1
November 14, 1997
5:33 AM
Some would call it evil.
Some would call it a lot of names, as a matter of fact. The most
frequently used, when directed at it, would be either "Aaah!" or
"Aaaah!", or an occasional, full-fledged, "Aaaaaaaaaah!" The
pitch and length of the "-a" usually conveyed the amount of fear
and disgust it struck into the hearts of the humans who sighted it.
Never mind that all it ever wanted was a little nourishment and a
place to rest.
Had it been able to think in human terms and realize that its kind
had been loathed and hunted down by the humans throughout
history, it would have laughed. _Screw you,_ it would have said,
_and your momma too. My kind has survived the ice-age while
your ancestors were still hanging off tree-limbs and didn't know
what to do with a banana other than to eat it._ Not that it would
have done any different, mind you; about the banana, that is.
Tonight, however, it had only thoughts for one thing - namely, a
place to rest. Preferably somewhere dark, and slightly damp. It
moved.
Distance, of course, was never an issue; nor was height. There was
only forward and backward, and sometimes left and right. All
objects were either flat or mostly-flat, and the only differences lay
in the wetness, softness, and the amount of heat they produced.
It had just traversed a vast terrain of cold-dry-flat-hard, through
another part of cold-dry-flat-hard, and was now on something
completely different: cool-dry-mostly-flat-soft. And there was a
fragrance in the air nearby, an enticing scent that it had never
encountered before. It decided to investigate.
The surface underneath its feet shifted, then shifted some more. It
didn't matter in the slightest. It pressed onward, onward, onward,
and finally hit the jackpot: lukewarm-slightly-damp-mostly-flat-
pretty-soft. Not its usual type of resting place, but it wasn't all that
picky about having a change in habitat. It tucked its feet inward
and nestled its head against this lukewarm-slightly-damp-mostly-
flat-pretty-soft.
Had it been able to appreciate the glorious view laid out before its
eyes, it would have thought: _Lo, and it was pink._
What it thought was: _Sleep._
What a waste.
2
November 14, 1997
5:34 AM
Having unsightly sleeping postures was a peculiarity of sorts that
Meiou Setsuna inherited along with her particular senshi title.
Something about the gravitational field and the rotational
difference of the planet, no doubt, caused all the Sailor Plutos to
twist and turn their bodies excessively but in a periodical and
orderly fashion while they were sleeping on Earth.
A quick study would show that at least twenty-five days out of an
average month on Earth, the position of Setsuna's body in relation
to the head of the bed followed a pattern (based on an eight-hour-
average sleeping time) detailed as below. Observe:
Two hours into sleep: Setsuna's upper body would bend roughly
ninety-degrees to her right, feet pointing to the foot of the bed.
Four hours into sleep: Setsuna's body would present a generally
linear posture, but her head would now be pointing to the foot of
the bed, and vice-versa.
Six hours into sleep: Setsuna's upper body would bend roughly
ninety-degrees to her right, feet pointing to the head of the bed.
Eight hours into sleep: Setsuna would find herself awake in nearly
the same position in which she went to sleep without realizing that
she had, once again, drawn a full circle around the bed with her
body.
Almost like the hands of a clock, but running in reverse direction.
The precision, however, like everything else Sailor Pluto did, was
uncannily and inexorably perfect.
In the hour before dawn, Setsuna slept soundly on her bed, her
lithe figure a contour made visible in the dark by the silk burgundy
nightgown she wore.
As she went to bed at approximately 11:30 PM last night, she had
just gone past the designated sixth-hour spot and was currently on
her way to realign her body back to the zero-hour position. The
sheets dragged and slipped haphazardly against the silk as she
moaned and softly lifted a leg, her milk-colored thighs all the more
prominent on the canvas of red.
She stretched softly, arching her back into the air for a tiniest
instant as a small tremor danced across her pale skin, before she
fell back into the yielding warmth of the mattress.
An arm languidly made its way across her stomach, up over her
head, and in the end found itself buried under the mass of
disheveled emerald tresses. A chancy deep breath made the kinks
across the plunging v-line on her nightgown wink out for a brief
moment. Then, before she let out the breath she was holding, she
felt it.
Small, feathery taps along the inside of her left leg.
Still in the ethereal state between dreaming and waking, Setsuna
shrugged it off, let out the breath, and continued to sleep. Besides,
the feeling was actually somewhat pleasant, the waking part of her
mind decided; not unlike the smooth fingers of a gentle lover
leisurely caressing her skin. She snored softly.
The taps continued. And began to climb up her leg.
She obliged.
The taps went higher, past the curve of her knee and up against her
thigh. It was starting to tickle.
The soft snoring stopped.
Somewhat alert now, Setsuna's mind tried to collect itself from
slumber and produce a coherent thought. The velvety touches
continued, not unlike the smooth fingers -
_Saotome-san?_
of a gentle lover -
_Wait a minute..._
leisurely -
_That, that's too high..._
caressing her skin -
_Stop it; hold on a second..._
and resting against -
_You've got a fianc�e!_
the secret -
_...And we've only known each other for two weeks! Stop!
Saotome-san!_
Setsuna shot up, scrunching her legs against her chest in reflex as
she curled herself into a ball, hands covering the area between her
legs protectively. A scarlet blush matching her gown bloomed
across her cheeks as she looked wildly about, drawing in rugged
deep breaths all the while. Strange, though, there was no Saotome-
san. It was only her, sitting in the middle of the mattress in the
dark, her hair a mess like the crumpled bed-sheets underneath her.
She sighed in relief. Then her mind immediately fired the
unanswered question:
_Well, if it wasn't Saotome-san, then what the hell was that
crawling up my..._
Uncomprehending, curious, and slightly apprehensive, she lifted
her nightgown up past her hips.
x x x
Red eyes stared at a pair of antennae.
Antennae waved: _This is my turf, lady._
Red eyes flew wide open.
3
November 14, 1997
5:37 AM
The other residents in the apartment building got an early wake-up
call that day.
Those who were already up and about, however, plugged their ears
with their fingers quickly, took note of the vibrating windows, and
told the couple on the third floor to just skip the hotel and go
straight to a bomb shelter.
x x x
"-the hell?" Ranma leapt out of his room and flipped the light
switch outside the door, instantly alert from years of vigorous
training in the past and scanning the apartment for danger signs.
He got a full-contact glomp by a shaking mass of feminine flesh
barely concealed under a flimsy red nightgown.
"C - Co - Cockroach!" Setsuna sobbed, pointing a shaky finger at
her room. Sure enough, the culprit slowly emerged from under her
door and leisurely strolled into the living room.
"You woke everybody in the building up over a damned
cockroach?"
"You've got to kill it!"
What is it with girls and cockroaches? He thought in vexation.
And didn't she just get over her run-in with those killer doves?
Suddenly, an evil grin made its way onto his face. This was the
perfect chance for him to get back at all the trouble she'd caused
him.
"Why should I? It was in _your_ room," he said, trying to sound
completely indifferent. "_You_ go kill it."
Setsuna gaped at him in horror. Ranma smiled back beatifically.
Abandoning the glomp in the interest of self-preservation, Setsuna
dashed across the living room floor heroically, jumped over the
glass table and dived into the couch on the far side. The purse that
she left there overnight was snatched up and upended in an instant,
and the contents inside spilled onto the sofa. No matter, however;
her hand had found her ace.
Forcing her heart back down her throat, Setsuna took a deep breath
and blew as loudly as she could into the safety whistle.
x x x
This time, lights in the adjacent buildings down the block came on
as one.
The cockroach advanced.
4
November 14, 1997
5:39 AM
"DON'T YOU THINK THAT'S A BIT MUCH?" Ranma yelled
as he followed Setsuna's fleeing figure out to the staircase, hands
cupped over his ears.
"You forced my hand," she managed in between gasps. Then,
realizing that he couldn't hear her, she repeated more loudly again.
"I SAID, 'YOU FORCED MY HAND!'"
"OH!" He considered her reply and nodded. Then, seeing that the
cockroach had just wandered out of the apartment as well, he gave
it a gentle nudge in the right direction with a bare foot. Setsuna's
eyes widened and desperately darted about, looking for anything
that she could use to fend off the bane of her existence.
"So," Having some time to clear the ringing in his head, he said
more calmly this time, "What are you gonna do about it?"
She pulled the fire alarm.
TIMED VACATION
Chapter Three
Opening Theme: Close to You (Instrumental)
Composed by: CAGNET
5
November 14, 1997
8:48 AM
"Ah. Tchaikovsky." A voice announced from the other side of the
room as his hands lowered to his sides. "Piano Concerto, number
one, B-flat minor. Flawless as usual, Saotome-san."
Ranma looked up from the bench. "Oh, Sensei." He paused to
scratch the pigtail. "Sorry about that. Didn't think anyone was
going to be using the spare practice room."
The other man waved it off. "No, it's perfectly fine. That's what
this place is for anyway." He said, a few etched lines forming by
the corner of his mouth as he smiled benignly. "You've come a
long way in such a short time, Saotome-san. I've never seen
anyone with hands as deft as yours, not to mention the way you
memorize the pieces."
"Ahh. It's nothing," Ranma replied, trying to sound embarrassed
despite his mounting ego. "By the way, sensei, about the contest
last month..."
"Oh, that..." The older man trailed off, pushing a pair of glasses
higher up the bridge of his nose. He shrugged uncomfortably.
The hopeful expression on Ranma's face fell. "I see..."
"The judges thought that while your skill was very remarkable,
they just couldn't sense enough feelings in your performance."
Disappointment gave way to puzzlement. "Feeling?"
"Yes. While the other finalist was not quite able to match you in
technique alone, the panel ruled in favor of her because she played
with a tremendous amount of emotion." Pulling up a chair from
nearby, the professor slowly sat down next to his student. "Tell me,
Saotome-san. What do you feel when you're playing the piano?"
Ranma regarded his teacher. The middle-aged man looked relaxed
in the folding chair, hands resting on knees, waiting patiently. He
scratched his chin with a finger reflexively as he tried to muster an
answer. "Um, actually," Ranma replied hesitantly, "I don't think I
feel anything when I play. It's always like... like I'm fighting
against the piano. So, I guess if you want to, you can say that I
feel like I'm in some kind of battle whenever I play."
The other man closed his eyes and nodded. "Mmm, I see."
"Is that... wrong?"
Lips pursing, the professor was silent for nearly a full minute
before he answered. "It's not wrong, per se," said the man, "but
the piano - or any other instrument, as a matter of fact - becomes a
conduit between the performer and the audience at very high levels.
Sometimes, if you listen closely enough, it's almost as if you can
understand what exactly the person behind the instrument is
thinking through the music."
Ranma thought about that. "I'm not getting it," he admitted at last
with a small frown. "How can you tell what someone is feeling or
thinking just by listening to a song?"
The professor smiled back. "Someday you will, Saotome-san.
Someday you will."
6
November 14, 1997
9:34 AM
_My back's killing me,_ thought Setsuna. She was sitting so stiffly
in her chair that, taking into account of her grass-green blouse, the
matching light-green jacket, and the pair of plaid pants with green
undertones that she chose to wear today, you'd have thought that
she was trying to imitate a chameleon in the wild, attempting to
learn how to camouflage.
If she was trying to hide, however, she was not succeeding. The
newspaper Setsuna held out in front of her was only nearly enough
to hide her face completely from the girl sitting next to her. She
moved it higher.
"So you're the reason why the westbound traffic into town was
paralyzed for half an hour this morning? Ahahahaha!" That was
Momoko, the one person from work who stood out in her
memories when she suddenly found herself working as a model a
little over a year ago. They had grown quite close over the past
year, which was why Setsuna endured without a word when the
younger woman insisted on calling her "Senpai". Like now.
"Senpai," Momoko continued, convulsing every few seconds from
the effort of trying not to erupt into full-blown laughter, "you're...
you're simply the best. I mean, who would've thought of trying to
scare away a cockroach with an emergency whistle?"
Setsuna glared at her friend. "Cockroaches and I will _not_
coexist under the same roof," she declared between clenched teeth.
"Besides," she added defensively after a moment, "the whistle did
work on those damned birds."
"But... pulling a fire alarm?" Unable to contain herself any further,
the young girl guffawed, slapping a hand on her desk several times
as she did so.
"I don't see why you think it's funny," said the green-haired
woman stonily behind the thin wall of newspaper she recently
erected between the two of them. "Do you know how big a fine I
have to pay for this? And how I had to bow and apologize to just
about everybody who lives within three blocks, plus all the
firefighters and the police who came?" She finished testily,
temporarily taking a hand away from the newspaper to massage
her sore back. She winced.
Seeing this, a fresh gale of laughter broke out from the seat next to
her. Momoko, as Setsuna realized when the two first met, had a
peach-shaped face true to her namesake, framed by a head of curly
brown hair that went down to the shoulders. Her beige-colored
blouse, red leather skirt and knee-high boots ensemble today could
be called conservative at best for people who knew her well.
Right now, however, Setsuna only took stock of her friend's visage.
Flushing with uncontrollable amusement, the young girl's face
looked even more like a ripe, succulent peach than usual. Setsuna
briefly flirted with the idea of shooting an arrow through it, like the
way that Swiss guy William Tell did to the apples. She amused
herself with picturing how much juice would leak out from the
entry and exit points of the arrow all the way until Momoko's
laughter had run dry at last.
It took quite a while.
x x x
"So, Senpai," Momoko said at last after her mirth had wound down
to only an occasional giggle, "you actually moved in with that
Sao... something guy? You know, the one that plays the piano?"
Setsuna put the paper down on her desk and looked squarely at her
friend for a moment. She sighed quietly. "Yeah. His name's
Saotome."
"Ohhh. Sa-o-to-me-san..." The younger girl punctuated each
syllable with a nod, eyes peering to the sides in thought. Suddenly,
she inched closer to Setsuna. "How's he in bed?"
Caught completely off-guard by the question, it took the older
woman quite a while to produce an intelligible reply. "...Hah?"
"Don't tell me you guys haven't even..."
"Of course not!" Setsuna denied hotly. "Saotome-san and I have
barely talked. Most of the time, he's kept to himself pretty much,
and the only things he'd say were "I'm home!" or "Good-night!"
We've chatted maybe once or twice during the whole time."
"But, how come you never tried to find out more about the guy?
Didn't you say he's cute and young and single? He's like-"
Momoko groped for the description, then found it. "-like the
perfect rebound candidate!"
"Who said I'm looking to rebound?" Setsuna asked archly.
"Besides, he's not my type. And it's not like I haven't tried to talk
to him..." -it was just next to impossible to pry any information
out of that guy, her thought finished. Two weeks, and all she knew
about him was that he has a fianc�e, that he used to live in Nerima,
and that he's on the black list of every all-you-can-eat restaurant
this side of Tokyo, a fact that she found out too late when she tried
to treat him to one last week, only to get thrown out the door
immediately. They ended up at a Ramen shop that night instead.
In any event, it was just much easier - and safer - to leave her
curiosity alone. She did not want a repeat of that argument on the
day she moved in. "Anyway," Setsuna said, "this is not what you
think it is, Momoko-chan."
"But," Momoko protested, fingers intertwined as she clasped her
hands in front of her, "but it's so romantic! How can you pass this
up? I mean, you're, like, practically living with Elton John!"
"I don't like Elton John," Setsuna deadpanned. She took a few
seconds to compose herself, then finally turned back to the
younger girl. "Momoko-chan," she said in a lecturing tone, "it's
not always that easy. People like Saotome-san... you see them in
concerts, you see them on TV; you see pictures of their faces on
albums in music stores. But there's a lot of difference between
what you see and reality. It's not like I'm eating fine French
cuisine by candlelight every night, and he's there to play the piano
to help me digest the food. You may not want to think about it, but
pianists have to eat too, and they have to sleep. They use toilets
like we do, and sometimes forget to flush." Good thing Saotome-
san's not like that, Setsuna thought as she paused momentarily and
gave silent thanks to whatever kami that might be listening.
She continued. "And it's often harder to live with those people,
because a lot of times all they think about is their art and their
music, and everything else they just push to the side." Not quite so
in Haruka and Michiru's case, a distant thought reminded her; but
that was part of the reason why she had enjoyed living with them.
"It's really not the romantic fairy-tale thing that you made it out to
be. So," Setsuna wrapped up the topic neatly without emotion,
looking at her young friend with half-lidded eyes, "can we end this
discussion now?"
Momoko took on the expression of a junior-high schoolgirl who
was just informed that her favorite shoujo series was slashed from
the air to make room for Pokemon. "I guess..." she said, utterly
disappointed.
"Good," the green-haired woman stood up and dragged her friend
out of her chair by the hand. "Let's go, Momoko-chan; I want to
check the bulletin board and see what kind of work we've got for
today."
x x x
Two plastic-looking cups attached through a hose to some sort of
an engine trembled and danced across the table in front of Setsuna.
She was busy reading the attached flyer. "Introducing the 'T-Rex'?
A Mammoth Innovation of Epic Proportions and Historical
Importance?" She raised an eyebrow, and turned to the machine.
"No." Setsuna took exactly one look at the pulsating device
squirming around on her boss's table and flatly refused. "I'm not
taking this one."
"But, but, Setsuna-chan!" pleaded her boss, a balding middle-aged
man with pudgy, stump-like limbs, and a belly that threatened to
burst through the extra-large oxford shirt he wore whenever he
inhaled. "You can be on television! Aren't you always saying that
you need a big break?"
"By doing a breast pump commercial?" Setsuna knew better than
to flare her temper at her boss, but she did so this time anyway.
"It's only going to be aired during the AV blocks late at night!"
"That's even worse! I'm not going to be known across Japan as
the Midnight Milkmaid whose commercials only come on between
bad blow-job scenes ... and turn that thing off, Momoko-chan!"
She barked. "It's really distracting."
Momoko picked up the buzzing, semi-transparent device and
examined it thoroughly like a kid at the science fair. She looked
through the thing, squeezed the gel cups, held it to her ears and
tried to see if it makes wave sounds like seashells. Finally, she
placed the still-vibrating cups onto her chest. "Hmm... do men
really find big breasts attractive? I wonder what Kyo-chan would
think..." she turned the dial up. "Ooh, this feels nice..."
At last finding a supporter in the cause, Setsuna's boss hurried over
to her friend's side. "See? I tell you, this is a nifty gadget.
There's a suction mode, a massage mode, and an undulation mode,
plus you can set it on timers too! Momoko-chan, the guys at the
company say that they'll even send you ten sets of these T-Rex
breast sculpture modules for free if you'd just do this thirty-
second-segment..."
Setsuna held one hand to her forehead, closed her eyes, and tried to
ignore the two "T-Rex" enthusiasts behind her.
"Oh, Senpai!" Momoko called out in wonder. "Look... if you
turn the dial up, and put the engine in reverse mode, you can even
make this into an oxygen mask!" The curly brunette demonstrated
cheerfully. On the fourth breath, Setsuna turned around in disgust
and stomped back to her desk. It was all she could do to maintain
her calm exterior at this point and keep her boiling anger contained.
Thinking back to the one culprit and its accomplice who toyed
with her and helped to foul her day completely, she smiled thinly.
By the time she got back home, she figured that the simmering
rage within her should have been cooked to a delectable perfection.
This time, Setsuna thought, it's really an all-you-can-eat. And
she'd make him choke down every piece.
7
November 14, 1997
5:46 PM
She stormed up the stairs, her high heels clicking furiously on the
steps. A nylon string dangled out of her left pant pocket;
fortunately, she hadn't needed the whistle to deal with the killer
birds today either. However, just the mere thought of the matter
irritated her even further, and by the time she reached the third
floor and recalled once again the atrocities that Saotome had
committed against her at that very spot earlier in the morning, she
was practically shaking with rage. _So, he thinks that being scared
of cockroaches is funny, does he?_
Well, she had a full day of stress that she could unload now.
_Damned cockroach, damned birds, damned pervert boss and
pervert friend... and damned that Saotome!_ Setsuna paused in
front of the door, jamming her fingers into her purse to search for
her keys.
_I'll show him funny,_ she thought darkly.
x x x
Sitting on the bench, Ranma stared at the ivory and ebony keys
laid out before his eyes. They stared back at him, cold and
unyielding as usual, waiting to be conquered by his hands.
_Emotions, huh?_
He fired a key like a warning shot. The hammer fell. The note
rang true, and was flung skyward like a catapult straight through
the open window.
_Feelings, huh?_
With a look of determination in his eyes, he gleefully joined the
battle.
x x x
Leaning against the wall next to the door, her keys in one hand,
Setsuna had only one thought as she listened to the music coming
from within:
_This is so unfair._
Here she was, ready to come back home and give him an
uncompromised and unabridged edition of her thoughts on the
events that transpired earlier today, and he had to go and play that
damned piano. Worse, he had to go and play that damned song.
It sounds kind of different this time, she noted; harsher at times,
and more soothing at others. On the whole, the song seemed
dichotomously laden and spontaneous, and neither of these were
feelings that it evoked in her the first time she heard it. _I wonder
what happened to him today,_ Setsuna thought, before she shook
her head to clear the thought away. Too late; she was dismayed to
find that somewhere during the song, her blazing anger had
betrayed her once more and died down into merely a slow burn.
_This sucks,_ Setsuna decided, absently tapping the keys in her
hand against the wall as she tried to lean further into it.
The song halted midway through. The door opened.
"Meiou-san?" Ranma regarded her in surprise. "I just heard the
sound of the keys... Why didn't you come in? How long have you
been standing there?"
"Didn't want to interrupt." Setsuna pushed herself off the wall and
drifted inside. "It's a beautiful song," she said with a non-
committal shrug.
"Thanks." A hand came up to his head, hesitated, then scratched
the pigtail anyway. Then, perceiving the sour note in her voice,
Ranma made the connection that she was still likely angry at him
with his earlier stunt. He could have taunted like he used to, and
twist that knife deeper into her wound. Or, he could have ignored
it, like he used to, and let her simmer. "I'm, uh... I'm sorry about
earlier," he said instead. "You had a really bad day, huh?"
Setsuna slowly turned to look at him. "You have no idea," she
finally said, before marching across the room to plop herself down
onto her couch.
x x x
"Say, Saotome-san?" Setsuna said, lifting her head from the sofa,
but not looking at him either. She had her knees drawn high up
onto the cushion, arms encircling her legs.
"Yes?" From his bench, Ranma fought a short struggle before he
finally declined to further investigate whether the kinks at the
underside of her plaid pants were in fact panty lines. He went back
to investigating the keys of his piano instead.
Unaware of the brief attention she just received, Setsuna continued,
a little wistfully, "Say, have you ever felt on some days that your
life is turning into a total waste?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't mean it literally." A hand came up from her side, hung in
the air for a few seconds, then waved anyway. "It's just that today,
I just realized I've gotten no further than where I was one year ago.
I'm still only getting cheesy jobs at work, doing small ads and
what not, and my boss thinks that doing a commercial for the AV
blocks is going to be a big break for me. I mean, how low can you
get?" Setsuna kicked her legs into the air and turned onto her back,
pressing her whole weight into the cushions. She examined her
nails. "On top of that, Yamaguchi's gone too, and I just feel a
little... tired, you know? Like I've gone around a circle and found
myself back at the beginning."
There was a long moment of silence in the room. "Meiou-san," at
length, Ranma looked up from the piano and called out.
"Hmm?" She stretched.
"Look at it this way," he deliberated as he spoke, "Think of it...
think of it as a vacation. A really, really long vacation."
Setsuna sat up and mussed her hair a little with one hand. "A...
vacation?"
Ranma flipped the lid over the keyboard. "You don't always have
to give it your all, or try your best at every moment, you know?
Everybody has days when they're down and tired." He stood up
slowly, walked across the small living room, and set himself down
squarely on the other couch. "It's probably a weird way to think of
it," he continued, fixing his eyes on her. "But, at times like this, I
take it as a sign from some passing kami telling me to take a break.
That way, I don't have to try as hard or push myself to the limit
every single moment, you know? I can just... relax for a while."
"And then?"
"And then things will get better." He said confidently.
"...really?" She asked, feeling slightly better now.
"Probably," he laughed a little and amended.
"...Probably?" She rounded on him, slight incredulity in her voice.
Probably? That was his conclusion of a pep-talk? She snorted, but
a trace of a smile made its way onto her face anyway. "Say,
Saotome-san?"
"Hmm?"
She made as if to say something, but fell silent again. "Oh, don't
worry about it," she said at last. Ranma raised an eyebrow at that,
but decided not to make an issue of it. "It's nothing."
"Vacation, huh..." Setsuna murmured to herself, falling back into
the couch.
8
November 17, 1997
8:35 AM
Monday came, and Setsuna stepped into the office with unusually
high spirits. Not that normal people could tell from a glance, but
the little spring in her step was immediately noticeable to all those
who had been working with her long enough. She was on her way
to her desk, but changed course to make a stop at her boss's office.
Perhaps things would be better today, like Saotome-san had
suggested. Either way, though, she was determined to stop
worrying and simply go with the flow.
The balding man took note of the smile on her face, and picked up
on her mood with a surprising acumen that she did not expect.
"Setsuna-chan! You're looking marvelously happy today."
Instead of nodding as usual, she answered him by making a half
twirl, showcasing the red, floor-length dress with zip-off sleeves
that she had chosen to wear today under her favorite white jacket,
before striking an alluring pose that looked all the more memorable
by the effortless and almost casual way she presented it. The eye-
candy was a rare and delicious treat, and her boss gobbled it up
eagerly. "So, what's for work?"
The eagerness in the man's face slowly vanished. "Um, boss?"
"Well, that is," he cleared his throat for a few seconds too long,
then finally said in a patronizing manner that Setsuna definitely did
not like, "Setsuna-chan..." he trailed off again.
"Yes?"
The man was looking more and more uncomfortable as he
continued. "See, there haven't been too many advertisement
opportunities lately, and what was left had already been assigned
to our younger models because the higher-ups wanted to shift the
focus of our firm to a more exuberant and energetic presentation in
order to attract the teenagers today..."
Completely disliking what she was hearing now, Setsuna stared at
her boss and asked in an even tone, "What exactly are you
saying?"
"I'm saying that your schedule's going to be looking kind of empty
for a short while," he admitted. Before she could raise her
objection, however, he added, "But not to worry, Setsuna-chan;
you've just demonstrated how much, um, experience you have
under your belt as a model, so I'm going to pull some strings and
place one of our upcoming new stars under your direct guidance."
It took all of two seconds for her to digest the information. "You
want me to be a _manager_?" Is he serious? "I'm supposed to be
a model - no, scratch that, I'm supposed to be a fashion designer,
damnit! If you can't find work for me, the least you can do is to
talk with the guys at the production department and get me a
place-"
"Wait, wait, Setsuna-chan! Don't be so angry." The man said in a
placating manner. "You found out what those guys _really_ want
the first time you went there. Besides, the girl we're trying to
promote is a very sweet gal; I'm sure you'll like her a lot. She just
came from England not too long ago, as a matter of fact, but she
speaks Japanese well enough that language barrier is not going to
cause a problem. Here, let me call her in - Minako-chan!"
"Absolutely not," Setsuna said emphatically, finally fed up with
the ridiculousness of the situation. To think, she was actually
looking for good things to happen for a change... what a joke.
"Listen, if you're not going to find something to fill my schedule,
then I'm going to submit my resignation letter as of this-" she
paused. She was positive she didn't just hear that right. _Minako-
chan?_
"Coming!" A syrupy voice announced, and a teenage girl
sauntered into the small office, humming a random pop tune to
herself all the while.
Setsuna paled. _Oh, hell, no._
Slightly over five foot with a generally lithe and athletic figure.
Check. Long blond hair, with a trademark red bow in the center.
Check. Disgustingly large and sparkling blue eyes that were just a
shade paler to Usagi's, check. A smile that was just as disturbingly
vapid as Usagi's, check. Singing a pop song that was missing
notes by a mile, check... and mate.
"Hello! My name is Aino Minako!" She bowed politely and said
in an all-too-familiar saccharine voice. "Nice to meet you. My
birthday is October twenty-second, my blood-type is B, and I like
idols, gyoza, and physical education! My dream is to, erm,
become an idol myself!" Then, to the side, she added to the man in
a whisper, "is that good enough?" Behind Setsuna's back, the man
nodded furiously in confirmation.
_More than good enough, Minako-chan,_ Setsuna came to the
same conclusion independently at nearly the same time. She held a
hand to her face and sighed. _You get a cookie for the effort._
Then, to herself, she thought in complete dismay: _This is not
happening._
(END CHAPTER)
Once again, much thanks to Figment for the pre-reading on the
chapter.
- ukie
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