Yuri Worlds

[16] Dress

Misaki had no idea what to think of that. A date? They just met. Why was this happening, and what should she make of it?

Haruka sat up from her chair and asked with more emphasis and energy than Misaki had seen from her since she put her to sleep, “I can accompany you if you need assistance.” Yuka didn’t scowl at her older sister, although Misaki sensed that her lip was just a paintbrush’s touch away from it. She cleared her throat noisily, reiterated the suggestion for Haruka to show the others around, and hammered with the full force of her voice without yelling or screaming that this was to be an excursion, “BY OURSELVES”. Haruka calmly took the hint and bowed her head to her sister.

Maharu squeezed on a self-assured, playful smile and rocked back and forth as she started humming a little melody to herself. It was pleasant and reminded Misaki of something lingering at the cusp of her consciousness. She had no idea for certain what it was though. Her best guess was that it had to be a common childhood song. But what could possibly fit all the required criteria as a song Franklin and Maharu would know? She was stumped.

Yuka turned and aimed a scrutinizing eyeball at the blue-haired girl. Even though nothing physically changed about Maharu, Misaki got a clear impression of the girl putting on an angelic countenance with a prayerful pose and a glittering halo above her head, projecting benign innocence.

Misaki felt weird. Yes, it was oddly but pleasantly cute that their host wanted to go on a walk together with her. But she was a second-year high school student. Wasn’t it a little bit strange? They had no idea how old Misaki was… She had no idea how old she was either. And being in her second year would put Yuka somewhere around sixteen or seventeen. Maybe she was making it weirder than it was meant to be. The unique social and cultural chasm, even though it didn’t appear to be a gaping one, left a lot of questions. But Yuka’s moms wore expressions of cheerful encouragement.

Misaki took time to tidy up around her table space and contribute as much overall clean-up assistance as possible. Both Misaki and Franklin felt in over their heads.

Franklin. It was weird, but, since she arrived, the concept and feeling of Franklin seemed more like describing a peculiar relative she was intimately familiar with. Franklin started out fine. As a little kid, his mother brought him regularly to the salon and all the other spaces she frequented. The looming, giggling ladies would either pinch his cheek, ruffle his hair, or say all sorts of praises about his outfits and his politeness. He demurely responded to them while they laid out all his virtuous qualities and their certainty of his future. What a nice man! What a polite little boy! He’s going to have all the girls after him!

But school was suffering. The only real girl after him was Guy. They would hold hands in big crowds, even though Franklin often squirmed and twisted free for the sake of appearances. Not that he had any actual clue who he was trying to impress. Everyone made fun of him, and plenty of people tried to beat him up. Knowing Dwight was a lifesaver for both of them. He didn’t care what others thought of him, so long as the weak were protected. He put it exactly that way—it was his personal creed.

Then, they were gone. But that didn’t mean he was alone, at first. His school computer-assigned roommates provided enough influence, antics, and distractions. And he hung out with Kristen. They were vaguely-defined friends from high school. He took her on a few trips to places like water parks. The way her splashed top clung to her body still lived in his daydreams. But he was so awkward around her that a part of his soul died every time he was too forthright with a hug or a comment. He was deep in the friend zone for all four years without any sense of what he was supposed to do about it, if anything.

Screw it. What value was there in being stuck alone? If this was weird, then it was weird. They were just going for a walk. A fun walk with a sweet anime girl. Misaki and Franklin may have lived twice her years, but it was a vacation. And they were visiting this culture. It's best to immerse themselves in the culture and not be rude about a walk that doesn’t have any implications beyond being a walk.

“That sounds fun. Sure!” She answered with a warm smile, a light tone, and quiet exuberance. Yuka’s eyes brightened like a roaring flame ignited within brownish stones. Her face and presence acquired a fresh, antsy, energetic animation.

Of course, she was already animated, but it was like dozens of new artists had been inspired to multiply the subtle details of her countenance. She fixed and refixed her hair behind her ears. The ruffles of her clothes found new, shifting valleys. Her mouth line swelled joyously like a steady wave. And rosy colors danced through her skin.

Misaki turned her attention to the issue of her leg. Was it still hurting? Perhaps she should rest it instead of wearing herself out with a long walk? Yuka showcased her limber limb, stretching it out, wiggling it around, and holding it out without ruffling her skirt. She assured Misaki that all the walking, working, and cooking hadn’t bothered her at all. She even felt better through it. But she acquiesced to Misaki and her moms, saying, “If I have any issues, I promise to say so immediately. Plus, we can stop by the clinic where Ayame works and have her check it out.”

Both of her moms took a breath, and that somewhat addressed the concerns Misaki had about her leg. But so many other issues remained unresolved inside her. Bubbling beneath the surface, she realized she wanted to change her outfit. What the company had automatically granted her through the threshold based on the Misaki she imagined met the reality of what worked, felt comfortable, and looked nice.

Right now, all that came to one conclusion: She wanted a dress. Not something that Franklin would have ever desired, but things were different for the next two weeks. Fortunately, when previously rummaging through the clothes provided, she noticed there was just the sort of dress that seemed bold enough but still reserved for the task.

Misaki smiled and explained that she needed to change. Before leaving, she swiveled around to inquire if she should bring anything with her. Kei relayed that it was starting to get windy when they were coming back. She urged her to consider a light jacket and something to weigh her dress down so it didn’t fly up.

After hearing that, billowing Marylyn Monroe visions were all she could think about. Did she have anything reasonably heavy with her? Books, but none of them would fit in a dress pocket. Probably the change left over from before the train ride. Heading back to the room, she unzipped her bags and rummaged around for the dress in question. It felt so strange to hold it against her body. Glossy and foreign. Not at all the kind of material Franklin was ever used to wearing. The neckline was traced in faint lace, slightly darker than the purple of the main garment. The hemline didn’t make it to her knee, and the ornamentation down there with rounded curves held a lot of transparency. Such a girly dress. And she was a girl. Several long, deep breaths kept her from getting too woozy.

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Before she could formulate the order of operations needed to address and dress in the dress, Chika and Namiko poked their heads through the half-open door. Misaki attempted to downplay her nervousness, but she wasn’t fooling either of them. They relayed that her “Romeo” had been dragged away to get her nose forcibly powdered by family as soon as she left. The two of them had even bigger plans for Misaki, who gulped.

Chika took charge of turning her puffy short cut into an even, soft do. She got washed up a little in the nearest bathroom without having to completely strip down. The showering attachment, with lots of buttons, was quite useful for rinses. Applications of travel perfume and dabs of light makeup were unavoidable. Gal was quite adept at beautification.

When it was all done, she was astonished by her reflection in the mirror, even though the changes were subtle. Her hair, previously scattered and disheveled like a boy’s, was now carefully parted and shaped into a dangling drape of femininity. The accent of her eyes had turned into a bold exclamation of their raspberry texture. Her lips gained a rich, scarlet tracing, as though dabbed by a wet painter's pen to highlight their glossy surface. The most alarming discovery, even though she already knew it well, was how much shapely leg she possessed. Adjusting the hem of the dress did nothing to extend the meager boundary or reduce the brightness of her blush. Being a girl was one thing; she could submerge herself in the notions and quiet character of Misaki. But being dragged into such a distinctive, outgoing look woke up the reservoir of Franklin she had pushed aside.

She wanted to drop to the floor and ignore the highlighted reality pervading her being. No time for that though. Chika and Namiko made sure the little golden belt around her waist was cinched and everything was zipped up properly. She clung to one of Chika‘s little handbags like it was a lifeline and a parachute. It contained her feeble phone, some cash, and the leftovers of whatever they’d touched her up with. Soon, she was being shoved off like Cinderella to the Ball. Plaintively, she begged them to slow down while flapping her arms in all directions. They let her take a breath as she collected her thoughts.

She brought up her concerns about Yuka’s age and whether this was weird. Chika locked eyes with her and raised her purple eyebrows. Misaki frantically wiggled her arms again as she elaborated, “I have no intentions towards this girl. I’m not even sure how this got started. She gave me this unusual, big hug when we arrived. But, with everything I’ve read about Japanese culture, that would’ve been an exuberant, unusual public display of affection towards a stranger. I know she hugged all of us, but she hugged me the most. But then Kei is really rather touchy-feely too. Still, it’s kind of weird. Don’t you think so? But we are just going for a walk. It’s just strange. Is it not strange, and I’m making it strange by saying that it’s strange when it’s really not strange because no one around thinks it’s strange?” She couldn’t avoid the fact that last sentence really got away from her.

Namiko resisted a smirk and carefully folded her arms as Chika narrowed her eyes. With a hand on Misaki‘s shoulder, Chika pronounced, “You are strange. But that’s fine. Just go for a walk and make her smile. We’re only here for two weeks. They received all our information from the company. And that one mom has a pretty wild personality. If they had issues with us, we would know. Just be her friend. Now there’s a lot of crazy stuff I could say about all this, a lot of silly things, but I want you to just relax…sis. Alright?“

It sounded similar to the assurances Guy/Gal gave Franklin throughout the years, but she also knew it wasn’t that simple. She had even more inside that they needed to know about. So, she said it. She mentioned the black creepy crawly.

No idea what it could be, concerned that it was responsible for Yuka’s leg issue. She saw it on the train, skittering near where their host was sitting. And the implication of side effects did not apply because she first saw it the previous Friday after pre-registration. It went after her leg too, and she could feel a lancing sensation down there. And that wasn’t all. When she went to sleep and freaked out about Naoko in her lab coat, she had a vision. Maybe it was just a really strong dream and once again a side effect of what they had done, the situation, or something else. But it was a big concern on top of a heaping helping of so many different concerns that she couldn’t just let go. She wrung and pressed as many details as she could barely remember into her account and waited for what she worried was an inevitable response.

Chika immediately deployed her biggest hug. And Namiko provided the comforting pillows for the group. Her friends promised they would keep an eye out for crazy creatures and mad science experiments. They shared laughter, but the jokes were about turning creepy ferrofluid critters into punching bags. Haruka would be their host on whatever journeys followed lunch. As they got ready for that, Misaki attempted to tell herself that everything would be fine. She used and clung to the attentive, heated toilet before finally deciding she was ready. Only she had no idea if she actually was.

Unlike the recent near catastrophe with Yuka, just the smallest measure of pressure squeaked out. And her stomach anxiously protested despite the scope of lunch. She couldn’t stay and wait for whatever gurgling nervousness to finally work its way through and settle down. Shutting her eyes for several quick, quiet spells didn’t put her tummy monster to rest, but it helped.

Even slipping down the stairs quietly didn’t afford her the ability to remain unseen. The Sasaki moms returned with their girl and proudly presented her. Yuka’s outfit was essentially the same but with a light, thin cardigan stretched across her shoulders, a subtle brightening to her cheeks and lips, and her hair done back in a neat ponytail with a pink scrunchie. She had a little bag on her shoulder too.

Without much preamble, she took Misaki‘s hand in hers and declared, “Let’s go.” Their shoes went on, and they went out the front door. Misaki just took a moment to regard the black van in front but took more than that to linger on the old hotel building.

“I can show you around it later. Much of it has been patched up, but there are quite a few places on the second floor where you can trip or find an inconvenient hole at exactly the wrong time. Most of the mold is gone. Would be great for a test of courage, but my moms won’t allow it. Plus, it’s probably not haunted…probably. Besides, there’s a better stretch just beyond the shrine for that. Properly, possibly haunted. Or so I’ve heard. Just the place to walk alone together...holding each other for protection against the dark and all it may hide.” Yuka leaned closer to her for emphasis. Misaki didn’t know what to say at all that, so she just flashed her a calm but cheerful smile.