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Himiko Yumeno sighed.
Looking around the department store, she wondered why she’d even come in. Sure, her nephew’s birthday was in a week, and if she showed up empty-handed, her sisters would probably kill her, but Himiko wasn’t exactly the kind of person who cared about other people.
Well, that’s untrue. It’s more that she cared more about her own well-being than others’. Was that selfish of her? Probably. But, would it stop her from living her life as she saw fit? No, it would not. It was for this reason that she wore a witch’s hat in public, at all times. She wanted to wear it, and simply had no time to worry about if anyone else found it odd or distracting.
Plus, she looked super cute in it.
Anyway, she glanced at the various items on the shelves, wandering from aisle to aisle, trying to remember what 4-year-olds liked. She guessed toys, but had not the time nor patience to sit around pushing “press here” buttons and turning the handle on jack-in-the-boxes.
So, she found herself walking over to the aisle that had always caught her eye, as a kid.
Himiko’s eyes scanned the cluttered aisle, hoping that they’d eventually settle on what she was after. And, luckily, within a moment, they did.
She found herself, soon, standing in front of a magic kit, if you could even call it that. It was the pinnacle of mediocrity, the embodiment of it, even. But, hey, it had those stupidly simple rings, and a deck of cards, among other assorted nonsense. And, even better, it fit her budget. So, Himiko picked it up, without any regret.
Finally in possession of the sole item she’d come for, Himiko made her way to the front of the store, occasionally glancing at the people around her, or posters covered in a horrendously tacky and neon font, “sale” emblazoned on them.
As a kid, she’d probably have found them to be beautiful. She’d have pulled on her mother’s hand, pointed at the signs far too high up to reach, and said, “Mommy, pwetty!”
But, she wasn’t a kid, anymore. She didn’t have to beg her mother to buy her magic kits, and wands, or tiger stuffed animals. Himiko Yumeno was a magician, and one of the best, if she did say so, herself. Yeah, she wasn’t world-renowned, or even city-renowned, but she knew she’d make it big in no time.
Himiko knew she was far too talented, adorable, and driven to be slept on, so she was unwavering in the belief that eventually her own name would be plastered over the signs of department stores.
Of course, she had bigger goals than that–-getting her own line of perfume, meeting all of her favorite idols, and finally owning that gorgeous white bengal tiger that she wanted so desperately to pet- ahem, being a few--yet she decided that goal-setting was probably the best way to go.
So, she would have to settle for simply walking through the department store, for now. And that she did, at least until she reached the front.
There was a short line, and Himiko briefly considered what throwing a tantrum would get her, or what the repercussions of pushing the people in front of her out of the way would be. But, if she did any of the things on her mind, she’d probably get kicked out, and would have to go someplace else to find a gift for what’s-his-face, which she very badly did not want to do.
Sighing again, she placed herself at the end of the line, at the first register (the one closest to the door) because that meant she could leave faster than all the dweebs in the other lines, and the faster she left, the faster she could go to sleep. Not that it was nighttime or anything; she just liked napping her beauty sleep.
And, speaking of things she liked, Himiko was a big fan of gossip, specifically… actually well more like any gossip. But, what was currently being offered to her was celebrity gossip, by the cover of one of the millions of magazines she was probably subscribed to.
Apparently some pianist prodigy was going to jail. Himiko had never heard of her, but even just from that one picture alone, the girl didn’t strike her as the law-breaking type, and Himiko wondered what she could’ve possibly been in for. If she’d cared enough, she’d have left the line, picked up the magazine in question, and flipped to the page where these exact details would be presented to her, but she was too lazy.
Then, the random thought flew through her mind that there was absolutely no way she, herself, would ever end up in prison, and then her attention diverged from the blonde teen, and that was the end of that.
Himiko shifted where she stood, moving the magic kit to one hand, and adjusting her skirt with the other. While it really was a cute skirt, her mother had been right in saying that it was far too short.
Himiko wondered why she hadn’t made it to the register, yet.
It seemed to be taking forever, and she was getting sick of staring at the guy in front of her’s weird off-the-shoulder jacket. What kind of person even only put one arm in their jacket? Who would do that? It was a crime against fashion, but more importantly, it was a crime against Himiko’s eyes, and she wanted to rip it off of him and throw it in his face.
Mulling it over, she considered that perhaps she had a bit of an anger issue.
Meh, Himiko could consider her mental state, later. She wasn’t feeling too reflective (nor did she ever), and she was far too busy holding the magic kit.
Yes, Himiko was important, and therefore, had important stuff to do. All that she did was important, and always would be. The others (also known as everyone else) would see that soon enough.
By the time Himiko finished her brief period of mind-wandering, two of the customers in front of her had left, and she’d have laughed victoriously if she could do so without shame, in public. She didn’t care what others thought, but random victorious laughter was perhaps just a touch too far.
She craned her head over to the side, cursing her short stature, and looked around the tall, wild-haired gentleman in front of her, to see the register, finally getting a glance at the cashier behind it.
She was a cute, tan girl with white hair who appeared to be around her age. Himiko may have blushed if she were the blushing type. The girl was that cute.
Himiko had heard the term “ray of sunshine” used to describe people (never Himiko, herself) before, but she’d always thought it was just an exaggerated compliment used to flatter idiots who swooned for people who said sweet things like that.
But, looking at the cashier, Himiko decided that there were certain exceptions to this.
Then, before she knew it, the man in front of her had walked off, excitedly whisper-shouting something about how happy his butterflies would be to see whatever he’d bought, and Himiko was left with the responsibility of taking a step forward and closing the gap in the line.
Tossing her hair back with a flick of the hand, and narrowing her eyes to give off that cool and intimidating vibe, she set her magic kit down on the counter.
The girl beamed at her, and said, cheerfully, “Hello! Can Angie- I help you?”
Himiko began to- wait. Did she just…?
“Did you just refer to yourself in third person?” Himiko asked, then, voice dripping with mirth yet somehow delivered deadpan.
The white-haired girl gave a sheepish smile, and then did her best “did I do that?” face, before saying guiltily, “...Maaaybe.”
Himiko let out a short laugh, involuntarily producing a hard “k” sound. “So, your name’s Angie, then?”
The now identified girl beamed again, seemingly having already moved past the slip-up, putting way too much enthusiasm into her reply of, “Mhm!”
Despite how cute she was, Angie was already the slightest bit annoying. Himiko wasn’t exactly the kind of person who got along with cheerful people. She was somewhat of a hopeful cynic, or an optimistic pessimist, if one could even be both.
“Is that your stage name, or something?” Himiko asked, very likely sounding more bored and uninterested than she really was.
In response, Angie blinked at her. “Stage name?”
Sighing for what was the third time if she’d counted right, Himiko clarified. “Stage name. You know, like Princess Tenko.”
“Angie doesn’t- I mean I-” Angie sputtered, again hung-up on the use of the word “I.”
Deciding to spare her the trouble, Himiko said, curtly, “Just stick with Angie.”
“Okay!” she replied, voice far too bubbly, “Angie doesn’t know who that is.”
“Ugh, I should’ve expected that,” Himiko paused, “She’s a magician.”
Angie took that opportunity to beam again. She seemed to like doing that: smiling. Piping up again, she asked, though hardly a question, “Like you?”
And, that made Himiko halt whatever train of thought she’d had. Her ego kicking into hyperdrive, she said with more enthusiasm than she’d shown all day, “What? Do you recognize me?”
But, Angie quickly put her hands up and waved them in dismissal. “Ah, Angie actually just saw the magic kit. Sorry!”
Deflated, Himiko said, coolly, “Of course,” before deciding that she might as well explain exactly why it was that she was buying a children’s magic kit, “Well, it’s for my snot-nosed nephew, but I do happen to be a magician.”
At that, Angie nodded, but didn’t say anything in response, instead peering down to read the number on the register, as apparently she’d scanned it while Himiko wasn’t looking.
“That’ll be ¥2830,” Angie announced, like it was some kind of cool fact that she’d just learned as opposed to just the amount that Himiko was supposed to hand her.
Fighting back the urge to roll her eyes, Himiko said, not caring enough to make eye-contact, “So, what are you?”
Angie cocked her head, confusion filling her face, but not disrupting her cheerful demeanor, offering a soft, “Hmm?”
Himiko took a breath, placing the yen on the counter, “What’s your real occupation? Because I doubt that this is it.”
Suddenly understanding, Angie’s face lit up, and she seemed to bounce where she stood, “Oh! Angie’s an artist.”
“That’s kinda broad,” Himiko settled on saying, unable to match the level of positivity, but also unwilling to end the conversation.
“It kinda is!” Angie agreed, not really getting that Himiko was trying to probe her for info.
Confronted by another misunderstanding, Himiko decided that she’d have to work on being more straight-forward. And, also that perhaps Angie-the-cute-cashier was a bit of an airhead.
“Well, what kinda stuff do you paint, or sculpt, or whatever it is that you do?” Himiko asked, hoping that this would get her the answer she was originally looking for.
Angie looked suddenly thoughtful, as she put the magic kit into a cheap plastic bag, appearing to really consider the question, but then just as soon morphed back into her usual self.
“Angie loves tiki and the beach, but there’s a lot of inspiration from nature and the spirits above,” she chirped, making a vague gesture with her hands.
Himiko gave a slight smile, “So, you’re pretty spiritual then, I’m guessing?”
“Of course!” Angie excitedly near-shouted, without pause.
Really, Himiko wasn’t surprised. Despite the fact that she’d only just met this girl, she already felt like she had a firm grip on her character. That wasn’t really a bad thing, but Himiko knew that she wasn’t usually good at that sort of thing, so either Angie was easy to read, or Himiko suddenly had incredibly good skills in prediction (that was her weak point in her magic acts, sadly).
“Don’t tell me you actually believe in magic, too,” Himiko said, her voice hinting at a joke that hadn’t been said, “Because, as a magician, let me tell you, it’s all bs.”
Then, Angie’s mouth formed a straight line, and she said, softly, “Some kinds of magic are real.”
Okay, maybe Angie was capable of surprising her.
“Heh, sure,” Himiko muttered, before picking up her bag, “But, not the kind you can get at Seiyu.”
With that, she turned and prepared to walk away, content with the way the conversation had ended. However, before she could get even a step closer to the door, she heard Angie speak, again.
“Friendship.”
Himiko turned her head to look at Angie, as perplexed as she was only moments ago, “What?”
Angie smiled. “There’s magic in friendship, isn’t there?”
Hesitantly, Himiko nodded, staring at the adorable cause of her confusion.
“So, would you wanna be friends?” Angie said, sweetly, eyes sparkling with a level of joy that made it impossible for Himiko to say no.
“Sure,” she said, instead, slipping her card (yes she had a card) onto the counter.
She took a moment, then, to lock eyes with Angie, and offered her one of her more genuine smiles, before actually walking away.
Himiko made it as far as the door before she heard Angie’s voice again, shouting in her sing-song way, “Goodbye, Himiko! You have a lovely name!”
And, she couldn’t help but smile, at that.
Feeling a mild giddiness, she pushed open the door, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. However, it was brighter than she’d remembered it being when she’d walked in, and miss “ray of sunshine” flashed through her head.
Unable to fight the smile she’d given her, she looked both ways, and began to navigate through the parking lot. Surprisingly, there weren’t that many cars, which made looking for her own car easier. Well, truthfully, she didn’t have a car, and she’d just walked there, but it was the thought that counted.
Regardless, she eventually reached the other sidewalk, this one the one she could actually take to walk home, but before she could even catch her breath, her phone began vibrating.
Groaning, she set her bag down, and reached into her pocket.
And Himiko couldn’t help but mouth, quietly, “It’s a date."