Chapter Text
“Very early in my life it was too late. It was already too late when I was eighteen. Between eighteen and twenty-five my face took off in a new direction.”
Marguerite Duras
The hazy blue light filters through the fish tank as Inori sits on a bench, a small sketchpad open, drawing the fish that glide along the other side of the glass, their eyes cold and unseeing until she remembers that they must be keenly aware of their containment, circling the same space every day, ad infinitum. Their expressions now appear mournful, Inori believing that they must know the conditions of their lives, like she does, except they can’t escape. I don’t know why you visit aquariums, Seiichi said, none of the animals want to be there. If I have a kid, I’m never taking them to that kind of place.
It’s the feminine condition! Inori had exclaimed, refusing to say anything more, Seiichi rolling his eyes, not curious for more because he knew that if he waited a week or two, she’d cave and tell him.
He was supposed to be with her today, her sister sending her tickets for a show that she wouldn’t be able to catch. A small concert at a dive-y venue, her sister assuring her that no one would check their age at the door nor ask any questions as long as they were smart enough to not order their own drinks. He didn’t show up to the train station, and because Inori refuses to wait around for a boy, she got on as scheduled and came to Tokyo without a companion or a place to sleep tonight.
Inori skipped school to be here, although she didn’t change out of her uniform at the train station. Her friends called her crazy for it, but she’s been drifting away from them. The future after high school looms over them all, and Inori doesn’t dream of college, having a job, or getting a husband. Her friends talk about universities, majors and minors, potential careers, whether to get married young or wait to start a family. She deflects questions about her own future, rolling her eyes when she’s asked about Seiichi, privately relieved that no one looks closely at the novels she’s been reading.
After high school, Inori wants to travel the world. If Seiichi can get his act together and obtain a passport, he is welcome to join her. As it stands now, she’s been saving all the money she earns babysitting and working at a local family restaurant to fund her travels. She hasn’t said anything to her parents, feeling guilty whenever she lies on forms and during meetings with her teacher. Her sister, who works in Tokyo, knows her plan and tells her to go for it. Seiichi, who himself can barely be bothered to show up at school, says that she should chase her own happiness, it’s none of his business.
Seiichi Samura, where are you? Inori isn’t even mad at him for not turning up. She knows him well enough to understand that he can be mercurial when the mood strikes, and that he is conflicted about his talents, not one for books but an excellent swordsman. Her parents don’t necessarily approve of him, but they do trust him to keep the real monsters away, her mother saying it was a waste for such a sweet boy to grow into a cynical young man.
Inori can’t always understand him, and everyone around her says not to bother. Her sister, kinder than everyone, told her to pick a boring guy who cares about whether their parents like him and remembers her birthday.
Seiichi remembers my birthday, Inori said, and her sister told her that she was lost.
A blue angelfish appears to glide along the other side of the glass, without a thought in its head, how Inori aspires to be. She sets aside the problem of not knowing where she’s sleeping tonight and the anxiety of being alone in a huge city, deciding to resume drawing the fish. Her backpack has some clothes, toiletries, makeup, a book, a disposable camera, and her art supplies, what she deemed to be the essentials, including a small purse with her wallet, tickets, and now pointless housekeys.
**
This morning, Chiaki’s dad told her to leave the Soga compound and act like a kid for a change, but because she doesn’t know what he meant and the friends who would help her are all busy, she just went to an aquarium. She thought about asking Kunishige to come with her, but she didn’t want to bother him, his own responsibilities getting in their way.
She’s wearing her regular clothes, a button-up and black skirt, but she feels overdressed next to the happy families and regular girls.
Frustrated for a year, a moodiness that her parents have noticed, her mother sure to mention it every chance she gets. Chiaki feels strange in her body, hyperaware of it, sensitive in every spot. She always checks how she smells when she’s in her room or in the bathroom, terrified of stinking since she’s not allowed to wear perfume.
Her mother doesn’t want her spending so much time with the boys she grew up with. Chiaki doesn’t obey, even though she’s acutely aware of their differences. None of them talk about their dreams, or how she’s the dreamless one, lacking imagination, strength, and talent compared to Kunishige, Togo, and Soushirou. She can’t tell them why she’s suicidal for a week and a half each month. They’ve never been told not to walk around at night or that their sexuality is something to be terrified of. There are ghost pains in her body, in her head, heart, and gut, as if being initiated into womanhood. Whenever she tries to talk about it with her mother, she’s dismissed, saying all women go through it and that she needs to learn that life makes no exceptions.
The light in the aquarium is all dark and blue, Chiaki staying away from the tanks, sticking to the middle of the hall, unsure of what she ought to look at. Her feet hurt, and she decides to find a place to rest. There’s another girl sitting on the closest bench, but there’s plenty of space, so Chiaki decides to take the risk and ask to sit down.
Before speaking a word, the girl turns her head to look at Chiaki. There’s a drawing pad on her lap, a pencil in hand. She’s wearing a school uniform, her hair pulled behind her ears. There’s a beauty mark under her lower lip, her eyes full of what Chiaki can only call life. “Excuse me, may I sit here?” she asks, somehow getting the words out of her mouth.
The girl takes a second, before she smiles. “Sure,” she says, “if I can draw your portrait.” Chiaki feels herself blush, self-conscious of her face ever since she laid eyes on the Princess Soga as small child, knowing that she would never be that beautiful.
“Me?” she asks, and the girl nods her head, still smiling. Chiaki thinks about questioning it, but she decides to sit down, intrigued by this girl.
“I’m Inori,” the girl says, “what’s your name?”
“Chiaki,” her name coming out of her mouth in a soft voice. She forgot how easy it is to make friends. Inori turns to face her, and Chiaki gazes back, trying her best to remain calm. Inori is casual, like this is the easiest thing to do, sit next to a stranger and draw a portrait of them. It’s the confidence that Chiaki would like to have for herself.
“Have you had a nice day?” she asks, trying to be polite. Inori gives her another smile, which is when Chiaki realizes that all the power of her smile rests in her eyes, the seat of her emotions, though her entire face is beautiful. Chiaki’s fingers itch. She would like to draw Inori, preserve this moment for herself.
“Yes,” she says, “I’m killing time before a concert.”
“What concert?” It sounds glamorous, to Chiaki. She’s never gone to that kind of event, not sheltered so much as she doesn’t know anyone who would go to that kind of thing. Her parents are too conservative, Akemura is too young, and her friends aren’t into that kind of thing, or if they are, they never think to invite her.
“My sister gave me tickets for a show at a bar she goes to,” Inori says, speaking as if she wasn’t talking about breaking any laws. “I was supposed to come here with my friend, but he didn’t show up, so I got on the train by myself.”
“It’s lame that he didn’t show up.” Chiaki can’t believe that any guy would pass up on the chance to spend time with Inori. Not even ten minutes have passed, and she feels like she’s already taken.
“He is very lame,” Inori says, frowning herself now as she leans in to get a closer look at Chiaki. “All boys are embarrassing and should be ashamed to walk out the door each morning.”
Thinking of the guys she knows, Chiaki smiles to herself. They’re all messy—Akemura and his chronic bedhead, remembering all the bugs the neighborhood boys dared each other to eat, even her father walking around with stains on his shirt. Yes, embarrassing is the word that she has been looking for all along.
“I like your earrings,” Inori says, changing the subject. “You’re so lucky, my school has a rule against pierced ears.” Chiaki feels flustered since no one has ever referred to her as lucky before.
“I think your ears are pretty as is,” she says, trying to make Inori feel good too, a lame compliment that gets the exact reaction she wants. The blush on Inori’s cheeks is adorable, making Chiaki want to hold her face in her hands.
“Do you like live music?” Inori asks, pausing her drawing. “Like, you know, rock music?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen anything like that,” Chiaki replies, sensing where the conversation is going. “I have no one to take me.”
“Want to come with me tonight?”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Inori says, conspirational. “Doors open at eight, but no one good will come on until after nine.”
Chiaki nods without even thinking it over. She’s snuck out before, and if Togo comes by, he could easily be talked into helping her out. Usually it’s to see her friends, recently, to see Kunishige alone. Somehow, doing something bad with Inori is just as exciting as fumbling in the dark with Kunishige, going on a nighttime adventure more appealing than staying inside the same messy bedroom.
“Where should we meet?” Chiaki asks, not wanting to lose her courage now.
“Well, I was going to put my things in a locker at the train station after getting ready in the washroom and just walk around, so I can pick you up wherever.”
“What?” Chiaki feels properly alarmed. “You don’t have a place to stay?”
“My sister is covering for me, but I couldn’t ask her to let Seiichi stay over too, and I couldn’t let him be alone.” Inori shrugs like it’s not a big deal to be a young woman in a big city without a place to stay. “I figured we would stay at a love hotel.” Inori looks away, the sheepish look on her face betraying her private hopes for what would happen after.
Perhaps Chiaki isn’t one to judge considering her choices, but she’s horrified by the thought of Inori having to stay at such a place, especially alone, with no one to protect her.
“You should stay with me and my family tonight,” Chiaki says, “you shouldn’t be alone in a big city.”
There’s a moment of silence, Inori tilting her head as she thinks it over. “How did you know that I was hoping you’d ask me to stay with you?” she asks. Chiaki smiles, and without thinking, squeezes Inori into an awkward hug, sealing their new friendship.
**
While she pays attention in her classes, Inori never knew that there was a world parallel to hers, that there are girls like Chiaki who don’t receive conventional schooling because they have to serve the main branch of their clan, girls who don’t think about the world outside of their familial obligations let alone outside of Japan, girls who have little to look forward to except hoping that they’ll get to choose who they’ll marry. The more Chiaki talks about it, the greater desire Inori has to shrink her down and take her home in her pocket, steal her away from this place.
Chiaki lives in a traditional house, is deferential to her parents as well. Inori smiles when she’s introduced to Chiaki’s mother, greeting her with the formality she was taught to, grateful to be wearing her school uniform and that her parents made her as beautiful as she is, knowing that being a pretty girl from a respectable, if common, social standing goes a long way toward placating people like Mrs. Soga. The flimsy excuse of her parents sending her to Tokyo with no money is accepted, because she is judged too precious to lie for sinister purposes.
They’re in Chiaki’s small room, having pulled out bedding for Inori, setting up their futons now so that they can spend their time getting ready later. They’ve laid their futons right next to each other, clearing space in front of Chiaki’s tiny desk mirror, which has been set on the floor.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a sleepover in here,” Chiaki says, “all my friends are boys, so when we were smaller, they’d stay in Akemura’s room.” It hasn’t escaped Inori’s notice that there are no posters up on Chiaki’s walls or photographs, unlike Inori’s bedroom. She senses that while restraint comes naturally to Chiaki, her new friend also minimizes herself.
“You’re a better girl then me,” Inori says, then lowers her voice to add, “my parents thought I was going to be staying with my sister. They’d be horrified if they found out that my original plan was to stay in a hotel with Seiichi.” She leaned in to speak and can now count each one of Chiaki’s pretty eyelashes. It ought to be a crime for someone as beautiful and kind as you to be cooped up in this kind of place. Inori lets herself fantasize about what it would be like if Chiaki ran away with her, enrolling in her high school, share her bedroom at home. Like another sister, except one that Inori got to choose for herself.
“Is he handsome at least?” Chiaki asks, smiling, blushing prettily too. Inori blinks, then nods, because she rarely gets to talk about Seiichi, her other friends disinterested because he’s a quiet loner and her sister seeing him as Inori’s Mr. Right Now, a name so mean that they didn’t talk for a week after her sister said it.
“I have a photo,” Inori says, going to her bag and pulling out her wallet, a little pink zip purse, taking out two photos that she got with Seiichi in a photobooth. There’s a cigarette behind his ear because he insists on looking like a delinquent at all times, but he smiled in every photo, his arm around her shoulders like it’s like that between them. He has the other two photos, Inori insisting on it. Last week, her day was made when he told her to go in his wallet to get money for the drinks they were going to order, and she saw that he also kept those photos on his person.
“This is Seiichi.” Inori hands Chiaki her prized possession like it’s nothing, watching the other girl lift it to her face in order to get a closer look.
“He looks like he wants to see less,” Chiaki says, proving herself perceptive once again, as Seiichi is always complaining about how miserable he is to have been born with eyes. Everything sucks, he says, saying that he’d be much happier if he couldn’t read or see all the horrible photographs on the television and news. Inori had asked him why he doesn’t use one of his swords to do something about it, joking of course, but he replied that he would be fine to grow up and become a blind seer. At least you’re cute enough to make up for it, he said, smooth until Inori smacked him for talking that way to her, Seiichi saying that he almost wished that he could take it back, then him shouting as she ran away, ashamed of herself.
He caught up with her easily, smoking having not yet broken his wind, him telling her to not run off like that—What good can I do if a murderer shows up and we’re apart? His exasperation made her giggle, and he told her to stop laughing but smiled anyway.
“Well, he’s under a lot of pressure,” Inori says, thinking of the dojo, Seiichi’s teacher Itsuo Shirakai, her personal archnemesis though he doesn’t think about her at all. Seiichi tells her that there’s enough of him to go around, but Inori tells him that it’s still not fair that Shirakai gets to ask for so much of him.
“I see,” Chiaki replies, gazing down at the photo. “He’s really handsome.” Her words validate Inori’s girlish devotion, and it’s only because her sister has teased her so much that Inori doesn’t tell Chiaki how correct she is.
“I think so too,” Inori replies, although he’s so much more to her. Self-conscious of her feelings and not wanting to talk about herself, she asks “Is there anyone you like?” Chiaki’s flushed cheeks tell Inori everything that she needs to know, and she sees this as another sign that they are kindred spirits. “What’s he like?”
It’s clear to Inori that Chiaki’s guy is a secret since it seems like she doesn’t even want to say his name. Inori wonders if she tells Chiaki that her parents don’t like Seiichi, that she understands the hardship of not being fully accepted.
A bored voice asks, “What’s what?” A coltish boy stands in the door of the room. His hair hangs in his face, sharing Chiaki’s aloof beauty. He can’t be much older than fourteen, lanky the way boys are when they’re in a growth spurt, his voice already broken.
“Nothing,” Chiaki says, stuffing the photos down her shirt, hiding them on impulse. Inori bites her lip, since she finds it funny, but she doesn’t believe that it would be appropriate. “Are you going to say hello to our guest?” Chiaki gestures at Inori, clearly trying to distract the boy. “This is my little brother,” she says to Inori.
“Hello,” Inori says, waving at the boy as she gives him her best smile. “I’m Inori. What’s your name?”
“Akemura,” he replies, shifting his attention to Inori. “Mom likes you more than Chiaki’s other friends.” He’s awkward, carrying himself in such a way that makes it seem like he doesn’t want to be perceived. It reminds Inori of seeing Chiaki in the aquarium, and it endears him to her.
“I can’t believe that.” Inori loves the idea of being Chiaki’s best girl, but she can’t imagine that it’s actually true. She’s a nice girl, and it’s difficult to imagine her getting into trouble.
“I can, one time they dared each other to—” Akemura prepares to launch into a story, but Chiaki waves her hand, indicating that he ought not to cross her. He closes his mouth, apparently deferential to his older sister. “Where’re you from?” he finally asks, choosing peace in a way that Inori never would with her own sister.
“A nothing town,” Inori replies, putting it in the nicest terms. “You probably wouldn’t like it very much.”
“It’s not like this is a something house,” he replies, more deadpan than Inori would have thought him to be.
“Don’t let our parents hear you say that,” Chiaki says, not disagreeing with him. “Shouldn’t you go help them with dinner or something?”
“Do I have to?” Akemura asks. “I want to hang out with you two.”
“We’re busy,” Chiaki replies, and while Inori doesn’t want to kick him out, she doesn’t want him around while they talk about the boys they like. He’s too young to get it and would probably find it disgusting, him still at the age where romance is body horror.
Akemura rolls his eyes, but before he can respond, Mrs. Soga calls for him, for what task she doesn’t elaborate on. He pouts, puffing out his cheeks before leaving, sore about not being able to participate.
Before Inori can say how sweet she finds him, Chiaki reaches into her shirt and pulls out the photo, holding it out. Inori stares down and can’t help but giggle. Soon, Chiaki is laughing too, both of them losing it, the photo falling to the floor.
**
While Chiaki has a soft spot for Kunishige, he knows that her mother doesn’t like him, so whenever he wants to see her, he asks Togo to give Chiaki the invitation. Since Kunishige knows her well, she never has to decline an invitation for another social obligation, usually involving her family. He said that he didn’t have the confidence to ask her to choose between him and the Soga, and if she were a dumber girl, she would have told him that all he has to do is ask, and she’ll do it. It’s not the impossible choice that he seems to believe it to be, him vastly overestimating her investment in her nothing life as a member of a lesser branch of the Soga.
As for Togo’s involvement, she hasn’t yet figured out why he helps them out, and she’s too grateful to ask any questions. Kunishige says that Togo just finds it all funny, why, he doesn’t know either.
In the yard, Inori and Chiaki pretend to be looking at flowers while they try and plan their adventure. Chiaki’s parents go to bed early, and when asked, Akemura said he was game as long as they brought him back a present. She has snuck out to see Kunishige, but she anticipates that her parents may be a little bit different with another girl in the house, so Akemura promised to stay up and make sure to distract their parents if they get up in the middle of the night and seem to be in a nosy mood.
“We can just climb out the window,” Inori says, underestimating the shame and sense of modesty that was beaten into Chiaki as a young child, the idea of scaling walls in a short dress enough to make her blush. So unladylike! Yet here she is in her mother’s garden, considering it.
A shadow spreads across the ground, and Inori is looking behind Chiaki. She turns her shoulder, relieved to see that it’s just Togo, a friend who happens to have the perfect talent to help them out, who Chiaki has spent hours trying to manifest.
Togo smiles down at them, his hair pulled out of his face. She’s still not used to how tall he has become, wondering when that good-for-nothing boy decided to have a growth spurt. He looks down at Chiaki, before gazing at Inori, a stranger and therefore, an outsider to their little gang.
“You busy tonight?” he asks, looking back over at Chiaki. Though he’s an excellent liar, he seems unsettled.
“Yes.” Chiaki watches him struggle not to look at Inori, and she sees her in. “This is Inori. We met today at the aquarium. She and I have plans, and we need your help, so it’s good that you came.”
“Help with what?”
“Committing a serious crime.” Inori deadpans, as if sensing that there’s not a lot that he wouldn’t do to prove that he’s a cool guy.
“What kind of crime?” he asks, looking right at Inori. It makes Chiaki uncomfortable, feeling tight behind her bellybutton, like she’s seeing something she ought not to. Worse, she knows that Inori is spoken for, beat-up pictures of her beaming next to Seiichi, who carries himself with the air of a serious man though he still has a boyish face, evidence that Togo has no chance.
If she’s aware of Chiaki’s discomfort, Inori doesn’t let on, it a very real possibility that she isn’t aware of the power she now wields over Togo’s better senses. “Cannibalism.” Inori grins when Togo guffaws, and Chiaki thinks to herself that this is exactly where she wants him.
“We need you to help us sneak in and back,” Chiaki adds, blinking up at Togo, hoping that he’ll be able to understand how badly she needs him to pull through for her. Please, if you’ve ever loved me!
“Want to hear my counterproposition?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Knowing that it will just be hanging out with him, Kunishige, and Soushirou, Chiaki opens her mouth to decline, but Inori speaks up first.
“What would that be?” Inori asks, playing along with him, not knowing him well enough to just dismiss him outright. Chiaki would laugh at the expression on his face, but that would be very mean, and she needs his help.
“You could come meet Chiaki’s other friends.” Togo says. “A couple other guys. They’re cool, I swear.” A total lie if Chiaki ever heard one. Despite being viscerally in love with Kunishige, he’s not very cool at all. Soushirou may be a little better, but Chiaki remembers the time he ate a worm on a dare, and he will never be able to restore his image in her eyes. She definitely doesn’t want Inori to meet them just yet or sacrifice their adventure.
“Other friends?” Inori asks, “you mean—”
“Just some guys we know,” Chiaki says, speaking too quickly. “No one exciting at all.” Togo raises an eyebrow at that since he’s privy to Kunishige and Chiaki’s developing relationship. She feels like a little bug, trying to send him the telepathic message not to squish her in front of her new friend.
“Oh, okay,” Inori blinks, then nods. “So, will you help us?”
“Where are you two going?” Togo asks, looking away from Chiaki now.
“A show,” Inori says, “at a small bar my sister likes.”
“You’re going to a show at a bar?” he asks, directing his question to Chiaki. She senses that he’s thinking about suggesting that she go to see Kunishige, and he’ll go with Inori to the bar, but Chiaki refuses to let that happen. She saw Inori first, and that counts for something.
“There might still be tickets at the door.” Inori says, totally oblivious to everything, unaware that Togo will ruin their adventure just because he’s a boy, and that Kunishige and Soushirou’s company will just make it exponentially worse. How can we get out of trouble if it won’t even approach us? Chiaki wants to blurt out, perhaps add something about how Seiichi wouldn’t approve though, to be honest, she doesn’t care about him at all.
“But—”
“Chiaki is trying to say that our other friends aren’t fit for society.” Togo, proving that he’s a real friend, smiles like the exclusion doesn’t bother him at all. “How about I show up at nine?”
“That would be perfect,” Inori says, smiling. Chiaki looks to Togo, relieved to see that he’s serious. She catches a softness in his eyes that she’s never seen there before, and she realizes what he’s gone. Togo Shiba, this girl has you and for that, you have my sincerest condolences.
“Can’t beat that,” he says, “I’ll see you around then.”
**
Shut up in Chiaki’s bedroom, the girls almost immediately pool their resources, mostly makeup, but clothes and jewelry too. Unsurprisingly, Inori has more options, and is generous, lending eyeshadow and blush freely, since she’s decided that Chiaki is now her new best friend. The other girls she goes to high school with, Seiichi even, displaced by Chiaki’s willingness to go on an adventure, her kindness too. She’d never have told Inori not to go and would have definitely been at the train station, therefore, she must be recognized for the true friend that she is.
While Inori doesn’t want to share Chiaki at all, she does feel guilty for her friends’ exclusion, believing that Chiaki assumed that she wouldn’t want to share. Which is true, but Inori would do it for Chiaki, even if she’ll miss Seiichi the whole time. “We could have brought your friends with us,” Inori says, picking out which of her rings to wear. There’s already mood ring on her right hand, that Seiichi bought her, and she adds a ring shaped like a whale, because it makes her smile. A gift from her sister, given before she moved away.
“I don’t want to see them,” Chiaki replies, closing a tube of mascara. She looks away as she says it, and Inori waits for her to add more, sensing that there must be another reason. “I’m kind of seeing one of them.” Said after what has to be five minutes, a shameful admission for reasons unknown.
“Oh!” Inori says, ignoring Chiaki’s shushing. She does keep her voice down as she adds, “is he cute? Do you have a picture?”
“He’s cute to me,” Chiaki replies, getting up. “I have a picture, but it’s a secret.”
“Why?” Inori has a clue, given how quiet the house is and how deferential Chiaki is to her parents, but she feels like it’s polite to ask rather than to be perceived as judgmental.
“My parents don’t like him.” Chiaki says this in a grave voice, then makes a face with Inori giggles.
“My parents don’t like Seiichi at all.” Inori says, “the only reason they don’t forbid me from seeing him is that they figure that I can’t get into too much trouble if he’s around to keep an eye on me.” A big part of this judgement is because Seiichi hasn’t tried to close the door to Inori’s bedroom and always returns her in time for curfew, and her clear frustration with these terms reassures her parents that despite his outward appearance and extracurricular hobby, he isn’t a bad guy.
“My mom thinks that Kunishige is the trouble.” Chiaki almost grumbles, opening her closet and reaching into the back. She pulls out a small photo, clearly taken with an instant camera. Inori holds out her hand, gentle when Chiaki hands over the photograph, aware that it is a precious object.
It features Chiaki, who despite looking awkward with a blush on her cheeks, is smiling, with a cute, goofy looking guy beside her. His smile is big, but Inori can tell that he feels awkward by the space between their bodies. There is a latent intensity in his gaze that reminds Inori of Seiichi, a sense of vigilance that he carries himself with, nothing ever truly getting past him. It’s something about Seiichi that she loves, but also hates because she knows where it comes from.
“He’s really cute,” Inori says, doing her best to push Seiichi from her mind. “He has my approval.”
“Really?” Chiaki asks, relieved as if Inori’s opinion matters. Inori is happy to give validation, knowing it’s value for herself.
“Yes, he’s a cutie.” Inori knows that Kunishige is a little old to be referred to that way, but it feels like the right word to her. She hands the picture back to Chiaki, aware that there’s a reason that she keeps it tucked away. “Have you known him for a long time?”
“Since we were little kids.” Chiaki hides the photo again, and Inori looks at the mirror in her compact, trying to decide if she ought to put on more blush. She turns her cheek, holding the mirror further away so that she can see her entire face. Wanting to learn more about her new friend, Inori stays silent, knowing that it will be best to let Chiaki speak instead of asking her nosy questions.
When Chiaki sits back down next to Inori, she picks up the powder blush, a pretty pink. “I think you need a little bit more,” she says, opening the palette, tapping her index finger against the powder and gently patting it on Inori’s cheekbone. Her touch is gentle, soft, and Inori can’t place how she feels about it—it’s comforting and exciting at the same time.
“Are you excited about tonight?” Inori asks, changing the subject.
“Yes,” Chiaki replies, smiling to herself. She soon declares that Inori’s makeup is finished. They look through the clothes that Inori brought with her, each of them choosing a cute dress.
Looking into the desk mirror on the floorl, Chiaki adjusts the sleeve of her dress while Inori fusses with her hair. They’re ready earlier than they had planned to be, so there is nowhere for their nervous energy to go. Inori pulls her fingers through Chiaki’s silky hair, playing with it really. If she didn’t know about Akemura, Chiaki’s patience gives her away as an older sister.
“This dress is so short,” Chiaki mutters, playing with the hem, clearly nervous.
“It’s right above your knee,” Inori replies, “you wouldn’t even get a dress code violation for that length at school.”
“The straps of your dress are tiny,” Chiaki says, as if Inori could possibly now know what she is wearing.
“So?” Inori rolls her eyes, though she finds this all amusing. “We look nice. That’s all that matters. No one at the bar will know who we are, or our ages, or where we spend our days—all they will see are two pretty girls.”
“But I’m ugly,” Chiaki says, wilting. Inori rests her chin on her shoulder, looking into the mirror though she doesn’t need to check. She tucks Chiaki’s hair being her ears, pulling it back so that she can see her entire face, straightening her bangs too.
“You’re so beautiful,” Inori says, which is what her mother and sister tell her when she complains about how she looks. Even if she weren’t cute, she was raised with the kind of love that makes her untouchable. She squeezes Chiaki around the waist, smiling at their reflection. “You’re the prettiest.” A chaste kiss pressed to Chiaki’s temple to seal it, just like Inori receives from her sister when she needs someone to make her feel better.
“If you say so,” Chiaki replies, cupping Inori’s elbows in her hand, then squeezing them, reciprocating her embrace. Inori feels floaty in her tummy, even though she breaks their hold first, to ensure that her bag has everything. She takes out her disposable camera, and takes a candid of Chiaki, who had turned to look over her shoulder. Her mouth falls open into a perfect circle, and Inori laughs, because it’s the easiest way to express her adoration in the moment.
**
There’s a knock on the window, and when Chiaki checks to see who it is, Togo is standing there, an unlit cigarette behind his ear with his hands in his pockets. She smiles, signals for him to come inside.
When he suddenly appears inside of the bedroom, Inori blinks, but otherwise, doesn’t ask for any kind of explanation. Togo doesn’t seem to think anything of it, so Chiaki chooses not to either. Besides, she doesn’t have much time to wonder, since Togo opens his mouth almost immediately. “Wow, Chiaki, you look like a girl.”
The comment makes Chiaki feel even more self-conscious, unable to remember the last time, if ever, that her arms and legs were so exposed.
“Of course, she does,” Inori says, her voice low but sharp. “Chiaki is the prettiest girl.” There’s another explosion behind her bellybutton, the seat of her emotions, Chiaki barely settled from Inori’s embrace twenty minutes ago.
“She’s not so bad,” Togo replies, eyeing Inori as she turns to pick up her bag, a small one with only room for the disposable camera, several bills, two tickets, a slip of paper with the address, lip gloss, and a compact, judged to be the essentials. While Chiaki trusts him completely, she doesn’t entirely like how he takes notice of Inori.
“I guess you’re just blind and dumb,” Inori says, speaking without thinking as she checks her purse again. Togo tilts his head, not looking remotely insulted, like Inori could say whatever she wants to him, and he’d let her get away with it. Chiaki is surprised, thinking that this is who he is when he’s attracted to someone. She takes note to ask Kunishige about it later, wondering if Togo will mention it to him.
“Do you two know where you need to be?” Togo asks, catching himself in the act of being attracted and pulling himself back before Inori looks at him. Chiaki wonders to herself if this is what it’s like for him to watch her and Kunishige dance around each other, and again, she feels badly for Togo because Inori isn’t interested in anyone but Seiichi.
“Yes,” Inori says, taking out the paper with the address on it. She hands it to Togo, who needs only a second to read it.
“Okay,” he says, “let’s do this.” He tucks the paper back into his pocket, probably to refer back to it later but Chiaki irrationally believes that it is also a souvenir, a tangible connection to Inori. He takes Chiaki’s hand easily, not one word, but murmurs an apology to Inori when he takes hold of her elbow. Chiaki turns away from them, unable to watch Togo’s ill-fated crush.
In less than a second, they are down the street from the bar. Inori looks around, confused, but again, doesn’t ask for an explanation. Chiaki reaches out to her, checking to see if she’s okay to stand, while Togo waits around, too nice to just leave them on the street.
“I’ll meet you back here at 2 a.m.,” he says, “that’s enough time for you two to get into trouble, right?”
“Sounds good,” Chiaki replies, Inori nodding.
“You know, it’s not too late for you to come with me to see Kunishige and Soushirou.” Togo scratches the back of his neck, nervous, and Chiaki recognizes that it’s Inori’s rejection that he’s most scared of.
“Who’re they?” Inori asks, nudging Chiaki, cheeky.
“Just some guys we know,” Chiaki mutters in reply, repeating herself from earlier, both Togo and Inori grinning, knowing that she’s trapped.
“That is hilarious, coming from you.” Togo grins, leonine, recovering his good humor.
“Come on Inori,” Chiaki says, “we don’t want to be late.” She’s embarrassed, even though Inori already knows her feelings. She reaches for Inori, but she dodges, reaching into her bag.
“Wait a second,” Inori says, pulling her camera out of her bag. She holds it out to Togo and says, “Please take a picture of us.” Togo takes the camera, waiting until Inori has her arm slung around Chiaki’s shoulders, their faces so close that their cheeks are pressed together. He holds the camera up to his face and snaps a picture, winding the dial. Once he returns it, Inori holds that camera and says, “Now, a picture of you.” He has a somber expression on his face as Inori snaps the picture, the most mature he has ever seemed to Chiaki.
“You got what you needed?” he asks, watching Inori tuck the camera away. She nods, smiling, oblivious. Unable to bear it, Chiaki puts her arm through Inori’s, and says that it’s time for them to leave. Inori doesn’t look back, always staring ahead, but Chiaki does. She sees Togo’s little wave and recognizes that it’s not for her, and her sadness forces her to turn away.