be distracted until the question left their mind, and they would go back to their school duties and classes and clubs. As such, nobody knows exactly where the school is, despite how many end up there.
Perhaps every child lives in Ohtori Academy for a time.
Someday, the dancing girls will leave that place. They will not leave today. They will not leave soon.
But they will leave together.