#32: Fuzzy Navel / ep.1
The edge of Roppongi. The girls’ bar Antiqua, where a pair of eyes like an amber full moon suspended in the night sky greet every guest.
But tonight — no. Far from evening, the sun still hung high. Three in the afternoon. Not just outside normal prep hours — the shop’s own proprietress would ordinarily still be asleep at this time. And on top of that, that same proprietress looked nothing like herself.
“It really does suit you. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve wondered if I might get you into this someday. Don’t you agree, Rinko-san?”
“…Beautiful.”
Facing the two seated guests — Shandy and Rinko, side by side — across the counter, within the bartender’s own sanctuary, stood a woman in a white jacket. Standing on her very best tiptoes, she smiled.
“Welcome to the girls’ bar Antiqua. I’ll be your server today for two lovely ladies — your temporary bartender, Kurosu Mikoto.”
The story rewinds a few hours—
＊
Right after the incident on the rooftop garden of that Harajuku commercial building.
Bundled without argument into a taxi by Shandy, Mikoto and Rinko found themselves headed toward the edge of Roppongi — Antiqua.
Not a word exchanged the whole ride, speeding along Aoyama-dōri. Not even a glance passed between Mikoto and Rinko, seated together in the back. Mikoto simply stared blankly out the window at the passing city.
Shirai Rinko — someone she’d only ever thought of as a coworker — had just thrown every last bit of her feelings at her. And on top of it, Shandy had been coldly dismissed as someone whose feelings for Mikoto weren’t even love at all.
Mikoto’s thoughts refused to settle.
Being liked by Rinko — someone she didn’t dislike — should, whatever the nature of the feeling, have been a happy thing. But the fact that it came from a woman left her bewildered, and having Shandy denounced on top of it left her genuinely angry.
With her thoughts this unsettled, there was nothing left to say. She hated herself, sulking like some child.
“Well then.”
Third floor of the mixed-use building. Leaving the “CLOSED” sign hanging on Antiqua’s door, Shandy pushed it open, gesturing for them to step inside. Mikoto managed to force out a few words.
“…What exactly are you trying to do, Shandy-san?”
“Exactly what I said before. Making peace. Now, please, Rinko-san.”
Shandy extended a hand. Rinko batted it away.
“Don’t mess with me. What is that, the composure of a winner?”
“The composure of an adult. Now that I understand your way of loving, Rinko-san, I thought I’d show you a little of my own hand in return.”
Rinko’s eyes narrowed sharply upward. Her expression, honest to a fault whether that was a good thing or bad, told the whole story of her anger.
Mikoto, caught up in complicated feelings, had been staring into the darkness of the entrance beyond the door. Shandy turned to her, tone suddenly serious.
“Mikoto-san. I’ll say something harsh, but you bear some fault in this too. Whether you meant to or not, you toyed with Rinko-san’s heart. ‘I never noticed her feelings’ is an excuse that only holds up for a child.”
“…………….”
There was no answer she could give. Mikoto knew, firsthand, exactly how much resolve it took to lay bare a secret, a feeling like that. She herself was struggling with the very same question — how to finally voice her own confession to Shandy.
“But you’re different, aren’t you, Mikoto-san. Because you’re not a child.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
“A question. Where are we, right now?”
“Antiqua. Your shop, Shandy-san, at the edge of Roppongi.”
“Correct. This is an adult’s world, closed to minors. The place where Mikoto-san reaches up on her toes from being a child, into becoming an adult. The place where you get to become the version of yourself you find most beautiful.”
Shandy’s meaning, behind her soft “fufu” of a smile, came through clearly enough.
Summed up, it was probably this—
Stop sulking like a child forever. Become the adult you are when you’re drinking here at Antiqua.
That’s what it felt like she was saying to Mikoto.
Coming from someone who called herself a committed sadist, this roundabout, deeply considerate kindness — clearly meant to spare Mikoto’s own feelings — drew a wry laugh out of her despite herself.
“…There’s a limit to how drastic a remedy should be, don’t you think.”
“Yes, I’ve only proposed it. Whether you accept or not is entirely up to you.”
“You really are shy, aren’t you, Shandy-san.”
“Anyone is, in front of someone they love.”
Sulking wasn’t going to move her forward. If not, then she’d answer the kindness Shandy had offered her.
Steeling her resolve, Mikoto stepped through Antiqua’s door.
＊
The orange indirect lighting lit Antiqua’s interior bright.
A temporary bartender, however forced into the role, Mikoto smiled graciously at her two guests.
She mustn’t hang her head. Mustn’t sulk. Mustn’t cry.
This was the drastic remedy Shandy had proposed.
However complicated her real feelings were, however much of a lie it was to her own heart, she had to perform it — the ideal adult she pictured in her own mind, a bartender, a keeper of confidences.
“Fufu. You do still seem tense. How is it, the view I usually see from here?”
“Yes, I never imagined I’d end up standing in this spot — I’m honestly surprised. Even more so that you’d prepared a jacket in exactly my size.”
Entrusted to her by Shandy: a white dress uniform. A custom-made piece, researched who-knows-when, described as “a belated birthday present.” A magical costume that tightened her resolve the moment she wore it, lifting Mikoto up a full level.
Leaving Rinko uneasy in her seat, unsure what was about to happen, Shandy’s eyes curved into a waxing crescent from her customer’s seat.
The signal that their usual push-and-pull was beginning — this time, in reversed positions.
“Bringing in two beautiful women at once — whatever could you be planning?”
“What would you like me to be planning?”
“Oh my. Am I about to be ravished?”
“If that’s your wish, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“That doesn’t sound like the words of someone who’s actually resolved to it.”
“Some drinks taste better for the waiting. Like a vintage whiskey, aged patiently in the barrel.”
“If you’re going to make me wait, I’d rather do it in bed.”
“I’ll have a double bed ready for you, then.”
“Fufu. Maybe I’ll just order one off Amazon.”
While Shandy laughed, thoroughly delighted, Mikoto did her best to hold back both an itching embarrassment and a cold sweat.
The loaded, suggestive back-and-forth she and Shandy carried on — this was their collision of feelings, catching every double meaning and unspoken implication and returning a clever line in kind.
“What exactly was that just now…?”
Rinko, who’d been in a blazing rage only minutes ago, now looked like a cat brought somewhere unfamiliar. Bewildered by the exchange between Mikoto and Shandy, she glanced anxiously back and forth between their faces.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Shirai-san — ah, no. Here, I’ll call you Rinko-san. Is that all right?”
“Eh, y— yes, that’s… fine…”
The instant she was addressed, Rinko dropped her gaze, her voice trailing off into nothing. It was plain to see she was even more embarrassed than Mikoto herself. Fierce-tempered as she was, she might, surprisingly enough, be something of a romantic at heart.
“My, my. An affair, in broad daylight?”
“Yes. Rather than leave either of you halfway loved, I thought I’d thoroughly seduce you both.”
“My, what a wicked bartender. I wonder who she takes after.”
“I happened to have a wicked teacher close at hand.”
“Wa— wait a second, Kurosu-san! Does that mean you’re two-timing us? With this devil of a woman?!”
Rinko snapped, childlike, and Shandy gave a proud little snort.
“How is it? The Mikoto-san you never knew.”
“You’re the one who charmed her into this! The Kurosu-san I know isn’t someone who two-times people! Hey, Kurosu-san. Wake up, would you…?”
It wasn’t Mikoto who needed waking.
Even after saying “I want to protect Mikoto,” Rinko hadn’t once tried to consider Mikoto’s own circumstances or feelings. Love truly is blind, Mikoto thought.
“Hm. Have I ever, in the past, sworn I wouldn’t two-time anyone?”
“We’ve never talked about that, but normally…!”
“And what exactly is ‘normal,’ I wonder.”
The moment she said it, she realized — leaving it there would make her sound like someone who genuinely two-timed people. Frustratingly, she still couldn’t deflect and gently guide the way Shandy could. Still, for Rinko’s sake too — Rinko, who’d confessed her feelings — she scraped together every last word and bit of wisdom she had to convey what she actually meant.
“I won’t two-time anyone. If someone told me I could only choose between a peach cocktail and an orange one, I’d simply want to taste both before deciding.”
“I hate orange!”
“That’s true for you, Rinko-san. But not for me. Refusing to even try to learn what cocktail someone actually likes before pushing a drink on them — that’s a bit of a shame, don’t you think?”
“But — but two-timing is wrong!”
“Yes, quite right. It hurts both people involved, and that’s wrong. That said — suppose, hypothetically, that I did two-time someone. Would that alone be enough for you to give up on me, Rinko-san?”
“Th— that’s…”
“Don’t worry. Even without your protection, Rinko-san, I’m plenty of an adult already.”
“Eh…?”
Mikoto spoke her true feelings — and, at the same time, her answer to Rinko’s confession — quietly, guiding her toward it.
“Living means doubting yourself, and getting hurt sometimes. I’ve wanted to be protected plenty of times myself. But even so, I want to choose the doubt. Because I want to taste the sweet wine that waits at the end of hardship — victory, success, growth.”
“But Kurosu-san! This woman is—”
She sealed Rinko’s lips with her own.
The thick scent of peach clinging to her shook something loose in Mikoto’s mind.
“—Even so, if you still want to protect me, then please, learn how I want to be loved.”
The line slipped out before she could stop it — a habit inherited, unmistakably, from her wicked teacher. A little embarrassing. Naturally, Shandy’s eyes curved upward into a crescent with a satisfied “fufu.”
Rinko, meanwhile, had fallen completely silent. Being told something like that by someone she’d confessed her feelings to, one-sidedly, all this time — of course she would.
“You’ve grown quite a bit, haven’t you. How lovely.”
“It’ll probably cause some misunderstanding and confusion, but that’s fine. I’m the one who chose this way of being, after all.”
“Have you found your resolve?”
“Yes, it took quite a bit of agonizing. Thanks to it, I think I might have finally shaken something loose.”
Her resolve had already been settled, long before now.
Even saying she’d shaken something loose, there was still something lodged in her chest.
Rinko denying Shandy — the very person Mikoto loved — wasn’t something she could simply forget so easily.
But Rinko didn’t know. Didn’t know about Shandy’s way of loving — raising someone up. Didn’t know that Mikoto herself wanted to grow, more than anything.
Which meant whatever Rinko had said and done couldn’t be helped. However rude, however inconsiderate, Mikoto would laugh it off and not carry it forward. That was her ideal. That was who she wanted to be.
“I couldn’t read your intentions at all, Shandy-san. I assumed making peace meant mending things between you and Rinko-san.”
The truth behind Shandy’s talk of “making peace” had been mending things between Rinko and Mikoto instead.
Probably meant to repair the relationship, shattered by that sudden confession, by showing Mikoto how to become an adult.
Reckless as ever, and yet armed with terrifying insight and delicate consideration — kindness dealt out, by turns sweet and strict. Exactly the ideal Mikoto herself aspired to, the person she wanted to measure up to. Shandy just laughed, rolling and light.
“Now, whatever could you mean?”
“Could it be you’re embarrassed, having your real feelings found out?”
“My real feelings are simply that I, too, would like a kiss.”
“My apologies for the wait. Here you are.”
Just as before, Mikoto sealed Shandy’s lips. The faint scent of orange chased away the last lingering trace of peach.
Ending the brief kiss, Shandy turned to Rinko.
“This is my own way of loving. Just a small bit of help, toward a wish Mikoto-san’s been quietly holding.”
“That’s not…”
Rinko covered her face with both hands. Whether from the sudden kiss and the loaded words, or from realizing she’d been gently, indirectly turned down, Mikoto couldn’t tell.
“…Are you saying I’ve just been loving her all wrong, on my own terms?”
Rinko was crying. Mikoto, without flustering, held out a handkerchief.
She searched for some clever reply of her own, but Shandy spoke first.
“Yes. You’ve never actually seen the person Kurosu Mikoto really is.”
Shandy had taken on the villain’s role for her. Despite the harshness of it, Rinko made no move to lash out. Her voice trembled; she let out a sigh instead.
“…Someone told me something like that once before. Someone I used to love.”
“Given your way of loving, it’s no wonder you’d hear that again.”
“Because all I can do is… this…”
Mikoto knew nothing of whatever romance Rinko had lived through before. Even so, she could imagine something must have happened in her past — something significant enough to make her want to protect someone this badly.
For a while after, Rinko cried. The hand Shandy extended toward her wasn’t pushed away; she kept stroking Rinko’s back the whole time.
“Bartender. Might I place an order now?”
“Ah, y— yes. Anything you’d like.”
At Shandy’s words, Mikoto remembered her own position. Temporary or not, a bartender’s job was making cocktails. Scrambling to look around, she checked where the liquor bottles, glasses, and shaker were kept.
“Just placing an order wouldn’t be much fun, so let’s make it a game. For Rinko-san, whatever cocktail she wants. For me, I’ll ask for a variation on whatever you serve her.”
“That’s a difficult game…”
Cocktails have variations. Like the Balalaika, the XYZ, and the Sidecar — the same base structure with the main spirit swapped out. Or ones where the fruit or juice gets swapped instead.
“Serve up a cocktail that leaves both Rinko-san and me impressed, and you win, Mikoto-san. The winner’s reward is… let’s see.”
Shandy laughed, soft and rippling. A bad feeling crept over Mikoto.
“Enjoy both of us — together.”