The chapel seemed to twinkle, sunlight pouring in through the windows and reflecting off the endlessly spinning ceiling fan. It made for quite the reverent atmosphere.
The president turned to me. “Start setting up, would you, Kazuko-kun?”
Assuming “Kazuko” was me, I frantically started fumbling with a collapsible reflector from my bag. One of those big, white sheets professional photographers used to make pictures good and stuff. Ours was pretty large—over a meter wide when it was all unfolded.
I hid behind it as Tanaka-sensei meandered over. “Wow. You guys sure know your stuff. Will you be using these for the real thing too?”
“Natural lighting,” the president corrected. “We’re testing the conditions for that now. Four paces to your right, please.”
“Oh, sorry. This okay?”
The president readied her camera. “Perfect. Rotate thirty degrees to the right. Turn your chin toward the wall—exactly. Hold that pose.” About a dozen clicks of the shutter later, she removed her eye from the viewfinder and gestured to me. “Let’s get some more light from the back, Kazuko-kun.”
The signal. I nodded and silently shuffled closer to the pedestal on the altar, careful of Tanaka-sensei’s line of sight. When I circled around the back, I saw her. Shiratama-san, in her all-white wedding dress, acknowledged me with her eyes from the cramped space within. I lowered the reflector to the floor. She crawled out and behind it.
“Still not quite doing it,” the president said. “Kazuko-kun, come forward. Right up to the groom might be perfect, actually.”
Quietly, but not so quietly as to arouse suspicion, I approached. Just three meters. Three short meters. But it felt like a hundred.
“Your collar’s crooked. A little… You’ve got it. Once more.” Click, click, click. “Pivot toward the wall. Keep looking where you are. Perfect! Don’t budge!”
Click, click, click.
We used the sounds as cover. One final step. I moved the reflector aside.
The rest happened all in the span of an instant. Shiratama-san took my place, standing where I stood. Dressed in all white. Bouquet in hand. She settled into her spot next to the groom.
It was only a few seconds. And what the camera had captured would only be a fraction of that.
The president lifted her index finger from the camera. Objective complete. I hurried back into place and dropped the reflector. Shiratama-san crouched behind it at nearly the exact same time that Tanaka-sensei turned this way.
I met eyes with him. Giggled awkwardly. “S-so sorry. Did I get too close?”
“Oh. It’s you,” he said. “I could’ve swore somebody was standing next to me.” He started to get closer.
The president inserted herself between us. “I apologize on behalf of my assistant. That will be all for our test.”
“O-okay? Glad to be of help.”
She wrapped her arm around the flustered man’s shoulder and escorted him to the door. “Just you wait. The snapshots we take, you and your wife-to-be will look back on for years to come. Have you seen her dress yet?”
“Yes, actually. When she chose it.”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful. But you haven’t really seen it until you’ve seen her in makeup.”
✦ ✦ ✦
They went through the doors, chatting the whole way. As they shut behind them, I noticed Shiratama-san standing next to me. “Feeling good? We actually did it.”
“Yeah. We did.” She was a little distant. Stood stock-still. I felt the prick of a bad feeling.
“Stay hidden until Yanami-san comes to pick you up. I’ll go make sure Tanaka-sensei makes it back to his room.”
She nodded. I folded the reflector back up, then hurried out of the chapel. We were in the final stretch now. Just had to make it out in one piece, and we were golden. I sent the good news to Yanami as I climbed the stairs up to the second floor.
A whole week’s worth of planning. All concluded in a single instant. It was a huge weight off my shoulders to know I wouldn’t need that emergency fallback after all.
But it would all come back when I got Yanami’s reply.
“Shiratama-chan isn’t here???”
✦ ✦ ✦
Shiratama-san was missing. The president, Yanami, and I had convened in her last known location: the chapel.
“I’m telling you, I gave the signal, and she never came out. So I came to check on her, and she just wasn’t here!” Yanami’s explanation came free with wild hand gestures.
The president put her phone down and shook her head. “Asagumo-kun hasn’t seen her exit the venue.”
So she had to still be in it. And if she wasn’t communicating with us, it meant she was up to something.
I fussed with my bangs. “Debating won’t get us anywhere. Let’s split up and look for her.”
“Wise. Luckily, the guests have yet to arrive.”
“Hey, you guys think she’ll let me have the bouquet?” Yanami asked. “’Cause whoever gets it gets married next, right?”
Did that still work if the original owner never actually got married herself? There was always a first for everything, I supposed.
We exited the chapel together. There were only so many places she could be hiding. The guest changing area, for one. The bathroom. A storage room. I kept brainstorming as we made our way to the front desk. There, two men were talking. On the shoulder of one hung a camera bag.
The real photographer.
“Best we retreat, Kazuko-kun.” The president broke me out of my stupor, and we turned back.
Yanami hustled after us. “What now? What am I supposed to do?”
“You shouldn’t be seen with us. We ought to split up.”
We left her behind at the entrance, then came back to the front of the chapel.
“We need to hide,” I said urgently.
“But where?”
“This way.”
I stepped into the greenery between the chapel and the fence that surrounded the venue. There were windows all over the building, but this was a blind spot we’d be safe to lay low at. Once certain we weren’t in immediate danger, we both sighed in relief.
“This is bad,” I said. “There’ll be no talking our way out of it if we bump into the photographer.”
“We’ll simply have to retreat.”
“It’s too dangerous to pass through the front right now. They might be looking for us right this second.”
The president pinched the brim of her cap and looked up at the tall fence. “We climb, then. I’ll hoist you up.”
Mission complete. Obviously, the next logical step was to high tail it out of here. It was the smart thing to do. The rest was up to Shiratama-san. Whether this was enough or not, whether she decided to move on and live her life or not, it was all up to her.
But if she wanted to shove all that, to throw it all away out of spite, well, that was her prerogative too.
“I’m staying.” I didn’t let the president argue. “I can’t abandon Shiratama-san. There must be something I can do. I want to find it.”
“I’ll come with. I can’t leave you here either.”
I shook my head. “There’s a big, black duffel bag in the drama club room. I need you to go get it, then toss it back over here.”
She looked at me in disbelief. “You planned for this from the beginning?”
“That’s giving me a bit too much credit. But I can’t say I’m surprised.”
I checked my watch. Ten exactly. The ceremony started at twelve. I had two hours to find Shiratama-san, make her see sense, get her changed, and then sit her down on one of those pews. Easy.
I gave the president a thumbs-up. “Trust me. I’m kind of a pro at this point.”
The lit club was no stranger to crises, and I was their president.