Running her hand over the smooth, polyurethane-coated oak of the main bar counter, Ranko closed her eyes and smiled. Her mind was lost in recollection of leaning against the counter while Izumi removed a dab of buttercream frosting from her nose with a napkin on her birthday. She knew every millimeter of the bar after nearly a month of living and working there, and little by little, every corner of it was filling with happy memories and hopeful moments. She flooded her mind with them as she sought to push the memory of the attack from her mind.
She looked over her reflection in the mirrored liquor bottle display mounted to the wall behind the service bar. Izumi had outdone herself for the bar’s rising starlet’s triumphant return performance. Ranko was wearing a long, form-fitting Chinese style dress in silk, a slightly-off white, with a vine of purple roses climbing up the entire right side of her body. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail secured with a matching off-white ribbon, and Ranko had consented to let Izumi use some makeup to cover the remaining echoes of the bruises on her face and neck. She wore no necklace, as her neck was still a bit sore where she’d been strangled with her choker. With a soft smile, she fingered the silver bracelet clasped around her arm, the silent guardian dragon that sealed the evidence of her past away and allowed her to so embrace her present.
Hana had given her permission for Ranko to sing, subject to all of Yui’s conditions and a few more, among those being no physical interaction with the crowd. She would not see her youngest charge at risk of being hurt again before she was fully on her feet and able to defend herself. To ensure her isolation from the audience, Izumi and Mei had cordoned off the entertainment area of the bar with two long tables butted end-to-end. On this makeshift barrier, they’d arranged a hedge of flowers made from all of the floral arrangements Ranko had received from concerned well-wishers. A small RESERVED sign, hand-made by Mei, hung from the front edge of the table with clear tape. It looks like it’s set up to receive a frickin’ princess or something, Ranko thought, and her face flushed. She couldn’t help but smile at the idea, though.
Off to the side closest to the men’s room, by the Pac-Man machine, a separate table had been set up for cards, candies, and all of the other non-floral gifts that Ranko had received. Behind the barricade of tables sat a single high-top table with two chairs situated next to the purple billiards table near the side entrance to the kitchen. Ranko blushed again at an idea she had, slowly walking around the pool table to the makeshift shrine of gifts and lifting the giant pink teddy bear from the pile. It was easily a match in height for Ranko herself, and its legs dragged on the freshly-mopped wood floor as she wrapped her arms around it and carried it to the tall chair closest to her. She propped it up in the chair before gingerly stepping up into the seat opposite it.
“Gotta say, he’s a better-looking date than any I’ve had recently,” Mei said with a giggle, propping one of the bear’s hands up on the table such that it was almost holding hands with its companion. “Now, you be respectful of my little sister, there, mister bear. I expect you to be a gentleman at all times. No funny business, alright?” She wagged her finger in its face admonishingly. “I don’t wanna hafta knock the stuffin’ outta you. And I want her home by midnight! You understand me, mister?!”
Ranko giggled loudly, rolling her eyes and shaking her head gingerly. “Mei! I already live upstairs, dummy! I am home!” Her smile lingered after the laughter had faded, and she sighed happily, basking in the comforting feeling that enveloped her as she considered what she’d just said.
“Fair enough, but I still expect you to behave like a young lady around this one,” Mei said with a tittering grin of her own. “I mean, he hasn’t even had a drink yet, and he already isn’t wearing any pants.”
The redhead hid her face in her hands, nodding. “I’ll do my best to control myself and behave, but he’s just so hot, Mei… I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up in my bed before the night is out.”
The blue-haired girl smirked, turning her wagging finger to Ranko. “Well, you two be good. And if you can’t be good? Name the baby after me.” She looked down at her plastic pink Hello Kitty watch before turning her eyes back up to her sister. “You about ready to do this thing, sis?”
Ranko took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, nodding to Mei. “Let them in.”
Mei unlocked the door and a stream of excited customers began to enter, many filtering either to one of the tables in the center of the bar room, or to the counter to queue for drinks from Ranko’s sister Yui. As she was largely hidden around the corner behind the service bar, Ranko was able to observe in relative obscurity, and she noticed that several of them were carrying flowers and other gifts. Some of the offering-bearing patrons walked to the back corner to place their tributes. Finding the makeshift shrine that had been erected over the previous three days missing, several craned their necks and scanned the bar for an alternate place to leave them.
A tall blond man in a red-and-black plaid shirt and blue jeans, bearing a dozen red roses, was the first to spy the young songstress and her stuffed pink beau at her two-top table. He whooped loudly, waving to the crowd in his excitement. “You guys! She’s here!”
Ranko stood, making her way to the border of her little cordoned-off prison. She walked on her own, but stayed close enough to the barricade of tables that she could lean on it for support if she had to. Some seventy people gathered on the other side of the barrier, at a ratio of close to three guys for every two ladies.
If this keeps up, Hana’s probably going to get a visit from the fire marshall, Ranko thought with an easy smile as she waved to the assembling well-wishers. “Hi, everybody! Thanks so much for coming out to see me, and for checking on me all week long. And all this stuff! Gods! Christmas isn’t even for a few more weeks yet!”
“We love you, Ranko!” came an excited shout from a short man in a tan suit coat and slacks near the back of the throng.
The redhead blushed deeply, using the pretense of brushing her hair from her eyes to hide her face with her hand. “Yeah? Well, I love you guys too. And don’t you worry too much about me. I’m doing much better! I’m not 100% back to normal yet, but don’t you worry! I’ll be slinging shots again in no time.”
The crowd whooped in encouragement.
Ranko grinned devilishly. “Waaaaait a minute! You all aren’t here because you like it when I bring you your beers and fries at all, are you?”
A loud chorus of “NO!” responses rose in unison from the amassing crowd.
Mei rolled her eyes at Izumi, having slipped out from between the twin bar counters to watch Ranko’s homecoming reception. She tried to tell herself that it was only to celebrate with her, and not also to keep an eye on the crowd and make sure no one else had any designs on hurting her little sister. “She’s eating this up, isn’t she? I mean, look at her! You’d think she’s been doing this her whole life.” If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Before Izumi, who was shaking a cocktail behind the service bar in a red floral dress, could answer, Yui did so from her position behind the main bar as she caught a bottle of vodka she’d tossed behind her back. “Yes. And she deserves to.”
Ranko grinned in devious excitement. “So, lemme get this straight: you want me to sing, then? Is that it?!” The crowd cheered in unison, and Ranko met it with a tittering laugh. “I’ll just have to see what I can do for ya. After you order lots of yummy drinks from my sisters, that is.” The young songstress cringed, watching the herd turn and move as a single stampede from her little promenade to the bar counter. Oof, she thought, inhaling sharply through gritted teeth. Sorry, Yui… She wished she could run behind the bar to help with the rush she’d created, but it had been expressly forbidden by Yui herself and Hana both.
While the crowd was occupied with the acquisition of libations, Ranko slipped around the line of tables and made her way carefully along the back wall of the bar toward the stage. She stepped up onto the raised platform, where Mei had left another high-backed stool for her. Climbing up into it, she picked up the handheld microphone from its stand and laid it on her lap in the little hammock formed by her skirt between her thighs.
She waited there for a good twenty minutes until the crowd had mostly settled, picking up her microphone and flicking the switch on its neck with her thumb to turn it on. “Okay. Whew! It’s so good to be back up here again, Phoenix!”
The audience roared in agreement. It was quite clear Ranko had not been the only one who had lamented her absence on the little triangular corner stage of the venue that was rapidly becoming one of the hottest little dive bars in Minato.
“Yeah, I missed you all, too.”
She nodded to Mei, who pressed the start key on the computer. A sultry melody rose from the speakers, a Japanese pop ballad from some 25 years before Ranko’s birth. She and Mei had decided that these lower-energy, older songs would be a safer way to make her return, as they minimized the expectation of choreography and vigorous performance.
The room went silent as the bar’s lone spotlight kicked on, focused on the redhead seated on the stage. Even from as far away as the light was, mounted in the trusswork in the bar’s open ceiling, its warmth prickled every cell of Ranko’s skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it felt like a warm embrace, enveloping her entire being and welcoming it home.
As Ranko’s voice rose to begin the first verse, Izumi smiled, swaying softly with the music and playing with the hem of her dress behind the service bar. She wished she had thought to put little candles on all the tables; it would have really set the mood for the intimate and old-fashioned, glamorous lounge singer nature of Ranko’s return performance.
During the bridge of the song, Ranko thought she might want to stand up, but as she put one foot on the floor, she felt herself wobble slightly. She had to steady herself with an extended arm just to remain perched atop her stool. Better not push it just yet, Ranko decided. Thank goodness Izzi didn’t try to put me in high heels or nothin’.
Hana noticed the minor stumble, watching her youngest charge intently from behind the cordon of tables and flowers and searching for any sign that Ranko was pushing herself too hard. The guests seemed not to pick up on the little glitch in the performance, however.
What the young singer could not manage in physicality, she poured into her voice, finishing the song on a long-sustained belt. The crowd, which now numbered in excess of two hundred, roared in appreciation. She smiled, panning her eyes across the crowd. The ceiling-mounted spotlight caught the corner of her eyes, and she cringed and squinted as she shrunk back from its glare on her stool. The bright light in her eyes aggravated the still-persistent thrumming headache in the back of her skull, and she resigned herself to asking Mei to turn the spotlight off for the remainder of the evening’s performances.
“Thank you, everyone.” She didn’t dare try to stand and bow; she knew she would almost certainly topple over.
Hana slipped around the barrier of tables blocking off the gaming area of the bar and made her way to the tiny little stage, offering her hand up to Ranko. “C’mon, break time for a minute, honey.”
Ranko nodded, taking the barkeep’s hand and rising unsteadily to her feet.
The Phoenix’s matriarch yelled to the crowd, needing no microphone to be heard over the din. “Back up! Give her some space, everybody!”
The group took a few steps back from the stage platform, giving Hana a clear pathway to escort Ranko back to her seat. Ranko clung to her arm, trying her best to put on an air of confidence as she walked and failing entirely. The crowd murmured a little at the sight. It was obvious that the singer was not well enough to perform, but she was doing so anyway. For them. Ranko looked up at them as she paused between steps, noting the dismay on the faces of the few in front, and furrowed her brow in a frown.
One of the young men in front, the guy in the suit coat and jeans, raised a cheer and started clapping again. Soon, the two friends he’d come with joined in, and then others. The applause settled into a rhythm, almost like a marching cadence. The encouragement brought a smile to Ranko’s face and a bit more steel to her spine, and it did not stop until she was seated back at her table.
Izumi walked over to her table, serving tray in hand. She placed a glass of soda in front of her sister, and an unopened bottle of beer in front of Ranko’s teddy bear. “For your companion. On the house.” She giggled a little, pushing her way back toward the bar before giving Ranko a chance to respond.
<hr>
The rest of the evening had gone much the same as it began, with Ranko singing slow standards one at a time from a seated position. She’d performed more songs than usual, though; where normally she only sang two or three times a night, on that night, she managed six. The arrayed row of tables had been piled higher still with more flowers and gifts, delivered by well-wishers who had not yet expected to find her up and about.
As the last patrons exited the bar at closing time, Hana slipped through the side door from the kitchen behind the pool table and approached Ranko’s table with a proud smile. “What do we think? Is my little star ready to call it a night?”
Ranko frowned, slumping on her elbows and supporting her chin in her hands. “Can’t I please help with cleanup, at least a little? I could roll silverware or something like that sitting down.”
Hana shook her head emphatically. “You knew the rules, and you agreed to them. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it. Now, come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you up to bed.”
“Alright, alright.” She waved good night to her sisters as Hana escorted her through the side door and toward the stairs to her little apartment.
“I’m so proud of you, you know,” Hana said as the pair ascended the steps at a snail’s pace. “The way they gravitate to you out there… you’re really something, you know that?”
Ranko blushed, waving Hana’s words out of the air with her left hand even as her right maintained a death grip on the handrail of the narrow staircase. “I give Izzi’s dress at least forty percent of the credit. I’m just… I dunno, it just feels nice to do something people care about. Something that makes people like me. I never thought people would celebrate me like that. I don’t know what to do with it.”
Hana smiled as she eased Ranko onto the landing at the top of the steps, reaching for the door to the little apartment and pushing it open. “You enjoy it. But you don’t ever let yourself fall into the trap of thinking it’s the only reason people like you, sweetheart.”
The redhead shrugged, grasping her benefactor’s arm tight with a quiet creak from the black leather of Hana’s jacket sleeve as she kicked off her shoes. “I mean, nobody ever felt that way about me before I started singing. So, that’s gotta be it, I guess.”
“Alternatively,” Hana said as she led Ranko to the bed, “it’s probably because they just hadn’t gotten to know you yet.”