“Said Santa to a pork chop, what have you a…”


    Hana laughed, shaking her head and putting up her left hand. Her right, meanwhile, cradled her forehead in it. “Baby, baby…”


    Ranko stopped singing mid-word, slumping her shoulders and growling low and loud in her frustration. “Damn it! I messed it up again, didn’t I?!”


    Her adoptive mother nodded. “It says boy child,” she repeated in English, slower and more clearly enunciated than the lyrics had done. “Like, a little boy, like Hoshi.”


    The redhead sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow with a blue bar towel. Despite the late-morning December chill still lingering in the empty watering hole a few blocks from the Minato harbor, she’d been dancing under the bar’s lone spotlight non-stop for hours. She had on a long-sleeved black turtleneck, a hand-me-down gift from Izumi after nearly freezing to death during their shopping trip two days ago. It clung tightly to her form. Below that, she wore her new black jeans and a pair of black heeled boots.


    “I’m never gonna get this stuff in time! Maybe we should stick to Japanese songs.” As she vented, she walked over to the karaoke station, pressing stop and ceasing the upbeat guitar blaring through the twelve ceiling-mounted box speakers that made up the bar’s sound system. No lyrics appeared on the monitor, as they’d had to resort to regular cassettes, and so Ranko had nothing but her ear to try and mimic the unfamiliar English words.


    “I don’t know if there are enough Japanese Christmas songs, honey. Not popular ones, at least. But you can do it. You’ve already gotten four of them down, and we’ve still got a couple of days yet. C’mon, little star, sit down a minute. You haven’t left that corner all day.” Hana turned to look over her shoulder, calling back to the service bar. “Izzi, honey, bring your sister something to drink when you have a second, would you, please?” She pulled out a chair at the table closest to the stage for Ranko, physically guiding her to it by the shoulders.


    Ranko sighed, nodding her thanks as Izumi handed her a pilsner glass full of soda. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I could just keep everybody focused on the dancing, but there’s no room to really do anything up there except wiggle in place.” She gestured to the tiny triangular stage crammed into the corner of the bar against the back wall of the ladies’ room. “I might almost be better off standing on one of the tables.”


    Hana flashed a knowing glance and a bit of a smirk in Izumi’s direction as the brunette buzzed back to the service bar to resume stocking the back bar with liquor. “I mean, you wiggle with the best of ‘em, baby.” She chuckled deviously. “Maybe not so much in that top, though.”


    The redhead flushed deeply. “Mama!” She hid her face in her hand. “I think it shrank a little bit in the dryer. I feel awful; Izumi gave it to me and I messed it up the first day.”


    “It happens, honey. You gotta read the labels on stuff. I swear, half the stuff they make these days, you look at it funny and it just… poof!” Hana flared her fingers outwardly on both hands, miming an explosion. “Shit just evaporates! That’s why it’s tee shirts and jeans all day for me. No muss, no fuss.”


    Ranko scoffed, sipping from her soda glass. “Yeah, well, convince Izzi that I can dress like a biker on stage every night, and I’m in, too.”


    “Fat chance!” came a shout from the direction of the service bar.


    The young singer giggled, shrugging at her mother. “What the hell, it was worth a tr…”


    With a loud bang, the double doors at the front of the bar opened from the street, and Mei burst through them, tossing her purse on the counter. “So sorry I’m late, everybody. Time got away from me.”


    Yui grunted something in acknowledgement, but didn’t seem very impressed with her sister’s explanation. “For the fourth time this week,” she grumbled as she shelved a bottle of bourbon.


    Mei looked around, waving to Ranko as she took in the finished state of the bar’s holiday decor. “It’s looking really good in here!”


    Yui scoffed, spinning a bottle of peppermint schnapps into her palm. “Nice of you to notice.”


    The blue-pigtailed girl rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, well… I guess I’m going to get the kitchen set up.”


    Ranko winced a bit at the tension building between her sisters.. “Here, Mei, let me come help?” Mei didn’t react, instead just disappearing into the kitchen, and Ranko followed behind shortly thereafter, joining her at the prep counter in the small commercial kitchen. As Mei had already taken to preparing the batter for the chicken wings, Ranko began pouring flour and water into the steel bowl at the base of their countertop mixer, starting to get a batch of pizza dough prepared. “Hey, Mei… are you… okay?”


    Mei growled under her breath in response. “Why is everybody asking me that all the time lately? I’ve just been busy, alright?”


    The younger girl nodded quietly, approaching as non-threateningly as possible with her hands up at the level of her breasts. “Hey, it’s cool. I’m not judgin’ ya, sis. Just, ya know, if there’s anything you want to talk about, you know I’m here, is all. Gods know you’ve been here for me; it’s the least I can do.”


    Mei looked up from her plastic bin of flour and seasoning, managing a smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, hon. I just… I didn’t wanna talk about it with Yui and everybody, especially while they’ve been so focused on getting ready for this show.” She blushed a little bit, and her smile widened. “I’ve been seeing somebody.”


    Ranko gave a surprised little gasp, smiling as she rounded the prep counter across from her sister. “Well, that’s great! I’m so happy for you! Tell me about him?” She flushed, realizing she’d never learned much about her sister’s preferences in matters of romance. “Or her, I guess, if that’s…” The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The elder sighed dreamily, leaning forward on the metal counter between them over the large plastic tub. “My gods, Ranko, he’s so handsome, and he’s a good dresser, and the way he talks is so, I don’t know, almost regal.”


    Ranko nodded as she added some paprika to the bin between them, rotating her wrist sideways in a please continue gesture with a little giggle.


    “Gods, let’s see… he’s super popular, too. He’s one of the top athletes at Shinagawa Academy. Like, he’s set all kinds of famous records and stuff. Though, not as many, since he and his partner split up and he started competing solo.”


    The redhead looked up, confusion in her eyes. “Partner? What sport does he play? Tennis or something?”


    “Believe it or not? Figure skating! You wouldn’t think that would be so popular, especially compared to the more rough-and-tumble sports. But, ever since he started, he’s only ever lost one match. I guess it doesn’t matter what you do, they love you if you win!” Mei emitted a giddy little laugh as she reached for the oregano.


    Ranko’s face fell. Oh, no, she thought to herself. “Wh…what’s his name?” Please be wrong, she thought. Please be wrong.


    Mei smiled brightly, a far-off look in her starry eyes. She pronounced the name with almost reverence, as if she were speaking of a movie star or a king. “Mikado Sanzenin.”


    Ranko felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, and the room started to spin a little bit. Not him. Not Sanzenin. Not here. Anything but that. Ryoga, Xian Pu, hell, Pop can find me here. I’ll deal with it. But Sanzenin? After everything he took from me? Her mind flashed back to that day. Being lifted off her feet, restrained helplessly, and kissed. Taken. Violated. She looked up at Mei, still blissfully humming as she measured out spices for the fried chicken.


    Can I tell her? Can I not?


    A quiet “Oh.” was all Ranko could get past her lips as she slumped onto one of the metal stools in front of the prep counter, her body limp as a sack of potatoes.


    “Well, glad to see you’re so excited, Ran-chan.” Mei scoffed, flicking a fingerful of flour in Ranko’s direction and leaving a few splotches of white on Ranko’s black sweater.


    Ranko did not seem amused by her antics, though, and her eyes had significantly clouded with a dark sadness in the space of a few heartbeats.


    Mei waved her hand in front of the redhead’s face. “Helloooo-o? Earth to Ranko! What got into you all of a sudden? I thought you were supposed to be Little Miss Holly Jolly today, anyway.”


    Ranko swallowed hard, reaching across the metal countertop for her sister’s hand. The look in her eyes was deadly serious. “Mei, you… you shouldn’t see this guy anymore.”


    The elder girl’s demeanor changed instantly, the anger and frustration returning to her eyes. “Why not?! He’s amazing, and he’s actually interested in me. I mean, he asked me out; I didn’t even have to chase him. He makes me feel special!”


    Ranko sighed despondently. She couldn’t tell her the truth. She wanted to, but doing so would admit what Mikado had done to her, and also tie a direct line back to her former life. She didn’t imagine it would be that difficult to look up in the records to see just to whom the Golden Pair of figure skating had suffered their only defeat. At least, the victor’s name wouldn’t have been recorded as Ranko Tendo, but a photograph would be hard to deny.


    “I just have a bad feeling about him, okay? Please, Mei… just trust me.”


    Mei slammed the plastic bin down on the counter, a cloud of flour poofing out at its sides. “You’ve never even met him!”


    If only, Ranko thought to herself. “It’s not like…”


    “I’ve finally got somebody that’s interested in me, who’s not a total dirtbag and an addict, and all you can do is tell me not to see him?! Why can’t you just be happy for me? Did I tell you to back off when you were floating on clouds about maybe dating a girl? Honestly, Ranko, I can’t believe you!”


    Ranko’s eyes widened. Ouch. Low blow, sis. Fuck, how do I… “I… I just don’t want to see you get hurt, okay?”


    Mei roared at her in anger, rocking the redhead back in shock. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do!? After everything we’ve done for you?! You’ve barely been here a month, and all of a sudden you’re everybody’s perfect little princess! You’ve got the whole place revolving around you, and so excuse me if I found the last person left in Tokyo that isn’t too busy worshiping you to notice anybody else!”


    Ranko gasped, reaching out for her sister again. “Mei, I…”


    The saloon door opened and Yui peeked inside, just as Mei thrust the clear plastic container forward with a furious scream, coating Ranko’s face and sweater with flour and spices. “Just forget it! I’m out of here!” Mei threw her arm up at Yui over the countertop. “Go on, Ranko! Your adoring fans await!” The blue-haired young woman spun on the heels of her white tennis shoes and crashed through the steel back door with a loud bang, leaving it hanging halfway open as she turned to run down the alley toward the street.


    “What in the actual hell was that about?” Yui made her way down the hallway, her heels making ominous clacking songs as they approached her coughing youngest sister.


    Ranko coughed as she turned on her stool to face Yui, tears beginning to form in her right eye and streak through the thin dust of flour covering her face. She was crying so much more since she became a girl, and she didn’t like it at all. I can’t believe how quickly Mei turned on me. If only she knew what he did to me. What he tried to do to Akane. Who he really is. Mei was right to be angry, though. All I had to do was tell her, and I wasn’t brave enough to open my damn mouth.


    “She, um…” Ranko wiped her face with a scratchy brown paper towel, wincing as its rough texture scraped over her skin. “She’s got a boyfriend.”


    Yui’s stance softened a little, but her face wrinkled in perplexity. “That’s what’s got her so pissed off? She’s… happy?!  How’s that happen, exactly?”


    Ranko shook her head. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this guy, Yui. I tried to tell her, and…” She gestured to the open door.


    Yui frowned, looking her sister over as if seeking some hidden information that might be written on her face somewhere. “Do you know something about him?”


    Ranko swallowed hard, with an audible gulp Yui heard from a full meter away. All I have to do is say it, and… I just can’t. He’s a creeper, Yui. He hits girls and quits ‘em. He takes without asking. He’s an honorless scumbag. Akane and untold hundreds of people in that arena at Kolhotz High had seen how he shamed her. She couldn’t bear one more person knowing, especially one who could carry that knowledge into her new life. I can’t have Yui and all of them look at me like Pop, and even Nabiki and Kasumi, did once they found out. I can’t stand the thought of them laughing at me. Mocking me. Looking at me with disgust in their eyes, like I’m some sort of…. She couldn’t even bear to finish the thought in her mind, let alone give it voice. “It’s just a feeling.”


    “You gotta be careful with stuff like that, Ranko! Clearly, she’s really upset!” The blonde barkeep sighed, beginning to brush loose flour from the countertop into a nearby trash can with her hand.


    Ranko nodded. “I know, and I feel terrible. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”


    Yui stepped forward and put a hand on Ranko’s shoulder, brushing some flour off of her black sweater onto the floor. “Sometimes, you gotta let people make their own decisions. Be there for them if things go bad, but don’t go around assuming the worst and make them doubt the good things when they come. Besides, it’s entirely possible you’re wrong about this guy.”


    Ranko desperately wanted any hope to hold on to, for Mei’s sake, that Yui might have a point. However frantically she searched her mind for it, she could find none.