Lipstick Mannequin
Written by Whimsical Symphony
I always wanted to write a story about beauticians, and I finally found a place where this story could fit in. I was thinking of a couple fandoms, but this one won out in the end. No one fits the role more than Naminé. The usual deal goes. Any constructive criticism and any comments are well appreciated. I love to hear all your thoughts. It's fun to write and have people come with me on this adventure. I'm pretty psyched about this one. I really shouldn't be starting any new stories, but I'm determined to finish most of them. I'm going to put all my steam into updating this one. It will be filled with romance, loads of humour, and themes of friendship.
Chapter I – Becoming a Princess
"Have you heard about that beauty salon at Station Heights? I'm kind of curious. Everyone's been talking about it."
The voice came from Selphie Tilmitt – an exuberant girl with way too much energy and not much to use it on. She always kept up with the latest trends and really, was too pretty for her own good. And charming and outgoing. Naminé didn't even know why she would need a beauty salon, or why she grew interested in it. Naminé thought of her as nice as well, despite her growing popularity which never kept her bound in one spot for long. Selphie knew too many people, felt like meeting new people every day. Her friendship could be compared to the wind, there one moment, and then in the next, gone.
Naminé thought that maybe, she should have been sad about that, but then remembered the company of an introverted artist must've not been all that interesting to Selphie anyway. She should have thanked Selphie for sticking around as much as she did.
"Why would you be interested in that? It's just a beauty salon, what could be so interesting about that?"
Her other friend, the more constant companion Naminé had, was very different from Selphie, a studious girl named Olette who'd lived in Twilight Town all her life. She loved math and loved to study, and in that way, perhaps she did have something in common with Naminé. Naminé knew though, Olette knew how to be outgoing, how to talk to people, skills she'd never had. She wondered why Olette stuck around as well, knowing her popularity due to her roles in the Student Council and helping the Chairman with work. Naminé knew Olette was her roommate, but beyond that, Olette could have rightfully cut off all relations. Olette could be considered a genius, recognized for everything she did. Naminé thought of Olette as one of the prettiest, kindest girls she'd ever met.
These two were the only two pretty, stylish people she could talk to besides her own brother, without getting an anxiety attack.
"Of course I'm interested. Apparently they have a really cute store. And they manage these amazing transformations on people. Apparently the beauticians there have won a lot of competitions!" Selphie explained, puffing out her cheeks in irritation. "I want to see! They're looking for a new model so they can enter a really high level beauty contest this year too." Selphie looked at Naminé and asked, "What do you think, Naminé?"
Naminé flushed, as expected and turned toward them, and said in a soft voice, "You know I'm not interested… in that sort of… activity." She sat on her bed and buried her face in a pillow she rested on her arched knees, not quite wanting them to see her red face.
"See, Naminé's sensible, Selphie. What's fashion going to do for you?" Olette snorted and got back to work on her math equations, solving them with a simple, graceful flick of her wrist, her pencil gliding across the paper like a dolphin cutting through water. "You're probably interested because of the gossip saying that the guys there are really good-looking."
Selphie glowered in response. "No, I'm not! Well… kind of…" She admitted this sheepishly, tugging at the ends of her dress. "But I still want to see their skills."
Olette's pretty, and she dresses well even though her style isn't flashy, Naminé often thought, and the colours she wears coordinate really well. As an artist, she knew beauty when she saw it and could create it in paintings, in sculpture, but it never applied to herself, never. It applied to people like Olette who had some semblance of it to begin with. It must be for these reasons that she talks to people so easily. It must be because of these reasons that people never picked on her.
When university began, it had been different, but not so much in the scheme of things. Sure, there were more people, and perhaps they were more mature. But within her small residence building, the concepts were the same. They found more mature ways to pick on her, but the fundamentals were the same albeit much less aggressive, and therefore better. They wouldn't go out of their way to do anything, but they still thought of her as the creepy, quiet girl who would draw in her spare time. They would call her nicknames like: "Nameless", with the first three letters of her name.
In other words, they teased her for having absolutely no presence. People often did forget about her, but it was a lot better than them noticing her and teasing her.
Selphie pouted. "I'm still surprised you're not interested in fashion, Naminé. Your brother is that Zack Fair, right?"
"Zack is Zack, and… I'm not him," Naminé answered softly. And she did love her brother, she really did. Zack had been the one to protect her from bullies back when they'd been younger and comfort her when she cried. The older brother most people dreamed about, he embodied. Even now, busy with his modeling career, he still found time to call her every day, without fail. He also understood her better than anyone. Naminé always would be proud of him. But still, in a way, Naminé felt happy people called her Nameless. At least people never really bothered to find out about her relation to Zack.
Noticing the difference between them was fundamental. Zack was beauty, Naminé made beauty. She smiled softly, though she thought somewhat melancholically that maybe meeting new people would be nice, maybe changing a little bit would make herself happy, not wanting to drown herself in hat art so much, not worrying Zack so much.
Her two friends looked at her, a bit concerned as she took out her sketchbook and began to draw, pictures of dresses, pictures of nature, pictures of princesses and ladies and with the sweet hint of colour.
Naminé never realized that perhaps, she did find more interest in beauty than just looking at it.
Naminé made her way to the Clock Tower later in the evening, her sketchbook held in place under her arm. Twilight Town had a beautiful orange glow in the sky at sunset, and during the day, though the shades would change slightly depending on the time. Twilight Town at night she also thought beautiful, with stars that shone high in the sky, sequins dusting fabric of blue. At night, closer to eight o' clock, the sun would hit the tower perfectly, creating the perfect scene to draw, so beautiful, unable to be replicated. Naminé drew everything at that time, everything around her, the Clock Cower itself.
She walked to Station Heights, in Market Street, getting to Central Station, which had the perfect view of the tower. She looked to her right, and noticed then, what Selphie must have been referring to earlier. A crowd surrounded the salon called 'Princesses of Heart' even during this time, beautiful princesses of all types, into fashion, into makeup, stood excitedly, waiting in a long line that took up most of the upper section of Market Street. Naminé thought all of them were beautiful, their soft hair, their clothes which reminded her of the feathers on birds as they would cut through the air sharply like a knife.
She thought about herself and didn't understand where she went wrong. Why didn't she end up a princess like them? Just walking near them made her woozy. So she walked past them briskly, quickly making her way to Central Station, not wanting to ponder on where she went wrong any longer.
Reaching the high Central Station, she sat on a bench, basking in the sunlight, and opened her sketchbook, flipped to a page, and began to draw the Clock Tower, for once feeling happy. She could do this with skill at least, let her pencil glide across the paper with lines of construction and quickly move to imitate the effect of creeping shadows on the tower, emphasizing that one focal point where the light hit the metal of the clock hands, blinding her.
"Ah, it's Nameless, y'know?"
When she looked up from her work, she saw three of the most notorious bullies in Twilight Town, Seifer, Rai and Fuu. Well, kind of bullies, they never did anything that required much effort. They attended the university but often skipped to hang out at their 'territory' the Sandlot. In fact, her nickname originated due to one of the member's, Rai's, poor memory.
"Holy hell, where'd you come from, y'know?" he paused. "Who are you?"
And after that, Seifer burst out into laughter and Fuu cracked a smile. From that moment onward, she'd been called Nameless. It was inevitable she'd be teased for being a nobody.
At least they didn't go out of their way to bully her, only really teased her when they happened to see her. But really, because of them, everyone else bullied her too.
"Hmm, it is, isn't it," Seifer said. He laughed. "And look, like always, she's got no presence!"
Fuu nodded in response. Now that Naminé thought about it, she did find it sad that she had less presence than Fuu who barely said anything if she could help it. Fuu managed to be one of the more popular girls without even trying.
Rai walked up to her and took her sketchbook. Naminé panicked. All of her drawings she took pride in were in there, her repeated attempts at trying to draw the Clock Tower, her painful attempts at perfecting her shading, everything!
"Give that back!" She stood up off the bench and tried to make herself seem strong, but even she knew she shook like a leaf in autumn, about to fall off a tree. She hated confrontations, even with these three. "Please…" The tears collected in her eyes. She wanted her sketchbook back. She wanted to be Nameless. She'd rather they just forgot about her and let her get on with her business. To her, when noticed, it brought pain.
"She's begging, huh?" Seifer mused. "Rai," he said, turning to his 'lackey', "what's inside there. Let's finally figure out what Nameless draws in her spare time. Right, Fuu?"
"See. Now." Fuu said this concisely, as she usually did. She only usually spoke while stringing single words together.
Before Naminé knew it, she'd collapsed onto the ground, and held her hand against the warm cobblestone. She didn't want them to look at her artwork. It had been the one thing they could never get their hands on until this point. Naminé's art allowed her to escape if only for a little while, forget that she went wrong somewhere and didn't end up as a princess like most girls, forget that she had no presence, think for a little while that people would appreciate her sooner or later - forget the fact that she and beauty didn't fit in the same sentence and that Naminé could create it, but couldn't create it in herself.
They laughed at her crying, they laughed at her begging, whispering incomprehensible words, fragments, that had some relation to, 'Please give my sketchbook back.'
"It's not nice to bully girls," a voice said. Looking up reluctantly through her tears, Naminé saw a man who could be deemed as more than just beautiful, a species separate from her, short silver hair and aqua eyes and style that could put most supermodels to shame. He held a small bag in his hand, filled with fabric, she could see sticking out. One of the stylish ones defended her? She couldn't believe it. "I suggest you give her back her sketchbook."
"Who the hell're you, y'know?" Rai exclaimed, purposefully backing away from Naminé and holding the sketchbook closer to him.
"Wait Rai, I know him. So does Fuu," Seifer said, glaring at the male. Rai looked at him questioningly, Fuu only kept her eyes on the scene at hand. Seifer sighed. "Give Nameless back her sketchbook."
"What-" Rai started, but Seifer gave him a warning glance. "Fine," he said, pouting and dropped Naminé's sketchbook on the ground, which she grabbed hastily, hugging it to her chest protectively, trying not to cry but failing miserably. "You have to tell me what's up later, Seifer, y'know?"
"Someone like you wouldn't understand unless I explained," Seifer deadpanned, walking back down to Station Heights.
"Idiot," Fuu added teasingly, walking alongside Seifer.
Rai pouted, and followed them like a lost puppy. "I'm not an idiot, y'know."
Their conversation eventually faded so she couldn't hear it anymore. Naminé sighed, exhausted and flipped through the pages of her sketchbook, wondering what she would do if she lost all her drawings. She looked up at the male, still there, watching her curiously, an odd expression on his face. "T-thank you," she mumbled shyly. "Most people… don't stop Seifer."
"They should, it's not right to bully," he told her, shaking his head. He sat down on the floor across from her and put his chin in his hand, from the arm he kept propped up on his knee. "You're an artist?"
Naminé nodded, blushing more and more from his gaze, kept firmly on her face. She nodded in response to his question, then looked down at her sketchbook determinedly, not wanting to look at this person for too long. Like the rest of his kind, he'd turn away from her and forget she'd ever existed. She'd be Nameless again.
"That's nice – I am too, just not in the traditional sense," he started conversationally. "I'm Riku, what's your name?" At hearing his declaration of him being an artist, she perked up slightly, and looked over at the bag he held. He seemed to know what she thought, and said, "I work as a fashion designer. The salon I work at features full transformations, not just hair and not just makeup. Everything. Every girl can be a princess."
Every girl can be a princess
That struck a chord in her. She knew she couldn't be a princess. Why did he think she could be a princess? Maybe what he said was true up until a certain point. Every girl could be a princess but her.
"Naminé," she whispered. "And you're wrong, not every girl can become a princess."
"Take out the 'not' and you're on the right track," he replied, a smirk on his face. She frowned and he chuckled. "No, seriously. Every girl can." When he looked at her expression, a frown that dug far deeper than the teasing he just saw happen, he knew she'd been ridiculed for a long time. But he thought of her as rather pretty – she only needed to bring it out more, be more confident – she had looks, those wide innocent eyes of hers and that light blonde hair. Her clothes were shabby, but that could be fixed. He frowned for a minute as he thought, then smiled. She did have potential, didn't she? "Hey, Naminé." She looked at him. "I know I can turn you into a princess. Every girl can be one, right? I'll prove to you that I'm right."
"I can't be one," Naminé answered, frowning. The man in front of her, in actuality, seemed to be much more eccentric than she first thought.
"You can," Riku countered. He stood up and reached out a hand for her to take. "If you take this hand, I'll prove to you you're no worse than any girl out there – you're a princess too." He looked at her softly, a small smile on his lips, encouraging. "Take my hand."
She didn't know what possessed her to do it when she knew very well Nameless suited her, ugly suited her, the girl with no presence suited her. But his promises didn't seem false, and maybe she grew a little curious about what kind of magic he could do that could transform into a princess like he said. Very little could be done to make her beautiful, like Selphie, like Olette.
She took his hand, and whispered, "You don't have to try so hard. You can't do much about changing me. I'm… not a princess, can't be one."
"You will be one," Riku assured as they walked to Station Heights. His steps were slow, and allowed her to keep up even though her legs were much shorter than his. His hand felt warm over hers. "Don't say you can't. You're pretty cute." She blushed and protested, to which he shushed her gently. "As per our bet though, I told you I'd prove to you I can turn you into a princess. When I succeed, work as our model for the upcoming beautician tournament in Radiant Garden." Naminé noticed he said 'when' instead of 'if'. Confident indeed.
"School…" Naminé added lamely, not quite sure just happened.
"School is off for the duration of the tournament," Riku explained. "Twilight Town isn't known for much besides its sea-salt ice cream. So…I guess they want to support us. If we win, we get Kingdom Hearts, a trophy which is also a huge boost in prestige. We'll be named the top beauticians anywhere. And Twilight Town will be the place that hosts us."
"I'm not fit to be a model," Naminé squeaked. He squeezed her hand comfortingly. She didn't like it, someone like her, as far as possible from a beauty, becoming a model? The very thought was absurd.
"You are," he assured.
Naminé wondered why all of this seemed familiar to her. Then it hit her, Selphie talked about this earlier. "Where.. do you work?"
"Here." They stopped in front of the salon, Princesses of Heart complete with its large lineup of stylish princesses and Naminé gulped. She didn't know what to think about the current situation, and she didn't know why Riku seemed so assured he'd turn her into the peacocks in front of her, with their high heels and colourful dresses.
Was change a good thing? Should she have not taken his hand? Maybe it would have been better to sink into the background and remain Nameless Naminé.
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