#12: Aroma Trap
“Not a single idea’s coming to us, is it…?”
Meiji Stationery’s office. The brainstorm for the follow-up to the digital notepad project had wrapped up without a single usable result to show for it.
Rinko, sitting face to face with her the whole time, let out a matching sigh. Mikoto checked the clock. Past five. The end-of-day chime and the slanting afternoon sun both nudged her toward heading home.
“Should we give it another shot Monday? Tomorrow’s Sunday, after all.”
The wood-paneled, Shōwa-era office held just the two of them. Despite how much racking of brains this whole mess demanded, Rinko was the only one who’d stepped up to help with Mikoto’s headache of a project. Everyone else was keeping a wise distance from trouble.
“Sorry, volunteering myself and still coming up this empty…”
“No, no. If good ideas came easily, there’d be no need for a project team at all.”
Whatever grand name the project carried, the budget behind it amounted to little more than pocket change. With that scrap of investment, Mikoto, Rinko, and some still-unnamed third member were somehow supposed to save the future of a company already listing badly to one side.
A losing battle from the very start. She was running out of options fast.
Slumping back into her office chair, a strange fragrance caught Mikoto’s nose. Rinko’s perfume, probably.
“What’s today’s scent, Shirai-san?”
“Ylang-ylang. I thought it might help clear my head, so I put some on earlier.”
“Clear your head, huh…”
She could use a little of that herself. Trying to shake off the directionless gloom hanging over her, Mikoto let her thumb drift across her phone screen.
Ylang-ylang.
The “flower of flowers,” known for its long, slender, yellow-green petals. The extracted oil was said to ease anxiety and restore confidence.
And — an aphrodisiac effect.
Shandy’s earlier deduction surfaced in her mind.
—You’re liked, you know. By the Peach Lady.
Pushing down the conclusion she’d nearly let herself reach, Mikoto asked a different question instead.
“You’re pretty knowledgeable about aromatherapy, aren’t you, Shirai-san?”
“Wh— yes, I mean, I do have a certification. Why do you ask?”
“Just hypothetically — if someone always wore an orange scent, what kind of person would you guess they were?”
“Always orange? Well, there’s a lot of different ‘oranges,’ so…”
“Keep it simple. What would you guess, off the top of your head?”
Rinko pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking it over.
“Hmm… well, for instance, someone who likes sweet orange might be the type who bottles up stress easily. Orange is supposed to calm irritability, so maybe it’s an instinctive thing, reaching for that?”
“Always on guard, a bit of a perfectionist, maybe?”
“I suppose that could be it…”
“Though it’s just a guess,” Rinko added with an unsure little laugh.
Shandy’s a perfectionist who bottles up stress, so she likes orange. It was practically an accusation dressed up as a conclusion — but she did run the whole shop entirely on her own. Thinking about how hard that must be, it wasn’t hard to believe.
“When would you want to smell orange, Shirai-san?”
Might as well squeeze out a little more information while she could. But what came back instead was—
“I actually hate orange.”
“…What?”
“I mean, it’s not really a big reason, but…”
Laughing it off with an “ahaha,” Rinko went on.
“Way back, in school, I once put a mandarin from lunch away in my desk. Meant to eat it later. Then I completely forgot about it. By the time I remembered, it had gone all moldy and rotten, and the smell was unbearable. Ever since then, I just can’t handle orange.”
A familiar enough story. Every class had one or two kids who’d manage to turn their school-lunch bread mysteriously moldy by accident. Rinko was probably one of those.
But Shandy’s deduction was starting to feel disturbingly plausible.
The Peach Lady hates the smell of the Shandy Gaff.
“…But, hehe. This is the first time I’ve really gotten to talk with you like this, Kurosu-san. I usually get so nervous.”
“Sorry about that. People have told me for years I’m hard to approach.”
While Shandy did nothing but tease her, Mikoto had spent her whole life fielding words like “pretty” or “mature,” always tangled up with some mix of admiration, dislike, and envy. Trouble that came from being attractive was the kind of luxury problem nobody wanted to hear you complain about.
Rinko wore a vague, uncertain smile — the exact reaction Mikoto had seen more times in her life than she cared to count. Nothing like the way Shandy looked at her.
“It’s just, I get so self-conscious around you. And I’m from out of the city, so all the formal speech feels kind of exhausting.”
“Want to drop it, then? We’re the same age, after all.”
The offhand remark got no response. Maybe that had come out sharper than she meant it to. Worried, Mikoto looked up at Rinko’s face.
Backlit by the setting sun, her expression was impossible to read. Still, she managed to force out a reply.
“…Can I just talk normally? Like, friends?”
“Sure, if the formal stuff’s wearing you out.”
“…Then, I’ll take you up on that! Ah, wait, that was formal again.”
Laughing awkwardly at herself, Rinko took an exaggerated deep breath. Probably covering for her own embarrassment. Even Mikoto could tell that much.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah… I mean, yes. Maybe it’s the ylang-ylang. What about you, Kurosu-san?”
“Let’s see. Talking about aromatherapy’s honestly a way better break than pencil-making, if I’m being ho—”
Mid-sentence, something clicked. Every scattered piece swirling in Mikoto’s mind connected at once.
A flash of insight always seems to arrive right in that one unguarded moment when an overworked, deadlocked mind finally loosens its grip.
“…Pencils and aromatherapy!”
“K— Kurosu-san?!”
Mikoto had thrown her arms around Rinko. She couldn’t hold herself back — thrilled at stumbling onto an idea she’d never once thought of before.
The ylang-ylang scent Rinko wore surged straight through her, lifting her mood in an instant, calming effect be damned. She kept shouting anyway.
“A pencil-and-aromatherapy combo! We could actually use our own know-how for this — it could be a real new product! Thank you, this is all thanks to you, Shirai-san!”
“Th— thank you… very much…?”
Caught up in her own excitement, Mikoto had no room left to notice Rinko’s racing heartbeat, or the confusion of being hugged out of nowhere.
＊
“Shall I guess for you? A good idea came to you, didn’t it?”
Roppongi’s back alleys, third floor of a mixed-use building — the girls’ bar Antiqua.
Settling into her prized seat, Mikoto watched Shandy guess it correctly with a knowing smile.
“You really do see right through everything, don’t you.”
“Yes, well — you’re an easy one to read.”
A breathy laugh slipped in beneath the classical music playing over the wired radio. Unlike the last time, Antiqua was quiet tonight — nearly deserted. Mikoto was the only customer.
“Then can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”
“Craving that much attention, are we? Getting lonely, Mikoto-san?”
“I am lonely. Seeing you every night barely feels like enough.”
“Ha, smooth as always.”
Shandy narrowed her amber eyes and laughed.
Still as formidable as ever, Mikoto thought. Push, and whatever came back from Shandy always outdid the push. If she tried the same approach on Rinko, there was no way she’d be deflected this smoothly.
“Then let’s make tonight one to remember.”
“I won’t forget it. Not when I get you all to myself.”
“Funny, though — it seems I don’t get to have Mikoto-san all to myself.”
And then, as if delivering the finishing blow, Shandy fixed her with a stare.
What she was hinting at was obvious: a member of the project team. The Peach Lady — Shirai Rinko, who apparently hated orange.
“There’s nothing going on with the Peach Lady, really.”
“Playing dumb, are we? Naughty, Mikoto-san.”
Wearing a faintly dangerous smile, Shandy switched, uninvited, into cocktail-making mode.
While the spirits were measured and the shaker rattled, Mikoto ran back through the day’s events at work. Thanks to hitting it off with Rinko, she’d landed on an idea for the new product. That was all that had happened today. Surely she hadn’t been given another share of perfume like last time.
By the time the glass was set down, Shandy’s smile had vanished.
—Her eyes are a waning crescent. She’s angry.
“Tonight’s first drink is a punishment — an Aroma Trap.”
Fixing her with a look sharp enough to skewer, Shandy drove the point straight into Mikoto’s chest.
Aroma Trap.
A refreshing-looking drink, crushed ice shimmering at the surface of the glass. But what really caught the attention — the sense of smell, specifically — was the tangle of aromas rising off it. Peach sweetness, orange tartness, pineapple and grenadine woven together, tempting you to taste it as quickly as possible.
Don’t be fooled, though. This cocktail was vodka-based. A trap built to sweep the legs out from under anyone lured in by its sweet fragrance.
“I believe I already warned you to watch out for an aroma trap, didn’t I?”
Mikoto had no idea why Shandy was angry.
Still, she scrambled for the right words to try to calm her sharp tone.
“N-no, come on. I’m devoted to you, Shandy-san. I’m not cheating on you or anything.”
“I never said a single word about cheating.”
“Ngh…”
The moment she saw Mikoto at a loss for words, Shandy’s expression eased.
Her amber eyes shifted back into a waxing crescent, and she laughed her usual light, rolling laugh.
“Just a wicked little joke, from your wicked bartender. Because Mikoto-san can’t lie to me, after all — you’re an honest one.”
“A joke, huh… Well, I’m relieved the misunderstanding’s cleared up, at least.”
Wearing a smile — the exact opposite of the triumphant one she’d had while serving the cocktail — Shandy pressed a fingertip to her own chin. Her signature pose whenever she was about to lay out a deduction.
“That said. If it wasn’t cheating, then it’s not something a joke can cover — this is a real problem.”
“Huh?”
“When I took your coat, I caught a scent. Ylang-ylang, wasn’t it?”
Antiqua had a standing rule: hand your coat to Shandy upon entering. Which meant any lingering scent would be caught the instant she did.
On top of that, she’d named the exact fragrance.
“Yes, you’ve got it exactly right. But how did you—ah.”
Mid-sentence, it came back to her.
She hadn’t been given a “share” of the scent, not exactly — but she’d done something close enough.
“Oh my. If your company has a hugging culture, I suppose you could claim the scent just happened to rub off by coincidence.”
—She’d hugged Shirai Rinko.
That must have been when Rinko’s scent transferred onto her.
“Ah, that’s… I just got so happy about a good idea coming to me that I ended up hugging her without thinking…”
“So you two ended up in each other’s arms. I see…”
Shandy dropped the mischievous-girl smile and let out a sigh instead. Her gaze turned genuinely serious.
“Acting that irresponsibly is unfair to the Peach Lady, Mikoto-san.”
There was none of the usual joking lightness in her tone. The stern, scolding note in her voice left Mikoto feeling strangely, unexpectedly guilty.
“Irresponsible? It’s just a normal hug, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But for the other person involved it isn’t.”
Leaving it at that, Shandy stepped away from the counter and walked over to Mikoto’s seat. Sensing this meant stand up, Mikoto rose, not sure what was coming, in the narrow, eel’s-nest sliver of space that was Antiqua.
Shandy’s face, right in front of her now, was too dim to make out clearly. All Mikoto could tell was that the air around her had gone taut, on edge.
Shandy spoke.
“Tonight’s game is whether Mikoto-san will hug me back. I’m betting that you will.”
“In that case, I just won’t hug you back—”
Before she could even finish the sentence, Shandy threw her arms around her.
The arms wrapped around her back were rigid. Not a casual, greeting-style hug. A tight, unyielding embrace — the kind meant to bind two hearts together and refuse, absolutely, to let go.
Mikoto felt her warmth, her breath. The scent of orange cut straight through her body. Shandy’s small chin dug sharply into her collarbone. It hurt.
“…Shandy-san, this doesn’t count as a declared victory, does it?”
“Mikoto-san, how does this feel to you right now?”
“Um… what?”
“Not winning or losing. How does it feel, being hugged by me?”
Mikoto didn’t wrap her own arms around Shandy’s back. Doing so would mean losing the game outright.
Half of her didn’t want to admit defeat. The other half was afraid that holding her back would turn this into something with real meaning.
Which meant the remaining half of what she actually felt was something she couldn’t put into words at all.
She simply didn’t have the nerve to say it.
“…I can’t quite put it into words.”
“Then just answer simply — do you like it, or not? Three seconds. Two… one…”
Rushed into a forced binary choice, Mikoto lost all room to play with her words.
“…I like it.”
“Thank you.”
Apparently satisfied with the answer, Shandy released her.
The places where she’d been touched still burned. The instant the hug ended, Mikoto’s heart pounded like a drum. Blood roared through her whole body — and she hadn’t even had a single sip yet.
“Why do you think I did something like that?”
“Why, you ask…”
Shandy gave an apologetic, wry smile and straightened out Mikoto’s rumpled clothes. Fixing her own posture in turn, she continued.
“The Peach Lady probably felt exactly what you’re feeling right now. Don’t you think that’s a little irresponsible?”
“Why is it that you’re so concerned about Shirai-san — I mean, the Peach Lady?”
“Well, Mikoto-san, that’s because—”
Shandy started to answer, then stopped herself.
Instead, she pressed a kiss to Mikoto’s cheek, letting out a soft breath of a laugh.
“…That’s something you need to realize on your own.”
“Wait, you can’t get that far into it and then not tell me…!?”
Shandy, always mysterious, was doubling down on it tonight. Her amber eyes gave nothing away, only deepening whatever truth lay behind them. The real reason behind the hug, the words she’d almost said — none of it made any sense to Mikoto at all.
Laughing it off as usual, Shandy returned to the counter. Clearing away the now-watered-down Aroma Trap, its crushed ice long melted, she started on a new cocktail.
What she served this time was a Shandy Gaff — the drink both of them loved best.
“Now then, here’s your real first drink of the night.”
There was no point hoping for more information than that. Mikoto returned to her seat and pressed her lips to the glass, its amber color glowing bright.
Tonight’s Shandy Gaff carried just a hint of extra bitterness.
“Oh, that’s right — I nearly forgot about your reward for winning the game, didn’t I?”
“Now, what should it be?” Shandy murmured, laughing softly to herself.
There was something faintly dangerous in the air. Some instinct warned Mikoto that going any further than this might mean there’d be no turning back.
But instinct — her true feelings, pulse racing, blood roaring — wanted exactly that. To be pulled into a different, more dangerous trap than the one laced with Rinko’s fragrance.
“…Mikoto-san, are you off work tomorrow?”
“It’s Sunday, so yes. Antiqua’s closed too, so I figured I’d just take it easy.”
“Then spend it with me tomorrow. As a reward.”
“…What?”
Resting her cheek in one hand against the counter, Shandy’s eyes softened into something sweet and gentle.
“Go on a date with me. Outside the shop.”
—Tonight’s game: total defeat for Mikoto.
However, it comes with an outside-the-shop date.