Grumbling to herself, Akane clicked at the television remote, flipping through the channels for something to watch. I don’t want to get into a movie, she thought with a sigh. I’ll have to turn it off part way through. She looked down at the black digital watch on her left wrist with a quiet groan, rolling her eyes in frustration. Hopefully, anyway.
Ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, Akane settled on a sitcom, tossing the remote down on the couch next to her. She leaned back on the couch, using Ranko’s stuffed bear Ziggy as a pillow. What the hell is taking her so long?!
Ranko sighed, poking at her hair with a comb in the bathroom mirror and starting to spritz it with a bit more hair spray. She looked down at the can, shaking it with a disappointed sigh, and tossing into the porcelain bathroom trash can with a hollow clink. Better not light a match in here, she thought with a half-suppressed laugh. With half a can of that stuff in the air, this place’ll go up like Nagasaki.
Oh, dammit! Now the other side’s uneven! Ranko frantically picked at the right side of her slightly-curled half-blown-out hair, trying to get it to match her left. I knew I should’ve just gone for the pigtails. Not as pretty, but at least it’d have made her blush. She sighed in despair, looking up at the clock on the bathroom wall above the medicine cabinet. And it would have been done a half-hour ago.
“Are you sure I can’t help,” came a shout from the living room couch through the locked bathroom door as Ranko began gently swishing a mascara brush through her right eyelash.
“I wanna get it myself,” Ranko called back through the door, but she’d been startled by Akane’s voice and jumped slightly, resulting in an uneven application of the cosmetic. “ Shit,” she mouthed silently as she wiped her mistake away with a wad of toilet paper and set about trying again.
“Alright, just, hurry up!” Akane sighed, swiveling on her backside to face the giant pink plush bear whose arm she was using as a headrest as she waited on the sofa. “Honestly, Ziggy,” she said quietly with a sardonic chuckle, “I bet you could get ready faster.”
The bear did not respond.
Throwing her mascara tube in the sink with frustration after having finally gotten it close enough to how she wanted it on the fourth try, Ranko reached blindly for her eyeliner pencil while still fiddling with her hair a bit, hoping to make final adjustments before the hair spray fully set. She knocked the pencil to the floor with her fingertips, having misjudged its distance from her hand. “Urggghh,” she grumbled anxiously, bending down for it and setting to work on her left eye.
Akane looked out the living room window at the lights of the shops and restaurants in the alley below, which had been on for at least an hour as darkness fell on the warm April evening. She stood, ignoring the television with which she’d already gotten bored, leaning on the wall and watching people scurry between the businesses as they disembarked from the city bus. See? At least some people managed to make it out of their apartments tonight.
Ranko growled loudly in self-rebuke. Fuck! That was the lip pencil, not the eye pencil! You’d think they’d label these damn things better. Guess I gotta do that over again, too.
Ranko couldn’t help but chuckle at the state of the bathroom counter. The entire surface looked like a typhoon had hit it; cosmetics of every type and description having been haphazardly tossed aside in her urgency to finish getting ready. She found herself wishing they had space in their little apartment for a dedicated vanity, where she could sit as she worked, better organize her growing cosmetic collection for storage, and have proper lighting for applying the various mystifying lotions and potions that had slowly infiltrated her life. Her cheeks turned a bright crimson with the realization. It’s not ‘cause I like it, she tried to reassure herself. It’s practical. I’m a performer. I have to take all this crap seriously whether I want to or not. It’s part of the job. Plus, I’m accumulating so much of this shit, the counter’s just buried all the time.
“Are you at least almost done in the bathroom? I gotta pee!” Akane’s muffled voice reached her fiancee’s ears through the hollow bathroom door.
“Almost,” Ranko called out exasperatedly. “Five more minutes, maybe?” She stifled a yelp as she plucked a stubborn hair from her eyebrow with a pair of tweezers. Screw it, that’s gonna have to be good enough. What next, what next… lip stuff. Right. She reached for the small red tube, popping the cap off and twisting it at its base.
Akane’s mouth grumbled in concert with her stomach, and she looked down at her watch again as she paced the living room floor. Two hours. I told her to get dressed for dinner two freakin’ hours ago. This is getting ridiculous. All she had to do was throw on a shirt and a skirt!
“Okay,” Ranko called as she retreated to the bedroom, locking the door between the bedroom and bathroom. “Bathroom’s yours!” She darted over to her dresser, opening a small wooden trinket box carved with a pair of interlocking hearts and dumping its sparkling contents out on the chipping white paint of the chest of drawers’ top surface.
How did I get to a place where I needed a friggin’ jewelry box? Like, I had one pair of stud earrings a year ago, and even that was just ‘cause Izzi didn’t tell me she was planning on getting my ears pierced until they came at me with that stupid hole puncher gun at the mall.
Ranko frenziedly dug through the pile of tangled earrings, sorting them out into the eight unique pairs and looking them over. Do I go with the cute, playful ones, or the fancier ones? She groaned, holding up different options against her ears in the mirror. This might be the thing I miss most about being a guy. Basically no decisions when you wanna go somewhere.. Shirt, pants, out the door. Easy. Usually the same shirt and pants every day, too.
She opted for a pair of sterling silver leverbacks adorned with tiny sapphire hearts. They used to be Mei’s, but she handed them down to her younger sister after noticing how well they matched the promise ring Akane had given her at Christmas. She opened one of the latches, sticking herself with a quiet squeak before finding the permanent hole in her right earlobe and sliding the earring’s post through it.
“You’re killing me in there, Ranko!” The door between the bathroom and the living room creaked open loudly as Akane moved back toward the kitchen. Maybe I should find a snack, Akane thought with a sigh. At this rate, I’m gonna be taking her out for breakfast.
She’d still not told Ranko that Fumiko had spilled the beans about how Akane’s return to the Minato Mystics volleyball team had been orchestrated - what she’d put herself through with Eiji, the engagement and pregnancy rumors that had swirled around Ranko’s high school in January, all of it. Certainly explains why she was able to pull off the whole Aki thing so well on Valentine’s Day, Akane thought with a dark, quiet chuckle.
It had been an awkward train ride home from the volleyball tournament, and an awkward few days since. Every time she looked at Ranko, she felt a roiling mixture of emotions. There was resentment and disgust at her having played around with Fumiko’s younger brother. There was appreciation for how doting and sweet Ranko was being, trying to blunt the pain of the volleyball loss. There was worry and hurt over the fact Ranko had, even now that it was all over, never told her what she had done. There was gratitude and pride for Ranko having taken such an extreme risk to make Akane happy. There was a desire not to say anything and give Ranko something else to worry about, when she was finally living a little again and wasn’t constantly a nervous wreck thinking about the fact that Nodoka Saotome was still showing up to her father’s home once or twice a week looking for her. Fortunately, she’d been able to play off her distant behavior as sadness over the volleyball team, so Ranko didn’t seem to suspect anything.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
She wanted to be mad. Furious. After all, it sounded an awful lot like cheating, until she reminded herself that there was all but zero chance Ranko had actually felt any real attraction to Fumiko’s younger brother. She hoped that Fumiko was right, and that he’d had none toward her, either. The more she thought about it, though, the more she felt terrible that Ranko had suffered through so much, for so long, to right a wrong she’d never really been the one to commit in the first place. They’d decided together to let their relationship out of the closet after Sneak , and so it had never been Ranko’s responsibility alone to undo the fallout from their disclosure. Even if she had been two-timing then, there was absolutely no doubt that Ranko was in love with her now.
Given how much she’d put herself out there to help reconcile Akane and her father, though, it was no surprise to her that Ranko would have made such a brazen sacrifice to try and give her everything she wanted – even before having checked whether it really even was what Akane wanted. The gambit had been incredibly dumb, and she’d have done anything in her power to talk Ranko out of it. Then again, the fact she’d have tried to talk the silly girl out of it was almost certainly the reason Ranko had never told her she was doing it. She had no trouble believing it when Fumiko told her. Doing something dumb and dangerous to make Akane happy could not have been more typical of her fiancee.
It was stupid, it was reckless, it was a betrayal, and it was… kind of sweet, in Ranko’s backwards-ass brain. All that time, she was tolerating all of that, on top of everything else we had going on, and she never said a word. She never complained, and she never let me see it. I’m guessing she didn’t go to her sisters either, or it would have gotten back to me. Sometimes I forget how strong and selfless that girl really is, even when she’s doing something she knows will hurt me, she does it to try and help me. Strong, selfless, and so, so stupid.
Akane was desperately worried that Ranko could have subjected herself to a… physical… relationship with Eiji in furtherance of her scheme. Fumiko said her brother had sworn they didn’t even kiss, but Akane doubted he’d have admitted it to his sister if they had. After what she had been through with Takao, the thought that Ranko could have actually slept with a boy to give her a spot on a sports team - that it was a very real possibility given how desperate she had been to make things right after Sneak - turned her stomach like gas station sushi. She doubted Ranko would ever admit it if she had, and Akane couldn’t ask without letting on that she knew.
Ranko bleated quietly in harried vexation as she fastened the earring’s mate into the opening in her left earlobe. “I’m so sorry, Akane. I’m going as fast as I can!”
Her exclamation snapped Akane back into the moment. Stop thinking about that now, Akane. We’re going on a date. We planned this more than a week ago, and if I’d canceled, she’d have known something was up. Fuck, I need to either talk to her about it, or let it go. I can’t just let shit be weird forever.
Buzzing around the bedroom frantically, Ranko stopped for a moment to check the mirror, running through her appearance in her mind. What else, what else.. Earrings. check. Rings… Ranko looked down at her hands with a bright smile. Check and check. Dress? Check. Hair? Check. Bracelet? Check. Makeup? As good as it’s gonna get.
As she reached for the doorknob, she caught a glimpse of her silver star necklace, her bridesmaid’s gift from Izumi. Shit, we completely forgot we need to get presents for the girls. And we’re gonna need six of them. Oh well, one more thing we can’t afford to stick on Akane’s list.
As she considered it, her hand raised to her neck, noting that not only was the little star pendant not dangling from her throat, nothing else was, either. Necklace! Duh. She started to reach for the pendant, but thought better of it, pulling open her dresser drawer. I think she’ll like this better. She withdrew a white lace choker with a silver dangle in the shape of the outline of a heart, an artifact remaining in her collection from her first Christmas concert, and clasped it around her neck.
She checked herself over in the mirror one last time, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly with a proud smile. Not bad, Ranko. Not perfect, but not bad.
Akane’s head snapped around at the sound of the bedroom door opening. “It’s about ti…”
Ranko nodded as Akane’s voice trailed off mid-syllable, looking down at her stockinged feet under the knee-length silver shimmery dress she’d been gifted by Izumi in celebration of her being invited to join the Dapper Dragons. “I know, Akane. I’m really sorry. I just, we don’t get to go out much lately, and I really wanted to be extra special for you. But we can go now.”
Akane stepped forward slowly, studying her intently with every motion.
The songstress stammered to fill the silence. “I knew it, you’re mad. I should have just thrown on something quick. I really am sorry, Akane.” Ranko hung her head, but Akane tilted her chin up with a gentle hand.
“You… are absolutely, positively stunning.” All of Akane’s frustration and conflicted thoughts about Eiji evaporated from her mind the second she saw the vision of the woman that was to be her bride.
Ranko felt all the blood in her body rush to her face, but she smiled hopefully. “Really? I did okay? I think I messed up the foundation a little, and I just couldn’t get my hair to sit right on the left. But I tried.” In reality, she’d gone far beyond the level of skill she’d obtained over seventeen months of preparing herself for the stage on regular nights at the Phoenix; Izumi still got her ready for the bigger shows. Akane could easily recognize that she had pushed her limits with her makeup in particular, and smiled appreciatively with the realization that she had done so for her.
She could worry about Eiji tomorrow. Tonight, that girl was all hers, and that felt like all that mattered.
Ranko turned her head to the side, pulling back her hair. “I wasn’t sure if I picked the right earrings. Do you think I sh…”
The songstress’ words were stifled mid-thought as Akane’s lips rushed into contact with her own. She emitted a muffled mewl as she granted Akane’s tongue entrance to her mouth.
“Akane,” Ranko said with her face aflame after her lover finally released her from the kiss. “We gotta get going! I already made us super late.”
The larger girl waved her off. “It’s no use. The restaurant closes in twenty minutes.”
“Ohhh, dammit! I’m so sorry, Akane! You really wanted to go somewhere nice, and I blew it!” Ranko slumped back against the wall, letting her head thump against the drywall. “And now we gotta figure something else out for dinner, besides!”
Shaking her head, Akane smiled desirously. “We’ll order some Chinese for delivery. It’ll be fine, honest.” Her appetites had shifted dramatically in the last few moments anyway.
“No, it’s not fine! I screwed up your whole night. All you wanted was a nice date together and I messed the whole thing up. I should have known how long all this junk takes me, and realized I didn’t have time.” Ranko sighed sadly. “What a waste of a perfectly good night. I’m really sorry, Akane.”
“Stop apologizing, Ranko. Please?” At least, apologizing for tonight, anyway? Akane stroked her hand across her partner’s powdered cheek, smiling as she felt her fiancee shiver ever so slightly under her whisper-soft grazing touch. “And it wasn’t a waste.”
“How you figure? I spent all afternoon gettin’ into all this getup!” Ranko tried to pull away, clearly frustrated with herself.
Akane leaned forward, catching Ranko’s right hand as it waved her off, and pinning it to the wall between the bedroom and bathroom doors. The redhead quaked as she felt the most tender of kisses along the nape of her neck, Akane’s lips straddling the white lace band around her throat. Ranko’s left hand joined her right, held tightly against the wall by the young martial artist she was set to marry.
“And now,” she whispered mere centimeters from Ranko’s right ear, “I’m gonna spend all night getting you out of it again.”