Second First DateThere was this niggling feeling tugging at her all afternoon as she alternately paced, pulled out more clothes, and tried on more jewellery.
Tanaka Reina was no stranger to anxiety. She had performed in front of a sold out stadium with fifty thousand screaming fans. Anxiety had nearly had her vomiting out everything she had eaten, but the moment she had gone out there, all nervousness was forgotten.
She still felt anxious when someone blindsided her on national TV, sending something unpredictable and unplanned for hurtling her way during a live broadcast. She felt nibbles of anxiety when forced to undergo scary things for the sake of entertainment. She still screeched with panic when forced on rollercoasters, felt her stomach tumble more than was physiologically possible while it did crazy stunt flips at 3-g pressures.
She had just about emptied out her entire walk-in closet, and she was still pacing. Turned on the lights, then snapped them back off at the glare. She put everything back in. Paced some more. Watched a little TV, then turned it off when the afternoon news came on, with that conspicuous time stamp on the upper left. Tried to write a little music, but everything came out either discordant or all too familiar. She tossed the latter into the already overfilled waste basket, crowded with her previous attempts.
A thoroughly unproductive day, if there was one. Reina growled under her breath as she took her third (unneeded) shower of the day, letting the cold water drown out her thoughts.
She folded a few towels. Stacked them by colour. Unfolded another and used it to scrub vigorously at her face. She stared at the full length mirror opposite her. A small face stared back at her, redder than the almost unnaturally paler skin that made up legs, arms, a torso.
She seemed almost dwarfed under the massive red towel that still covered her from after her shower. A slow, sardonic smile comes to curve her lips. Red. How appropriate.
She stands abruptly now, the red of the towel slipping off her pale form like blood washing off a statue. Her nakedness bothers no one in the privacy of her own home, least of all herself. No one was getting in without her permission, not even Sayu, who knew where the spare key was. She had deadbolted the door from the inside.
Without fuss or hesitation, she picks out the simplest underwear she has (
cotton? I still have white cotton underwear?) that she doesn't even remember buying, but had seen during the Great Emptying of her wardrobe earlier. Then, still in those bare essentials, she padded across the chaotic central of her room to fetch her hairdryer. Her hair falls loose and fine as the heated air buffets the moisture out of them, and she unknots not a few tangles as she goes.
Putting the hairdryer aside, she almost absently pulls up part of her hair in a semi ponytail of sorts, then thinks better of it and lets it fall naturally back into place. The caramel highlights weave intricate patterns with the blonde, creating an illusion of waves. Reina does not seem to notice, but her fingers flick self-consciously through the strands, combing them out evenly to heighten the effect.
She spends less time on makeup than she recalls ever having done in the last 5 years or so, except when she was just heading out to the convenience store. Just a few touches to cover up the usual signs of sleep deprivation; foundation, a little eyeliner, some lip gloss.
Sparing her glossy (but otherwise devoid of any decoration) nails the briefest of glances, she ignores the impressive rows of nail paraphernalia on a shelf and heads instead into her even more impressive closet.
Her fingers reach out for, and peel out, the articles of clothing she had subconsciously decided on during the Great Hunt earlier. She could not have explained to you why or how she picked them. They simply felt right, and Reina trusted her instincts.
The skirt was as short as she remembered, maybe even shorter, which led Reina to check her height against a nearby mark in the wall. Nope, no taller. It had been a long time since she wore a skirt that sinfully short. Sure, she still did it on occasion, but never on her private time. Not anymore anyway.
Reina does not hurry as she gathers what she needs, though her eyes flick casually across the room to set their gaze on the time. The clock strikes 5 precisely as she straightens, a beret pulled low over her face. She reaches automatically for her shades, fingers brushing over the smooth frames before pulling away empty. It was getting late and she didn't think she needed them right now.
Another row of boots, another decision to make, greets her before she can leave. She pauses ever so slightly, then steps into the soft calf leather, feeling the difference instantly as an inch was added to her height.
Head down, bag held protectively in front of herself, Reina walks briskly through the crowd with a purpose, and blends right in with the churning masses. No one gave her a second glance, though she stomped instinctively on a foot when some fingers brushed irritatingly close to her thigh. Her aim was unerring as always, since the fingers withdrew immediately with a pained hiss. Rush hour gave her the perfect cover as she slips through, just one more person heading somewhere in the big city.
It was a different city, and a different time, but certain things don't change, wherever you go, whenever you go. High school girls gathered in little cliques, some smoking, some not. Most of them talked loudly, decked out in flashy accessories. Sleazy youths lurked around the darker edges, some drinking, some making crude jokes and gesticulating at his fellows or wolf whistling at a pretty girl. There are a couple of salarymen, ties barely loosened, briefcase in hand, waiting by a lamppost or bench, checking their watches every other minute. Reina takes in all these, and finds them all familiar, in a way she hasn't thought of in a long, long time. Then again, she hasn't been out like this, coming out to meet someone in a place where everyone was either waiting for something, or someone else, not since she traded her freedom for her fame.
It is precisely 6.30pm and the sky is already dark overhead. The streetlights cast a pale, barely adequate light on the sidewalk, but no one cares. It is the neon signs, the fluorescents from shop front and building that are the true lights of the city headed into night.
Reina is also a half hour late, but she had intended to be. Her sharp eyes scan the milling groups, pausing on individuals, but never for long. She maintans an haughty, untouchable facade, just one more girl on the streets, and pointedly ignore some of the glances she receives from older men who obviously thought her about ten years younger than she actually was.
For some reason she is not very surprised when she gets a tap on the shoulder, barely enough to even be called that really. It was in the scuff of the shoe, the pause before making herself announced, even in the rustle of fabric as the person she came to meet tugged at her clothes nervously before finally getting her attention.
Reina manages to keep her expression neutral as she turns to face her companion, though there is no hiding the jolt of amusement that lights up her lively orbs as she takes in the sight of her companion. Likewise, she notices how her companion seems visibly amused, even pleased, by Reina's own getup.
Without really thinking about it, Reina reaches forward and pinches a few strands of the boyishly ruffled hair, rubbing it between her fingers even as startled eyes follow her movement. Reina purses her lips briefly, and with nary a smile to hint at her intentions, tugs hard enough to make the owner of said hair yelp in a most unfeminine way.
"No wig this time?" Reina asked innocently even as her companion rubbed at her head with a cute pout, boyishly charming in both face and feature. Reina had to blink to clear the double image memory attempted to layer over reality, but felt a familiar gleam reflected in her own eyes as they crossed gazes. This was a game,
their game, and no one else's.
It didn't matter that they hadn't spoken more than a dozen and a half more of polite civilities when in public company since their reunion. It didn't matter that they hadn't played, not even met, in more than ten years. It didn't matter that they were no longer kids, Reina no longer bait, and her companion no longer a trap. They hadn't even planned this, not explicitly, not even complicitly. All the message had said was to come. The rest had fallen into place as if nothing had come between them to begin with.
"Rei." Husky, forlorn, longing. One hand reaches up to tuck the silky strands of Reina's hair behind one ear, and lingers, tracing the edge with the tip of an evenly trimmed nail. Reina barely suppresses a pleasurable shiver at the act, and almost feels regret as the hand falls away, balling by the side with evident tension.
"Ai." She acknowledges finally, letting a trace of the affection she still felt, no matter how angry she had been, no matter how hurt, seep through. She watches how a shadow of hope simmers almost fearfully in those doe-like eyes, too femnine to be that of a true
man, but made more beautiful in this cariacature of a boy-who-is-not.
There can only be so many first meetings, and even fewer second chances. Reina lets her senses capture this moment, almost perfectly preserved in time from that true first time, back when they had been mere strangers; one tipsy and well-meaning, one cynical and suspicious. They are not all so different now, almost fifteen years on. Reina sees this, and feels a strange nostalgia for the days long past, but puts it aside as she smiles disarmingly, without warning.
"You, are in
so much trouble."
Ai winces. Reina smirks. They are right back where they begin, and they both know it.
Except that nothing is at all the same, and they know
that too.
Time goes on, as do they, and others take their place in that crowded square, barely noticing their departure, shoulder-to-shoulder. Their secrets laid sealed between them.
Only time could tell how they would resolve them.
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Some allusions made to a prequel I have yet to write. I actually dreamt a goodly half of the prequel and bits and pieces of MSF proper. Can't wait to get to the good parts.
This is just a placeholder chapter before we move on to the fun stuff!
Topic: 私のアホ家族(My Stupid Family)[24/6 - Chapter 25: A Series of Unfortunate Events] (Read 86426 times)