Ranko fidgeted in her chair. “How long does this have to sit like this?”

The woman standing behind her poked at one of the plastic rollers embedded in the shock of flame-red hair before her. “Another fifteen minutes or so.”

Yui stalked past her chair, already in her blue bridesmaid’s dress with her black shrug over it. She, unlike her youngest sister, had the luxury of hair too short to be styled in any meaningful way. “Izzi, honey, how’s it coming in there?”

The bride’s voice echoed from a small vanity room off to one side of the main changing area. “Doing alright. Gonna need a hand in a minute, though!”

Mei hopped past Yui, one of her heels on, the other in her hand, stumbling to try and slip it on without sitting in a dress that had come out of alterations just a hair too tight. Her cotton-candy blue hair was coiled around the sides of her head in twin Chinese-style buns. Ayako caught her just before she wiped out on the terrazzo floor of the changing area. “Easy there, little sister!”

The scene was unlike anything Ranko had ever experienced before. Sure, Izzi had dolled her up to put her on stage before, but that was one person. Five women trying to get dressed and ready at the same time, on a deadline, in an area roughly the size of the Phoenix’ kitchen was like trying to thread a needle in a typhoon.

Another woman slipped through the door, and the clicking and flashing of a camera immediately ensued. Izzi had said the photographer would be capturing candid shots throughout the process of getting ready, but Ranko didn’t feel especially comfortable with anyone taking pictures in the room where she and her sisters were dressing. It reminded her too much of Nabiki. Mei, meanwhile, couldn’t resist making a few silly poses for the camera.

Ayako shouted from one of the benches in front of the long mirror mounted on one wall. “Has anybody seen my eyeliner?” Yui gave a shrill whistle, tossing a small black tube in her sister’s direction.

Yui slipped behind the curtain separating Izumi’s area from the rest of the room. “You ready for me, sis?”

Izumi nodded. “Alright, squash me!”

With a giggle, Yui pulled on the white ribbons lacing up the back of Izumi’s dress like a basketball shoe, tightening the corset around her sister’s frame. “How’s this? Suffocating yet?”

Izumi made a little urk sound as her oxygen supply was forcibly ejected from her lungs by her wedding dress. “Getting there…”

A few moments later, Yui pushed through the green curtain into the changing room, clearing her throat and calling loudly for attention. “Ladies?” Ayako, Mei and Ranko all stopped what they were doing and looked up, though Ranko was still having the rollers removed from her hair from behind.

The curtain was pulled back, and Izumi stepped into the room. She was positively radiant, her brown hair braided around the back of her head with a crown of daisies woven into it. Her makeup was flawless; Ranko had every reason to believe she rolled out of bed like that, because she was never seen any other way. Her long white dress shimmered about her frame, and the dainty diamond necklace and matching earrings she wore sparkled under the countless lights shining in every direction from the vanities along the wall.

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Ayako gasped. “My gods, Izzi…”

Mei could only emit a “Wow,” and Ranko gave an impressed little whistle.

Having been released by the stylist from hell, Ranko dumped a small silver bag out onto the vanity counter. Her hands shaking, she picked up one tube after another, trying to remember which one went where. She cursed herself for not taking more time to practice doing this before the wedding, but between band practice, work, singing, studying and Akane, time had been at a massive premium of late.

She eyed the result of the stylist’s work in the mirror. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the rollers having added a gentle wavy curl all through it. It looked like a more intentional version of the cascading effect it had when she’d done her dress fitting. She had to admit, while it felt like a lot of work to get there, the overall effect did not suck.

She unscrewed the tube of mascara, pulling out the long, feathery brush. She stroked it carefully through her left eyebrow. There might have been a little too much, but it didn’t look terrible, and she was worried that messing with it further would only make it worse. Her task was not aided by her squinting after poking herself in the right eye with the brush.

“Oh, baby, baby, come here.” Izumi swiveled the vinyl chair in which her youngest sister sat. “Let me help you.”

Ranko blushed. “You don’t have time to help me. You’re getting married in, like, twenty minutes.”

The bride gave an amused smirk. “You listen here, Miss Ranko. It’s true, I’m about to become somebody’s wife. But I’m never gonna stop being your big sister. Now, gimme that.”

In a matter of moments, Izumi’s practiced hand had corrected her mascara, as well as applied eyeliner foundation, lipstick and a bit of blush. “There. Now, that’s just about perfect.”

Ranko blinked. “What did we miss?”

Izumi motioned to a black backpack under one of the counters. “Mei, grab me the silver box in my bag, please?” Momentarily, her sister delivered her a long rectangular box, about three centimeters high and eight across.

Izumi smiled. “So, I know you’ve never done this before, but it’s tradition that the bride gives her bridesmaids a gift after the wedding, to thank them for, you know, putting up with all her crap for the last few months.” She giggled. “But I think we need to give you yours early.”

She opened the box facing away from Ranko so that her sister could not see its contents. Turning back toward her, she held in her hands a dainty silver flower-chain necklace. Dangling from its midpoint was a small silver star, the center of which bore a tiny diamond. Izumi leaned forward, insomuch as she could in her restrictive corset, fastening the chain around the back of Ranko’s neck.

“There. Perfect for our superstar little sister.”

Ranko blushed, looking at her new adornment in the mirror and fingering it to let it catch the light. She’d never owned a diamond before. Or any piece of real jewelry, for that matter, other than the petite silver heart earrings she now wore and the ever-present dragon companion on her left wrist. “Izumi, I don’t know what to say.”

The bride bent down carefully, giving her youngest sister a kiss on the temple. “Say you’re almost ready. I gotta go get married already.”