Chapter 7
Attempts
Softness enveloped her body and a bright warmth nibbled at her cheeks. A bird's call sung from directly outside the window. Fully rested and restored was her body, energized with a charge that left her at maximum capacity. Iori by nature was a good sleeper, and even at home where her comfort was at it's highest, rarely did so peaceful a night pass as this one. Everything was perfect and right, and then a jackhammer started somewhere in the not so distance.
Iori winced, now fully aware that she was awake and in the home of another. Gradually her eyes opened to the sight of her favorite partner, Usa-chan, staring at her like a husband who had awakened before his wife. Iori giggled, then poked it's nose with her finger. As comfortable as she was, this wasn't the time to be lounging around and relaxing. Many things needed to be done, questions answered and problems resolved. None of that could be accomplished while she was laying around in bed. She rose.
Facing the foot of the bed was a mirror. Seeing herself wearing only a shirt belonging to a full grown man, Iori wondered what the others would think if they saw her like this. If a picture like this was published in a Japanese tabloid, she might as well turn in her resignation to 765 Pro right then and there. No mater how much of a gentleman this Jordan behaved, nothing could be more damaging then the image she portrayed. A little thing like the truth wasn't going to help her. Well, there wasn't a Japanese reporter within hundreds of miles, so the point was moot.
Standing out of bed, she noticed Jordan's shirt was just as long as her dress from the day before. Now there was a scandal.
Exiting out of the bedroom, she immediately noticed that the bed across from the kitchen wasn't occupied.
"Jordan," she called out to the home's owner, "I was thinking-"
And then she stopped herself. A woman was sitting in the corner next to the computer.
"Oh! Sorry!"
"About what?" Jordan asked.
Then the (woman) turned to face her. It was the same one she met last night; the one with the large body, beard, and long dark hair. Only now his hair wasn't tied back in a ponytail, but flowing free from his scalp like a river falling over a waterfall. Iori was rendered speechless.
"What is it?" he asked again.
Could she really tell him that he looked like a girl from behind? Perhaps some boys she knew at school might take that as a compliment, but definitely not a full grown American male.
"Nothing," poorly deflecting. "What are you doing?"
Still clearly suspicious, he let it slide for now, "I'm trying to find your concert."
"Really?"
Looking at it now, the computer is vastly different from what she remembered of last night. Before it had been powered down, but now that it's running it had bright blue neon lights, a port window to spy all the components inside, and a light hum that was surprisingly soothing. By her novice opinion, it was all very impressive.
Just then she realized how close she was leaning in by his face.
Noticing nothing, "Yeah, it's real weird though. I've looked though all the major search engines, and I can't find anything about your concert. Last night I started looking through the casinos one-by-one, but I still can't find anything."
He'd been searching since last night? Then how much sleep has he gotten?
"Oh, don't worry about that. When you get to be my age four or five hours get to be considered a luxury. You're still a growing girl, so it's natural that you need your sleep more than I."
Growing girl? Iori wished that were true. From last year to this, she hardly changed at all. Physically at least. The Futami twins, who are two years her junior, used to be only a little shorter than her. Only in one year had they passed Iori by five whole centimeters. Five! Iori was forced to change her hairstyle to give the illusion of a growing body.
Realizing she was getting distracted, "Is it bad that you can not find our concert?"
Jordan scratched his head, never a good sign, "Not really. There are over a hundred shows playing in Las Vegas every day, if you count concerts, lounges, bars, clubs, and other special events, finding one out of a huge pile like that can take some time. But usually not this long."
Of course the last part had to be especially ominous.
"Will you be able to do it?"
"Of course! But I need to go about a different approach." He groaned. "Ah, I need some time to think." Pushing himself out of his chair he heads towards the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I'll cook you some breakfast."
Wholly did Iori believe in three square meals a day. Even if the situation was dire, that wouldn't change.
"Yes please."
"Ah ha."
While the man was away from the computer, and out of her company, Iori took a more detailed tour of the man's apartment. Inside the large entertainment center was a cavalcade of movies, games, and books. Just about everything that made the jump from Hollywood to Japan in the past couple of years was there, and certainly many more that hadn't. Knowing very little about games, she skipped that section and instead looked at the books. There was almost nothing she recognized. Most were either about American Politics, Technical Manuals, or something that was possibly cult fiction.
Just remembering something; he had a separate bookshelf near the front door. Heading over that way, she found plenty more to his collection. However, while there were still books on the shelves, the racks were also occupied by decorations, fake potted plants, and a wine rack on the very bottom. Jordan had a good collection of books (so much that it spilled onto the area designated for new media), but the actual bookshelf wasn't properly utilized. Certainly this was odd.
Iori nearly shrieked when she spotted Les Misérables. Quickly did she yank it from the shelf and briefly flip through the pages. This was a full version, leather-bound, and all 1500 or so pages. Definitely a collector's item. Turning back to the collection on this shelf, she found many of the classics that she knew. 3 Musketeers, The Great Gatsby, Robin Hood, The Count of Monte Cristo. All the books she loved the very most seemed to occupy their own special section at the entryway of the apartment. Now it made some sense, Jordan displayed his prized possessions on this bookshelf as if they were trophies or pieces of art. This might have seemed somewhat arrogant, but being that they were books, there was a great sense of nobility in it.
"Les Misérables?" He was peeking his head around the corner. "Yeah, that's one my favorites too."
Currently Iori had the volume bound across her chest as if she were hugging a dear friend. That he could discern the book merely by the back cover was truly impressive.
"Um hm!" Iori cheerfully replied. "I named my dog Jean Valjean!"
"Really? You have a dog?" he leaned against the corner of the wall. "What kind is it?"
"A Giant Schnauzer."
"The black ones with the puffy faces?"
"Yes! Actually, you," remind me of him, was what she was going to say, but she held her tongue for a number of reasons. One was because Jordan probably wouldn't like being compared to a dog, but the other was due to her own revelation. Jordan greatly reminded her of her dog Jean Valjean. Was that the reason she kept lowering her guard around this man? Was it all due to this familiar sense of security?
"You were about say I remind you of your dog," his voice was more then a little sullen, "weren't you?"
He accurately read her mind, and in her denial, she very likely overreacted, "Uh, no! Not at all!"
"Right..." his voice dragged out, but it sounded somewhat forced, almost as if he took it as a compliment. "Anyway, I'm out of eggs. There are other things I need to take care of as well, so I'll do your laundry too. Gimme your clothes."
Sometimes Iori feels like she must applaud Jordan's ability to say some of the most outlandish things immediately as they occur to him.
"No! I can take care of it myself!"
There was a smirk on his face, as if he knew for certain she was bluffing (Iori had never done laundry before in her life), but more obviously he points out, "You're going to do it wearing that?"
As if she needed to be reminded, she was only wearing his shirt, but she still wouldn't back down, "Give me some pants!"
Now this was getting a little tiring, "Do you really expect anything I own will fit you? You wouldn't even fit in one of my pant legs. Look, it's no big deal. It's just clothes; pieces of fabric. You need to learn how not to let every little thing embarrass you."
Everything he's said thus far has made sense, and as of yet Jordan hasn't given Iori a reason to question his intentions. Something she's learned as she started as an idol was that if you weren't willing to humiliate yourself, you weren't going to get very far. However, up to this point that only applied to the professional/public aspect of being a performer. The personal/private portion for her was never more then meeting people and going to auditions. Without any solid evidence if they were true or not, Iori only heard stories of what some people had to go through to get the leading role, or a particular Live event. What she was experiencing now, maybe nobody would even believe her if she told them; that to make a Live, she had to let some stranger wash her clothes. Just how silly was this situation, and her own actions?
"Alright," she conceded, "take it."
"I'm also doing my whites, so give me your underwear."
"Absolutely not!"
Eventually she did.
. . .
While he was taking care of those chores, Iori helped herself to one of his books. Her own English was enough to communicate with other native speakers, but she greatly felt that still heavily lacking. Terribly was she out of practice and there were times that even Jordan wasn't sure what she was talking about. This wouldn't do. For Iori Minase, to humiliate herself through miscommunication, was something she couldn't allow. Much selection did Jordan have in classical literature, but that wouldn't do her much good right now in the 21 century. In his "lower class" shelf, the young girl found a 1st person narrative of a car recall specialist who's held up at the edge of a building by a man with a gun.
A little over half an hour later Jordan returned with groceries stuffed inside, and tied to the outside of his backpack by shoestrings. How he had managed to simply not lose his balance on fall off his bike Iori would never know, but it was clear that this wasn't his first time accomplishing the feat. Before he tended to the original purpose of his venture, cooking breakfast, he returned to the laundromat and placed all the clothes in the dryer. This, it seemed, he timed down to an art. After his re-return he started to cook.
In the end he cooked scrambled eggs, long thin strips of bacon, and potatoes croquettes. Somehow he expected little Iori to eat everything he shoved onto her plate.
"You should go ahead and eat it all, you're going to need all that energy for today," he explained.
As an idol, being physically fit was a must. That meant lots of exercise, a balanced diet, and keeping one's weight in control. Just about everything not manifested by the greasy breakfast Jordan had prepared.
"If you want to grow up big and strong, you're going want to take in lots of protein, calcium, and potassium."
While she wouldn't mind the big part, Iori didn't particularly want to be strong. Jordan was a large man, easily towering over her, casting a shadow larger then herself. By her simple estimation he was about 182 centimeters tall and maybe 100 kilograms. Actually, he was probably a lot more. He didn't appear heavy, or with a fat American gut, but there were defined muscles on his legs and arms, and although she couldn't see under his shirt, he had wide shoulders, a hard back, and a clearly shapely chest. Certainly was he fit, far more so then those boys from the all-male idol group Jupiter. If it came down to it, not that it ever would, but the three of them together probably couldn't take down this man in a fight.
"What, is there someone you want me to take down in a fight?"
Iori nearly choked, how in the world did he guess that?
"I saw what book you were reading. It kind of rubs off on ya."
Could she have possibly fallen for his trap? But there was no way that he could have planted that book solely for her to read. Yet somehow, it feels as if he did.
"Tell me about em."
She almost didn't want to, as it was a very touchy and personal subject. Not only for her, but for all the members of Ryuuguu Komachi. But it wasn't Jordan's fault for asking, nor even the book's fault for planting that idea into her subconscious. Perhaps she picked up it not because it simply caught her attention, but because of it's title and the frustration that still lingered from that crushing episode.
"Do you want seconds?"
At first Iori didn't know what he was talking about, but when looking at her plate she noticed that she'd eaten all of the breakfast he provided for her. When did that happen! A sudden, unknown anger filled her; a tension, and a burst of adrenaline. Immediately she became famished and her rapid heartbeat alone was burning hundreds of calories a second.
"Seconds!" she shouted.
After finishing another helping in an almost desperate haste, her temperature began to cool. That melancholy that had been present before was now nowhere within sight. While still touchy and personal, Iori had no trouble finding the strength to speak her words.
"It was a couple months ago. Our group and I, Ryuuguu Komachi, were up for the Idol Academy award. We were so sure of ourselves, we thought we'd simply breeze through this competition. I mean, how could we not? After all, we worked so hard and sacrificed so much, by every expectation we thought our time had just begun. It felt like it was destiny, and at the time we thought we were in top form, but something happened.
"His name was Touma Amagase. Just a solo performer. We thought our main competition would have been our fellow idols from 765 Pro, but this guy...It started to rain just as he began his performance, and one of his speakers even exploded, but he kept going and completely destroyed us in terms of popularity. I don't think I need to add that he received the nomination over us.
"It was extremely disappointing, and what only made it worse was his cocky attitude. Now he's formed his own group, Jupiter, with two other boy idols. It felt like we couldn't beat him on our own, and now he's got two others to support his performance. I'm supposed to be the center of Ryuuguu Komachi, but it feels like I'll never be able to beat someone like him.
"After our loss, the moral of our group was extremely low, and even though nobody said it, it was on the minds of all our members and even our producer; that our group was going to disband. I don't want that to happen! Every one of us tried our best, and together we accomplished what we couldn't in our solo careers! If the three of us separate, it feels like that'll be the beginning of the end of our careers. So all of us were holding on tight to each other, trying our best to keep from falling apart. But we couldn't perform with the same kind of energy we once had, and that depressing feeling only kept growing.
"That was, until, we received the surprise news that we had scheduled a Live in Las Vegas. All our past hesitation seemed to vanish like it never existed, and we were all filled with an excitement like we'd just been introduced on stage for the first time as Ryuuguu Komachi. We were revitalized.
"But there's more then even that. The president of our production company has put a lot of money on the line for our Live, so much that if we fail, all of the idols will suffer. Not only are our futures on the lines, but everyone's. We absolutely have to make this a success! Please, Jordan, I need you to reunite me with my friends!"
Jordan, who'd been sitting patiently in his seat by the computer, stopped and listened to every word that she'd said, allowing whatever food that remained on his plate to become cold. At the time where Iori finished saying what she needed to say, he finished his meal in a hurried gulp. The seriousness of his companion was without doubt, and the man needed to be equal in his response.
"So let me get this straight," he says after a moment of silent contemplation, "you want me to beat up this Touma?"
If Iori had been standing, she might have fallen. Yes, she might have gone off on a little bit of a tangent, but couldn't he at least read the mood? Perhaps she was about to get angry, but a strange thing occurred at that moment. Inside, Iori felt as if something broke. Like a link in a chain, or a beam supporting a bridge. Nothing crucial, nothing that would allow the whole structure to fall, but something that gave it's support. Something, that if gone, would cause the structure to be less ridged. Flexible.
A hiccup caught in the back of her throat, and exited out of her in a spasm that she couldn't control. Another, as uncontrollable and unpredictable as the first. The first spawned the second, the second spawned a third. This continued into a fit that was seemingly without origin or end. Only it wasn't a hiccup, but a laugh.
Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes and her stomach muscles were cramping into a slight pain, but she couldn't stop laughing. Was anything really that funny? Had Jordan told some awesome joke? An amusing observation? No, it was nothing more then a blatant disregard to the seriousness of the situation. Yet she laughed. Was there any reason for this that she could understand? No, but right now that didn't seem to matter. What mattered was not that it was without explanation, for it was, but that it wasn't without purpose. She needed this. Iori needed to laugh.
There was no way for Iori to know how long she had been entranced in that fit of laughter, but as she was finally starting to calm she noticed that Jordan had already removed her plate and was putting away some dishes in the kitchen. Once she was finally under control, she joined him.
"How are you feeling?" he asked the young girl.
"I'm feeling good."
Jordan nodded his head while he continued to wash the dishes they'd just used. "This is Vegas, the city of entertainment. If you ain't having fun, you're doing something wrong. So don't worry, we'll find your friends. In the mean time, lighten up and make sure to have a good attitude."
Was this what Jordan has been trying to push upon Iori since they met? For brief periods of time while they were together, she nearly completely forgot about Ryuuguu Komachi and the Live they still have to preform. In this life there were some things we couldn't do anything about. The time that is lost until she is reunited can never be taken back, but that doesn't mean that time has to be spent in sorrow and worry. Being in such a state would only make the situation unbearable. So until that time that they are reunited, she must keep herself in high spirits. Maybe if she was on her own that may be impossible, but she wasn't alone. With her was this Jordan Huntsman, a man who at a glance might frighten those unaccustomed to one with such a large stature, but underneath he was warm, thoughtful, and kind. If she could have anyone else in the world to help her through this trial, she wouldn't want anyone other then him.
"Yes," she answers his statement.
"Good, we have to take this one step at a time and do what we can. Pressure is only bad when you think about it. Don't think about it, and it's like it's never there. This concert is very important, I understand that, but running around like a chicken with it's head cut off isn't going to get us anywhere. We need to move and use our time effectively. Now, your story got me thinking; what we can't do on our own we can do with the help of others. I got a friend that I think can help us find your concert."
Iori feel a tinge of pride at his comment about her story, "Of course you have a good idea, my very presence is the personification of inspiration."
There was a crack in his grin, almost like he'd been waiting for her to say something along those lines. "Actually, what I said was a lie. I called her back when I was doing laundry. We're going to go meet her in about an hour. You haven't helped me think up a good idea yet."
