Ranko spit the last mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, sticking her out her tongue with a crinkled nose as she rinsed her toothbrush and rested it on the counter. Blegh. That mint stuff is nasty. She yawned loudly as she made her way to the open closet. To her dismay, no new options had appeared in it while she was in the shower.
I have gotta find a minute to do some laundry. It’s just such a pain in the ass to haul everything to the laundromat around the corner, especially when it’s cold. Maybe I can get Aya to give me a lift next time she comes by, Ranko thought hopefully. Of her newfound family, only Ayako and her husband Kage owned a car; Mei and Izumi preferred to rely on public transport, and Yui had taken after the girls’ adoptive mother and purchased a motorcycle.
Sighing in resignation, she extracted a red corduroy skirt that didn’t quite reach her knees and a light gray tee shirt with a large pink heart on the front from her cramped little closet, beginning to get herself dressed. I’m gonna freeze my tits off in this outfit, and it is going to suck. A lot. As soon as I get some spare money, I have got to get myself some warmer clothes. The Amazon curse of the Full Body Cat’s Tongue had made her skin terribly sensitive to heat, but almost more so to extreme cold, and she acutely felt the December chill every time the front door of the Phoenix opened at night.
Pulling her hair into a loose ponytail with a white hair elastic, she looked herself over in the mirror that hung from the closet door. Not amazing, but it’ll do, she thought to herself, stepping into her black slip-on shoes and opening the apartment door to head downstairs and start her day. She was out the door far earlier than usual on that Monday morning; the slow Sunday night before had permitted Ranko and her sisters to complete most of the closing tasks in the last hour the bar was open. Prior to the night before, the last shift at the Phoenix that Ranko recalled ending before three in the morning had involved a blunt-force head trauma.
She could have stayed upstairs and relaxed, but truly, Ranko wanted to get a head start on the day. Maybe I can get most of the morning stuff done before the girls even get here, to help out. I bet, with everything going on, they’d appreciate it. I mean, Izzi’s neck-deep in wedding planning, and Mei… Ranko blinked, shaking her head with a sudden realization. Come to think of it, I don’t know what the heck’s up with Mei. She’s only worked one or two nights this week. I hope she’s okay. Maybe she’s just busy with homework and shit. In any case, I should probably plan on another shift of just me, Mama and Yui. Hopefully it’ll be slow again tonight, ‘cause man, covering the whole floor by myself and singing once an hour is kinda kicking my ass, especially on the days Izzi tries to make me wear freakin’ heels.
Ranko sighed as she reached the base of the stairs. Even Mama Hana’s been a little distant with me the last few days. I hope it’s not, like, ‘cause she’s still disappointed in me ‘cause I didn’t finish school or anything like that. It’s not that I didn’t wanna graduate, I just… I couldn’t. Not like that. Not at Furinkan. Not as a girl. She shuddered, recalling the feel of Tatewaki Kuno’s hands exploring her chest as they had the first day she had met the philandering upperclassman. I can’t wait ‘til Akane’s out of that fucking hellhole. I know he graduated, but I’m sure he’s still hanging around, especially given his freakazoid dad runs the joint. And it’s not like all the rest of the horde is any better, they’re just not good enough martial artists to even stand a chance against Akane.
She shook her head, casting her eyes to the floor as she made a right turn and walked into the empty bar kitchen. I’m sorry, Akane. Maybe I shouldn’t have run. It was selfish, I know. I mean, I’m in a much better place now, but maybe I should have stayed and protected you, even though… Ranko sighed again, dropping her fist onto the metal prep counter with a loud thunk.
Who am I even kidding? She’d be protecting me, rather than the other way around. I’m the fragile little girl now, especially compared to her. She’s the most badass martial artist in Nerima now, and I’m the one making a living shaking my ass for strangers in short skirts and twin pigtails.
Ranko scoffed under her breath, allowing herself to laugh at her own realization.
And, while I absolutely hate everything I had to lose to get here, gods help me…
I’m having the time of my fucking life doing it.
I’m happy. I’m safe. I have people that actually… She beamed down at the ever-present silver dragon coiled around her left wrist. Its tiny sapphire eye almost seemed to smile back at her. “I am wanted, I have worth, and I have people who care about me,” she whispered, breaking the almost oppressive silence in the normally-bustling commercial kitchen.
Ranko pulled up a metal stool to the prep counter. That done, she walked to the back corner of the room, pulling open the door to the walk-in cooler. Fuck! Cold-cold-cold… where are you… She wrapped her arms around her torso, not that it did much to combat the Full Body Cat’s Tongue’s reaction to standing in a freezer in a thin cotton tee shirt and a skirt that didn’t cover even down to her knees. She frantically scanned the aluminum racks of the cooler, bending down at the waist to lift a large plastic bin of oranges from the bottom shelf on her left. Her cheeks flushed as she realized that the way she bent for the bin would have given anyone standing behind her a show under her red corduroy skirt. Sad thing is, I’m grateful for the warmth on my friggin’ face.
She hurried out of the walk-in, kicking it closed behind her with her heel as she carried the bin of fruit back to her stool. Ranko mounted the stool, yelping audibly as her backside came in contact with the cold metal. “Shit!” The redhead rocketed back to her feet, tugging her skirt down as much as it would go on her slender frame in an attempt to prevent her skin from making contact with the seat. Exhaling heavily and bracing herself in case she misjudged the skirt again, she tentatively sat, this time more comfortably.
Sighing, she grabbed an orange from the top of the heaping bin. She reached to her right, her hand grasping at air over the knife rack. Ranko sighed and rolled her eyes. You put them all in the dishwasher last night, stupid. She stood again, making her way toward the main bar down the narrow hallway. After pushing through the blue slatted door into the bar room, she popped open the dishwasher behind the service bar with her foot. Its lower rack slid out to meet her, and she drew a long chef’s knife from the plastic silverware caddy in it with a ringing sound not unlike the unsheathing of a sword. She giggled for a moment, imagining herself as some samurai warrior from a Kurasawa movie as she grasped the chef knife’s handle with both hands, taking a wide stance behind the service bar. “I, Ranko Tendo, swear on my honor as a martial artist that I will purge the world of all vile, corrupt fruits! Citrus demons, begone!” Spinning the knife back into a more defensive posture for safer carrying, she continued laughing as she walked back through the white linoleum-tiled hallway toward the kitchen. She paused halfway, having noticed something strange that had failed to catch her eye on the way out to the bar room.
The door to Hana’s office was partially ajar.
Mama never leaves her door open. She’s too embarrassed about how messy it gets in there. She cracked a slight smile. I’ve got some extra time this morning. Maybe I could clean up in there a little for her before she comes in. It’d be a nice surprise, to show her how much I appreciate everything she’s been doing for me.
Ranko gently pushed the office door open the rest of the way, its hinges protesting with a quiet creak. As she did, she found Hana slumped over on the cracked red leather couch along the far wall. She was quietly snoring. An empty glass tequila bottle lay on the brownish-red area rug, not far from where her left arm loosely hung.
Ranko sighed, putting the knife down as quietly as she could on the cluttered desktop next to a pile of papers, tucking its blade under the stack. “Mama, this isn’t good for you,” she said quietly, almost to herself rather than her sleeping boss. She picked up the black leather jacket that was still draped over the back of Hana’s dilapidated office chair, covering her form up with it as best she could.
As the weight of the coat landed on her body, Hana stirred with a loud groan and reached up for her right temple. “Huh? Wha… oh. Hey, Ranko.”
Ranko could tell just from the smell of the old barkeep’s breath exactly where the tequila had gone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you… okay? If you need to rest, you’re more than welcome to use the bed upstairs.”
Hana waved her off limply, her coordination clearly not fully online yet after having just woken up. “I’m fine, fine. You don’t fret about me, now, baby. I’m the mom around here. That’s my job.”
The redhead sighed, shaking her head with an amused smile. “We take care of each other here, remember? That’s what you always say, anyway.” She spoke more quietly, mindful of the wince on the proprietress’ face in response to her initial greeting. Ranko bent down, this time remembering to do so at the knees in deference to the lack of modesty afforded to her in her less-than-modest skirt, and scooped the empty bottle up from the floor. “Can I… make you some tea or anything?”
Hana shook her head, a new grimace and her left hand rising to her other temple indicating that she regretted making that particular gesture. “Coffee. Black. Strong.”
Ranko flashed the proprietress a spritely grin. “Coming right up!” She had been trying to put on as cheerful a demeanor as possible around Hana of late, trying to proactively demonstrate that she was feeling more happy and confident. With any luck, she hoped, it might slow the torrent of well-meaning but prying questions she got about her past from all five of the other denizens of the Phoenix. Ranko actually found it fairly easy to do; she had just gotten in the habit of using her customer service voice when speaking to Hana as if she were one of the bar’s patrons and not its owner. She found it hard to do so and simultaneously modulate her vocal volume in order to be considerate of Hana’s apparent hangover, however. The redhead disappeared from the untidy office, returning a few moments later with a steaming white ceramic mug that she handed to the elder woman.
Hana cupped the mug in both of her hands, as Ranko had not offered it to her handle-first. The hypersensitive teen could not bear its heat directly on her skin without the few centimeters of air gap the handle provided. Beyond that, she dared not risk something as innocuous as a few spilled drops of black coffee unveiling her deepest secret: the long-avoided masculine form lying in wait to burst out of her miniskirt in a fit of agony at the first touch of hot liquid. Hana downed half of the mug’s contents quickly, making a little grunt in reaction to the still-scalding brew coursing down her throat.
Ranko pulled the tattered, wheeled office chair around the desk, sitting in it and facing the bar’s matriarch. “Miss Hana, is there anything you want to talk about? You’ve seemed kind of… off lately. I’m worried about you.” She had been a little hesitant to use the honorific Mama in Hana’s presence for the last few days, owing in large part to her continued sense of guilt over the incident with the American patrons.
The bar’s matriarch shook her head, more gently this time. “It’s nothing you can help with.”
Ranko sighed quietly, looking down at her hands. “Maybe not, but I’d like to try. You’ve done so much for me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?!” Hana’s voice took on an irritated tone that took Ranko by surprise.
Ranko recoiled in shock at the sound of Hana’s raised voice. “I… yes, ma’am.”
Hana sighed, downing the rest of her coffee in one gulp and standing. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on the wall behind the couch to regain her equilibrium. As she did, a letter-folded piece of white paper fell off of the couch, seemingly having ended up under Hana’s body when she passed out on it after the previous night’s service.
Ranko bent down in Hana’s chair and picked it up. “Mama, you dropped your…” As she held the document up to the barkeep, she caught a glimpse of what was written on it. She hadn’t been trying to pry, but the kanji FINAL DEMAND FOR PAYMENT stamped in red across the top were hard to miss.
Hana turned as Ranko spoke, but given her diminished reflexes, she could not react fast enough to keep the letter’s contents secret. She sighed defeatedly, slumping back down on the couch. “So, I guess you know now. We’re in some trouble here.” Hana shook her head dejectedly. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, honey. I’m just… I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
Ranko looked at her benefactor, her jaw falling slightly slack. “But… we’ve been doing so well lately, I thought. The bar has been full most nights.” Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“Since you started singing, yeah. But we were behind long before you got here, honey. It’s just been too little, too late. And I… I’m out of ideas. More than thirty years of my life I’ve poured into this place.” She rocked back on the couch, resting her elbows on her thighs and cradling her head in her hands. “I just haven’t been able to figure out how to tell you girls, especially you. You finally had some fucking stability in your life.”
Ranko looked over the bill in her hand, assuming there were several more bearing such threatening warnings buried in the teetering stack of papers on the desktop behind her. Her mind raced. Not only will I be out of a job, and a place to stay, but what will it do to Hana and the girls?! Their whole lives are tied up in this place. All of them pay their bills out of here. Their whole identity is the Phoenix. Just the way they say the name of the bar, you’d think it was their clan name.
These people helped me when nobody else would. Maybe I can’t be the big, bad martial artist that protects Akane from dozens of horny jocks back at Furinkan anymore, but this? Maybe this, I can do something about. There’s more than one way to protect the people you care about. This cannot stand. I’m gonna handle it for them. Somehow. I swear it.
Ranko put on as bright of a customer service smile as she could muster, and eyes filled with hope, hoping to replenish Hana’s diminished reservoir of it. Meanwhile, at her side, her left hand clenched tight into a determined fist.
This family is not gonna get hurt on my watch, she resolved to herself. Ever.
“What we’re gonna do is fix it, Mama.” All of the hesitation Ranko had felt about using the honorific for her benefactor had evaporated in an instant.
Hana scoffed dismissively. “That’s a great sentiment, Ranko, but how?! We owe way too much, and there just isn’t enough time, especially with Christmas coming.”
The teen sighed wistfully, thinking back to the prior Christmas. She’d spent it at the Tendo house. She’d never for a moment considered it would be her last one together with Akane. If she’d only known what she was starting back then, when she forced me to dress up and sing for her dad with her…
Ranko’s eyes lit up, launching herself to her feet with such force that it sent Hana’s rickety office chair skittering nearly all the way to the back wall of the cramped office space. “Mama, that’s it!”
Hana looked up at her ebullient ward with an utterly befuddled look on her face. First off, she’s being entirely too perky for nine in the morning, especially given she just got terrible news. Second, my head is killing me. Third, how could this kid honestly think she’s gonna come up with something in a few seconds, when I’ve been racking my brain for months, with four decades of bar experience under my belt, and come up with bupkus? And, fourth… my head is really killing me.
“You said it yourself,” Ranko asserted excitedly. “The bar started filling up when I started singing. So, that’s what I’ll do.”
Hana groaned, both in frustration, and in response to the noticeable rise in Ranko’s speaking volume. “Didn’t you hear me? We couldn’t possibly sell enough drinks to catch up the bills before they’re due.”
The hopeful songstress nodded, grinning with pride at her sudden epiphany. “Which is why we’re going to sell tickets at the door, too. We’re going to have ourselves a Christmas concert!”
Hana looked up from her palms. “You… you can’t be serious.”
Ranko nodded forcefully enough to throw her ponytail over her shoulder. “There’s room for what, about three hundred people in the bar, if we take the tables in the middle out? If we charge three thousand yen a person, that’s…” She searched through the loose papers on the desk for a scratch pad and a pencil, writing out the math problem, and taking a painfully long time to complete it. “Nine hundred thousand yen, before drink and food sales. Would that be enough to get us out of trouble?”
The leather-clad barkeep sat up, a spark of hope beginning to take shape behind her mask of melancholy. “Not by itself, but it would be a damn good start!”
Ranko beamed. Did I actually… have a good idea? “And if we have to, we can always do two events, like, on back-to-back nights or something.”
Hana sighed, gently shaking her head. The momentary excitement in her face faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Yeah, but let’s be realistic. This is way too much to put on you, especially in, what? Eight, ten days? Shit, I don’t even know what fuckin’ day it is. But, you’re already working so hard, and you’re just a kid. This is why I hid all this from you girls in the first place.”
The young singer closed the gap between them, reaching down and offering Hana her right hand. “In the few weeks I’ve been here, you and Yui and Izzi and Mei have been there for me more than my blood family were in eighteen years. You’ve invested so much in me, and now it’s time for that investment to pay off.” She squeezed Hana’s hand reassuringly. “Please, Mama? Let me do this, and help my family? The way you’ve all helped me?”
Hana looked up resolutely, a tear forming in the corner of her right eye. “Okay, kiddo. If we’re going down, fuck it. Let’s have ourselves one hell of a party.”
Ranko beamed, punching at the sky with her free hand. “YES! I promise, I won’t let you down!”
Hana stood tentatively, wrapping an arm around Ranko’s shoulders both in affection and to steady herself. “You couldn’t if you tried, honey. But hey, do me a favor today?”
The redhead nodded, breathing deep of the scent of Hana’s leather jacket. The smell always seemed to relax her. She associated it with hugs. With safety. With love.
“Anything, Mama.”
The elder woman smiled, leaning down and softly kissing her young charge on the forehead. “Keep your fucking voice down, would ya, please?”
<hr>
Hana leaned back in her wooden chair, her eyes searching the faces of the four women seated with her at table sixteen for reactions to Ranko’s idea. Her own facial expressions were obscured by the dark-tinted sunglasses she wore to help keep her raging hangover at least partially at bay. The sparkly pink heart-shaped frames looked utterly ridiculous on the middle-aged, rough-and-tumble woman, but they were the only pair her youngest charge had available to loan her.
Yui spoke first, sitting up in her chair. She set her half-empty beer bottle down on the tabletop. “So, let me get this straight: we’re in the shit, and our solution is to throw a friggin’ party?!”
Ranko nodded. “Something like that, yeah. If we get the word out on the college campuses and stuff, I think we can put a pretty big dent in the problem, anyway. C’mon! We’ve gotta try, girls!”
To Ranko’s right, a diminutive young woman with cotton-candy blue pigtails shrugged in exasperation. “But Christmas is less than two weeks away! How do you think we’re going to pull this off?!”
Ranko cocked her head in Mei’s direction, flashing her big sister a confident smile despite her own concerns. “It’s gonna be hard, and even if we do everything right, it might not be enough. But I think we can pull it off, if we remember what we’re fighting for and we do it together. This place is too important to all of us to not do everything in our power that has even a chance to help. We have an obligation to try.”
“Well, I bet we could do a couple of special holiday-themed cocktails to get people ordering more drinks. I’ve been wanting to experiment with some stuff for a while,” Yui said thoughtfully. “Maybe something with peppermint?”
Ranko clapped her hands once. If Yui’s on board, I just know the others will follow suit. “Yes! Yui, that’s a great idea! We’ll need to make sure we have plenty of Christmas songs loaded up for me, too.”
Hana nudged Ranko’s arm, reclaiming her young ward’s attention. “One problem we’re glossing over, missy. Most Christmas songs are in English, remember?”
The redhead shrugged. “I’ll just make the sounds; I don’t even have to know what they mean. I already do that up there, sometimes.”
The proprietress shook her head. “That’s not going to work. You won’t know what to choreograph, or what words to emphasize. Besides, if you’re going to make me accept your help, I’m going to make you accept mine. We’re going to help you learn it. I’m not saying you’re gonna get you fluent in a week or anything, but let’s see what we can do.”
Ranko rolled her eyes with a smirk. “Christmas hardly seems like the right time to go back to school, but if you think it’ll help, I’ll try.” She turned back to the blue-haired girl on her right. “Any ideas on how we can festive the shit outta this place on the cheap, Mei?”
Mei rubbed her chin for a moment thoughtfully before answering. “Didn’t Ayako say Kage’s mom loved Christmas, mama? I could have sworn she was talking about that with us at the wedding. And with her in-laws in Florida for the winter, I bet all their decorations are just sitting in an attic somewhere. Maybe we could borrow them?”
The only brunette at the table clapped her younger sister on the shoulder through her pastel green cardigan. “Great thinking, Mei! You wanna give Aya a call later and ask?” Izumi beamed with excitement. If there was one thing that never failed to energize the young designer, it was the opportunity to work on a creative endeavor - especially one that had a chance to involve stuffing one or more of her sisters into some over-the-top outfit or another.
Mei nodded. “Will do. I could try to do some Christmas-themed desserts or something, too, I guess.”
Izumi gave her sister a bright grin and a thumbs-up. “I think that’d be awesome! I bet Aya’d love to help with that, too! She always did love working back in the kitchen!” The family’s designated fashionista then turned her gaze back to the red-haired starlet seated opposite her. “And, speaking of getting things decorated all pretty…”
“Hmm?” Ranko looked up, swallowing hard at the sight of the devious expression on her sister’s face. I don’t know where this is going, but something tells me I ain’t gonna like it.
Izumi grinned at her youngest sister. “This isn’t just folks coming to a bar for a drink and listening to some karaoke while they’re waiting on their tater tots. If we pack this place at three thousand yen a pop, they’ll be paying specifically to see you, superstar. We’ve got to make sure you look the part. I’m talking, dress, hair, nails, makeup, the whole shebang.”
Yui chuckled, tilting her beer bottle toward Izumi. “You’ve been trying to primp and polish that poor kid up since the second you met her, Izzi. She’s not a fuckin’ Barbie doll.” Turning her gaze to Ranko, she softened her smile. “That said, this time, I think she’s probably got a point, Ran-chan.”
Ranko groaned, lowering her head. I did say I’d do anything I could to help. I guess that includes… She sighed in resignation, cradling her forehead in her palm and resting her elbow on the tabletop. “Alright, alright, Iz. You win. This time. But don’t let it go to your head. This is special circumstances.”
Izumi clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! A true fashion emergency! I’ve been training my whole life for this! It’s what I live for!”
“Think you could spare some of that energy to spread the word around your school?” Ranko grinned. “If you hit Shibuya Tech, and Mei can cover Minato University, that’s thousands of potential people, and we can only fit three hundred in here anyway. Three-fifty, tops, if everybody gets real friendly.”
The brunette turned the little pink notebook she’d been writing in to show Ranko that it was already filling up with ideas of places where the show could be promoted. “I got this, hon.”
Hana looked around at her girls, wearing a proud smile despite her migraine. “It seems like everyone has a job except me.”
Yui grinned, throwing her sweater-clad arm over Hana’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a use for you yet, old lady.”
The girls’ mother gave Yui a you’ve gotta be kidding me glare over the rims of her borrowed sunglasses. Her brief fit of mock indignation gave way to a broad smile, and she reached up to her face, pulling off the dark glasses so that everyone could see the sincerity in her eyes as she spoke. “I am just so proud of you all.”
Yui stood, leaning over Hana’s chair to hug her tighter around the shoulders. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing all of us had someone in our lives who taught us how to pick ourselves up when we get knocked down and fight like hell for what’s important to us.”
Hana smiled up at the tall blonde. Within moments, the other three girls stood and huddled around Hana’s chair as well, joining her and Yui in a short group hug.
The bar’s mistress of mixology let go first, clapping her hands loudly. Yui cringed a bit, when she noticed Hana recoiling from the sound. “Well, alright, girls! What are you all standing around for?! We’ve got work to do!”
Spurred on by Yui’s call to action, the wayward sisters scattered throughout the bar to attend to their designated tasks.
“Don’t forget, girls, we still have to open tonight, too. Let’s make sure everything’s ready.”
From four different places in the suddenly-bustling bar room came a merry chorus of assent: “Yes, Mama!”
Ranko started heading for the kitchen, realizing she’d never gotten around to slicing the oranges she’d taken out of the walk-in nearly two hours prior. Before she could reach the saloon door, Izumi playfully grabbed her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug. “Excuse me, little miss. Where do you think you’re going?”
The redhead shrugged, pulling her hair back out of Izumi’s hand gently. “I was gonna help prep the kitchen, like I always do.”
Izumi grinned absolutely mischievously. “Okay! Good idea! I’ll head over to the mall by myself, then, and you can just… wear whatever I decide to pick out for you.”
Ranko swallowed with a gulp that was audible even over the clink of glass bottles being stocked behind the service bar. “Uhhhhh, Mama? Izzi and I are… going out for a while.”
The excited brunette threw her arm around the small of her shorter sister’s back, pulling her out from between the main and service bar counters and toward the bar’s glass double doors at the front of the building. “I thought you might say something like that, Ran-chan! C’mon, let’s go!”