Yanami’s group moved out. The rest of us stayed back in preparation for phase two.
The soft touch of a brush. The cold of her fingers. Rustling clothes. Her unsteady breath. Her smell, ever present beneath the pungent makeup. Every sensation was doubled with my eyes shut. I couldn’t budge.
“Open,” I heard her murmur.
I lifted my eyelids. In front of me was Shikiya-san’s handheld mirror. Staring back at me was a stranger. I could hardly recognize myself. That was me?
I stood up and examined myself in the full-length mirror. She looked about twenty. A plain girl who didn’t really have much to do with fashion or style, but who nevertheless put in an effort. She probably liked books and daydreamed about meeting that special someone. And it wasn’t just makeup that made this girl. Strategically placed bindings and towels adjusted my proportions, and a scarf hid my neck entirely. We’d chosen a coat that de-accentuated my shoulders. Skin-colored tights clung to my legs.
“Cute,” Shikiya-san summarized. “Would.”
With perfect timing, the door swung open. Asagumo-san and Shiratama-san came running in. “Phase one complete!” wheezed the former. “Yanami-san is in position. No time. Have to get that wedding dress on now.”
“Right!” Shiratama-san hurried after her into the changing area, undoing her ribbons along the way.
“Gonna go help.” Shikiya-san wobbled through the curtains after them. Her involvement worried me somewhat. Couldn’t put my finger on why, though, so I minded my own business.
The president snapped her suspenders, then threw her jacket on. “We’re up next. Once Yanami-kun has seen Shiratama-kun safely to the chapel, it’s our job to escort Tanaka-sensei there. And then, the photos. I’m beginning to feel the nerves.”
The real operation was only just getting started. It would be no hyperbole to say it all rode on us. If the photography team got compromised, then that was it. No photos.
“Where’s the camera, anyway?” I asked.
“Right, Basori-kun supplied one for me. She ought to have brought it to the student council…room.”
We stared at each other blankly for several seconds.
“You mean you forgot it?!” I shouted.
“Hiroto may have put it in my things for me. One moment.” She vanished into the changing area.
How in the hell were we supposed to be camera people without a camera? This could not be the way we went out. After all this.
A polite knock came at the door. Shortly after, it opened. “Excuse me. My name is Basori. I’m from Tsuwabuki?” Tiara-san?! I whirled around, turning my back to her. “Pardon me, but is there a Houkobaru here by any chance?”
“Er, uh, yes!” I squeaked. “Well, not here here! She’s away at the moment!”
I heard a frustrated “for goodness sake” escape under her breath. She approached. “I’m here to give her something she forgot. Where might she be?”
“I-I haven’t the foggiest clue when she might make her return, so you may leave the item here if it pleases you!”
She stopped. “I would much rather deliver it in person. Can I wait here?”
“By all means,” I chirped shrilly. Was this even working? I refused to turn around, or even so much as take a deep breath. I became as the Fairy of Kirinoki. An impish little fae unperceivable to the eyes of all except the most pure of heart.
“May I ask a question?” Perceived. I quietly nodded. Tiara-san paused before continuing. “What exactly is Houkobaru doing here?”
Uh-oh. Was the cat out of the bag?
“Why, for enrichment,” I said. “Enrichment of the drama club. What else?”
“She’s with people from our literature club. What does she have to do with ‘enrichment’ of two clubs she’s not even in?”
“Th-that is the question, isn’t it?” I gulped.
She was quiet for a while. “Not even Nukumizu-san wants to talk to me.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Who?!” I threw my hands up to my mouth. Too late. Hell. “Turn around! Show me your face!” Tiara-san yanked my shoulder. To say her eyes were saucers would have been an understatement. “Nukumizu-san?! What in the world is this?!”
“Uh, funny story about that.”
The curtain swung open. The president emerged. “Oh? I knew I heard Basori-kun. How did you find me?”
“It was written on your schedule! What are you doing—” Tiara-san let out a yelp like a strangled chicken when she saw Houkobaru.
President Houkobaru lifted the camera bag from her petrified hands. “Came to deliver this, did you? You’re a lifesaver, Basori-kun.”
“P… Nu… What… I…” Her lips flapped like a fish gasping for breath. Her eyes darted between me and the president. “The president is a boy. Nukumizu-san is a girl. Oh. Oh, I understand everything now!”
Doubt.
The president nodded with complete confidence. “Whatever you’ve deduced, it’s assuredly the truth.”
“Don’t say that!” I shouted.
Another chicken died in Tiara-san’s throat. Poor thing. It was bleeding through her nose.
She fainted on the spot.
✦ ✦ ✦
It was 9:30. Time for phase two.
I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, staring up at the venue’s entrance before us. Here I was again. Not as a patron but a criminal.
“Wonder if Tiara-san’s gonna be okay,” I said, mostly to distract myself from the nerves.
The president patted me on the shoulder. “She has Shikiya, and I have full confidence those are good hands to be in.”
Doubt. But I digressed.
To my side, I spied two people in an alleyway between two buildings. One was Asagumo-san. The other, Shiratama-san, her wedding dress hidden beneath a coat. Once we were inside, Yanami would be guiding her to the chapel.
With one more pat on my shoulder, the president headed inside. The modern design and tall ceilings were familiar, but the place was far busier today. Employees scurried all over.
She proceeded to the front desk and flashed the business card without hesitation. “Pardon the interruption. Toratani, with Studio Damonde. We’re doing photography for the lucky couple. Mr. Tanaka and Miss Shiratama?”
The employee looked up from the documents on her desk with confusion. “Yes, we’re expecting you, but not until ten o’clock.”
“It’s a new venue for us, you understand. We want to be sure everything is in order. Might we say hello to the groom before we get to work?” The president whipped out one of those handsome grins of hers.
It struck the woman right through the heart. “I-I understand. I suppose I can speak with him on your behalf.”
“We would be much obliged. You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”
The president wasn’t a lady’s man. She was a lady killer. I followed quietly behind them, shoulders slumped in an attempt to make myself as unremarkable as possible.
There was Yanami in her Phonytama disguise by the bathrooms, lingering like a bored child. She noticed us and gave a thumbs-up as we passed by. Not smart.
✦ ✦ ✦
“I think yours is a beautiful occupation,” I heard the president say. “You should have more confidence in yourself.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. You have such a way with words, you know.”
“It would be my honor to share them with you whenever you need. Find me at our studio anytime.”
When did the employee lady have time to give the president her whole life story? How much had I missed in the split second I’d taken to criticize a single thumbs-up?
We ascended to the second floor. To the left was the room where we’d received the presentation about a week ago. To the right were the bride and groom suites, right next to one another. Capacity was two ceremonies per day, so there were four of those in total. At the end of the hall extended a flight of stairs that lead to the reception area.
Second from the back was a room labeled “Groom Suite—Tanaka.”
The employee knocked. “Excuse me, sir. Photography is here to see you.”
The door swung open at once. Tanaka-sensei stood on the other side, cleaned up well in his tuxedo. “Oh. You’re early.”
“Indeed,” the president replied, offering a business card. “We wanted to be thorough, given this is our first time with the venue, and conduct a few tests. Is now a good time?”
Tanaka-sensei accepted it enthusiastically. “It’s the perfect time, actually. I was just wondering what to do with myself. Groom privilege, I suppose.”
The president regarded the starry-eyed employee kindly. “Thank you, Natsumi-san. We’ll take it from here.”
“Of course. Just call for me if you need anything.” Odd stress on the “anything” there, but okay. Natsumi-san (which was apparently her name) went on her way.
Now to pray the Shiratama-san escort mission had gone well. I glanced down at my smartwatch while the other two chatted, and with perfect timing a message came through. “Rice is ready.”
That was the signal. Shiratama Riko was in the chapel.
I interrupted the president’s chat with a pat on her back. “Toratani-san, the sun is getting high.”
“That it is,” she replied. “Time is of the essence.” With powerful, gender-defying grace, she held her camera up and beamed. There were no survivors. “Well, Sir Groom, might we trouble you for the photo shoot of a lifetime?”