Archive of Our Own ^beta

     Reina felt out of place in her own bar.

     The lights were too bright, and the material hugging her body hugged it much too tightly.  It squeezed at her sides like an iridescent violet vice, and creased at her waist and shoulders so it’d dig into her skin whenever she moved.  Her legs felt chilly too, exposed, shooting out from underneath the dress’s hem that ended at her mid thigh, and what little hair that remained after a shave stuck up in the AC.

     “You look nice, Reina.”

     Nishikiyama spoke from the top of his glass.  His breath fogged swirling white clouds into the crystal, which were washed away as he took a long sip of his sake.  She could imagine the alcohol blazing a trail down his throat as his Adam’s apple slid laboriously up and down his neck to swallow it.  Strands of silky black hair stuck to his skin there, glued by sweat.

     He looked at her in a way she’d never been looked at before.  A dull sparkle lit up the whites beneath his sweeping lashes, inquisitive.  That had somehow made her more restless than the constant itch of the skin-tight tube dress she’d wrestled into.

     Of course he thought she looked nice in it, she thought to herself, her pointer finger swiping across her forehead to push back a section of hair.  She’d worn it for him.

     The top of the dress hugged the middle of her neck, and the sides looped under her bare arms, bare shoulders catching the light radiating off the ceiling.  She wore a simple necklace, made of three pearl-studded strings.  The giant white orbs hanging off of her ears and the cuff encircling her wrist matched it.  She looked classy.  She looked sexy, but not too sexy.  Not like she was trying too hard.  Just what he liked.  Just how he’d described every new hostess he’d decided to pick up, to hang off of his arm.  Though, recently, talk of his hostess friends had slowed; she assumed he’d stopped frequenting those clubs after the events with Kiryu of a few years ago had resolved.  Just what he liked regardless.  She remembered.

     “Oh really?”

     Nishiki’s voice was butter.  “Yeah.”  He shifted in the bar stool he was situated in; the one he always sat at, the chair at the far right end of her bar with the steadily cracking leather. “It’s weird seeing you in something other than that old kimono.  Or, god forbid, your little office getup.  What’s the big occasion, eh?  Trying to oust Yumi?  Going somewhere?”

     Reina shrugged.  “Oh, no.  None of that.  I just thought it’d be nice to…try something new, I suppose.”

     He took another sip of his drink.  More alcohol racing towards his brain.  “Huh…It’s a good look for you.”

     She waved the comment away, her manicured nails shining in Serena’s warm lighting.  They were a nice nude color, glossy and clean; she’d gotten them done right after buying that damned dress.  “Whatever.”

     “Where’d you get it?”

     Her eyebrows ticked upwards.  “Le Marche.  You know, down near that sushi place you despise.”

     Nishiki seemed taken aback.  He set the bottom of his shot glass onto the top of the bar and tilted his head.  His eyes swept Reina’s body up and down, as if searching for the dress’s tag, and she felt as if her skin was on fire.  His voice came out through a breathy smile.  “Le Marche?”

     “Mhm.”

     He blinked.  His eyelashes were so long, like a girl’s.  Reina nearly chuckled out loud at the observation.  Maybe he had snuck her mascara into his pocket when she left her purse behind at the bar, when she went out for groceries, or to take out the trash.  He was a gentleman to the rigid bone, but he was still a yakuza.  She wouldn’t put theft like that past him, especially if it was something as small as makeup.

     “Who the hell are you?”

     She blinked, snapped from her train of thought.

     “Eh?”

     A smile played on his lips, and he brought the glass back up to them to throw back a small sip of the fruity drink.  “That’s really not your speed,” he said through a snicker.  “Plus, I go in there all the time.”  He looked at the dress again, eyes zeroing in on her shoulders.  They turned red.  “I’ve never seen that thing.”

     Reina crossed her arms, and her lightly-painted bottom lip stuck slightly out.  “Nishikiyama-kun, I’m being serious!  I’m always looking around in there.  I thought it’d be a nice change to actually leave with something for once.”

     He still looked skeptical, his angular brows rising on his forehead.  “With your salary?”

     She raised her brows the same in response.  “I bet I could buy the whole store and then some if you boys ever paid your tab.  Speaking of…”

     “I told you,” Nishiki interjected, “Kiryu’s covering it, next time he comes in.  He owes me one for that round of drinks I bought.  And the dinner bill I covered.  And for gas money, and my pack of smokes he lost...”  His mouth was opened as if he was ready to shoot off more examples.  Reina just shook her head, a smile playing on her lips as her eyes rolled up to the ceiling.

     “It’ll be a cold day in hell…”

     Nishiki smiled too.  After a beat he set his shot glass down on the bar.  His fingerprints left little ghost white indents on the sides.  His eyes were still fixed to her collarbone, before they drifted up to her face, scanning her pores and the mole on her cheek.  “Tell you what,” he said as he leaned an arm on the bar, “let’s go down right now.  I’ll buy you something to make up for it.”

     Reina hummed triumphantly.  Her ruse had worked.  “What about your car?”

     Nishiki blinked.  “What about it?”

     “You said you didn’t want to spend any more money after you repaired it.  Remember, for the big scratch on the door?  I seem to recall you running in shouting, cursing out some kids that parked their motorbikes too close.”

     He raised his hand in the air and waved it off, dissipating the memory of that fevered state with his fingers.  He loved that damn car so much.  “Oh, well, that was…j-just a scratch.  It didn’t cost too much.  A little gold necklace will hardly make a dent, don't you worry.”

     “Oh boy.”  Smartass.  Reina's eyes wandered to the ceiling again.

     “Come on.  You can leave the bar for just an hour or so, yeah?”

     She looked down at him.  A sparkle glinted from the corner of his eyes.  Asking through his lashes.  A few hours out with Nishiki…walking close to his arm, smelling his crisp cologne, watching his hands cascade over metals and jewels, all for her.  How could she really say no, when it’s what she wanted all along?

     “…if you insist.”

     He smiled.

- - -

     “This the pup?”

     Nishiki held up the dress reverently.  Even off its wood hanger, it stood crisp, the curves of the fabric dipping in and out of its midsection.  The one in his hands was the same as the one on Reina's body, but a dark blue, the light of the designer store illuminating the dull cerulean sparkle in its fabric.  

     “Yeah,” she confirmed.  “That’s pretty big, though.  Have you been hanging around some new girls?”

     A smile ticked the edge of Nishiki’s mouth.  “Yeah, actually.  Madoka-chan got a new gig, so I started talking to one of the other girls at her place.  This one’s nice.  Real…” He ran a hand down the material, thumbing it at the waist.  “...tall.  Real easy on the eyes.”

     She wanted to scoff.  Since when did he like tall girls?

     “Huh.  Sounds like she should be playing ball, not chumming up to sorry yakuza like you for a living.”  Reina’s tone was always a tease.  Reina’s tone now was spiked with a bit of envy.

     “Heyyy,” Nishiki hissed, “be nice.  She’s much too refined for that, anyway.  Which is why…”  He paused, sucking a reverent breath in through his nose.  “This is perfect.”

     Suddenly both of his hands gripped the hanger, flipping the dress around so the front of it was facing Reina.  With one fluid motion, he held it in front of his own body, positioning it so that the choking fabric of its neck stood just below his Adam’s apple, the shoulders dropped off in front of his thick shoulder pads, and his legs shot out from below its cropped bottom.  He looked at her with eyes so sparkly and inquisitive she could cry.

     “How’s it look, then?”

     Reina went quiet.  

     Real quiet.  Le Marche buzzed.  Hands sifted through designer dresses, nails clacked across purses and bags.

     “...what, is…is it for you?”

     “No, no.”  Nishiki was quick, too quick, to wave the idea away.  His nails sparkled in the chandelier light of the store.  “See, she’s around my height, so, if it looks like it won’t fit on me, it’s not gonna work.”

     Reina couldn’t help but snicker.  “Why don’t you go in the back and try it on yourself, then, Nishikiyama-kun?”

     “Ha ha.  Not funny.”

     “Sure it is.”

     The hand gripping the wooden hanger shook, the dress jingling side to side.  It was like a fat blue disco ball, with the way the iridescent fabric glimmered, right in Reina’s eyes.  “Focus, will you?  How’s it look?”  He pressed it right back up against his own body.

     Reina pursed her lips.  She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her longtime friend, and instead squinted them, focusing on the dress, on Nishiki’s frame below it.  She found herself taking a step back to look better.  Her heels thumped on the carpeted ground.

     “Hmm…”  A well-manicured finger went to rest on her chin.  “If she’s as tall as you, and built somewhat similar, at least, I’m assuming…”

     She pointed at the bottom of the dress.  “It might be a little too short, don’t you think?  But if she likes her long legs, you know, wants to show them off, it’d work great.  Really sexy.  And the sleeveless look means it won’t stretch too bad over bigger shoulders.”  She gave Nishiki a charged smile.  “I think she’ll like it.”

     “It’ll work?”

     “Yes, duh.”

     Nishiki’s form seemed to deflate, almost as if he was letting out a breath he’d been holding in for a minute.  He folded the soft fabric of the dress over his arm, fingers picking at the folds so it lay flat and wouldn’t wrinkle.  “Thanks, Reina.  I still don’t know enough about this girl stuff.”

      That much was obvious, she thought.  Her tone was quippy.

     “It’s bad form to pick out gifts for one maiden in the presence of another, y’know.”

     “There’s a maiden around here?”

     She offered him a light smack on the arm.  He grinned.

     “Hey, when in Rome.  I needed to get that.  We’re buying your things now, anyway.  What are you thinking, Reina?”

     “You really offended me, y’know.”  She neglected to answer his question.  “I think you owe me something else.”

     Nishiki looked perplexed.  “Eh?  Not another thing from here.  That’s just greedy…”

     “Nope.  Dinner.”

     Nishiki groaned.

- - -

     Reina’s arms strained, shaking, the veins in her hands popping in light blue and red.  She cursed herself for letting Serena’s garbage get this big.  The translucent white of the trash bag in her grip bulged and swayed like a palm tree laden with coconuts, except it was instead laden with old empty liquor bottles and discarded napkins and cups.  She’d walked out from behind the bar with it, down two flights of stairs, and now she walked in a diagonal line across the backlot to the tenants' shared garbage.

     She loved being a bartender, pouring drinks and chatting with starry-eyed young men for a living, opening and closing whenever she pleased.  Even taking out the trash had its perks.  She could stretch her muscles and get a deep whiff of the sharp Kamurocho air, all at the same time.

     The smell nearest the trash wasn’t the nicest, though.  Old food and old rainwater ruminated at the bottom of the garbage bin, and the smell of it shot up in angry daggers towards her nose.  It was pretty full today, too.  She huffed as she tilted the cap of the bin all the way open and tossed the full bag into its gaping maw.  She brushed her hands off, before absent-mindedly twirling the shiny new bracelet at her wrist.  

     After much bickering, and teasing, and a pitiful reveal of a half-empty wallet pocket, Nishiki had settled on buying Reina a gold bracelet, studded with a red jewel, over the ring she’d initially asked for him to buy.  It was still nice, and it still shook him out of several thousand yen, but the ring would’ve been nicer.  Because if he’d gotten it, for even a second , she would’ve been able to slip it on her left hand and pretend it meant something more.   Ah well.

     For a moment she paused.  Through the tiny opening between the buildings around her, she could see a perfect view of the Kamurocho night.  Neon lights flashed across the street from her, and couples strut down its dirty sidewalks, sidestepping litter in their heels and work shoes.  The occasional car rolled down the street.  She couldn’t help but think of Nishikiyama and that stupid Sedan of his as she watched their wheels spin around and around.

     She’d been thinking about him a lot.  He hadn’t been around the bar much since their little ‘date’ to Le Marche, maybe in an attempt to keep his tab from running any higher after she hollowed him out.  It felt…empty in there, without his velvet voice and his hands to smack the bar.  That’s why she kept herself occupied with stuff like this, she supposed; to have something to do.  

      Maybe she’d scared him off with the outfit and her futile attempts to get him drooling over her.

     The failure of her earlier mission angered her.  She’d planned that outfit out for a few weeks, and had hit up every department store within a 5 mile radius to find that jewelry.  Sure, it’d gotten her a few elongated stares, and that trip to Le Marche and dinner, but it produced nothing remotely close to the swooning and stumbling-over-words that she was anticipating.

     With a final sigh, she reached over the mouth of the garbage.  It was a stupid idea anyway, she thought with a hum.  Sometimes that boy was denser than a bag of bricks.  Silk fingers gripping the edge of its cap, she moved to pull it back closed, when something caught her eye.

     Something sparkled deep in the trash.  Among the dark plastic bags and folded-up cardboard, it stuck out like a sore thumb.  She squinted her eyes.  It looked cerulean blue in the dim light of the night, almost bedazzled.  Maybe someone had dropped an earring–oh!  Or a watch!  Against her better judgment and her sparkling nail beds, she found herself reaching into the trash, softly batting away the sagging bags plopped atop the point of interest.  With a sad whimper and a screwing-shut of her eye, her fingers wrapped around it; it was soft in her hands, and she was able to yank it out easily.  A buzz of flies burst disturbed from the trash as the fabric dangled from her hand.

     It was Nishikiyama’s dress.

     Well, it looked like Nishikiyama’s dress.  The same color, the same design he’d seemed so ecstatic over.  Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.  

     “Surely not…”

     Reina brought the dress up to her face to inspect it.  Her thumbs pulled at its neckline, yanking at the tag to unfurl it; sure enough, Le Marche was written across the fabric in swirling characters, and beneath it was the same size she’d helped Nishiki pick out.  Save for a few spots of dirt, it was in the same pristine condition they’d found it on the rack, with no tears or any obvious damage.   So what was it doing in her garbage?

     Maybe he’d dropped it off by mistake.  Maybe he had gotten too drunk and mistook the dress for some kind of pocket lint or used tissue to toss away.  She pursed her lips, staring at the dress for a beat longer, before glancing around herself and folding it over her arm.  

     She’d hate to see a beautiful expensive thing such as this end up in the landfill or Tokyo harbor, and she’d hate to miss the explanation as to why it was among her waste.  Next time Nishikiyama dropped by, she’d ask him about it.  Next time…

- - -

     The loud, grating creak of the door to Serena opening nearly made Reina jump out of her skin.  It was like an explosion in contrast to the silent night she’d been dealing with.  The bar had been quiet as a morgue; all her regulars must’ve been busy.  Not this one, apparently…

     She looked up from the magazine she was reading to welcome her customer.  She'd started a nice article, something about a resurgence of butterfly populations.  Her words caught in her throat as her eyes caught the figure at the door.

     “N-Nishikiyama-kun!”

     Like a phantom, she’d thought of him, and there he was.

     His face was still as he stepped and swayed into her bar.  She smiled, an expression that he did not reciprocate.  Instead he sat down on his chair, crossing his ankles across one another and resting both hands on the wood of the bar.  His joints and fingers trembled across its knots.  They were blushed pink and red, a stark contrast to the white of his suit.  

     Reina smiled at him again; this time her lips were soft, drawn together into a sympathetic line.  “Nice of you to finally show up,” she teased.  “Where’s Kiryu?  I thought you said you were gonna bring him next time.”

     “He took himself home.”

     Nishiki’s voice was slurred, quiet, like his tongue was half-glued to the roof of his mouth.  His eyes seemed to rotate in circles around his head.  His cheeks were dusted rouge.

      He was already drunk.  That much she was able to tell, what with years and years of bartending experience under her designer belt.

     “...you two went out drinking already, then?”

     He nodded.  His hair was a shiny cascade of black and gray over his face.  She always thought it looked like it’d be soft to touch.  Based on the dirt smearing the cuffs of his suit pants and the strong woody smell coming from his mouth, she assumed they’d run around the Champion’s District for a few hours.  The ground was always dirty and the drinks at the okama bars were always strong.

     “You got any whiskey left, Reina?”

     It was less of a question, more of a gentle command for her to start pouring him another glass of something bitter.  It was her turn to nod, but her eyebrows turned upwards, curling into concern.  “Are you sure you need another drink?” she hummed.  “You seem pretty inebriated…”

     The next look he gave her told her he didn’t care much.  She got the gist.  She wordlessly turned to the rack of alcohol behind her.

     He rarely acted this way, she thought, uneasy fingers brushing over the tips of each bottle.  She never got to see the same Nishiki that tenants behind on protection payments saw, that mouthy drunks or sleazy underlings saw.  It was a surprise, and not a welcome one.  Even more unnerving was the fact that Nishiki was usually a happy drunk.  She’d have to kick him off the karaoke box and beg him, giggling, to keep on his suit when he’d had too many shots.  Something was clearly up with the young man.

     Her hand encircled the neck of a dark amber bottle of whiskey, just freshly opened.  The clink of the bottle against the rim of a glass made her flinch.  Loud and sudden like a gunshot, but the preceding sounds of the liquid sloshing and storming against the sides of the glass were much calmer.  Her buzzing nerves had cooled by the time she’d turned back around to face Nishiki.

     “Here we go, Nishikiyama-kun.”

     He had his right hand resting against his face, thumb and pointer pinching the angular bridge of his nose, and pinky finger stroking the skin of his forehead.  His eyes seemed to be fixated on the curves of his palm as he took the shot glass offered with his free hand.  Reina’s hands clasped in front of her waist; she waited for a response, for a ‘thank you’, for a witty remark about how Reina never broke out the good shit unless he specifically asked.  

     Nothing.  Nothing but quiet slurping sounds as Nishiki guzzled the shot down, building on the boiling vat of alcohol and bad decisions already inside his gut.  This wasn’t very good at all.

     Suddenly she remembered what she wanted to talk to him about.  A glint of light shot into her dark eyes, and her muted red lips opened wide, happy to break the silence.  “Oh!  I almost forgot.  Nishikiyama-kun, remember that dress we went and bought together?”

     It looked almost like he winced.

     “Well, I was out on Wednesday, and I found it in the trash, behind Serena.  I’ve still got it behind the bar, if you need it back.  I’m not sure how it found itself in there, I thought maybe you threw it in there on accident, but–”

     “No.”

     “...eh?”

     He twirled the shot glass around in his hand.  “Didn’t work.”

     It fell quiet again.  That was fast.

     “Oh.  Your, uh, friend didn’t like it, then?”

     She watched the muscles in his neck strain as he swallowed.  “No, it's…”  He twitched for another drink.

     “It was…really nice.  But it didn’t fit.”

     Oh no.

     “...I see.  I’m sorry, Nishikiyama-kun.  It’s my fault, I should’ve told you to go up a size…”

     Nishiki just shook his head back and forth in response.  Oh, it must’ve been really bad.  

     She wanted to reach out to him, to pat his shoulder reassuringly, or graze his hand with hers, but she simply went to her rag resting on the bar and wiped down the counter instead.  He clearly didn’t want to talk.  She’d be a fool for continuing to prod the man.

     The grain below her was just beginning to sparkle and reflect the light like the surface of a pool as she heard quiet sniffling sounds.  

     She looked up, curious.

     Nishiki was…crying .  

     Through the gaps in the fingers on his face, she could spot salty droplets rolling down his face, gathering in pools on his sharp chin.  His eyes were screwed shut, the skin around them folded like sheets, and quiet sobs and breaths filtered from the gaps in his barred teeth.  She blinked, exasperated.

     “Nishikiyama…”

     He had abandoned the shot glass, and his free hand went up to wipe the tears coagulating under his left eye.  Both hands slid down the length of his face.

     She never got to see him like this, either.  She didn’t know what to do.

     “I…I’m sorry for bringing it up.  I didn’t--”

     “Do you daydream a lot, Reina?”

     She could barely hear him through those injured breaths.  Reina was left speechless again, only for a beat, before she nodded.

     He saw the motion, somehow, through his tears.  “What about?”

     She hummed hesitantly.  Maybe he needed a distraction, one that she was happy to provide.  “O-oh, I don’t know…s-sometimes I imagine I’ve moved to the beach.  Or…or I’ve become a painter, like I wanted to be when I was a kid.”

     Nishiki sniffled.  He seemed hung on her every word.

     “Most of the time I imagine I’m married.  In a big old house, with a nice car.  I like that dream.”  She continued when she was met with a lack of a response.  “I live in a penthouse in that one, big and white and gold, and I have a glass of champagne every morning...a-and I can look out and see all of Kamurocho.  The bar, and your house…it’s real nice.”

     Nishiki smiled like he wanted to say something smart.  The comment never came, even though she waited on it.

     “…why do you ask, Nishikiyama-kun?”

     She could damn near hear her heart beating out of her chest, and she didn’t know why.  Nishiki wiped away a tear that she couldn’t see, pulling at the wrinkles on his eye, and her heart beat louder.  She yearned so badly to know what was wrong.  She swooned to know that he may trust her enough to tell.

     His fingers started circling the rim of his glass.  On cue, she reached behind her for the bottle of whiskey and started pouring him another shot.  He simply stared at the alcohol that pooled in his cup, eyes wet as Reina screwed its cap back on.  He seemed to watch the little waves and peaks in the amber fluid for minutes.  When he spoke his voice was hushed like he was saying a prayer.

     “Do you ever dream that…you’re a…girl?”

     She blinked.  And it was quiet again.

      ...What sort of silly question was that?

     Against her better judgement, she wanted to scoff.  Of course she did.  Of course she was a woman when she dreamed of herself, albeit a lot prettier; sometimes with a thinner face, or a more expensive suit on.  She gave him a gracious smile instead, still concerned for the sobs racking his body.  “Yes, Nishikiyama, I do.”  Of course she did.

     His features tightened, and he looked into her eyes for the second time that entire night.  She looked back.  Relief pooled in his irises.  Camaraderie.  They seemed to almost speak to her, his lashes like gnashing teeth, his quivering pupil a uvula.

     You dream of it too, then?

     Something clicked as his eyes went quiet.

     Oh.

     Reina felt a flush creep on her neck, and her mouth dry up.  Of course he wasn’t asking her for kicks.  He was asking for himself.

     “D…do you…do you ever have dreams like that?”

     His eyes lingered on hers for a moment more.  Eternities seemed to pass in his gaze.  She wished she could stay in his eyeline.  He broke contact as he nodded, slowly, the hair on the back of his neck brushing up and down.

     Oh shit.  

     She pushed, her fingers feverishly curling tighter around the rag in her grip.  “…What happens in them?”

     Nishiki suddenly seemed to be transfixed on a nick in the cabinet’s wood behind Reina.  She so desperately wanted that gaze to shift to her again.  She could always see so much in his eyes.  He began to speak in long, dreary sentences, longer than anything he’d uttered this entire visit.

     “Well, it’s wrong to call them dreams.  They’re just like…passing thoughts.  I get them all the time.  Imagining how I’d look in a woman’s clothes.  Doing a woman’s job.”  He sniffled.  “I started zoning out at the club, pretending I’m one of the girls.  Lighting cigarettes and drinking until I drop.  Stuff like that.  I haven’t been in a while.”

      So he’d lied.  

     “...Oh.”

     Reina’s voice came out more harsh than intended, an inflection stabbing in her throat.  His face closed in on itself again, eyes shooting down, and she scrambled to cover it up.

     “Oh, no, I didn’t—I just–I meant…it makes sense.”

     Teeth grinded his bottom lip.  “What does that mean?”

     “I mean the dress.  It was for you to have, right?  To try on?”

     He nodded like a scalded toddler, and suddenly the garment’s place in her garbage bin made a whole lot of sense.  It didn't fit.  Reina made sure to speak softly, to speak slow, neck craning to get on Nishiki’s eye level with her next words.

     “Nishikiyama-kun.  Do you think you’re a girl?”

     It was a question so heavy that Nishiki flinched upon hearing it, like he’d heard a gunshot.  But it made plenty sense to Reina.  Her brain had been rapidly whirling nonstop since his initial question, pulling pieces together.  

     He was already a gorgeous man, she thought, prettier than half the girls she passed on the street, and more stylish to boot.  His hair damn near reached his shoulders, while Kiryu’s barely nicked his forehead, and every other yakuza beefcake she’d had the displeasure of meeting sported some variation of hair akin to a clod of soil and grass.  He’d look downright motherly if he pulled it back.  His hands were soft, even after years of pummeling men’s faces in, and he could keep up with her during chats about the latest fashion and cars and reality TV and soap opera.  

     Of course, she couldn’t downright assume anything.  Maybe all of that meant nothing at all.  Maybe he was just vain, plain and simple.  Annoyingly stylish.  An aspiring drag queen.  Or…maybe he was…

     Oh, she couldn’t bear to think of the other option.  She restrained from fanning herself.  

     Nishiki struggled to find the words to satisfy her question.  His lips quivered; she thought he might begin to sob again.

     “...I don’t know.  Maybe.”

     “You’re not sure.”

     “No.  How can I be?”  His tone took on a sudden edge. 

     Another tear slipped from his eye.  It rolled down the delicate bones of his nose and gathered on his nostril like snot.  He made no move to wipe it off.

     “I’ve felt this way for so long.  I used to think I was just stressed from school, then the job.  That was an easy enough explanation, for how hard it gets to breathe, for how…god-awful I feel.  But it’s more than that.”

     Reina’s eyelashes fluttered like an insect’s wings, drinking in the nectar of his confession.

     “I’ve thought about it so much.  And I think I am.  But I can’t be a yakuza if I’m…”

     It seemed as if even thinking of uttering the word ‘woman’ sent him into lockdown.  The hand that rested on his face balled into a fist, his skin now paper white, flashing in Reina’s eyes as he dragged it down his face.  Jagged teeth bit on the skin of his pointer finger instead of finishing his sentence.  She could almost taste the blood in her own mouth.

     “If I live that way, I’ll never earn an ounce of respect.  But it’s so hard to act like I can keep this up.  You know.  Be a man, the way I’m supposed to be a man.  I don’t…I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore.”

     She once more yearned to comfort him, to push his head up against her chest and babble assurance into his ear.  Instead she began to recall the events of the past few years.  His broken nose on her counter.  The story he’d tearingly told her after stumbling through her door from a trek down the mountains.  The fight against the one-eyed man who’d beaten him to a pulp.  All tests of his resolve as a yakuza, as a man, and all tests that he’d failed.  He’d been that way as long as she’d known him; protective, loudmouthed, but he couldn’t land much of a punch when the chips were down.  Never one for the machismo, bare-backed, testosterone-fueled racket of being a part of organized crime.

     Maybe he never knew what he was meant to be in the first place.

     “That's what the dress was for, then?  To…maybe help you figure that out?”

     He nodded solemnly.  “Yeah.  You…you looked so pretty in it, I figured maybe I could, too.”  His free fingers pushed away the glass on the bar, like nudging away an insistent lover's hand.  It nearly fell off the wood’s edge.  “Couldn’t get the damn thing half on.  It’s okay.  I would’ve looked like a fucking joke anyways.”

     Reina twitched.  She would be having none of this.  None at all.

     Her fingers balled tighter on the rag still in her hands, its toothed material digging into her flesh.  Her flushed face was intense.  “That isn’t true.  You just had a bad fit.  We’ll try again.”

     Nishiki blinked at her in silence.  His hand quickly went back to massage the lines scored deep into his forehead.  “No, Reina, I-I’m all—“

     “Nishikiyama.   I’ve listened to you.  I hear your worries.  Please listen to me now.”

     His fingers paused.

     She took a deep breath.  “I have some old clothes at my place.  They’re out of style, sure, but they’re lived in.  Stretched out a little.  If you’d like, I could…lend you some.  Even if it's just for the night, just to see if it works.  I’m sure I could find something for you.”

     He looked at her through his lashes.  It was hard to see his eyes through them, and through the fingers balled on the bridge of his nose.  She prayed that a glimmer of hope had reentered those eyes that she loved so dearly.  She hated to see them muddled with despair.  It was difficult for her to find the right words to say, after all.

     “Are you sure?”

     Reina nodded enthusiastically, surprised he didn't outright refuse.  “Of course.  They’d all be thrown away if not.  I don’t mind at all.”  I want to help.  Please allow me.

     Her friend seemed to mull the prospect over.  Was the chance that it’d all go terribly wrong again higher than the chance it would work?  Could he trust Reina enough to see him like that, half-naked, clad in taboo?

     He pursed his lips, sucking down the rocks built in his throat.  

     Nishikiyama mulled the idea over for one final second, and then the tiniest of smiles ticked on her face.

     “...alright.”

- - -

     The car ride to Reina’s apartment was quiet.  They listened to a symphony built of her buzzing engine and the lit-up buildings rushing by and the quiet splat splats of flies dying against her windshield.  Nishiki didn’t talk.  She could hardly hear her breathe.

     She looked so small in that passenger's seat.  Hands tucked under arms.  Nose stuck on an upwards tilt.  Eyes flitting back and forth as the road rushed by.  Even the beads of sweat on her face were miniscule, tiny suggestions of moisture gathering at the edges of her mouth.  Reina had a million things she wanted to ask.

     Nishiki looked even smaller when they made it up to Reina’s room, after a wrestle with tangled keys and the neighbor’s pesky cat.  It was all so surreal.  Reina had imagined taking Nishiki up to her apartment countless times, albeit under wildly different circumstances.  The extravagant bedding and roses and deep red lighting she’d hoped to present her guest with were forgoed.  She instead only flicked on the lamp on her nightstand, and in the dark expanse of her bedroom, Nishiki was a tiny trembling cat, sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers bunched on the sheets below.  That confident persona that Reina had gotten to know so well was missing, peeled back and discarded by inebriation and tears.  Nishikiyama watched Reina flip through hangers and hangers of old dresses, listening to the tune she hummed as she stuck her nose deeper and deeper into her closet.

     It was a nice distraction for Reina.  Though she so dearly wanted to untie the disgusting knot of shame and crisis wriggling inside of Nishiki’s gut, she could only get her fingers cut on its rope for so long.  Instead she ran them across the soft fabric of ripped dresses, of sagging necklines and glittering bodices that were too large for her to wear even when she weighed much more.  She couldn’t put Nishiki in anything as unsightly as that.  She needed to find something better, that would stretch just right across the intricate muscles on her back and fit comfortably around her thighs.  She’d start to twitch if she thought about her parts for too long.

     After a few laborious minutes, Reina finally pulled out three dresses, her hands gripping the hanger’s metal hooks tight.  She turned to face Nishiki, proud, holding the selection out like she was showing off a fish she’d caught.  “I thought these might look nice.”

     Nishiki’s eyes moved nervously from one garment to the next.  Her eyebrows fell lower and lower with every glance.  “O-okay…I don’t know…which should I–”

     Her head shook.  “No.  That’s not up to me.  You pick whichever one you like.”  In the off chance that her choice didn’t work, they could fall back on the other options, but she couldn’t bring up the possibility of failure to her in good conscience.

     “Hmm.”

     Big brown eyes moved across the options once more, but slower this time.  She pointed, finally, to the red one.

      Good choice.

     “I like that color.  Fabric’s tacky, but…”  She swallowed suddenly.  Reina could hear the muscles in her throat working.  “But I’m plain enough to pull it off.”

     The sleeves were meant to be skin-tight, but it was a much larger size and would glaze out most of the details of the muscles on Nishiki’s arms.  It had a square neckline that would catch and accentuate any and all volume in the chest area, which she did have, and loose fabric around the waist would cover unwanted bulk and give the illusion of fuller hips.  It ended at the mid-thigh, too, so they’d need to find tights if it felt too exposing, but tons of women would die for the toned legs Nishikiyama had, so there’d be no shame in showing them off.  She relayed all of this information to Nishiki, who turned red as a beet to be talked about like some sort of model, or prize slab of meat.  

     Reina offered a grin.  “Well, that settles it.”  The other two options; one violet and one white, were laid to rest across the back of her desk chair, while the red dress was laid softly next to Nishiki on the bed.  Their eyes met.

     “I’ll leave the two of you be,” she teased softly, “and I’ll be just outside.  You holler if you need any help.”

     She gave a small nod in response, and with that, Reina slinked tentatively from the room, sliding the dividing door shut quietly.  She lingered at the precipice like some kind of vampire.  Her ear strained; she could hear Nishiki’s quiet breathing, and the sound of fabric being tousled.  With a satisfactory hum, she went to her kitchen.

     It was a bit of a mess inside.  She found herself wiping the spilled broth on her counters and straightening her appliances, anything to occupy her time while she waited for Nishiki to finish changing.  She considered sorting through her fridge before a voice, quiet but firm, called out her name.  

     “Reina.”

     She’d never turned on her heel faster, nor slid around her hallways with such slick speed.  And she could barely breathe when she opened the door again.

     Nishiki stood in the middle of her room, suit and pants and button-up folded neat and crisp by her feet.  Her back was to Reina, and the half-on dress clung to her body with tight red fingers, but her back was almost fully exposed, and the dress’s zipper was dangling in the tempered air of her place.  The muscles on her back spilled out of the top of the dress.  

     She was built.  Reina knew that she worked out, of course, but she didn’t know the full extent.  The sight of it all thickened the glands in her throat, and watching the tendons in her body shift as she gathered her silky hair into a bunch nearly made Reina stumble.    

     “Could you, uh, zip the rest of it up for me?”   

     Reina enthusiastically nodded before remembering the other couldn’t see her at all.  “Ah, yes, of course.”

     She took careful steps towards Nishiki, and her fingers were tentative as they reached out to hold the zipper and pinch both sides of the dress together.  The smell of her cologne was pungent this close.  Like pine and hibiscus.  She breathed it in through flexing nostrils and noted the tones for later as she pulled the zipper up, up.  It made short squeaking sounds before it found its home at the top of the dress and fell silent.  

     “There,” she cooed.

     Her eyes were glued to the only remaining skin she could see on her guest.  She felt like a damn pervert, but she couldn’t help herself.  The black and red and white ink on Nishikiyama’s back curled beautifully with the flesh that clung to the dress’s top.  Only the beginning of it was visible now; the blubbering lips of the fish, the swirling spiky foam of the waves it rode, as well as the rectangle over her left shoulder, and the characters that threatened to burst from its confines.  The lines were intricate, and she couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of it looked, or how far down the craftsmanship went.

     When Nishiki turned around her face was scrunched up tight.  Her hands were clenched at her side, readied like a boxer set to punch someone’s nose in, and her chin was quivering something fierce.  Reina felt a red heat begin to wash her face.  The fit looked much better from the front, clinging to her collarbones and stretching thin around the underarms.  Made her hips look much fuller as well, and the curving muscles in her legs were on full display.  Reina could eat her alive.

     “I look ridiculous, don’t I.”

     “...What the hell are you on about?”

     “I look ridiculous,” she repeated, stern.  She stood rigid like a ballerina trapped on top of a music box.  “I-I look like a-” 

     “Hush,” Reina hissed, “no more of that from you.  No more.”

     Nishiki’s mouth hung open like a guppy, ready to retort and finish what she started, but Reina tutted, waving a finger in the air.  “We’re not finished yet, are we?  Save your comments for later, when you’re fully done up, Nishikiyama-chan.”

     Her eyebrows furrowed.  “What?”

     “Well, I mean, if we were really getting ready, you wouldn’t just go out looking like that.  You haven’t accessorized or picked out any shoes.  And there’s no makeup on that face, not even a hint.  We’re only halfway there.”

     It was Nishiki’s time to turn red.  Reina could practically hear the steam emanating off of her face as she whined.  “Well, duh, but...ah, no, I’ve taken up enough of your night already.  I can't–”

     “It’s alright, I don’t mind at all.”

     She continued on.  “And I can’t leave in good conscience, you know.  Knowing I’ve taken so many of a young lady’s things.”

     “I don’t mind, really,” Reina insisted.  “You can have it all.  Besides, Nishikiyama, if I don’t give these to you I’ll just be throwing them away.”

     “But--”

     “But what?”

     Reina’s voice was firm, but not cross.  It shut the other right up, lips clamping together.

     She understood Nishiki might be afraid.  She understood there may be a million other reasons to refuse further help.  But she’d already heard her pour her heart out, and seen her in the dress.  What more was there to be scared of?  

     She just wanted to hear it for herself.  Find another way to help.  Always searching for lifelines to tug.

     Nishiki looked exasperated, and her hair even seemed to frizz out like a cat’s.  Her lips parted and shut, once then twice.  “Ah…I just…”

     …

     “It’s…nerve wracking.”

     “Uh-huh.”  Go on.

     “Well, I mean, what if…we do all the things that you said, get me all done-up, but I don’t look the way I’ve imagined?  I’m not…”  Her hands went to smooth down the fabric around her chest.  “I’m not built like you at all.  I’ll just be some perv in a dress.”

     “Oh, Nishikiyama-”

      She didn’t allow Reina to finish.  Her tone became hot like an iron, and Reina could notice a new bead of sweat running down her exposed neck.  “And then, if the opposite happens?  I look right, I feel right, then what? I’ll just have to peel it all off and go back to living like everything’s the same.  Facing the men in my family like I’m one of them.”  

     She swallowed what Reina assumed was bile multiplying in her throat.  When she spoke again her voice sounded rocky.

     “They can hardly stand to be around me as-is.  I’m already a fuckup.  No one will say it, but everyone’s thinking it.  I’m the Dragon of Dojima’s good-for-nothing kyodai.  I’m bringing them all down.  I’m…”  She motioned to herself with a hand that was shaking increasingly hard.  “All this.  Fuck me.  Oh, they’ll see right through me.”

      Because they already do.

     Nishiki’s head bobbled back and forth.  “I can still go back now.  Because if I don’t…after we get done with this, it’ll just get worse.  No matter what I do.  It’ll get worse.”  

     Reina blinked, slow as a doe in headlights.  How absolutely silly she felt, standing there with a hand on her hip, eyes scanning Nishiki’s face, without a single indication on her own face that she was going to speak any time soon.  

     Which outcome outweighed the other, she thought, gaze unfocusing?  To know that your dream was forever out of your reach, or to only get a single taste of its savor for your whole life, doomed to yearn for the feel of it against your tongue for as long as you continued to live?  At that point, how much life were you even living?

     She considered how she’d feel if she was in Nishiki’s shoes, standing in that dress, feeling the same goosebumps pop up on her skin and dread in her stomach.  Plagued by visions of something you were meant to be.  Forced to dream.  Knowing that, in the morning, you’d wake up to a real nightmare.

     Her face and voice were soft as a pillow as she answered.  “I still think you should go through with this.  I think you should know.  And then, after it all, you just have to wait out.”

     Nishiki croaked.  Reina’s voice remained reverent.

     “That’s all you can do, right now.  Because things will change.  I know things feel bleak, like you’re stuck in this rut forever, but you’ll earn their respect.  Enough that you can do whatever you’d like, without a single care.  Or you’ll find a new job, or new people to help you get to your dream.  And…in the meantime, you’ll have people on your side to cheer you on.  You know my door is always open to you.”  Her tone was desperate now.  “I can always lend you clothes, and advice.  And when the bar’s empty, we can talk about all of this together.”

     “You can’t know that for sure.  That things will become different.”

     “Of course not.”  She blinked.  “But I know you, Nishikiyama-chan.  You’re too damn stubborn to let what you want get away.”

     That struck a chord.  A breathy laugh escaped her mouth.

     Reina laughed too.  “Easy for me to say all of this. I know.  I'm not like you at all.  But I know how it feels like to…to have to hide what you’re feeling.  And if I can do it, so can you.”

     Reina found it hard to decipher the look swirling in Nishikiyama’s eyes, hidden by the night’s shade outside and her quivering irises.  Were her words helpful at all, she worried?  She began to bunch the material of her jacket into her nails.

     “You seem to be an expert on me, Reina.”

     “I make it a point to get to know my regulars.”

     A tease.  Met with a hesitant smile.  Reina waited a moment before tilting her head.  “What’ll it be, then?”  The usual?  Or something entirely new?

     Nishiki smoothed the dress’s material over her chest once more, the sounds that her fingers made over the material slick.  She moved like there were insects writhing beneath her skin.  Finally she nodded, and Reina let out a dusty sigh of relief.

     “Let’s just get it over with.”

- - -

     “Hold still,” Reina said.  

     “It’s cramped as a bitch in here,” Nishiki snapped.

     She gave Nishiki’s hair a slight tug at her tone, and she hissed through her teeth.  “Careful.  If you mess up my hair I’m never settling that tab.”

     “Oh, please, like you could ever keep yourself away from the bar.”

     “I’m serious!”

     “I’m being careful,” she assured, and was met with a low rumble.

     Reina’s hands were working as slowly and thoughtfully as she could get them.  They ran gently through the back of Nishiki’s hair, her delicate nails gathering up the silky dark brown locks of it into her opposite palm.  One hand held most of it in a bunch, while the other pushed sections together, fingers constricted by a hair tie.  The tiny square footage of Reina’s bathroom meant her chest was damn near rubbing up against Nishiki’s back, and the smell of that perfume was so strong that she was almost suffocating.  

     She was more preoccupied with the hair in her hands, though, and pulling it into a neat ponytail.  How long had she wanted to feel it, just as she was doing now?  Oh, she couldn’t recall if she tried.  She did her best to breathe at an acceptable pace, lest Nishiki feel her heart ricocheting around her ribs at a scary thrum.  

     “You really do have nice hair,” Reina muttered.  “I’m almost jealous.  How do you get it so soft?”  It was like a cascade of silk.  Reina recalled her own hair, moreover, the slightly greasy strands of it that had fallen out of her high bun.  Embarrassing.

     In the mirror she spotted Nishiki’s face perking up.  “Oh, it’s a process.  I wash it every day, you know.”

     She hummed lovingly, twirling a strand of it between her pointer and thumb, softly enough that Nishiki couldn’t feel her do so.  “Oh, you can really tell.”

     “Right?  I order this nice European shampoo too–not the sewer shit you can buy in Kamurocho.  It’s expensive, but that other stuff fries your ends something awful.  And I…”

     The yakuza continued to rattle off the intricate steps she took with her hair, naming brands that Reina had never even heard of with the speed of an auctioneer, as Reina finished tying her hair into the elastic and tweaking the two remaining strands that hung over her face like bangs.  She even had time to step into her closet and gather some jewelry while Nishiki was rambling, which she set on the rug beside her seat.  Nishiki had only begun to quiet down when she heard the sound of the precious metals clang against the floor.  She seemed to be happy to do anything to distract her from the way she looked.

     “I’ll keep that in mind,” Reina giggled as it fell quiet.  “You won’t mind if I put this over that hair, would you?”  

     A thin necklace dangled from her hand.  It was a simple faux gold chain, with a locket dangling at its end, sealed shut, blinking in the light.  Nishiki looked to admire it, and gave a nod of approval.  Its clasps came undone, and Reina held both ends tentatively in her fingers, holding them in front of Nishiki’s face.

     “Nishikiyama-chan.”

     “Hm?”

     “Do you want me to call you anything different?  At least, when it’s just us two?”

     “...?  What do you mean?”

     “You know.  Like, a certain name.  A, uh, girlier one.”

     Nishiki turned her head away.  “Oh…”

     “Or maybe, we’ll just stick with Akira-chan.  It’s still really cute.”

     “You move too fast for your own good, you know,” she grumbled.

     “Just thinking out loud.”

     The hum that Nishiki let out reverberated through her throat, and Reina could feel it as she clasped the necklace together over her neck.  “No, not yet," Nishiki answered.  "Not ever, probably.”

     “Eh?  Really?”

     Nishiki’s nose twitched in simple response.

     “Well, I guess you’ve got a nice name to keep.  Still…”

     Reina reached down to the floor and picked up a bracelet; a thick, smooth band with gold accents, handing it over to Nishiki to put on.  Nishiki observed it in her fingers before sliding it over her left wrist.  “You should start thinking about these kinds of things, don’t you agree?  And I’ll start thinking, too.  I’ve got a lot of names in mind, floating around...”

     “Oh, what, for your future tykes or something?”

     “No.”  Yes.  “Just…you know.  In general.  I always thought Yukari was a cute name.”

     Nishikiyama scoffed, fingers stroking the bracelet on her arm.  “You can keep to your unfounded fantasies about having babies and naming them silly shit, and I’ll keep to mine.”

     Ouch.

     Reina rolled her eyes.  Earlier at the bar, she’d neglected to tell of the daydreams she’d had around bringing up kids with sharp noses and silky hair.  Nishiki saw right through her.  Whatever.  She swallowed the edge out of her voice.  “Would you turn around for me, Nishikiyama-chan?”

     She did so, after a quick pause, scooting on the chair until she faced Reina head-on, her hands going to rest on her thighs.  Reina could finally see how the pony looked from the front.  She ran a finger through the bangs one last time to gather a few stray hairs before offering a satisfied hum.  “Now for your face.”

     “Not too much,” Nishiki warned softly.

     “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

     Though Nishiki’s skin was flushed with a slight golden tan, likely from running around town with Kiryu or working those volunteering gigs, Reina was certain that her paler makeup would work fine with the other’s complexion.  She made sure to swipe a tiny amount of concealer on Nishiki’s hand to check, gripping on her fingers tenderly, and sure enough, it blended well.  The vibrant blue of her veins became desaturated.

     Nishikiyama was unusually silent as Reina worked on her face.  She was grateful that she didn’t need to ask for stillness.  Dashes of concealer went under Nishiki’s eyes, the middle of her chin, over the acne scars dotting her face, all of which Reina blended with careful precision.  She forgoed foundation in an attempt to keep the other’s stress at a low; instead, she palmed a circle of blush out of her drawer to add for the next step.  Nishiki eyed the color.

     “Huh.  I never see you wear that shade, Reina.”

     “Makes sense.  I only ever wore it at the disco.”

     “Eh?  You went dancing?”

     “Of course.  Everyone did.”

     “I never saw you there.  And I would’ve.  Kiryu dragged me to that damn place up to the day it closed down.”

     Reina patted her cheeks with the color while she spoke, shaking her head.  “First you don’t believe me about Le Marche, now Maharaja…it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

     She teased, of course, but Nishiki looked troubled at the comment.  “‘Course I do.  I just don’t remember seeing you on the floor.  Or at the bar, for that matter.”

     “If only we’d have gone together.  I could’ve shown you how to really move.”

     “Mm.”  Nishiki shrugged, and Reina grabbed an eyeliner pencil, opening it with a satisfying pop.  “There’s still karaoke, yeah?  We could go do that.”

     “Oh, I don’t sing, you know this.  And I think I’ve heard you belt out enough songs for a lifetime.”

     “I can barely sing anything at your place.  I keep telling you,” she grumbled quietly, “you need more songs on your machine, Reina.  You’ll lose regulars over shit like that, you know.”  Her words were near silent as she kept her mouth movements to a bare minimum.  

     Reina simply hummed at her, forgoing an answer.  She moved the tip of the pencil slowly across the other’s eyelid, fingers lithe and precise like a painter.  It was nothing too wild, just a small outline on the top of her right eye.  Reina quickly copied the shape onto Nishiki’s other one.  She took a step back to admire her work and hummed again.

     Nishiki furrowed a brow.  “What?”

     “Nothing.  Thinking.”

      She looked drop-dead as-is, Reina thought.  The blush brought out the color on her slightly tanned skin, the eyeliner drew Reina’s gaze right to her huge brown orbs, and her face was framed nicely by her pulled-back hair.  She debated if the other even needed lipstick.  She’d always assumed Nishiki wore a little something on her lips, thanks to their naturally colorful look.  If not lipstick, then maybe gloss, or something like chapstick to keep them healthy in Kamurocho’s dry air.

     Might as well go all the way.

     In a few moments Nishiki’s lips were painted a muted red; a color that Reina didn’t use too much, in case Nishiki was worried about germs.  She had the other purse her lips like she was blowing out smoke.  Reina couldn’t help but imagine she was going in for a kiss, instead of leaning close only to swipe the lipstick across her mouth.

     With the color smacked onto her lips and a final brushing-away of loose hair, Nishiki was done.  Reina gave her a tap on the shoulder.

     “Get up now,” she cooed.

     “Done already?”

     “It doesn’t have to take ages, contrary to popular belief.”  She flashed a smile as Nishiki slowly stood, a reassurance that all was fine, and that she looked great.  The expression wasn’t duplicated, but it seemed to put the other at ease, at least for a moment.

     “My face feels heavy,” she complained.  “What did you put on me?”

     “Hurry up and turn around.”

     With what sounded like a sigh, Nishiki wiped a sweating hand off on her hip and hesitantly turned.  Reina was stuck looking at her back again, but peeking over her left shoulder, she could see a bit of her face in the mirror.  She did just that.

     Nishikiyama was quiet and still, like she was made of marble.  Reina swallowed.  That serenity was quickly broken as she moved her chin up and to the side, then down, then all the way to the left, so she was looking back over her shoulder to Reina.  Their eyes locked, and Reina offered another grin, clearly proud of the work she’d done on the other.  She looked like a completely different person.  It felt like she was falling for her all over again.

     “Now you can be as harsh as you’d like,” she joked.  “What do you think?”

     “Hm.”  She turned her head, that beautiful head, back to look at herself in the mirror.  The cartilage on her ear was an unnaturally bright red.  In the light from the mirror’s bulbs, Reina could see blue veins pumping blood to a conveniently covered face.  “I look, uh…”

     Reina could tell the wheels were turning in Nishiki’s mind, doing their best to generate a smart response.  More armor.

     “...I look okay.  I guess.”

     Thank god.  “Okay?  You guess?”  

     It melted the weight in her bones to hear Nishiki respond so genuinely, so positively.  Still, she pawed at the other’s shoulder, teasing.  “This sort of outfit would get you knocked up in two seconds flat if you wore it out.  You look amazing.”

     Nishikiyama smiled.  A blocky hand went to brush through her bangs, to rub the skin on the back of her neck.  Fingernails teased the tops of her tattoo.  “Shut up.”

     “I mean it.”  Reina’s smile twisted her words into dancing songs.  “Well, damn.  Look at us.  What do you want to do now?  We don’t have to take it all off right away,” she hummed.  “I can put some tea on.”

     “You’ve done enough.”  Her voice was gentle.  “I can handle that.”

     “Really?  But you don’t know where my things are…”

     “I’ve got it.”

     “Eh?  Oh.  Well, if you insist.”

     “That new episode of your show is out tonight, too, yeah?  The, uh…historical drama shit?”

     “Oh, y-yeah…”

     “Let's watch it.”

      Reina's hands went together atop her chest, palms damp.  She remembered.  “Nishikiyama-chan, you fell asleep when I put the last episode on.  Besides, you don’t need to sit through all of that.”  Flustered. 

      “I think it’ll be fun.”  Nishiki’s hand went back down to rest near her hip, and she motioned towards the open bathroom door with her chin; an invitation for Reina to leave first.  Reina felt hesitant to go, to leave the cozy orange of their space and the scent of hibiscus and old makeup, but leave she did.  Her insides felt warm as she did so.  The way they were speaking felt almost domestic.  Like a scene out of anything and everything she’d imagined.

     But there was something in Nishikiyama’s voice, a sour tang from her tongue, that made Reina glance over her shoulder as she tip-toed out of the bathroom.

     She hadn't moved an inch.  Nishikiyama’s frame, for just a split second, deflated with a sigh, and when Reina pulled her eyelids close to squint, she watched her jaw quiver through the strands of her hair.  The reflection blurred in the mirror.  She stood up straight again.

     Gone in a single blink.

- - -

     Nishikiyama insisted that she didn’t need a ride home.  She’d called a friend, she said, with her scrubbed-raw face sagging with fatigue.  She really needed to get on her way.

     Reina insisted, too, on a smoke break on the sidewalk outside of her apartment building.  Nishiki couldn’t decline.

     She insisted, finally, on lighting her friend’s smoke as well, with her lighter she’d picked up from the convenience store a few years back.  Even if it was cheaper and less intricate than the one that Nishikiyama kept stowed away in her pocket, she figured it was one last way to help.  And Nishiki was glad to bend down a little to angle the cigarette’s end onto the flame, though she had to swipe a finger in her dangling hair to keep it from lighting on fire.  Reina hoped she never cut it.  It was so beautiful.

     Reina’s own cigarette was lit soon after, and the red lighter went back into the pocket of her dress pants.  And it was silent, save for the crackling of their smokes as they sucked in the decadent air.  The calming taste of the cigarette was nice after an hour or so of having Nishikiyama on her couch, taking tiny sips of tea, looking the way that she did.  They’d spoken about the show.  About the brand of tea Reina had bought.  About where she’d gotten her furniture.  About tomorrow's forecast.  The dress and the makeup and the perpetual somber expression on Nishikiyama’s face weren’t brought up once and were swiftly removed when the episode was over.  She wasn't taking any of it home, she said.  Reina wished she could stay at her apartment until the morning smashed through the sky.

     Nishiki was the first to exhale the smoke from her cig.  They could nearly see the tiny beginnings of rain as it began to fleck downward onto the street.   

     Nishiki was the first to break the silence.

     “I forgot to say thank you, Reina.  I’m really grateful for all this, you know.  And I’m really grateful to you.  But…”  

     She paused to suck down on her smoke, and white tendrils flew from her mouth with her next words like fissure from a dragon’s jaw, and Reina's chest felt so tight.

     “I’d appreciate it if we just collectively forgot about all this.”

     Oh.

     Reina turned her head to look at the other.  A vein in her neck strained, and suddenly her gut felt freezing cold, like she’d been doused in the winter bay.  “F…forget?”

     “Not…forget, per se.  We just don’t need to bring it up.  Any of it, the…the dress, what I said back there…any of it.  Not even when we’re alone.  And especially not around Kiryu.”  Her lips were obscured by her fingers and the cigarette again.

     All Reina could do was blink.  Mist ladened her lashes, beading on the ends of it; surely that was all that was making them droop heavy.  The cigarette must’ve been what made her mouth suddenly dry as a desert, too.

     “Why can’t we?  Are you still ashamed of it?”

     “You’ve helped me so much.  I just…don’t need word of this getting out anywhere.  You understand.”

     “I don’t think I do.  W…what, do you think we’d go shouting it from the rooftops?”

     “No.  But it’s bound to come up if anyone else knows.”

     “What about Kiryu?”

     Nishiki’s eyes drifted to Reina’s face, whose tone came out colder than usual.  Her patience was thin, her chords desperate.  She continued.  “He’s like family to you, am I right?  He'd understand, I’m sure of it.”

     “He doesn’t need to know either.”

     “Don’t you want to be able to…talk about these kinds of things with him?”

     “Oh, right.  Because he’ll save poor old me, surely.”

     “I’m just saying, I think you need—”

     “I don’t need a fucking thing.”

     Reina’s jaws screwed together, shut down, and her cigarette almost fell from her lips.  What the hell was Nishiki on about?  All of Reina’s best efforts, all of her advice and soothing, all of the progress they’d made, just for them to end up talking like this?  Back at square one?  How could she just not care?

     “It’s not about him,” Nishiki continued, speaking calmly through the smoke’s rolled paper as she took another drag.  “And it’s definitely not about you.  I can’t have any unsavory rumors out about me, is all.”

     “Unsavory.”

     “…You sound angry, Reina.”

     She scoffed.  “O-of course I am.  You can’t pretend nothing happened today.  Like everything you said was just from a—a lapse in judgment, or part of a stupid drunken rant.  Like everything we did...”

     “And why would you care if it was?”

     They stared at each other with freezing cold eyes, each passing second more frigid than the last.  Reina ground her teeth together, back and forth, back and forth.  Her canines pinched her bottom lip as she frantically scanned Nishiki’s face.

     It was empty.  Save for a tiny frown tugging on the right side of her mouth, she looked again like a statue.  Could she really be so stupid?  To pretend nothing had changed?  To still treat it all like some disgusting taboo?  To run so willingly back into the arms of what pained her so badly?

     Instead of raising her voice at Nishiki, instead of grabbing her by the arms and shaking some sense into her, Reina turned back to face the street, breaking their tense contact.  Her arms crossed, hands gripping the sides of her own body.  

     The night was quiet again.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nishiki take the cigarette from her lips and blow out a plume, before slotting it back in between her teeth.  When Reina spoke next, her words were timid and shaking.

     “You could get a new job, you know.  Something better for you.”  Away from all the shame and pressure.

     Nishiki was quick to retort.

     “No, I can’t.”

     “You told me you’re close with your boss.  Aren’t you?  If you ask right, you c—”

     “That isn’t how this works.  I can’t just get up and leave like I work at the damn Poppo.”

     “…Why not?”

     “That isn’t how this works.”  She growled like a tiger.  “Besides, Kiryu would get himself killed without me at his side.  And…I owe that boss of mine.  I owe him a debt I can hardly even begin to repay.  I can’t just leave.”

     “Okay.  Okay.  I understand.”  A hard swallow.  “But, if an opportunity ever presents itself…I-I mean…I can’t imagine that’s more important than your sanity.”

     “I can take it.”

      “...I don’t think so.”

     Nishiki got that look in her eye.  Reina could see it swim in her sclera.  She had only seen it a handful of times; when some teasing about her and Kiryu went too far, or during the few times she’d brought up Yuko.  Her pupils constricted, almost thinned, like a snake’s.

     “I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

     The ringing feeling that then shocked her body reminded Reina why they never brought up the specifics of Nishikiyama’s job. 

     She gladly let Nishiki and Kiryu use her bar as a drop-off point, a safe haven for collections, and a place to drink with subordinates, but she never asked for details, and she sure as hell never prodded further.  Because she knew it’d hurt her to touch below the surface of their lives.  It’d make her feel the same as she felt now.  Worthless.  Terrified.  This is what she got for helping.

     A pang stabbed through her heart.  That cold tone, that icicle pummeling into her words, frosted back into her voice.

     “How long are you going to live like this, then?”

     Nishiki took a final drag on her cigarette.  Hung on her every move, it seemed to Reina that she drew on its sweet air for hours before it tumbled from her fingers and plopped sad on the concrete ground.  It had only been half smoked.  Her rubber heel crushed it without a second thought and twisted it into the damp ground.  The embers sputtered and died, ash spraying out in a splash like viscera, like blood onto a wall.  

     “Until I can’t anymore.”