Written for the hanakotoba prompt challenge from the POT Stands for Pointless But Original Talking! Forum. The flower I used was white chrysanthemum and it means truth.
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Holding up the compact to her face and angling so that it viewed a young man sitting uncomfortably at a table, Renge said, "There he is, the hapless and woman-scared creature. Look at him, doesn't he just look so awkward there, sitting by himself with only that thick book for company? Women all around him are smiling at him, just for him, and for what? Well, you should forget about that, ladies, because nothing works on him. Ah, look, he's blushing; he's adjusting his glasses. See how he acts all flustered now. Kyouya-kun, are you sure he's the right one?"
"Kazukiyo Souga," Kyouya read out of his black notebook, "is the only son of the very wealthy family that almost absolutely controls the sake industry, seeing as how one of their ancestors began the company back in the day. He's very shy and quiet; not at all the ideal candidate for succeeding his father, but he is the first choice by way of birthright. So, yes, Renge-kun, he is."
"He looks so malleable," she drearily said, "and so easy to influence; why, he looks like the sort of man who's afraid of his own shadow! Well, at least he's rich. And maybe a good dancer. I hope he's okay, at least. I don't know why, but those suckers always seem to step on your feet. And, really, why do I have to do the dirty work in the first place? I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there waiting to fall for you and your charm and tricks just so you can push them around."
"Ah, but you're so good at it, Renge," he said. Experience had taught that flattery was the best approach.
She beamed at him. "Would I like to see you getting it on with a dame and giving her the old three-in-one."
"Don't be vulgar, my dear. I can't have my cousin acting so coarse and indecent. Let us be crooked, but never common. We may be swindlers, but we are excellent in our profession. Don't ever forget that."
"Yes, dear second cousin once removed." She shook her head. "Say, who decided on that anyway? Why couldn't we be brother and sister?"
"Because, Renge, even the most idiotic fool in the world could see that we look nothing like brother and sister."
"Then why not husband and wife?"
"Do you honestly believe any sane husband would let his wife go after just about any man worth going after; or encourage it? Besides, we'd have to have marriage certificates that only needlessly complicate matters; if you'll excuse my blunt way of putting it, of course."
"I don't mind. I'm used to it."
"Then instead of squabbling over this, why don't you go over and talk to him? He looks due for a friend."
"I can talk to him any time I want. We're on a cruise ship, so unless he wants to go drown or something, I'll catch him somewhere."
"Better catch him soon: it is a well-established fact that Kazukiyo Souga is a young, rich, and unmarried man. And remember the trouble Kaoru went through to get us on board. Do not forget the inconvenience and the bribing and the—"
"Don't remind me," she groaned. "I am very aware, you know. Besides, I'm biding my time. He's so scared of the female sex right now, he'd probably scream if a little girl came up to him and said hello. Oh, look. Someone's making a move." A girl at another table had stood up and made her way to the Kazukiyo table. She dropped her purse on the ground by his table.
"How original," Renge rolled her eyes, "and how utterly desperate. Now she'll bend over right in front of him. Oh, she does. And she's going to ask him something: Oh, I'm sorry, did you like that very much? Well, I wouldn't mind showing mor—"
"Your voice is steadily rising."
"Sorry." She continued her commentary. "And there's another one. She's walking elegantly as a lady should. She stops in front of him. Oh, you seem so familiar. Did I meet you in Tokyo somewhere? Or was it Kyoto? My family's very well known in that area. Because you do look like someone I know. There's this remarkable resemblance. He shakes his head and says: I have no idea who you are. Dear me, I've caused embarrassment for you, haven't I? I'm sorry, but can you leave now? I prefer my book to you. Now scram. And thank God, she does leave; girls, there is a wonderful invention called make-up: please utilize it and please utilize it now. Kyouya-kun, are you sure he's the right one?"
"Doesn't the way everyone look at him confirm that enough? And look at the waiters coming out of the kitchen. The bottles of Kazukiyo sake being ordered have increased exponentially this evening, and the trend will only continue. It's a good thing I bought my stocks before this trip."
"He's returning to his book. See if he turns his head as that girl walks by. Sorry, dear, he's a bookworm. He doesn't swing that way. How about that one? How would you like that to pose in front of your Christmas tree. Oh, you wouldn't? Too bad. Who else is there? How about the lady bodybuilder? Look at those muscles bulging out of that dress. Those arms! Those legs! Oh, she'd make a houseful, wouldn't she?"
"I never realized that you could sound so cynical, my dear."
"Just you try it some time. I'm sure it'd work wonderfully with your face, Kyouya-kun. You're still awfully young, aren't you?"
"Just make sure he notices you before someone snatches him away."
She sighed. "Well, I'm going to make sure I don't come off as so desperate and cheap. I mean, there has to be a better way for me to capture his attention from all the others. He's standing up now. Huh. I bet he can't take it anymore, and he's going back to his cabin to sulk. He's probably sick of all these women looking at him. He probably wishes he wasn't in Japan. He probably wishes he were in some desolate mansion by himself so he can do whatever it is rich people like him do. Oh, he's coming this way."
And then, she stuck out her foot.
The resulting crash brought Souga to his knees and Renge on her feet. "Why don't you watch where you're going," she said, and watched as two waiters scurried over to help him up.
He wiped himself off and wondered how he had managed to trip when he was walking just as any other person should be walking. Then he noticed a girl looking at him with hard eyes and a threatening expression on her face.
"A—ah," he said, "well—I, excus—"
"Look at my heel," demanded the girl, and Souga uneasily glanced at the damage he had somehow managed to incur. "It's completely knocked out. Why couldn't you watch where you were going? Oh, it's ruined. And they were just imported from France, too. Mother will be so angry."
"I'm so sorry!" he now said, never mind the fact that it was she who had tripped him in the first place, though he wasn't quite aware of that. "Really, I'm sorry. So very, very sorry."
The girl smiled. "It was merely jest. Just come with me to get a replacement pair of slippers back at my cabin. Well, don't just stand there, take my arm, if you need some prompting." It was a kind and demanding voice all at once; Souga could not help but listen to her.
"Huh—oh? Oh." He let out a sigh of relief.
"My name's Renge," the girl suddenly provided, steering him towards a table. "Really, it's Régine, but no one ever calls me that." She pointed to Kyouya. "And that's my cousin, Ohtori Kyouya-kun. We travel around together a lot."
"You'd better go get a change of slippers, Renge-kun," said Kyouya, as per the script, "and be quick about it. Come right back."
"Of course," she smiled.
"Oh, and I'm—" began Souga, pointing at himself.
"You're Kazukiyo Souga," said Renge, as she led him away from the roomful of bewildered and angered young ladies, who scorned this particular woman for her desperate tactics and for her success. "Everybody knows. Funny our meeting like this, isn't it?"
"Yes, I—I suppose."
Together, they walked down the grand staircase towards the staterooms. When they reached her room, she unlocked the door to reveal rather comfortable lodging, especially since it had not been acquired legally. "Come on in. Oh, no, don't bother to take off your shoes. It's fine."
He sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"
"Oh, that? It's perfume. Why, you don't like it?"
"Oh, no, it's a rather pleasing smell somehow. It's just that they don't use perfume up in Hokkaido. I've been there for the past year. We were pretty far from civilization, is what I mean to say."
She dropped her purse on the bed and swung open a locker. Inside were rows and rows of shoes and high heels of assorted color and design. Even Souga looked impressed, if more by the sheer quantity rather than by the quality.
"Those are all yours?"
"Uh-huh. Pick one."
"What?"
"You heard me." She smiled. "Pick the pair you like the best. The evening slippers are over there."
"Er," he fumbled, but finally settled on a pair of black-and-red slingbacks. "Here," he awkwardly said.
"A pretty choice," Renge said. "Why don't you put them on for me? Since you've been so polite about it all, it's the least I could do in return. Oh, but you'll have to kneel."
She sat down on the divan and gently pushed him down so that he knelt on the ground with one slingback in his hand.
"I hope I, uh, didn't hurt you earlier. I didn't mean it."
"I know you didn't. What were you up in Hokkaido for?"
"Studying horticulture, but my family wanted me back in the city. So I, er, am going back home."
"Horti-what?" said Renge, and gave up. "I thought you were in the liquor business."
"Well, sake."
"What's the difference? It's all alcohol."
"There is a big difference! Liquor is a general term and sake is a specific type of liquor. Actually, I'm not too sure what it's all about either. Something in how it's all brewed; the processes are definitely not the same. I don't know why, but people always seem to assume that I know all about it just because my family owns a conglomerate for it." He paused and managed a smile. "It's sort of strange how I'm kneeling at your feet and talking to you about sake. You see, I don't really like sake."
"You don't?"
"No. Whether it's futsu-shu or honjozo-shu or junmai-shu, I dislike it all. Alcohol doesn't really agree with me in the first place. I think it tastes ghastly. I don't see how anyone can like it."
"I think it's more of an acquired taste. Perhaps you'll like it one day."
"I doubt it." He struggled with the delicate straps. Renge bent over to help him, guiding his hands by taking them into hers. Her hands were warm and soft. He felt his face go red with ineptness.
"There. That's not too difficult, is it?"
"Well, you know, when you've been in, well, er, when you've been in a place where there aren't too many girls. You kind of, um, forget . . . And that perfume . . ."
"You like my perfume?"
"It's rather fascinating, I must admit." He weakly laughed.
"How marvelous. I'm glad you like it," she smiled. "Aren't you glad to be going home though? Tokyo is a lovely city. It's so busy; it's sort of what I like about it."
"It actually seems too busy for me sometimes," he said. "The hustle-bustle, the whole teeming aspect of it all." He shook his head sadly. "Compare that to the natural beauty of Hokkaido and I don't see how anyone can stand that city."
"Oh, well, Hokkaido's lovely, too, I suppose. I've never been there: when I think of Hokkaido, I think of farms and pretty flowers and ice cream. What do you do, exactly, in horticulture?"
"I, uh," he said, secretly pleased that he had an audience, a rare, if ever, occurrence, "I specialize in plant breeding. We study the flora of the area and depending on what works best, we attempt to cultivate it by intertwining with human technology. It could be very helpful towards solving many problems of the world, and maybe one day everyone all over will have enough to eat."
Renge yawned without meaning to. "What a life—I mean, how interesting. But don't you find it lonely there? I mean, all those plants and so little people are apt to make a person feel stranded. Isolated. It's a terrible word."
"There's conservatories, and there's researchers working constantly."
"I don't mean that sort of people."
He looked perplexed. "Which do you mean then?"
"Well, didn't you have a girlfriend?" A curious, but innocent question that could answer a lot of unknowns about a target; Renge had it down pitch-perfect.
"Oh." He blushed. "I mean, well, er, I suppose I was too concentrated in my work to bother with, um, having a girlfriend." He said the word girlfriend the way most people would say genocide.
She brought her body closer to his and pulled up her dress a few inches; he did not notice it. "So you haven't seen a girl for a year? I thought you were joking about that, trying to make me fall for you or something."
"I—of course not," he indignantly said, his face turning a deeper shade of pink. "There are female researchers working hard on the problem at the conservatories and they are all very intelligent."
"Ah, but are they beautiful?"
"I—I don't think I can be a judge of that, er, Renge-san."
"Please, Renge is fine," and she smiled greedily and looked down at him.
Kyouya was still sitting at the same table and trying his very best to look impatient. Had he been interested to know it, there were five women in the dining room already madly in love with him and trying to think of some way to approach him. But he did not bother about them.
"It took you long enough, cousin, to come back in the same outfit."
"You're lucky I have this on, Kyouya. Kazukiyo-san has been in Hokkaido for a year, you know. Studying horticulture and all that."
"Oh, I—"
"It's all right, Kazukiyo-san. Don't mind her. All the women in our family are like that: it seems to be a recurring trait that pops up every generation."
"And all the men turn out to be neurotic monks."
"With the exception of myself."
She laughed. "And what an exception."
"But let's not talk of that, Kazukiyo-san. Won't you have a drink with us?"
"Oh, water is fine for me. I don't drink."
"What a shame," said Kyouya, and he locked eyes with Renge as if to say: he's in the sake business and he doesn't drink? She shrugged back noncommittally.
A waiter was called for and an order was dispatched. They talked a little and waited for their drinks to come. "Why don't we play a little game to lessen this torture of waiting?" Kyouya suggested.
"How fun. I want to play bridge," Renge said. "Kazukiyo-san—"
"Souga."
"Souga-kun. I think I'll call you Kazu-kun instead. Kazu-kun, do you know how to play bridge?"
"A little. But how would we play with three people? We'd need a fourth."
"Oh, there's a way to play with three people only. It's cozier this way. Kyouya-kun knows, right?"
"As a matter of fact, I do know, my dear. Kazukiyo, why don't you shuffle?"
"Oh, I'm not so good at it, but I'll try."
"Well, every man for himself."
When the drinks came, they were still playing. Despite his appearance that might have suggested otherwise, Souga was a competent card player, one of the many things he had learned to do by himself, for it was a game that required only one person. For much of his life, he did things that only required one person. It was simply personal preference; and also perhaps an acute shyness that made him shrink away in large crowds full of people he did not know. He remembered the time his father had introduced him to a business colleague, and the colleague had remained stumped for five minutes because he had not notice the restrained Souga standing next to his father.
But something on this trip had inhibited that tendency—the perfume lingered in his mind—and he was slowly growing in confidence in knowing that neither of the two was doing well, especially the man, whose card-playing abilities were absolutely dismal.
"It's a good thing we're not playing for money," he absentmindedly noted.
"Oh, I thought we were," Renge prompted. "Kyouya-kun and I always do. Otherwise it feels somehow incomplete, like we're swimming in an empty pool. And what'd be the point of that?"
"Well, I don't play for money, really; generally not, anyway. And maybe it'd be better not to this time. You could lose a lot of money, sir."
"I'm doing comfortably at the moment. I insist. Let me count up the costs: oh, say, around fifty thousand yen," Kyouya said, bringing out his checkbook.
"That's an awful lot, sir."
"Nonsense," he replied, "I'll have the money sent up to your cabin before I retire tonight."
"Well, I think I'll go to the powder room for a moment, gentlemen, and when I come back, Kazu-kun, we'll go out for a walk on the deck. The evening's still young."
"That would be, um, lovely."
"But don't gamble with Kyouya anymore. Promise me that." Her smile reminded him of chrysanthemums, so noble and truthful all at once. He felt as if he'd known her for a long time; there was a sort of unspoken intimacy between them, and it was a feeling he had never experienced before. All he wanted now was to please her and make her happy. He did not know what had come over him.
"I promise."
"Good," she coyly said, and left.
When she was out of sight, Kyouya said, with a bemused tone hanging on his words, "Now, Kazukiyo, are you truly going to listen to her? Why not play a little more until she comes back? To while away the time a bit; just between ourselves."
"But, sir, I just promised her not to play."
"It's not playing. It's undoing an absurdity; allow the honest man in front of you a second opportunity. If not a soul tells, then did it truly happen?"
"I—sir—all right then. What do you play?"
"Why not make it simple: the higher card wins. We can wipe that fifty thousand off my record or I can easily hand you double the amount you already have. Technically speaking, you don't have anything to lose."
"Well . . ."
It seemed that he did not have much of a choice: he took a card. Kyouya did the same. They showed the cards; Kyouya won. With the deck rigged beforehand, it was no wonder that he did; Kyouya was always prepared for this sort of situation.
"Well, that blots out the fifty thousand. Why don't we play once more? Double or nothing. Nowadays, women take an incredible amount of time to make themselves up. What do you say?"
"Well, I, sir . . ."
"We'll do it. Here."
He chose a card. Again, Kyouya won. "The tables have turned, haven't they?" Souga gloomily said.
"Would you like to play to rid that spot of yours? We can do double or nothing again."
"No," Souga coughed. "I—I'd rather pay fifty thousand now than pay a really big sum later on. Here, I'll, uh, write it out now." And taking out a checkbook and pen, he wrote out, "To Mr. Ohtori Kyouya, the sum of fifty thousand yen."
"I now feel remorseful at taking the money from you; Kazukiyo, you are of the very honorable sort. Please pass my compliment on to your father: he would be proud to hear it. But, ah, an Ohtori always follows through what he needs to follow through. A good fellow, you are."
"Thank you, sir. And I'd—actually, I'd rather if you didn't tell Renge about this whole, um, transaction. Could we pretend it never happened?"
"You may depend on it."
"You certainly can," said Renge, appearing from behind. She put a hand on Souga's shoulder; the slight pressure she exerted on him was evident; he strained a grimace. "I thought we agreed on no more games?"
"We weren't playing, Renge," Souga tried, "we were just, uh—"
"Wiping out an unnecessary blot," Kyouya dryly finished. Renge understood immediately. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I will retire and let young people talk about whatever it is that young people talk about."
"You're plenty young, Kyouya-kun. To me, anyway," said Renge and she kissed him on the cheek. "But good night, Kyouya."
"Good night, my dear."
"He seems a good man," said Souga, once Kyouya had left.
"Oh, he is. And he's a terrific card player and just about in everything else, too. He's a genius."
"Really? He seemed a bit, I don't know, inconsistent, if you don't mind my saying so."
"He can be very consistent in his inconsistency."
"And I suppose that's all part of his charm. But you, I think, with a little coaching, you could be an excellent card player. You have a definite nose."
"I'm glad you think so."
"Oh," he stammered just a bit, "I meant in the card-playing sense."
"I know. I was just kidding with you."
"Oh."
"Don't faint on me now."
He jolted up. "I wasn't going to. Uh, it's that perfume again."
"Say, why don't we go dance a bit?"
"Isn't it sort of late to be dancing?"
"Oh, don't tell me you had curfews up there in Hokkaido. Didn't you ever have fun? Besides studying plants and all."
"I suppose what I," he paused, "well, maybe I really mean to say is that you're a strange girl for someone to meet after he's been up in Hokkaido for a year. There aren't many people there quite like you." There. He'd said it; he wondered if she would think less of him for it.
"So it's a good thing you weren't there for two years." She laughed and he felt himself laughing with her. They headed outside.
Later on, they headed back to his stateroom because Souga felt that dancing in front of so many people was awkward. On the way, they passed an on-board nursery, and Renge now carried a small bouquet of flowers. Being the horticulturist, Souga had been insistent on which particular flower to select, and settled, eventually, on dahlias and chrysanthemums. It was a very handsome bunch.
"I want you to meet Miko," he beamed, closing the door behind her. "It was brought specifically for me from America—I forget which state, but there's only one or two places there where it's grown natively. But I guess some of my men took it away for one reason or another. I was excited about showing it to you."
"Miko? Who's that?"
"My Venus fly trap."
"What? Let me out of here. I'm too young to die!"
"There's nothing to be scared of—"
"Let me out!"
"But it's only a plant."
"Doesn't matter. Let's go to my room then. I insist."
Somehow, they made their way back to her rooms. She settled herself on a sofa. "There. This is much better. Nice and safe and we're all comfortable here, yes? No strange plants or anything—oh, but you do like them, don't you? But, I mean, you have that sort of power and you waste it on a plant?"
"Huh?"
"Oh, nothing. What I meant to say was plants really are your life, aren't they? What a life." She seated herself on a couch and watched him fidget nervously, as if she was the first girl he was ever alone with in her room. It was a tickling idea.
"Well, yes. I realize it may seem silly. Maybe it is, in a way. I imagine my father wishes I would marry and settle down. In fact, he's said so rather plainly. But I truly dislike the sake business. Anything to do with brewery—I—I despise it. It's almost kind of funny how I can tell you this so easily when it took me ages to admit it to my own father. He wasn't very pleased about it, to say it in the least." He looked so pitiable. Renge imagined that, up in his cabin, Kyouya was laughing at her and the situation she was going to have to deal with. Well, she'd show him.
And in a move that would have made even the best acrobats jealous, she feigned a fall so obviously practiced that ended with Souga on the ground, and her only a few inches away above him. The sudden close proximity alarmed him. "Oops," she said. "I can be rather clumsy."
Souga looked up at her from the ground. Her hand was on his stomach. "It's all right," he said, and did not expect it when she reached down and put her soft hands around his head so their faces were side by side. He was very aware of the aromatic and enticing perfume. Her fingers were in his hair. Her lips were only inches away from his. He gulped and felt his heart speed up..
"Is that why you've never married?" she asked, every word deliberate and delicate. She hung onto to every syllable. She stroked his hair and messed up his neat hair. "The fact that you dislike the brewery business."
"Oh, well . . . that too. It's just that I've never, well, met her . . . I suppose she's somewhere in the world. Somewhere out there, I mean."
"It would be too bad if you two never met," she said, her chin leaning on his head. Her hands gently reached for his ear and continued to play with his hair. Suddenly, Souga felt as if something were very wrong but that he was agreeable to it somehow.
"Well . . ."
"I suppose you know what she looks like, too," she continued.
"I think so."
"I'll bet she looks like Puccini's Butterfly."
"Oh, no," he quickly said. "I mean, I don't think she's much of an opera singer. More—uh—more normal, I think."
"Does she have good teeth?"
"Huh?"
"Well, it saves money, you know. You don't want to have to go to the dentist every other year for fillings and root canals. It all adds up. And not to mention it'd mean she could never smile. A smile is very important. Otherwise, she might be like Josephine, you know, who was pretty as long as she didn't smile, which is horrible. I think they later found that that she was only pretty if you looked at her from a distance. She gave the impression of being pretty, which is even worse."
"Oh, you must be kidding now."
"Just a bit."
"You joke a lot, don't you?"
"Only to people I like, Kazu-kun. Or you could say that by joking so much, I don't have a true friend in the world. Because I joke so much, I haven't a person to count on, to lean over, because they think I'll only be joking. Except Kyouya—maybe." As she spoke, she pressed herself to him so that he was caught in a tight grip between her and the ground. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.
"Do you joke him?"
"He's too smart for it," she purred and closed her eyes. Souga took a deep breath.
"I'm sure you are the a person who has many friends, Renge." It was the first time he'd addressed her by name. She thought that his sort of shyness was endearing in a strange way.
"Anyway, I suppose we all have a right to have an ideal love."
"What's yours?"
"A little short guy with lots of money."
"Why, uh, short?"
She looked down on at him and he looked up at her. Their very closeness made him feel tense, as if his body had suddenly froze and he was at her mercy. His current facial expression resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights. "Why does it matter if he's rich?"
"Oh," he managed.
"It's because then he can look up to me as his one and only ideal."
"In a strange and convoluted way, your reasoning somehow makes sense."
"And when he takes me out to dinner, he doesn't mind if the check adds up. And he doesn't smoke cigars because they're nasty and leave a smell everywhere, and he plays the piano beautifully when I want him to, and he isn't the greasy sort of person. And he doesn't do card tricks. I don't want anyone tricking me."
"I shouldn't think that's so difficult to find."
"Oh, perhaps you're too innocent to know, Kazu-kun. This world is crazy. The girls you think are good are actually bad, and the girls who seem bad—well, they're not as bad as they seem. You see, there's lots of people out there just waiting for you to fall for their tricks," she said, pulling him closer to her. Her voice had somehow dropped an octave, but Souga wasn't sure what to make of it. "And then, when you have them, you can do," she was almost whispering by now, "you can do whatever you want." She let him go, and he felt himself falling.
"But I'd never want to marry someone like that," she brightly said.
"I thought he was your ideal."
"A practical ideal, my dear Kazu-kun. But what a revolting image—who could marry a man like that! There's two or three of them at every Sunday lounge, trying to get a look at you."
"Then why don't you marry one of them?"
"What's the point of doing that? Really, if more men were like Kyouya-kun, then we'd all be happy. When I get married, I don't want to know what that person looks like. I don't want to know who he is or where he's from. It's sort of innately romantic like that." She shrugged. "It'd be nice to have him . . . take me by surprise."
"Like a burglar?"
"Just like that." She took him up in her arms once more, and once again he felt himself become prey to the powerful perfume. "The night will be heavy with perfume," she breathed into his now messy hair. "With someone sleeping heavily. Near silent footsteps in the darkness. And then—oh! I could fall asleep now. Good night, Kazu-kun. Go back to your room. I can sleep now."
"I wish I could say that," he said, and pulled at the collar of his shirt. The room had heated up and he desperately needed a drink of water. He stood up and it took him a few seconds to gain his balance. He stumbled and breathed perfume.
"Why, Kazu-kun," and she smiled, watching him go. Kyouya was going to be pleased.