AN: A rather weak attempt to reawaken my muse. I've felt rather disconnected from the arts for several months and I'm doing my best to reconnect. My other stories are in limbo. Updates to any of them will take a while. I'm just not in much of a mood anymore.
Sherry Leblanc was a very preoccupied woman so she never noticed the cozy flower shop practically sandwiched between the city hospital and a very tall apartment building. She also never noticed the faded "Help Wanted" sign hung off of one of the elevated plant pots. She swore she'd never seen it despite the fact it was on the same avenue she drove past every day to get to the track. She only saw it after the crash.
It'd been an accident during a race, something that could have been prevented. Yusei Fudo, a rapidly rising motorcyclist star had challenged her to a race on the stunt track instead of the regular racing track like others would. Intrigued by the challenge, Sherry accepted. After two months of disgusting amounts of advertisement throughout the city and too many preparations, the day of the race arrived.
The track featured several ramps that led to single or multiple rings. Of course, her PR manager, Mina, had pushed for the race to feature a flaming hoop of death at the very end for some sort of publicity. It'd rained the day before the race, leaving the area slightly muddy. According to the blunette, however, it was still within safety standards. On the day of the race, Yusei approached Sherry in the garage area with his entire jacket covered in endless amounts of company logo patches, looking like a mosaic compared the empty canvas of a jacket she wore. He shook her hand firmly and wished her luck before walking towards his motorbike that was also covered in a giant splatter of logos and bright stickers.
"You're sure the track is safe?" Sherry questioned Mina for the tenth time that morning. She huffed and began a lengthy schpeal about how the bike had been specially fitted with grip tires meant for muddy terrain. The blonde felt tempted to place duct tape on Mina's mouth but wisely chose to ignore her urge, as it would've potentially damaged their working relationship.
The start of the race was perfect, Yusei and Sherry at each other's necks as they maneuvered through obstacles and hills. As they went through the final sharp turn towards the flaming hoop of doom, the blonde felt something crack in her concentration. It was just a second of lost focus but instead of the muddy path, she only saw the metal fence coming towards her faster than it should have. The motorcycle disappeared under her as she crashed.
The paramedics arrived at breakneck speed, telling her to breathe evenly as they removed her helmet from her face and not whatever the hell was causing so much pain in her left leg. A string of curses flew out of her mouth when she noticed the bloody shard of metal sticking out from the middle of her thigh. A sharp twinge in her neck was the last thing Sherry felt before blacking out.
Any hospital bill in the world could have been covered by Sherry's massive paycheck. But no doctor or surgeon in the world could ever give her back her career. That was the conclusion she came to after several days of staring out the window in her hospital room. When the doctor finally entered her room days after the surgery, she got a good look at him. The man was skinny and wore a tie with several mustard stains under his doctor's coat. Dark hair was slicked back with gel and his face seemed a bit pale. His leather shoes had seen better days but a golden ring on his left ring finger glinted in the evening sun's rays.
"The metal bar shattered your femur and we had to remove some shrapnel from the area as well. Some corrective surgery was done to make sure it'll heal properly. There were some minor bruises and cuts on your arms but no serious damage besides your leg. I'm very sorry to say this but you can no longer competitively race. It'd put too much stress on your leg. However, you can still drive a normal motorbike or motorcycle after your rehabilitation," he said, looking up from his brown clipboard. "As soon as other tests are done, you're allowed to leave the hospital. You can take off the cast in four months and you're scheduled for physical therapy around September. I'd suggest a job that puts little stress on your leg. Your PR manager outside had a list of those prepared for you. Cold woman she is."
"Not to worry, doctor," the Frenchwoman replied, calm despite the metaphorical knife stabbing deep into her chest. "Mina only wishes for the best for me. Thank you for your time, sir. And if you could, please make sure no one enters my room. I require some solitude." The doctor nodded understandingly and exited, closing the door behind him. After a moment of utter silence, the blonde covered herself with the blanket to not stare at her leg. The white bandages underneath the 3D printed cast... it made her feel so weak. I shouldn't be in this bed or this situation... she thought to herself. I should be at the garage reading over my schedule.
Sherry leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, trying not to think about the annoying crowd of reporters and cameras waiting for her in the lobby or the fact she would need crutches to even make her way through the hospital after her discharge. She'd need Mina's help to get out of that mess. Suddenly, the door opened and the Frenchwoman's eyes darted towards it. Yusei Fudo emerged, his mosaic jacket no longer to be seen. Instead, he wore a high collared blue jacket that was zipped closed with dark jeans and... sneakers? Sherry couldn't really tell because he'd already approached her extremely quickly. The faint smell of flowers wafted towards the blonde.
"I was quite sure that I'd told the doctor to not let anyone in," the Frenchwoman said, frowning slightly. As much as she appreciated (not really) Fudo's concern, she didn't want anybody disturbing her. The blonde really wanted to get some rest. A large bouquet of yellow roses appeared and were placed in the glass vase on the small bureau next to Sherry's bed.
"Well I didn't have to beat anyone up to make it past here, if that concerns you," Yusei replied with some humor in his voice. "I also wanted to make sure you were alright. I've never seen an accident this bad and I also didn't expect you to suddenly just crash. Think you can race me again sometime when the track isn't covered in piles of mud and miniature lakes?"
Sherry smiled wryly at him. "I'm afraid I'll have to reject your offer, Fudo. I can't race anymore." His face immediately fell at her response. "... don't give me that look. Pity is for the weak," she growled, glaring daggers. His cobalt eyes softened as they looked into her emerald ones.
"I'm not pitying you. I'm just shocked," Yusei said calmly, taking a folding chair out from the closet nearby and sitting next to her bed. "I never expected your career to just end so suddenly. For us, the tracks are our lifeblood and I just felt like you'd be a little lonely here. No one at the garage really mentioned visiting you. Except Mina, of course."
"Don't put me with others, Fudo," Sherry spat, sounding offended. "The young and foolish motorcyclists are just idiots looking to make a quick buck from what they learned in their years of drag racing only to find out that bikes and souped up convertibles are different. The older ones are only there for social standing, probably screwing with their own bosses to just keep their jobs." A wry smile appeared on her face again. "No one visits me because I don't need idiots dragging me down. Jack Atlus, Crow Hogan, Kiryu Kyosuke and the rest of the bunch are all useless fools. They practically grovel to get sponsorship and the like from companies and name brands."
The dark haired man observed her for half a minute, his hands folded over his knees. "Sherry, are you alright?" he asked quietly. Yusei was met with silence and he sighed. "Well, when you get discharged, I'd like you to meet one of my friends. She's been a big fan of yours since the start of your career and she wants your autograph." The blonde seemed to perk up a bit, albeit her lips a thin line on her face.
"She? Rather uncommon for women to be interested in the races," Sherry said, looking at the flowers. "I'm guessing she sent those?" She pointed towards the fragrant bouquet sitting on the bureau.
"Yep. Aki owns a flower shop right next door so as soon as you're discharged, you can meet her." Yusei looked down at his watch and grimaced. "I'll pick up the autograph some other time... if you want to give her one anyway. Visiting hours are almost over and I've got a bus to catch." Sherry raised an eyebrow and nodded. So Aki was her name...
"Alright. Have a good day, Fudo." He left, closing the door softly behind him. The Frenchwoman looked at the bouquet and sighed, glancing at the setting sun disappearing behind tall buildings. She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep, ignoring the dull pain in her thigh.
It was a full week before Sherry managed to escape her hospital room. The media had vans and cars packed on the sidewalk outside, double parking and triple parking just to try and get an interview with the injured motorcyclist. Mina had gotten rid of half of them but some of the more annoying reporters were still there, camping out in tents and sleeping bags. It was truly ridiculous.
Sherry adjusted herself on her new set of crutches, staring at her blue haired PR manager talking to someone over the phone. She was a bit far away so all the blonde heard was the occasional loud shout and angry rambling. Eventually Mina approached her, a duffel bag over her shoulder containing Sherry's belongings. It was a blessing to be out of a hospital gown but she was stuck with wearing baggy pants and skirts until her cast was taken off.
"Sherry, the hospital's letting us leave through the backdoor to avoid the cameras," Mina said, glancing at Sherry and giving her a once over. The blonde felt an itch bothering her under the cast and she really wanted this woman to stop looking at her. The skirt was uncomfortable to wear despite it reaching below her knees. "I really can't believe you didn't own any skirts. Do you sit around in skinny jeans all day or something?"
The Frenchwoman snorted. "For once, Mina, you might just be right. Let's just leave before they get anymore crazy ideas like disguising themselves as a nurse to interview me or climbing to the tenth floor with a foam mic in one hand and a climbing ax in the other." There had been one particular reporter who'd tried to enter her room via the window, fully equipped with mountain climbing gear. Thankfully, the window washer managed to restrain her and get her back onto the sidewalk. It wasn't a pleasant experience for all persons involved.
They took the elevator down to the first floor and escorted themselves through the back entrance. Mina scrunched her nose when she noticed the dumpster, grimacing as they walked past it. "Well now, since we're finally out of there, I'm going to bring you back to your apartment. Doctor's orders," the manager said as they stepped through a dark alleyway to an empty sidewalk.
Sherry looked at her watch. Nine minutes till eleven. "Alright. Get a cab though. I'm not walking five miles on one foot and two pieces of plastic and metal." Mina was one of a very long line of PR managers that Sherry hired. Not that the motorcyclist needed one. She didn't cause trouble with the media, never had interviews, and was a strict opponent towards making political statements on live television. And thus, manager after manager quit working for Sherry because they quite literally had nothing to do. The Frenchwoman was her own manager and nobody could do anything about it. But then came Mina, a bright eyed serious girl who realized that her employer needed publicizing.
Their relationship was rocky from the start, the blonde completely ignoring her unless they had to talk about funding or the occasional self-proclaimed "rival." Eventually, Mina began to pick up on Sherry's habits, keeping up with her schedule and planning ahead for her. The Frenchwoman begrudgingly admitted she was doing her job very well about five months after the manager had signed the job contract. "I just hope you don't try to jump out the tenth floor window because you make a scratch on my bike like the last person who was my manager," was the start of Sherry's steady stream of dry humor.
The next two years turned out nicely for the both of them. With Mina's constant advertisements and focusing of media attention on the motorcyclist's career, Sherry began to earn more money and more fans (She was surprised she even had a fan base at all.). Most of the money was just slapped onto her bank account, untouched. The PR manager never asked about what she did outside of the race track, deciding that if Sherry hated interviews, she definitely didn't need one from Mina. After all, it was better to know less about her employer and keep her job than to know more about her employer and lose her job. Then again with the current situation, perhaps it couldn't hurt to just ask...
They arrived at her penthouse after twenty minutes of sitting in a cab, Sherry struggling to get out of the car with the cumbersome crutches. "I can't wait until I get rid of these in September," she muttered as they waited for the elevator in the air conditioned lobby.
"It's not as bad as a wheelchair," Mina said in a sing-song voice, earning an eye roll from the annoyed woman. "Besides, I'll stick around to help you if you need any. It's not like my job is to just watch over your reputation and then abandon you as soon as you can't race. I'm also kind of your... friend?" The steel elevator doors parted and they stepped inside.
There was a silence hanging in the air before Sherry responded, "I suppose we're something between acquaintances and friends. Most of the racers are friends with their managers, probably to pull strings. But I trust you, Mina." The blunette perked up at the news and gave a small smile. Sherry's penthouse was never a mess, not a speck of dust on any of the trophies or prizes lined up for display in the glass cases. The floor was always swept and mopped at least once a week and the windows were polished like mad during the weekend. Of course, Sherry's cat, Bruno, shed a lot so it was probably just that reason the blonde cleaned up so often.
Mina helped Sherry take off her shoes and guided her to the comfy tan colored couch. This was not the first time she'd entered the motorcyclist's apartment. They tended to discuss advertisements and monetary issues over coffee and a mean omelette (Sherry really knew how to cook.). Silence settled in the room as the blonde rubbed her eyes in a tired fashion.
"Thank you. This is all the help I'll need for now," the Frenchwoman said quietly. "I can deal with everything else." Mina hated this agenda that Sherry had which included her dealing with everything. It was ridiculous. One person could only do so much.
"Don't be silly. What'll you do if you trip and fall over Bruno?" Said cat suddenly appeared from the kitchen, rubbing his body against the bluenette's ankles for attention.
"I didn't break both of my legs, in case you're wondering," Sherry responded, snickering. The blunette rolled her eyes and sighed, scratching between Bruno's ears. There was no use arguing over this sort of thing with Sherry of all people. She stood up and immediately walked over to the door, turning the knob.
"Hey, if you really need anything, don't be afraid to call, alright?" Mina said as she opened the door. "Your pain meds are on the table in case you need them for the beating I just gave you. Oh and don't forget to feed Bruno!" The bluenette left, closing the door behind her. Sherry didn't leave the apartment that day, deciding to just get used to moving around on crutches and dealing with her weird cast. Her crutches bumped into the walls and the edges of furniture when she tried to do something as simple as going to the bathroom. This was absolutely frustrating.
After a rather restless night, Sherry remembered that Yusei had requested she send her autograph to his friend Aki. She grunted in pain as she slowly got up, leaning on her crutches to the kitchen where Mina had left her pain medicine. Two pills went down with a cold glass of water and the empty cup was set near the sink. The blonde felt absolutely terrible but decided she really wanted to get this over with. It was just a signature.
She freshened up as soon as the pain in her thigh had turned into a dull throb and dressed (very slowly). Sherry had signed a thick piece of paper with a black marker last night and placed it carefully in a bag she usually brought groceries home in. This felt strange to the Frenchwoman considering she'd never been asked for a signature. She never really bothered to make any in advance either so the request from this Aki was unusual. Bruno rubbed up against her uninjured leg, purring softly. "It's okay, Bruno. I'll be back soon."
After locking all of the locks on the door (She had four which Mina considered completely paranoid.), Sherry took the elevator down to the lobby, thankful that it was empty. Mina's influence on the media must've been enough to make sure they would never bother her again in a rude fashion. She hailed a cab and in thirty minutes, she was leaning on her crutches outside of a cozy looking flower shop wedged between the city hospital and an apartment building. This is where 'Aki' lives? I really hope Fudo didn't give me the wrong address...
Plant pots were suspended from the dark red awning that provided shade for the more sensitive bouquets and plants underneath. One hanging plant had a faded "Help Wanted" sign taped to it. Countless potted plants and flowers rested on the sidewalk, a clear path in the middle to enter the brightly lit shop. It was almost as if they were encouraging her to enter. Sherry sighed and went in, amazed at how much maneuvering space there was inside despite seeming smaller from the outside. Clear cases that lined the walls kept sensitive products cool and flowers were everywhere, sitting in bouquet display racks or in vases.
"... yes, I'll have your flowers ready by that time, Ushio-san. Please pick up your order about thirty minutes after," a gentle female voice said before the click of a receiver was heard. Sherry hobbled over to where she'd heard the voice and found a petite burgundy haired woman sitting in a wheelchair. A very small desk leaned against the wall with a telephone resting on it. The woman twisted herself around in her chair to look at her and the blonde found herself submerged in deep amber orbs. "Good morning, Sherry Leblanc. My name is Aki."
AN: And so the first chapter ends. I intended for this to be a one-shot but the idea evolved into a multi chapter story. Won't be updated for a while, probably. I'll try.