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 emphatically, unsure she could speak without her teeth chattering. The temperature was fairly mild for a December in Tokyo, but not for someone in a tee shirt, a knee-length skirt, and a full body’s worth of skin as sensitive as a cat’s tongue.
“Why didn’t you put on something warmer, silly?” Ranko’s sister shook her head, brushing a wisp of her hair that had been displaced by the wind out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear just beneath her gray knit hat.
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 her new sister’s wardrobe as she had been, she couldn’t believe that she’d only actually added a few outfits to the eight or so that had been in the upstairs closet the day she arrived. The rest of the outfits Ranko had worn on stage had been things Izumi had loaned her from her own closet. We’ve gotta do something about this. At this rate, she’s going to wind up coming down sick with something, Izumi thought with a deep frown. Well, I know what you’re getting for Christmas, Ran-chan.
Izumi grabbed the faux leopard-fur trimmed sleeve of her heavy black cropped jacket, beginning to pull it off. “Here, put this on.”
Ranko shook her head. “I’m f-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. Let’s go, little sister. I’m not asking here.”
Ranko sighed regretfully. I can’t make a girl suffer in the cold while… She shook her head with a self-admonishing roll of her eyes, her cheeks warming slightly despite the chill. You’re a girl now, too, dummy. You don’t have to be the white knight and take the hit all the time anymore. “O-k-kay. Th-th-th-thanks.”
Izumi wrapped the puffy jacket around the redhead’s shoulders. As Ranko’s hands found their way into the sleeves, Izumi rubbed her back vigorously through the thick material to warm it up for her faster. “Since we’re out shopping anyway, we are getting you at least a coat or something you can wear in the cold. It’s non-negotiable.”
“I th-think I’d like that, please,” Ranko replied with a grateful smile.
<hr>
“Alright. First things first, we need to find something warmer for you to wear. We need a pop star, not a pop-sicle.” Izumi consulted the backlit directory kiosk of her favorite Shibuya shopping mall as she spoke.
Ranko nodded vigorously, rubbing her bare legs with her hands to try and warm them. She followed as 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?” Izumi asked, already digging through a pile of slim-cut offerings.
Ranko turned to answer. She opened her mouth to speak, realizing at the last moment that the answer she was about to give had been in men’s sizes. “I… actually don’t know. Sorry.”
Izumi shook her head with a smile. “Come to think of it, around the holidays, nobody does, honey. Get used to it.” She pulled the same style of navy blue jeans in three different sizes from the white cubby shelf in which they were stacked, handing the pile of folded pants to her protégé. “Fitting room’s right over there. Go on. Shoo.”
After waiting for a moment for one of the three booths to be vacated, Ranko dropped the stack of jeans on its small padded bench, latching the door behind her. She unbuttoned the waistband of her red corduroy skirt, letting it fall to the floor and reaching for the topmost pair of pants. The first pair Ranko tried was far too big for her, 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, especially in the front. Of course, most of the pants she’d ever worn, especially in her masculine form, had been gi pants that were far more forgiving, designed for flexibility rather than fashion.
While she was slowly getting used to spending time in skirts, owing to Izumi’s constant quest to doll her up for the ravenous crowds that watched her on stage, there was a certain comforting feeling about wearing pants again. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice what the tight jeans did for her shape. Speaking objectively as someone who used to be a dude and spent a lot of time looking at girls, this ain’t half bad. And hey! Bonus! They have pockets! Glorious pock… wait. She pulled her fingertips out of the slit in the fabric, where they had barely delved past her painted fingernails before hitting bottom. Okay, what asshole got the bright idea to put fake pockets on girls’ clothes?! Seriously, that’s just a cruel freakin’ 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 that needed to be reshelved. “How’s this look?”
Izumi gave her a thumbs-up. “They fit you good, it looks like! Keep ‘em on until we’re ready to leave so you stay warm, and you can change out of them when it’s time to check out. If you like them, grab another pair or two, and let’s keep going. Lots to do, and not a lot of time.”
Mindful of her still-limited budget, Ranko returned to the shelf where Izumi had found the jeans she was wearing and picked up one more pair, this one in black. Turning, she hurried after her sister-turned-stylist.
Izumi led her up an escalator to the second floor, taking a mere moment to locate a display of winter coats. “Here, pick yourself something out from here. Ideally something in a neutral color, like we did with your purse.”
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, but she leaned toward the former. 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. She picked it up and held it against her body on the hanger. It came down almost to her knees, which she hoped would help keep her legs warm even when she was wearing a skirt. Izumi’s cropped jacket had barely reached halfway down her rib cage, by comparison, even on her shorter frame.
“Nice choice! It’s cute, too! Here, let me help you try it on.” She helped Ranko out of the jacket she had loaned her sister, tossing it over the aluminum rack for the moment, and held the white coat open for Ranko to slip into.
Ranko found that the peacoat was surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in, and it felt warmer even than Izumi’s fur-lined jacket she had on previously. “Oh, yeah, I like this one! Does it look okay?”
Izumi grinned, pulling her own jacket back on as she spoke. “One of these days you’re gonna get the full shopping experience, where you try on eight or nine things before you find something you like.”
The redhead shrugged with a winning smile. “Hey, what can I say? I’m easy to please. Low-maintenance girl, right here.” She gestured to herself with her thumbs for emphasis.
Izumi scoffed. “Just wait until you’re trying on wedding dresses. You have to do like two hundred of them, and they take twenty minutes each for two people to get you in and out of.”
The white coat contrasted sharply with the neon red shade of Ranko’s face.
“Oh, stop with that look.” Izumi tittered, rumpling her sister’s hair gently. “I know it never feels like it until it does, but it’ll happen for you one day, too.”
For a split second, Ranko allowed herself to form the mental picture of herself in a white wedding gown, almost hearing Akane’s voice in the recesses of her mind, before she shook herself free of it. Snap out of it, idiot. There’s about fourteen levels of wrong with that picture. I’ve got a better chance to walk to the moon. “Yeah, if you say so,” she replied mousily, her cheeks warm enough to fry bacon on.
“Speaking of which…” Izumi took her hand, pulling her a few dozen meters into another section of the store. There, numerous formal gowns were displayed on mannequins positioned next to racks mounted high on the walls to keep the long dresses from dragging the floor. She pointed at a sky-blue shimmery satin dress. It had 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. “What do you think of that?”
Ranko’s face flushed deeper still. “Yeaaaaaah, I don’t think that’s going to work. I can’t wait tables in that!” Or, you know, wear it at all, she thought to herself. I’m a girl now, but I’ve still got limits.
Izumi laughed. “Not for work, blockhead! For the wedding! I’m thinking about going with that for the bridesmaids. I really like it, but we’ll need to find some sort of a shrug for Yui if I do.”
Crap. I almost forgot I agreed to do that. I mean… Ranko was almost lightheaded from all the blood flow to her face as she glanced over the dress again, now giving herself permission to actually consider it. It’s really pretty, but, like, for somebody else. There’s no way I could pull off something like that. I wouldn’t even know how to behave dressed like that, when everything’s all formal and proper and shit. I’ll say the wrong thing, or eat something with my fingers that I wasn’t supposed to, and some duchess somewhere will have a heart attack just thinking about it.
“Uhhh, how do we feel about a nice, casual wedding? Jeans, tee shirts, maybe some barbecue?” She chuckled nervously, fidgeting with her fingers.
“Not a chance, little sister. Did you forget who you’re talking to? Hello, fashion queen, right here!” Izumi pointed to herself with both of her index fingers. “Sorry, but 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 if you give it a chance.” Judging by what Ranko had told her of her childhood, Izumi doubted she had experienced that type of play very much growing up. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” came Ranko’s grumbled 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 fabulous for your big show. Your first real concert.” The young fashionista motioned her recalcitrant sister toward another array of racks.
Ranko groaned, half-kiddingly, and followed as she was directed to a seasonal section. The racks were filled with festive cocktail dresses in red, green, white and black, as well as sweaters with holiday patterns on them. Her eyes fell on a green knit sweater, an enormous drunken reindeer fashioned on its front out of red sequins. Images of glittery presents and an array of elves, candy canes, bells, and other holiday imagery covered the entire rest of the garment. Who the hell would wear something like that? They’re hideous! I mean, maybe they’re warm, and that’s why? I guess somebody’s buyin’ ‘em, though, ‘cause they’ve got a shitload of ‘em.
“Okay, kiddo. Our mission is to find something flirty, cute, and Christmas-ey. Let’s lock in.”
Ranko shuddered. “Flirty? Really?! Do you honestly not think I get enough wandering hands on an average shift?”
Izumi rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You’re not likely to be out in the crowd too much this time, though. You’re pretty much gonna be nailed to the stage, girl. Besides, you’re putting on a show. You’re an entertainer now, little sister. We have to give them what they want.”
The redhead sputtered a raspberry with her lips. “Says who?”
Izumi snickered. “Don’t forget, this whole thing was your idea, Ran-chan.”
Ugh. She''s right. Why does she have to be right? Resigning herself to her fate, Ranko began searching the racks. Alright, Ranko, think. What would have excited me to see Akane wearing, back when I was a guy? Or, for that matter… Her face warmed yet again, but she willed the intrusive thought out of her mind as quickly as it had entered. Stop that, Ranko. It’s never gonna happen. She emitted a quiet, resigned sigh. I damn sure wouldn’t have been worried about whether it was itchy, or too short, or warm enough, or if it had pockets, though. Man, shit changes when you don’t have testosterone pumping through your brain by the liter, I guess.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when 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 garment. Wait a second. That’s a dress?! That looks more like something a girl would wear under a dress, if they wanted to be all sexy and shit. “No way I’m wearing that in public.” Or in private. Or anywhere.
As she returned the hanger to the rack, Izumi gasped, her eyes falling on something across the aisle. “Oh, that’s it. I got it!”
Ranko sighed resolutely, mentally preparing herself for whatever fresh hell her self-nominated fashion consultant had deigned to torment her with, and plodded along after her.
The elder girl reached the rack first, and pulled another hanger from the aluminum clothes rack. From it hung a forest green dress made of crushed velvet. The neckline was fairly modest, square cut and rimmed in white faux fur. It had long sleeves, with more white fluff lining the cuffs like Izumi’s coat had. Izumi held it up to Ranko’s body. Its lower hem, lined with more of the soft fake fur, came to just above the songstress’ knees. A white vinyl belt was wrapped around the waist, and part of the vinyl was molded into a small white bow that concealed the clasping mechanism to secure the belt.
“That’s… actually not that bad. All things considered, anyway.” She glanced up at the wall-mounted mirror, chuckling a bit at her reflection. I’m gonna look like Santa’s naughtiest elf in this thing. I’m guessing that’s the point.
Izumi nodded excitedly. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing! Go try it on?!”
But… you got me a coat and a pair of jeans, and I finally got warm! 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 in the festive holiday dress, Izumi clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! That’s perfect! It just needs a few finishing touches. I’m on it! Go get changed back into the outfit you wore in, so we can get checked out, and I’ll be right back!”
By the time Ranko re-emerged in her tee shirt and red skirt, still wearing the white peacoat, Izumi was leaning against the fitting room wall waiting for her. In her hand was a small, green plastic shopping basket full of various accessories. There were hair clips, some sort of stockings, and a green velvet Santa hat that matched the material of the color of the dress nearly perfectly, and more things besides. “All set? Here, I also grabbed these, so you’d have some selection to choose from.” Izumi pulled a stack of Christmas-themed cassette tapes out of the basket, showing the spines of the plastic cases to her companion. “You think these will work?”
Ranko shrugged. “Hell if I know. I guess so?” She’d never picked the music when she sang Christmas songs at the Tendo home; she had always just gone through whatever motions Akane had asked her to. At the bar, it had mostly been Mei picking the songs. And in any case, it’s not like I know what they say, anyway.
The brunette nodded. “Alright. We should pay for this stuff and think about getting back to the bar. It’s getting late, and they’re gonna need us in time for opening.” She led her sister to a nearby checkout station, where a bored-looking clerk in his early twenties leaned on the counter. He was almost impossibly thin, his red uniform polo almost a full size too big for him.
“Hello! Thank you for shopping at W… w…” His voice stopped mid-word as his gaze fell on the redhead standing at Izumi’s side. He reached for Izumi’s shopping basket, his eyes not leaving the redhead, and almost knocked it off the counter when he misjudged the distance he had to reach to extract the first of the accessories Izumi had chosen from it. “S-s-sorry.”
Izumi flashed her sister a mischievous grin as the clerk managed to begin scanning their selections, dragging them across a barcode reader mounted under a panel of glass in the countertop.
Ranko pulled her new peacoat off, setting it on the counter to be scanned. She could have sworn the poor guy at the counter’s eyes were going to pop out of his head as he picked up the coat with a tremble in his wrist. What’s this guy’s deal? He’s acting like he saw a ghost or something.
Reaching into her purse, Izumi laid a stack of bills in the plastic payment tray on the counter, bowing in polite thanks as she collected the three bags containing their spoils, handing the two containing the jeans and the coat to her sister. “You should pop back into the fitting room and put these back on, so you’re warmer on the way home.”
Ranko nodded, and the pair started walking back toward the changing area. She shot Izumi a side-eyed glance, as her sister had started giggling the moment they were out of earshot of the register. “What’s so funny?!”
“Oh, come on, girl! Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t see that.” Izumi smirked, glancing back at the checkout counter.
Now what the heck did I get wrong? The redhead flushed in embarrassment. “Izumi, what the hell are you talking about?”
Wow, Izumi thought, blinking in surprise. She really is that oblivious, huh? She leaned in closer to her sister, speaking in a hushed tone. “That guy was totally checking you out, sis.”
Ranko gulped so hard that thought she might swallow her own tongue. “N-no way!”
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Izumi said as they reached the fitting room stalls. “I’ll stand guard while you change, so nobody comes peeping.” She flashed her sister an absolutely devilish sneer. “Unless you’d prefer I didn’t, that is…”
The redhead pushed open the middle of the three stall doors, turning back to Izumi with a flustered smile as she set her bags on the bench. “So, hey, Miss Konishi? Bite me.”
<hr>
Some forty-five minutes after departing the shopping mall, the pair entered the bar they called home through the glass double doors. 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 mall, and the wind had picked up as well. There hadn’t been much conversation on the train ride back; Ranko had spent most of the train ride 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.
The main bar room was a flurry of activity. Hana stood on a tall 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, with Ayako standing next to the pile ensuring the garland didn’t tangle as it emerged from its plastic prison. Yui was furiously shaking her cocktail tin over her shoulder, behind an array of dozens of bottles of every shape and size scattered across the main bar counter. Behind the disorderly row of liquor bottles was an assortment of festively-decorated glasses containing liquids of varying colors and thicknesses, each with black plastic straws protruding from them. Unless she was in the kitchen, Mei did not seem to be present. An upbeat instrumental Christmas song thumped through the sound system.
Izumi waved to three of her friends, all women, who were huddled around table eight in the corner. One of them held aloft a hand-drawn poster advertising the last-minute Christmas concert to be held on Saturday night. “How’s this look, Izzi?”
Izumi gave the girls a double-thumbs up. “That’s looking great, girls! Good job! Can we do ten more just like it?”
Yui removed the mixing glass from her shaker tin, dipping a straw directly into the shaker rather than pouring its contents into a clean glass. She covered the end of the straw to create negative pressure, scooping a small sampling of the cocktail into her mouth. She smacked her lips loudly as she turned around, dumping the contents of her shaker into the sink. “Nope, way too tart. Let’s try that one again.”
Ranko looked around, taking in all of the commotion. “Wow! This came together fast!”
Izumi grinned, poking her sister playfully on the nose. “It’s all for you, sis.”
The younger girl blushed, tucking a stray strand of her red hair that had escaped her ponytail 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 to shine?”
Ranko’s face took on more color yet, and she fidgeted with her hair some more, using it as an excuse to hide her face behind her hand.
Izumi, picking up on the young singer’s discomfort, smiled reassuringly at Ranko and laid her arm over the shorter girl’s shoulders. “She was born ready.”
Yui gave a warm smile in response. “Damn straight. Oh, hey! Izzi, c’mere! You gotta 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 fresh peppermint floated at the top.
Izumi covered the top of the straw with her finger, lifting the straw to her mouth and releasing the pressure to free the liquid trapped within. A quiet mmm escaped her throat as she swallowed. “It tastes just like a candy cane! That’s so freaking good, Yui!”
Noticing Ranko looking over with a curious expression in her eyes, Izumi reloaded the straw, holding it out to her. “Come on, kiddo. 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 really is good!”
Yui beamed, offering her sister a cocky smirk. “Did you honestly doubt me? I’m working on a gingerbread one and a spiked eggnog, but they’re not quite right yet. I’ll get ‘em though; I’ve still got some time.”
The young singer’s eyes panned the room as she tried to make eye contact with everyone individually. They’re all working so hard to put my idea together, in order to help Hana out. To help my family. Fuck, it feels so good to be a part of this.
Looking around, Izumi leaned over the counter. “Hey, Yui? Where’s Mei hiding?”
The blonde shrugged, a perplexed expression on her face. “Your guess is as good as mine.”