The character in this chapter is an OC, but she's there to make the plot flow. Don't get all weird on me, now. I'm not bad at making original characters.

I can't wait until this story gets moving. I'm already lol'ing.

If anything needs more clarification, that means I didn't write it well, and you need to tell me in a review. Please.

Stealing your silkworms,
Kelsey

CHAPTER 2. SUMIKO

Make up was one thing, heels were another, and managing both at the same time was proving to be yet another tragedy that Sumiko Ueno did not want to commit to memory. But as the subway lurched away just as she approached the platform—tears forming in her big brown eyes—she knew it was going to be one of those days.

"Stupid, rotten trashy shoes," she hissed through barred teeth, pulling the shoe with the broken heel off of her foot. It had snapped when she launched through the turn-style and became wedged in the machine behind a woman who was triple her size. In a dramatic attempt at escape, she pulled from the larger woman's backside and found her foot trapped in a grate in the floor. Twist and…shout. A lot of shouting. There'd been a flourish of profanities and a brandishing of a purse as the portly woman flipped like a switch and spun with the wrath of a tiger, expecting to find a bandit tugging at her purse. It only turned out to be Miss Ueno grabbing for the first thing she could reach as she fell to the ground, and although the big lady's bag saved her from a bruised bottom, it couldn't save the heel of her shoe as it snapped in two.

'What a morning…' she thought silently, banking the tears and saving her mascara. She tossed the heels in a nearby trash receptacle, thankful that she kept a spare pair of sandals in her oversized bag.

Returning the way she came, Sumiko grumbled further as she searched her pockets for her cell phone.

"Missed the subway, late for the client… Could this day be any more ludicrous?" She flipped open the chrome cell and dialed. Ringing, waiting…two things she'd become more irritated with as the days went on. "Hello, Maeda? Yes, it's Ueno. It's a bit of a hassle for you, but could you warn my client that I'm a little off schedule? …You are the best, I have to tell you, thank you so much! Please forgive me…"

She snapped the phone shut and ended the conversation.

'This job is more stress than it's worth sometimes…'

In truth, a nakoudo was indeed a strenuous job, especially when the clientele seemed to all be those dubbed as 'undesirables' in the eyes of the Japanese. In her eyes, they were all undesirable, no matter what profiles her clients had, but hopefully the one today would be different.

She always hoped all of her subsequent matchmaking was different.

A half hour after her scheduled appointment, Sumiko pushed through the door of the office and was instantly met with the angry face of an older woman.

"We're paying top dollar and you expect us to accept this sort of behavior?!" she screeched, the soft folds of her face quivering. Her wrinkled brow was knit in an anger uncommon in someone her age, but Sumiko had seen it before: disgruntled parent wanting to marry off the unwilling son or daughter so that they weren't the laughing stock of the neighborhood, office, social club, etc.

"I apologize, Mrs. Hanabusa, the subway—"

"I don't care if the subway launched its maiden voyage to the moon; you said 12:30, I expect 12:30, and it's—"

"If you find it acceptable, we'll take off20% of your total for your trouble."

"…That's…that's acceptable…"

Relieved, Sumiko threw her belongings at the front desk with Yumi Maeda, the secretary, and then took her position at her desk with the client. She opened the file gingerly and browsed the hand written responses on the form.

'Name…Setsuko Hanabusa. Age…45. Talk about spoiled Christmas cake! This'll be great…'

Clearing her throat, Sumiko looked the older woman straight in the eye.

"In my experience, I must tell you there're a few things here that would make your daughter seem…well…"

"Say it," the client growled, her eyes squinting at the younger woman with growing contempt.

"It's going to be near impossible to find a match, given these qualities. No hobbies, no employment, and the age?" Sumiko continued, adding insult to injury. "I'm surprised you didn't lie on the form—"

"And you are the best nakoudo this place has to offer?!" the woman bellowed, standing quickly and shoving her chair to the side. "I could have a baboon arrange a marriage better than you!"

"Then you should do it."

The woman's nostrils flared, interpreting the insult clearly. "You've said quite enough, you little demon,and I demand my application fee back!"

After a brief shouting match at Sumiko (who remained silent), the woman faulted the manager of the business with poor hiring skills before slamming the door on her way out. Maeda merely turned her head towards the poor nakoudo, giving her a nervous grin.

"…I don't think we'll see her again," the girl mumbled weakly.

Sumiko nodded in agreement. "And that's better for both of us. Her daughter had every possible negative trait on record." Wiping her brow, she stood and grabbed her purse from the front desk. "Lunch break. I'm done for the day with bitter mothers who look like grandmas. And she probably could be one too, if her daughter could land a spouse."

She'd never had time to prepare lunch. In the end it would be cheaper and healthier, but in the now…she was much too busy. Venturing to the fast food district was a brisk walk away, a 5 minute jaunt if she was quick enough. She could already smell the artery-clogging when she left the office. The humid air made sure the scent of oily fries, chicken, and burgers hung in the air like a rotted example on a gibbet.

But she was hungry, and she could swallow the illness she felt when smelling the stuff, if the food could only cure the empty clawing at her stomach.

Among the lanes of shops and eateries, there was a ruckus atypical of a Wednesday afternoon. A group of people had gathered outside of an establishment that was adorned with banners and signage indicating the place as 'New!' and 'Just opened!'

"S…F…C?" Sumiko murmured, half to herself. An old man walked by and laughed.

"Sentucky Fried Chicken," he taught her, chuckling a bit more. "It's going to make some true competition for the MgRonald's across the way."

"You don't say?"

"Truly, and I know. I just ate there, and it was wonderful!" He looked off into the sky wistfully, as if regretting something. "I wish it weren't over…" Then he walked away.

Sumiko cocked an eyebrow and pushed through the crowd of young adults taking pictures with their cells. The line leading up to the door was moving quickly, so she decided it couldn't hurt to try something new. It was fifteen minutes before she was finally indoors, and by that time she was sweating profusely. The sun decided to beat down hotter than usual so the air conditioning was welcome (as well as the scent of lunch).

The place wasn't anything glamorous, but was clean and bright enough to feel welcoming. Candy apple red and sterile white was the decorative color palette, and between the glaring white tile floor and the bold vinyl seating, Sumiko thought the entire restaurant was very reminiscent of a diner on some Western movie.

Soon, a group of girls was the only thing separating her from placing her order. She watched and listened, becoming more and more irritated that the line seemed to permanently stop with the customers just ahead. It seemed to be more of the clerk's fault than the girls'.

"Smile again, and I'll upgrade your meal to M size for free," the boyish man said sweetly, voice dripping with want. For some strange reason, he was wearing sunglasses, in addition to his annoyingly perfect ponytail.

'What is this guy, honestly…?' Sumiko grumbled internally.

"We just want our food!" one of the young women snapped back. Another worker brought the tray to the counter and the customers walked away, disgruntled and flustered as they kept avoiding the obnoxious waving from the cashier. One of them whispered something that sounded like 'sexual harassment'.

'What a joke…' Sumiko thought, restraining the need to roll her eyes. 'This guy's got to be the most desperate fool I've ever had the misfortune to—'

"And what brings such a classy and professional beauty to this humble establishment?" the man crooned. "It's not every day I get to meet gorgeous people of your caliber, you know…"

"I would imagine not," Sumiko replied nonchalantly, pulling her pocket book from her purse. "Lunch set C, please. Small water. No dessert or add-ons."

The clerk gave her a quirky smile before cocking his head and punching in the code on the register. "Strictly business, aren't you! I kinda like that. Say, this meal's on the house if you could only tell me your name. It's really a small price if you think about it." Somehow the way he said 'small price' didn't sound very small at all, Sumiko thought.

"While I don't think my name is worth enough yen to pay for the meal, I'd be happy to suggest a proper outlet for catching mates, Mr. …" She glanced at the name tag on his apron.

"You're the manager?!"

"Please, call me Mitsuki," he begged pitifully, mysteriously producing his business card and eagerly shoving it towards her.

Suppressing a snarl, Sumiko pulled her own business card from her pocket and slid the little paper across the surface to prevent touching the man's hand. She grabbed her tray (and his forced card) quickly. "'Happy Family Matchmaking'. It's a lot easier and more socially acceptable than being a creepy stalker at a fast food chain."

As he read her name aloud from the card in the most ear-grating sing-song voice (while completely ignoring her comment), Sumiko turned away without another word, her face brick red.

Three clients later, the work day was half an hour away from being finished and it was deadly quiet. For a third time that summer the A/C had failed, and the only air circulation came through the open door, propped open with an ugly cinder block. Occasionally a car would drive by, and the cicadas would buzz lazily, but otherwise…silence.

Maeda, trying to look busy, tapped her fingers on the desk and scribbled messy circles that looked like hashed up flower tornadoes on her notepad. At the far end of the office, Sumiko sat at her desk, organizing folders and files. It was the only time the office had to clean up, as it was quite unusual for anyone to come by so near to closing. But with a quarter hour left, it happened.

The secretary looked up happily when she heard footsteps, anxious to do something more than kill brain cells with boredom. Before she had a chance to greet the visitor, though, she was being addressed first by a short blue-haired man in a suit.

"Such a lovely woman shouldn't be kept hidden like a secret!" he said with a small giggle. "Now tell me, miss, where can I find Sumiko?"

Blinking nervously, Maeda pointed across the room. "She's over there, but are you looking for a nakoudo? Because I have this form that—"

"I'm in the market for one, yes." The girl couldn't see past the dark sunglasses, but she could tell he winked. Not that it mattered: his smile said enough to silence her.

'I might need to take a really hot shower when I get home…' she thought to herself, shuddering a bit. 'Creepy dark glasses? Indoors? Hentai!'

He followed her direction and threw his arms up as he approached Sumiko's desk. "Just the one I was looking for!"

Sumiko jolted slightly at the close proximity of his voice. She heard him at the front of the room but didn't hear him walk near her space. Already, her defenses were fortified.

"So you took the proposition literally," she deadpanned, her expression emotionless as she stood from her chair. "Lovely."

Without warning (or consent), he strode around the desk, took her hand gently, and brought it to his mouth. As soft as they were, lips on her hand made Sumiko disgusted, and she soon felt bile edge its way into her throat.

"God in Heaven, I don't think I need your services if only you are in my sight," he whispered, smiling against her knuckles. The woman frowned, glaring at his screened eyes. "Sumiko, such a beautiful name, you might be an angel if I didn't know any better, I'm quite—"

"If you're quite finished, you will take a seat, Mr. Sarue."

Rushing to fulfill her wishes, Mitsuki Sarue flopped into a chair on the other side of the desk and crossed his legs. "So you read my card, and memorized my name! It's a start," he said through a smile.

"It's good form, Mr. Sarue, to recall names. It's even better form to not use a given name when we've only just met…"

"But with the meaning 'charcoal', it's so proper. So dark and mysterious, rough around the edges, but I'm sure you're actually quite soft—"

Slamming a thick packet of forms on the top of her desk, Sumiko fumed silently. "I don't have all day to talk about names. If you're wanting a match, we have some forms to fill out. We'll need every bit of info about you, from birthday to blood type to family history. I can start filling it out, the basics." She began scribbling out the obvious answers: Given Name, Family Name, Gender… Then she looked up from the paper. "Age?"

"Twenty-two."

She wrote that and a few more answers down. "Take the sunglasses off. What's your eye color?"

Strangely, Mitsuki hesitated, fidgeted in his seat, and gave a tense grin. "They're blue."

"I need to be certain," Sumiko stressed. "I can't have potentials showing up and finding out you don't look anything like your description. Glasses, please."

Slowly, he removed them and blinked several times as he adjusted to the light. He gave her a hard stare as she confirmed his statement. Masking her surprise, Sumiko frowned.

"Well, that's something new," she muttered under her breath. "Purple?"

"I prefer mauve."

"I prefer you not argue and make this simple," she blurted testily. The heat was getting to her, and being approached by this weird guy for business was tipping the scales. "Okay, it seems we're actually the same height…so I'll mark down my measurements. Now, how about hobbies?"

The conversation went back and forth for a while. Sumiko told Maeda to go home, and finally, at five minutes until six o'clock, the forms and information collection were finished.

"Okay, well, your part is done, Mr. Sarue," Sumiko said with a relieved sigh. "Once we find you a potential and you accept, you'll be due your deposit. Otherwise, you're all set."

"Wonderful!" he cheered, standing at full height. Sumiko followed suit. "It's going to be getting dark. Are you here all by yourself?"

"I lock up. I don't live far." She knew it was too much information given when the man perked up, an opportunity in sight.

"Then it's perfectly acceptable that I walk you—"

"How about I walk you to the door, and you can be on your way," she interrupted, anxiously rushing to the door. "Thank you for your business. We'll contact you soon."

It took all the energy Sumiko had to refrain from punching Mitsuki Sarue's shades into his eyeballs during his lengthy exit, but finally she had the office to herself. Herself, and a lingering haze of cheap cologne.

Sorry. I couldn't help it. :|
Reviews plz. Sank yuu bari machi.