#31: Final Approach / ep.2
The rain began. A sudden shower.
With a gentle “shaah…”, a fine drizzle, light as silk thread, wetting the bench in the rooftop garden atop the commercial building.
“It’s actually raining. Forecast said cloudy.”
“Yeah. Forgot my umbrella.”
Seated on the covered bench in the garden, Rinko threw the words out to Mikoto beside her, deliberately casual.
Plain, everyday small talk. This was exactly the relationship with Mikoto that Rinko had been quietly longing for through two full years since transferring to Meiji Stationery.
It had all started with something small. Rinko cast her mind back to that unforgettable first day.
＊
“This is Shirai-san, taking over clerical duties from Mano-san, who left us for marriage.”
“I’m Shirai Rinko! I’m sure I’ll cause plenty of trouble while I get up to speed. I appreciate your patience and guidance!”
Two years ago. Meiji Stationery’s office.
Introduced by Managing Director Tsuzuki, known for his kindly laugh lines, Rinko bowed before the assembled office. In a workplace where Manufacturing skewed almost entirely male and even the desk staff leaned heavily male, it was there that Rinko met her — Kurosu Mikoto.
While flipping through the operations manual the previous clerk had left behind, Mikoto had been the very first to speak to her.
“A little something, to mark getting acquainted.”
She’d said it, holding out a cup of coffee. Long fingers. A finely composed face, sharp, jewel-cut eyes set into it. Beauty enough to burn itself into memory down to the last individual eyelash — it had seared itself into Rinko’s vision instantly.
“Thank you so much, um…”
“Kurosu. If you have any questions… though I suppose Mano-san’s manual probably covers most of it.”
Mikoto had smiled, reserved.
Right as Rinko was trying to read the feeling behind it, Mikoto reached toward the manual in Rinko’s hands.
Their hands brushed. Mikoto, apparently unbothered, simply flipped the manual’s pages.
From Mikoto, standing close, drifted a scent Rinko couldn’t quite name — nothing her own aromatherapy hobby (equal parts passion and side income) could ever hope to replicate, and it sent her heart racing.
“Yes, Mano-san really did thorough work. With this manual, you shouldn’t run into much trouble.”
“…What a lovely scent.”
“Scent?”
“N— no, never mind. Nice to meet you, Kurosu-san.”
“Likewise.”
Offering an adult, composed smile, Mikoto turned to leave. But—
“…I’m Kuro[su], black, and Shirai’s white. Different departments, but maybe we’ll make good partners regardless.”
“Ah, yes!”
That had been their first exchange. And, surely, the beginning of everything.
Looking back, Rinko had probably already been captivated by her, even then.
＊
Watching the light rain soak the city center from the same bench as before, Mikoto rose to her feet beside her.
“Let’s head inside. Everyone else is heading back in too.”
The people who’d been relaxing in the rooftop garden were all making for the exit now, trying to stay dry.
From the full glass doors of the entrance, and from inside the building itself, no one could see them here.
The garden bench sat in a blind spot. A private shelter from the rain, just the two of them.
“…Would it be okay if we just kept watching the rain like this?”
“That sounds nice too.”
All that could be heard was the city’s distant noise, the sound of the passing shower — and Rinko’s own heartbeat.
Settling back down, Mikoto asked, filling the silence.
“So, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?”
“…Right. So, um.”
She hesitated. What she was about to say would, without question, destroy the relationship she’d built with Mikoto over these two years.
Rinko loved Mikoto. As a woman, loving another woman.
But Rinko had always believed Mikoto wasn’t like that — an ordinary woman whose romantic interest lay with men — and had kept her own feelings buried the entire time because of it.
Rejection had seemed inevitable. So she’d told herself it was fine not to be together, that being close, being her very best friend, would be enough — and had simply kept watch over her ever since. Every lie she told herself had ground away at her heart bit by bit. But as long as she kept telling that lie, she’d believed, things could go on unchanged.
Now, though, Rinko’s quiet, aching devotion was about to be buried — by the appearance of another woman.
“First, can I talk about my job?”
“The clerical work?”
“Not that. A side job I kept secret from the company.”
Rinko had another face. Had, past tense.
“I was working nights. I quit already, though.”
“Huh.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Our pay’s not great, and I’ve got friends doing similar things. A hostess club, right?”
“…Sex work. For women.”
No response. Rinko couldn’t bring herself to check Mikoto’s reaction. She was afraid to.
“I wanted a clean body, before confessing to the person I loved. Wanting to be loved while sleeping with other people — that’s too selfish, even for me.”
“I see.”
Her reaction was dull, muted. Mikoto’s failure to grasp her real meaning frustrated her further. Or maybe she’d already understood and simply refused to touch the truth of it.
It made her angry.
Because as far as Rinko knew — as far as that woman had told her — Mikoto wasn’t the woman Rinko had always believed her to be.
Not simply an ordinary woman whose romance was limited to men.
Women fell within her scope too.
“…I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
She’d endured this the whole time. Called “short-tempered” for as long as she could remember, someone who admitted as much about herself — and yet she’d endured it, enough to rival the old tale of sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall.
Painting over a heart threatening to burst with lies, wanting only to stay close as her very best friend. A one-sided love, nothing but pain, carried on faithfully the whole way.
Two full years. Flirted with by clients, faking pleasure at fumbling caresses — through all of it, there’d only ever been one person she truly watched. Kurosu Mikoto. Kept watching over. Nurtured a relationship with, however much it hurt.
If Mikoto had been taken by a man, Rinko could have endured it. Let her devotion go toward a husband, children. Their friendship, at least, would remain.
But if Mikoto was taken by a woman — and worse, a woman like that, toying with Mikoto’s heart, treating love as nothing but a game — losing both love and friendship entirely, torn away at the root—
That, she couldn’t forgive.
Not that woman’s existence. And not her own failure to correctly read who Mikoto could love.
“You understand, don’t you, Kurosu-san? What I’m saying.”
“Well… yeah.”
“Then do you understand what I’m about to say next, too?”
“That’s, um, wait a moment…”
“That’s unfair.”
She couldn’t control herself. Her fists, resting on her own knees, clenched tight.
“…You understand, and you still won’t hear me out? You’ll listen to that woman’s lies wrapped in pretty words, but ignore my real feelings?”
“No, that’s not—”
“It is!”
She glared straight at Mikoto. That composed, dignified face twisted with confusion. The moment their eyes met, Mikoto looked away.
“I know it’s a painful kind of love. I really didn’t want to say any of this! But if you’re going to be taken by her, I—!”
The shower intensified. Raindrops bouncing off the asphalt wet her cheeks.
Raising her voice was fine. Crying was fine too. A passing spring shower would wash it all away, make it as if it never happened.
“I love you! I have, ever since you first spoke to me, two years ago! Blessed as you are, and never once arrogant about it — kind, hardworking, someone who faces whatever’s hard head-on. I love all of that about you!”
Ah, there it was. The relationship, broken.
The expression on Mikoto’s face was one she recognized. A memory buried deep, sealed away tight — the same agonizing, one-sided love, ending the exact same way once before, in the collapse of a close friendship.
—Sorry. I do like you, Rinko, but not that way.
“Why… why are you saying this now…”
The answer Mikoto finally managed to force out — an answer that wasn’t really an answer at all, just an escape — made her angrier still.
“Because I always thought you were different! I thought you weren’t like me, a woman who loves women, so I held back, not wanting to hurt you! I told myself it was fine just being ordinary friends! But—”
She grabbed Mikoto by both shoulders. Dug her nails in.
Let it hurt. Let her finally understand. This much pain didn’t even come close to what Rinko herself had carried.
“…This isn’t what I was told. You’re into women too, aren’t you? Then what exactly have I been agonizing over, all this time? How much of this painful, one-sided love have I put myself through these past two years?! This is so stupid, I can’t stand it!”
“Shirai-san, I—”
“Why won’t you understand?! That woman — Charlotte Gabrielle — she’s just toying with you for her own amusement! Seducing you when she doesn’t even really care, just turning you into a customer who pays well!”
Seeing Mikoto’s face on the verge of tears, Rinko nearly swallowed the rest of her words.
But a heart once set alight — a heart finally allowed to catch fire — couldn’t be stopped anymore.
“That’s the exact playbook of a woman of the night! Some fake stage name, ‘Charlotte,’ getting you drunk on lies to keep you coming back to her shop! I could do that too! No — I could do it even better!”
The sound of rain. The city’s distant noise.
After a moment, what she heard next was the faint sound of sniffling.
Mikoto was crying.
“Shandy-san isn’t like that…”
She didn’t want to hear it.
Didn’t want to see the person she loved, deceived by a woman she hated so completely.
“Wake up, would you…”
“Perhaps it’s you who ought to wake up, Peach Lady.”
Startled by the voice thrown from behind her, raw, unrestrained hatred surged up in her at the same instant.
Turning, the woman standing there held an umbrella, the other hand carrying one still closed. Blonde hair stirring something close to a complex about the West, amber eyes. Porcelain skin painted over with pure cold-bloodedness — unmistakably her.
“Sorry to interrupt. I thought Mikoto-san’s heart might need an umbrella.”
Charlotte Gabrielle. Stage name: Shandy.
“My, my. Making the one you love cry — how naughty of you.”
Her voice carried a laugh, but her expression carried none at all. Only that composed, unbothered tone stuck fast in Rinko’s ears, refusing to let go.
“…This is all your fault. Seducing Kurosu-san, just sucking her dry for everything she’s worth.”
“I suppose it could look that way. My way of loving isn’t quite as childish as yours, though.”
“Don’t you dare mock me!”
Glaring at Shandy with every ounce of strength she had, Rinko fought with everything in her just to hold back the hand threatening to fly out.
“I want to protect Kurosu-san! From a rotten woman like you, who plants trauma and then just walks away!”
“Fufu. So quick to bristle. Like some innocent little girl, blind with love, charging in without a plan.”
“Then what exactly are you?! Just toying with Kurosu-san, feeding off her!”
“Antiqua would get by just fine even without Mikoto-san’s visits, you know. Ah, that’s right — we’ve registered on Tabelog recently too. Not popular, since it doesn’t photograph well for Instagram.”
“That’s not what I asked!”
“No, it wasn’t. But must I only speak to what’s asked?”
Shandy kept toying with words, her real intentions unreadable as ever. Rinko refused to let a witch like this take Mikoto from her.
While Rinko searched desperately for some opening to strike back, Shandy spoke first.
“I told you before, didn’t I? That Mikoto-san still hasn’t found her resolve, and is genuinely troubled over it. Have you ever once considered how she actually feels, in all this?”
“I understand that better than you ever could! Which is exactly why I want to stop you! What raising her up, when all you’re doing is causing her pain!”
“Isn’t it a contradiction, though, confessing your own feelings in order to stop me? Your own actions, in the name of protecting her — don’t you think that’s caused Mikoto-san plenty of trouble too?”
“That’s—!”
“Breaking your own self-imposed rule to confess to Mikoto-san. Which makes us equally guilty. Two of a kind.”
“Don’t lump me in with you!”
Her hand finally moved. She couldn’t hold it back any longer.
Aimed squarely at that porcelain cheek, her left hand snapped forward. In the rain, the air thick and damp, the sound came out small, muffled.
At the end of her swinging arm stood Shandy, facing to the right where the strike had turned her. A handprint rose across her cold, pale skin — proof, even for her, that blood ran underneath.
“Same thing.”
A second crack rang out, and this time it was Rinko’s own vision that swayed.
It hurt. Her right cheek stung. The pain of being struck back, tangled together with a truth she couldn’t bring herself to accept — that she and Shandy were the same — brought a sudden heat to the corners of Rinko’s eyes.
Crying meant losing, and yet she couldn’t hold back the sob rising in her throat.
“…But this, at least, finally puts you on the same stage as me.”
“I’m nothing like you…!”
“No. Not different at all. We’re even.”
“…………….”
No words came. Because what Shandy said was true.
Someone genuinely in love, losing out to a woman who treated the whole thing as nothing more than wordplay and games. Fury at her own weak, pathetic self welled up.
Then, as if paying respect to an opponent before a real match, Shandy spoke, her tone suddenly earnest.
“Welcome. Welcome to Antiqua — no. To the amber-colored game of love, fought over a single, undivided devotion. I welcome you, Shirai Rinko-san.”
Rinko hadn’t noticed it.
That Shandy hadn’t just been raising Mikoto up — she’d been raising up Rinko’s own feelings too, this whole time.
Just as Rinko tried to fire back some retort, Mikoto cried out first.
“Stop it, both of you, just stop…! I’m genuinely struggling with this… please, don’t say things like that, either of you…”
In the end, it had turned out exactly like Rinko’s past failure.
Falling seriously for a childhood friend who felt nothing romantic in return, pushing recklessly to try to change her heart. What came of it, in the end, was a double-edged blade that wounded both her and the friend alike.
Mikoto’s word — “both of you” — cut into Rinko’s heart with real force.
“My apologies, Mikoto-san. Being told ‘my love is nothing but lies’ — I couldn’t just stay quiet about that. I’m something of a child myself, aren’t I.”
“…Isn’t it true, though. Hiding everything, never telling the truth — that’s proof you’ve got something to feel guilty about.”
“Yes. There’s plenty I’d rather not have known. I’m quite shy, you see.”
Shandy laughed a playful “fufu.” Utterly, thoroughly unlikable.
“This woman…”
“…But I’ve come to like you, Rinko-san. Your feelings for Mikoto-san are probably every bit as large as my own.”
“Don’t think you can win me over that easily.”
“If you could be won over that easily, you’d hardly be interesting at all.”
The rain let up. Through the thick, cloud-covered sky, thin rays of sunlight broke through.
“An angel’s ladder. Perhaps even the heavens are blessing us. Though I did give up on faith a long time ago.”
“…What are you trying to say?”
“Let’s see.”
Pausing a beat, Shandy closed her umbrella.
“A drink shared in this prickly a mood never tastes good. Shall we make peace, Rinko-san?”
“…Huh?”
“There’s a lovely girls’ bar in Roppongi, well-reputed for its charming bartender. Isn’t that right, Mikoto-san?”
Mikoto said nothing. Rinko half-expected as much, when Shandy continued.
“The bar’s name is Antiqua. And the bartender’s name — Kurosu Mikoto.”
“Wh—?!”
Rinko let out the exact same startled sound as Mikoto, at the exact same moment.
“Fufu. Since we’ve gone and fallen for the same person, why not bond over talking about her? Rinko-san?”
“Kurosu-san, what is this woman even saying?”
“Um, Shandy-san…? What exactly does that mean…?”
Shandy’s eyes shone, smiling like a mischievous little girl.
“It means the two of us, together, will let Mikoto-san get us both drunk.”
Rinko watched all the color drain from Mikoto’s face — followed, an instant later, by a flush of the deepest red.
The girls’ bar Antiqua. Just what kind of place, exactly, was this going to become.