#29: Cinderella
“Calling to update you on Akazawa Kurume. Do you have a moment?”
Meiji Stationery, lunch break.
Mikoto, halfway through a sandwich pack at her desk, picked up a call from Sanae over at Hibiya.
Only Mikoto and Rinko in the office. With the senior staff all out, the two least-experienced employees had been left behind to cover any sudden visitors — an unspoken rule at Meiji Stationery.
“Yes. I was on lunch too.”
“Same here. Nothing major, so feel free to keep eating while you listen. I’ll do the same.”
“I see.”
A faint chewing sound came through the line. Judging by the wind noise, she was probably eating lunch on the headquarters building’s rooftop. Poor manners, but understandable enough for someone as busy and pressed for time as Sanae.
“Akazawa Kurume is twenty-five, third-year in Secretarial, same hire year as me. Our only real interaction was during new-employee training, but my impression of her hasn’t changed since then.”
“Left hook, followed by a right straight.”
“Correct. Looking into her background again, I found a name connected to her hiring that you’d recognize well, Kurosu-san.”
“…Division Head Kosugi?”
No need for elimination — Mikoto had already guessed it. Sanae answered with a simple “yes.”
“Akazawa Kurume never should have made it past the hiring filters, either on ability or academic background. Getting hired anyway was unmistakably Kosugi pulling strings — and almost certainly through some personal connection.”
“Like family, or… a mistress?”
She felt Rinko’s gaze on her. Maybe she’d been listening in.
“That much I can’t say. The nature of their relationship isn’t really the important question, though. What matters now is stopping whatever Kosugi’s scheming behind Akazawa Kurume. Their objective is revenge against you.”
“Revenge? That seems a bit dramatic…”
Even as she said it, Mikoto understood the real weight of the situation.
Kosugi had been disciplined as the one held responsible for the Digital Memo fraud incident. Fully deserved, from his own actions — but more than enough reason for him to nurse a grudge in return.
“In any case. I’ll be in touch if I find anything more. Please let me know too, Kurosu-san, if anything strange comes—”
Suddenly, Sanae’s voice cut off. No response, no matter how many times Mikoto called her name.
—Had she been caught? By Akazawa Kurume, or someone working with her?
Anxious, Mikoto pressed the phone tight against her ear.
“…I just dropped the tamagoyaki from my lunch box.”
“That’s what you get for eating on the phone…”
“Tōko says the same thing. She praises me if I finish everything without leaving scraps — might get scolded today…“
“I see…”
Worried for nothing.
In the end, the call wrapped up on that note of what could only be described as some kind of humblebrag about her marriage. Left alone, Mikoto returned to her lunch, and Rinko shifted her seat over to sit beside her.
“Was that the Hibiya person?”
“You met Shirai-san — Yanase Tōko’s spouse… or is it husband? I still can’t tell. Yanase Sanae. She’s been digging into the Akazawa incident for me.”
“…I see.”
Mikoto had explained the whole Akazawa business to Rinko and Shiina early in the week. She still vividly remembered the effort it took to stop Shiina, who’d flown into a rage and tried to lodge a complaint directly with Hibiya on the spot. In the end, it had taken Rinko explaining, over and over, that acting rashly would only play right into Akazawa’s plan before Shiina finally simmered down, still visibly fuming the whole while.
After a stretch of silence, Rinko spoke up.
“Kurosu-san, what do you think about marriage? Not just ordinary couples — Yanase-san and her wife too.”
Not about Akazawa, then. Unable to read Rinko’s intent, Mikoto reached for a generic, safe answer.
“What do I think… As long as the people involved are happy, I don’t see a problem with it?”
“Would you say the same thing about yourself?”
“Huh?”
“…For instance. If I proposed to you right now, could you say yes?”
Just a hypothetical, and yet Rinko’s eyes carried real weight behind them. Today’s perfume was Lavender — a bright, floral scent worn faintly enough that you’d only notice it up close.
“Hmm, let’s see. You’re cute, Shirai-san, and you smell nice. Might just fall for it if you actually proposed.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
Mikoto had said it half-jokingly, and Rinko asked back with an equally joking smile.
Mikoto found herself thinking back to the worry she carried around lately.
The reason she kept making Shandy wait came down to nothing but her own lack of resolve.
The resolve to love a woman.
“Honestly, I still can’t tell which way I lean. You might find that off-putting, hearing me say something like that, Shirai-san.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m—”
Starting to say something, Rinko caught herself and fell silent.
Filling the gap, Mikoto kept talking.
“But either way, what I’d want from a marriage partner probably wouldn’t change much.”
“Like what? What would you want from them?”
Rinko kept the questions coming.
Ever since that business at Maverick, Rinko had taken to talking to Mikoto more often, over all sorts of things. Probably because they’d grown closer — a slightly different perfume nearly every day now, and each one seemed just a touch stronger than the last.
“…Never really thought about it. My parents don’t nag me about it. Kotone keeps asking ‘where’s my niece,’ but she just wants an irresponsible little kid to spoil, nothing more to it than that.”
“Kotone…”
Something clouded briefly across Rinko’s face. The reason for it, Mikoto couldn’t guess.
“Anyway. I think it’s simple enough — date, get to know each other, and if you both want to get married, you do. …What am I even talking about…”
“No, thank you. That actually helped, Kurosu-san.”
“Helped with what, exactly…”
A little embarrassed at having spilled her own views on marriage out loud, Mikoto laughed it off and scratched her head.
She and Rinko were the same age. Unlike the easygoing Kurosu household, Rinko’s parents probably held some real expectations for her. She was from Shizuoka — Mikoto, born and raised in Yokohama, had at least heard secondhand that rural areas could be harsher on unmarried young people.
“I’ve been agonizing over this for a while, actually. But talking with you settled it for me, Kurosu-san. I’m going to make a real move.”
“Right, you mentioned having someone you liked. Rooting for you, Shirai-san.”
“Really? That makes me happy.”
Rinko’s smile carried a faint trace of something sad underneath it.
“Then, would you mind helping me out with something? I want to plan out my date — could you help me pick clothes and makeup that’d suit me?”
“If someone like me is any help.”
The two of them settled on a schedule — this weekend, Friday, a public holiday.
Mikoto had no idea whatsoever who Shirai Rinko’s someone might be.
＊
The edge of Roppongi. The girls’ bar Antiqua — occasionally closed on short notice.
The heavy, weathered door on the mixed-use building’s third floor stood shut tonight, despite today being a regular business day.
“Closed…?”
Just before seven in the evening — right around opening time. Unlike before, this didn’t look like a shop that had simply just finished closing up. A “CLOSED” sign hung from the doorknob, swaying faintly in a gust of wind funneled through the building.
An unscheduled closure today, it seemed.
About to turn and leave, Mikoto suddenly remembered the pocket tissue packet, flyer tucked inside, that Shandy had given her back in mid-January — the night they’d first met, when Mikoto had accidentally knocked her over. It should have the shop’s schedule printed on it somewhere.
“A phone number…”
Buried deep in her bag, the pocket tissue packet turned out to have Antiqua’s logo, a location map, pricing, business days — and a phone number. A landline starting with 03, presumably the shop’s own line.
Reluctant, for some reason, to let her unbroken streak of nightly visits end here, Mikoto tried calling, not expecting much.
A few rings. Then the ringing shifted into something else, and a voice answered.
“Antiqua. We’re closed today for an unscheduled break. We look forward to your next visit.”
“Shandy-san…?”
Having never once called Antiqua before, Mikoto was hearing Shandy’s phone voice for the first time. Nothing like her usual bell-like laugh. Rough, scratchy, thick with congestion.
“Oh, is that Mikoto-san’s voice I hear? My apologies — you came all this way, and I can’t even see you.”
“Yes, I do miss you when I can’t. Is it a cold?”
“I was trying to be careful, but it seems I’ve lost our little game after all. We were racing to see which would come first — me skipping the shop, or you skipping a visit.”
She had no memory of any such wager, but apparently Mikoto had come out the winner.
—Tonight’s game of love: Mikoto’s victory.
No, wait.
“…Are you all right?”
“No need to worry your—”
A heavy cough came through. On the other end, Her Majesty Mimosa let out a plaintive “meow” — a sound with something almost sorrowful in it, like a subject worrying over the vassal in charge of feeding her.
Mikoto remembered the spare key.
“I’m coming over. Do you need anything?”
“N— no, it’s fine, really. I wouldn’t want to pass this on to you. Isn’t work an important stretch right now too?”
“You don’t sound fine at all. And Mimosa sounds worried too.”
“No, that’s not it…“
“Then what is it?”
“…Simple girlish pride. I don’t want you seeing me at my weakest.”
Mikoto understood exactly why Shandy had said that. She, too, always dressed up carefully before heading to Antiqua, for the exact same reason.
You want the person you love to see you at your very best.
And realizing, all over again, that Shandy wanted to show her that same best self — meaning, Shandy really did care for her — sent Mikoto’s heart skipping.
Good thing this was over the phone.
Pressing a hand to what was probably a faintly flushed forehead, she leaned against Antiqua’s door, thinking it over.
“Even so, I can’t just leave you like this. What do you need?”
“Fufu, quite forceful, aren’t you? Usually such a gentleman — or a girl — but only in moments like this does the white-horse-prince act come out—”
A heavy cough cut her off. Not really a moment for her usual wordplay.
“I think it’d be better if I just came over, forceful or not.”
“…Sorry, could you bring cold medicine and something easy to eat, then…“
“Leave it to me, Your Highness.”
Ending the call, Mikoto left Antiqua behind.
Her destination: the neighborhood where Shandy lived, Kyōdō.
＊
After picking up the requested items at a drugstore near the station, Mikoto arrived at Shandy’s building. Using the spare key to open the entrance gate, she turned the knob on Room 302.
“Shandy-saaan?”
No answer. Instead, from the living room at the end of the hall, Mimosa came padding out gracefully.
“Meow.”
“There, there, good girl. Where’s Her Highness?”
Giving her a light pat on the head, the queen turned back toward the living room. Following her, Mikoto found Shandy curled up on the sofa.
Given “I don’t want to see you,” it made sense her appearance was nothing like her usual self. No jacket, no off-duty hoodie, no fashionable street clothes either — just a long T-shirt, underwear peeking out beneath the hem.
“I’ve come to your rescue, Your Highness.”
“…Ah, welcome…”
Even the usually confident Shandy looked utterly worn down tonight. Her amber eyes were so narrowed it was impossible to tell if they were open or closed, her pale skin flushed a feverish red.
“Fever? Have you been to a doctor?”
“I only have a cat thermometer…”
Mikoto couldn’t help a wry laugh escaping her.
Mimosa might not be affectionate toward her, but Shandy clearly treasured her all the same. Smooth flooring isn’t good for a cat’s joints, and naming a Russian Blue — a breed whose eyes eventually turn emerald green as they mature — “Mimosa” simply for having yellow eyes as a kitten suggested she didn’t actually know that much about cats. But there was no doubting how much she cared.
“Let me take your temperature.”
“I’m covered in sweat, and dressed like this…”
“Set girlish pride aside for a moment, please.”
Her faintly damp forehead was shockingly hot to the touch. A real fever.
“Let’s wipe the sweat off first, at least. I’ll borrow a towel.”
“It’s fine, really. I’ll just stay like—”
“No. Letting it drag on is dangerous.”
Finding a towel in the bathroom, Mikoto wiped the sweat from Shandy’s skin. Shandy offered a token resistance — her so-called girlish pride — but gave up quickly enough in front of Mikoto. Baring her sweat-soaked body, Mikoto wiped her down gently.
Thin enough that her ribs showed faintly through her skin, Shandy’s frail frame looked, tonight of all nights, like that of a genuinely sickly girl.
“Fufu, to think I’d be seen like this, undressed…”
“Glad to see you’ve still got the energy for jokes.”
“Yes. Seeing your face, Mikoto-san, brought a little strength back to me…”
Opening a can of cat food for Mimosa, who let out a “meow,” and unwrapping some jelly and pudding for Shandy, who managed only a weak “fufu” in response.
“Would you feed me? Say ‘ahh’?”
“Even now, still playing games…”
“Well, my body won’t move at all. I couldn’t even manage Mimosa’s dinner…”
Her half-lidded eyes barely showed the dark of her irises beneath. Those amber eyes were on hold for tonight.
“Open your mouth, please.”
“Mmnh…”
Even that barely opened. With the small complimentary spoon from the drugstore, anything she tried to feed her would just get blocked by her own lips.
Exactly as Mikoto had predicted, the spoonful of jelly ended up spilled across Shandy’s T-shirt. Left with no choice, Mikoto pried her mouth open gently with a finger. She probably didn’t have the strength left to chew, but getting something into her stomach mattered more right now.
“…Sorry for the trouble, Mikoto-san. Asking a guest to do something like this — I really shouldn’t.”
Struck by how uncharacteristically meek Shandy sounded, Mikoto swallowed back whatever she’d been about to say.
The queenly composure Shandy carried at Antiqua was nowhere to be found here, at least not in Room 302. Frail, fragile, and uncertain — a girl, plain and simple.
The lonely Alice Shandy had once described to her — maybe this was exactly what she’d looked like.
“An ordinary customer wouldn’t have a spare key, would they?”
“Who knows… Maybe I’ve given one to someone else too…”
“If you’re telling me I’m off duty, I’ll leave, then.”
“But you don’t want to leave… do you…?”
“Fufu.” Even with her face this worn down, she still managed to toss out something loaded, playing the game.
“I’m not leaving. I’m not so heartless that I could see you this weak and just walk away.”
“…I don’t want you to leave either, Mikoto-san.”
“Then I’d appreciate it if you dropped the suggestive act.”
“Fufu… I just want to stay someone you’re glad to see, that’s all…”
Shandy dressed herself in the veil of mystery, deliberately vague, deliberately alluring — and even sick with fever, that hadn’t changed. At least in front of Mikoto, she likely never would let it.
“This isn’t really the moment for—”
Catching herself mid-sentence, Mikoto swallowed the rest.
What was the point in denying the self Shandy wanted to show her? Would tearing off the veil of mystery she wore, exposing her true self by force, actually make her happy?
If Mikoto truly meant to love Shandy, then loving her mystery too, exactly as it was, was the only way that meant anything at all.
“Did you say something…? My hearing’s a little muffled, with the fever…”
“No. Just thinking there’s really no beating you, Shandy-san.”
“Fufu, I know, I know…”
Meeting Shandy’s smile, Mikoto answered with a wry smile of her own.
There was more than one way to love someone — beyond just trading loaded words on equal footing.
Shandy, queenly like Mimosa, needed to be handled gently, understood on her own terms, and praised for it.
Like a mother praising a confident, headstrong child.
Letting herself be charmingly, playfully toyed with — while quietly choosing, on her own terms, to allow herself to be toyed with.
“I like you, Shandy-san.”
“I don’t accept confessions made while someone’s weak, you know? Fair and square is more your style…”
“Yes, I know. Consider it practice, then.”
“When will you be showing off the results of all this practice, I wonder…”
“Well, not tonight, certainly.”
“No, indeed… business this week is a lost cause…”
Mikoto looked at the spare key sitting on the table, and, forcing down the itching in her own teeth, spoke.
“If you’d like me around, Shandy-san, I wouldn’t mind living with you for a while.”
Even weakened, she seemed sharply attuned to whenever Mikoto reached beyond herself. Shandy laughed a “fufu,” smiling through her feverish, flushed face.
“Wasn’t that what I said from the very start…?”
“You can see through my own lies easily enough, but there’s still a chance you might be lying to me.”
“How would I earn your trust, then?”
“…Shall we seal it with a kiss? A vow that you’re not lying.”
“You might catch this from me, you know.”
“I haven’t had you yet tonight, after all.”
“What a stubborn guest you are…”
Catching Shandy as she leaned into her, Mikoto kissed her. Her lips and mouth burned with fever, but the kiss came somehow more honest, more unguarded than usual.
“…My loss. Would you look after me for a while? Me, and Mimosa…”
“As Her Highness commands.”
“Fufu… Playing the prince like that, Mikoto-san — honestly, kind of off-putting… not really your character…”
“Even now, with that?”
Even weakened, Shandy never failed to strike at exactly the most embarrassing spot.
Mikoto let out a sigh — equal parts hollow and fond — at having lost her heart to a woman so thoroughly impossible to get the better of.