Ranko inhaled sharply, slowing to walk behind Izumi instead of next to her. From her slightly ragged breathing, it sounded as if she was in some sort of pain. The third time she heard it over the whistling of the light wind blowing in her face, Izumi looked behind with a concerned expression. “Ran-chan, are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.” She placed her hand on Ranko’s shoulder, and before the younger girl could answer, she knew the problem. “Gods, you’re shivering something terrible! Are you that cold?”
Ranko nodded, unsure she could really get words out right now. The air was fairly mild for a December in Tokyo, but not for someone in a T-shirt, a knee-length skirt, and a full body of skin with the sensitivity of a cat’s tongue.
“Why didn’t you put on something warmer, silly?”
Ranko looked down, a glint of shame in her eyes. Again, Izumi answered her own question. “You don’t have anything warmer, do you?” For as obsessed with the new girl’s attire as she had been, she couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten they had only added one or two outfits to the eight or so that had been in the upstairs closet the day she arrived. The rest had been things Izumi had loaned her from her own closet. This would not do. At this rate, she was going to get herself sick.
Izumi grabbed the sleeve of her coat, beginning to pull it off. “Here, put this on.”
Ranko shook her head. “I’m f-fine.”
Izumi rolled her eyes. “Like hell you are. Come on now. I’ve still got a sweater and jeans; I’m plenty warm without it.”
Ranko sighed regretfully. She couldn’t bring herself to make a girl suffer the cold while…
She shook her head with a self-admonishing smirk. One of these days she was going to learn that she wasn’t a guy anymore, and she didn’t have to always take the chivalrous route if it meant things were worse for her. “Okay. Thanks.”
Izumi wrapped it around her shoulders and her hands found the sleeves, and Izumi rubbed her back vigorously through the coat to warm it up for her faster. “While we’re out shopping anyway, we are getting you at least something you can wear in the cold. It’s non-negotiable.”
“I think I’d like that.”
The pair picked up the pace and quickly arrived at the train station, and a few short minutes later, they disembarked in the same shopping district they had visited once before. “Alright. First things first, something warmer for you.”
Ranko nodded vigorously, and Izumi led her into a large department store, pointing her in the direction of a display of denim. “What size do you wear in jeans?”
Ranko turned to answer. “Twen…” She realized partway through that the number she was about to suggest was in mens’ sizes. “I actually don’t know. Sorry.”
Izumi shook her head with a smile. “Around the holidays, nobody does, honey. Get used to it.” She pulled the same pair of blue jeans in three different sizes from the rack, handing them to her protege. “Fitting room’s over there. Shoo.”
The first pair Ranko tried was way too big, but the second slid on comfortably. Zipping them up, she started to test her movement in them. They definitely fit tighter than men’s pants, not that she wore much but gi pants back then anyway. While she was slowly getting used to the idea of skirts, there was a certain comforting feeling about wearing pants again, even though it was very different than she was familiar with. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice what the tight jeans did for her shape. From the objective perspective of someone who until very recently had teenage boy hormones pumping through her veins, she looked good and she knew it. And pockets! Glorious pock… nope. What asshole got the bright idea to put fake pockets on girls’ clothes? That was just a cruel tease.
She emerged from the fitting room, carrying the red skirt she had been wearing, and setting the two rejected pairs on the little chrome rack designated for products to be reshelved. Izumi gave her a thumbs-up. “If you like those, grab another pair or two and let’s keep going.” Mindful of her still-limited budget, Ranko picked up one more pair, this one in black, and followed her sister-turned-stylist.
Izumi led her up an escalator to the second floor and to a display of winter coats. “Here, pick yourself something out from here. Ideally something in a neutral color.” Ranko nodded, setting about looking for something in brown, black, white, or gray. Hey, she thought with a bright smile, I’m learning! She wasn’t sure if she was proud or embarrassed. Her gaze quickly fell on a white peacoat. It was constructed of a heavy fabric, so it would be warm without the addition of fur or other textures that would be distracting on her skin, and it came down almost to her knees, which would help keep her legs warm even when she was wearing a skirt.
Izumi nodded. “Nice choice! It’s cute, too! Here, let me help you try it on.” She helped Ranko out of the coat she had borrowed and into the new one. It was surprisingly comfortable and lightweight, and it did feel warmer even than the fur-lined coat she had on previously. “Oh, yeah, I like this one!”
Izumi grinned. “One of these days you’re gonna get the full shopping experience, where you try on eight or nine things before you find one you like.”
Ranko shrugged with a smile. “What can I say? I’m easy to please.”
Izumi scoffed. “Just wait until you’re trying on wedding dresses. You have to see like 200 of them and they take twenty minutes each for three people to get you in and out of.” The white coat contrasted sharply with the neon red shade of Ranko’s face. “Oh, stop. I know it never feels like it until it does, but it’ll happen for you one day, too.”
For a split second, Ranko entertained the mental picture of herself in a white wedding gown, almost hearing Akane’s voice, before she shook herself free of it. There were about fourteen levels of wrong with that particular daydream. “Yeah, if you say so,” she replied mousily.
“Speaking of which…” Izumi took her hand, pulling her a few dozen meters into another section of the store where numerous formal gowns were displayed on mannequins. She pointed at a sky-blue shimmery satin dress, with spaghetti straps, a fairly modest cut at the chest, and a floor-length skirt with a knee-high walking slit snaking up the left side. A blue-gray satin ribbon encircled it at the waist, tying in a loose bow at the left hip.
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Ranko blushed deeply yet again. “I don’t think that’s going to work. For the singing, maybe, but I can’t wait tables in that!” Or, you know, wear it at all, she thought to herself.
Izumi laughed. “Not for the concert, goofball. For the wedding. I’m thinking about that for the bridesmaids.” All of this blushing was making Ranko lightheaded. She’d almost forgotten she had committed to that. It was pretty, for sure, but for someone else to wear. She doubted she had mastered anywhere near enough feminine grace to pull that off without pissing off some queen somewhere, maybe.
“Uh, how do we feel about a nice casual wedding? Jeans, T-shirts, barbecue?” She chuckled nervously.
“Nonsense, little sister. You’re going to have to suck it up and be elegant for a day. Who knows, you might even enjoy the whole princess dress-up thing.” Judging by what Ranko had told her of her childhood, Izumi doubted she had experienced that type of play growing up.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” came Ranko’s reply.
Izumi chuckled a little darkly. “If the corsets I’ve tried on so far are any indication, I just might have to.” Ranko could not stifle the tension-breaking giggle that followed, and Izumi joined her in it.
“Come on, you. Let’s find you something for your big show.” Ranko groaned, half-kiddingly, and followed as she was directed to a seasonal section. The racks were filled with festive cocktail dresses as well as sweaters with holiday patterns on them. Ranko couldn’t understand why anyone would wear something so ugly, but they had tons of them, so somebody must have been buying them.
“Okay. Our mission is to find something flirty, cute, and Christmasy. Lock in.”
Ranko shuddered. “Flirty? Really? Do you not think I get enough wandering hands?”
Izumi rolled her eyes. “I know, but you are putting on a show. We have to give them what they want.”
The redhead sputtered a raspberry with her lips. “Says who?”
Izumi snickered. “Don’t forget, this was your idea, Ran-chan.” Ugh. She was right. Why did she have to be right?
Resigning herself to her fate, Ranko began searching the racks. She tried to imagine what outfits would have excited her to see on a girl, back when she was a guy. Somehow, the crasser thoughts and fantasies of the masculine teenage mind were much harder to access now without the benefit of testosterone coursing through her by the liter. Izumi called out, “How about this?”
Ranko looked up as Izumi raised a hanger above her head, on which hung a mostly sheer red satin dress that looked to Ranko more like what women would wear under a dress if they wanted to come off as sexy. “No way I’m wearing that in public.” Or in private. Or on the freaking moon.
Izumi gasped. “Oh, that’s it. I got it!” Ranko sighed resolutely, preparing herself for whatever fresh hell Izumi had planned now. The elder girl raised another hanger above her head. From it hung a jewel-tone green velvet dress. The neckline was fairly modest and rimmed in white faux fur. It had long sleeves with more white fur lining the cuffs, and a slightly-less-than-knee-length skirt with more fur trim. A white vinyl belt was wrapped around the waist, and part of the vinyl was molded into a small white bow, which was actually the clasping mechanism to secure the belt.
“That’s… actually not that bad.”
Izumi nodded. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing! Go try it on?” But she had finally gotten warm in the jeans and the coat! With a nod and a groan, Ranko snatched the hanger from her hand and locked herself in a nearby fitting room stall.
When she emerged, Izumi clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! That’s perfect! It just needs a few finishing touches. I’ll take care of it; go get changed.” By the time Ranko re-emerged in her jeans, T-shirt and coat, Izumi was leaning against the fitting room wall with a small plastic shopping basket full of various accessories.
“All set! Here, I also grabbed these.” Izumi pulled a stack of Christmas-themed cassette tapes out of the basket, showing the spines of the plastic cases to her companion. “Does this work?”
Ranko shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so?” She’d never picked the music when they’d sung at the dojo, she had always just gone through whatever motions Akane had asked her to. At the bar, it had mostly been Mei in that role.
“We should pay for this stuff and get back. It’s getting late.” They completed their checkout with the assistance of a young male clerk, whose abashed timidness around Ranko was gleefully pointed out by Izumi over the redhead’s strenuous denials, and caught the train back toward the bar. Ranko was indeed grateful to have her new jeans and coat, as the temperature had dropped significantly in the two hours they had spent in the store, and the wind had picked up as well. There wasn’t much conversation on the train ride back, as Ranko was using Izumi’s portable cassette player to listen to the new tapes through a bulky set of headphones that were fortuitously doubling as earmuffs, trying to get a head start on choosing and memorizing songs.
Some forty-five minutes after departing the shop, the pair entered the bar through the front door to find it a flurry of activity. Hana stood on a small stepladder, weaving strands of shiny silver garland through the trusses holding up the stage lighting. The garland was being fed from the topmost of six stacked plastic bins, Ayako standing next to the pile ensuring the garland didn’t tangle as it emerged from its plastic prison. Izumi waved to three of her friends huddled around a corner table, one of whom lifted a hand-drawn poster advertising a concert to be held on Saturday night.
Izumi gave the girls a double-thumbs up. “That’s great, girls! Can we do ten more just like it?” On the bartop, there were several festive-looking glasses containing liquids of various colors and textures, each with straws protruding from them.
Yui popped one of the straws in her mouth, smacking her lips and dumping the glass in the sink. “Nope, too tart, let’s try that one again.”
Unless she was in the kitchen, Mei did not seem to be present. An upbeat instrumental Christmas song thumped through the sound system.
Ranko looked around at the commotion. “Wow. This came together fast.”
Izumi grinned, poking her playfully on the nose. “All for you, little sis.” The younger girl blushed, tucking a stray strand of her red hair behind her ear.
Yui grinned up at the pair, finally having looked up from her mixology experimentation long enough to notice they had returned. “Hey hey! What do you think, Izzi? Is our star ready?”
Ranko’s face took on more color yet, almost matching her hair, and she fidgeted with her hair some more to hide her face. Izumi, picking up on her discomfort, smiled reassuringly at Ranko. “She was born ready.”
Yui gave a warm smile in response. “Ooh, Izzi, c’mere, try this!” She handed over a Collins glass filled with a thick white liquid. The outside of the glass was striped in a thin red ribbon, and a sprig of mint floated at the top.
Izumi covered the top of the straw to create negative pressure, lifting the straw to her mouth and lifting her finger to release the liquid trapped within. “Mm! It tastes just like a candy cane! That’s amazing, Yui-chan!”
Ranko looked over with curiosity, and Izumi reloaded the straw, offering it to her. “Come on, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Ranko grinned and stepped forward, and Izumi popped the straw past her lips and released her thumb. “Oh, wow. That’s really good!”
Yui beamed. “I’m working on a gingerbread one and a spiked eggnog, but they’re not quite right yet.”
Ranko smiled, trying to make eye contact with everyone. They were all working so hard to put her idea together. To help Hana, and her newfound family. She was so proud to be a part of it.