I am prolific! Woohoo!


I look myself up and down in the mirror and everything seems to be perfect. I dressed completely in the dress and the tights to discard them for a satin-style material playsuit, dark blue with prints of little birds in a light golden colour. Underneath I wear little leggings and the same worn black stilettos. It looks better. Casual.

When I reach the lobby, I walk out and check the thin silver watch that's on my wrist. It's five past seven, and I'm sat by myself on one of the chairs that is placed there. I scan the rest of the lobby and find that the blue-haired pretty boy is nowhere to be found, even when the scantily-clad women come up for their night shift attracting customers.

19:07PM: I'll be there in a minute
19:08PM: Um, okay?

True to his word, just as my (not very long in the first place) patience was wearing thin, he bursts in wearing a pair of straight-leg jeans and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up hastily. He toys with a thin leather strap bracelet on his wrist, and carries a little digital camera in his back pocket.
"You brought a camera?" I ask, laughing. "Really?"
"I don't go out without it," he shrugs plainly. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"Do you mind if we make a detour? I'm sure you've heard that the whole group plan to be going to that movie – and after all, I already booked tickets somewhere else."

"You did?"
"Sure."
"Well, come on, let's go. I don't want us to be late."
"We need to hurry up. We'll take the subway."

After a short subway ride, we stop off in a little part of town that looks very similar to Takashima. We run through back streets crowded with tattooed men and women wearing dresses that could pass as belts. They yell things, expletives, at every passer-by that walks by, and I clutch on to myself in my fear. I would hold Kouta, but he's too busy snapping pictures of prostitutes waving hi and gangs eyeing him up.
"Nice," he mutters to himself.
"What?"
"These pictures. They're good," he hands me the camera as if that completes his sentence, and I flick through the shots he's taken. He's right, of course – everything he takes is perfect – it's an entirely new concept. However, this was not my original date idea.

"K-K-Kouta, I'm scared," I mumble. I'm pretty sure the guy who just looked at me was part of the yakuza, seeing as he was tattooed all over, from head to toe.
"Mmm," he mumbles under his breath. I decide that I'm going to obviously have to say something drastic to get his attention, otherwise he's not going to listen, he's just going to spend the night photographing friendly hookers.
"I think I'm actually going to make a film based on this part of town. Yeah. It's going to be great – but I can't exactly come here and film, can I? I suppose I might have to be in it too. I wonder what one of those dresses would look like on me," I motion towards one of the call girls and her dress (which barely covers her ass). "And a pair of stockings maybe…" I drift off, to find him putting away his camera and looking at me. I can see his nose twitching.

"Let's get you out of here. I don't think enough oxygen is getting to your brain," he says flatly, grabbing my hand, which sends a bolt of electricity up my arm. His touch is firm, but still soft, and his hands are not too rough. It's pleasant.
"Hey!" I say, as he starts walking briskly through the streets, and the evening breeze catches my arm. Whatever it is, we're probably late for it.
He said we're not going to the Suikazura, because that's where everybody else is going. There's about three other cinemas in town, and two of them are very really not applicable. There's only one other one in town, and that must me…

"Here we are," Kouta says gently. "Tsutsuji Cinema."
Tsutsuji Cinema is a very well-hidden, quite expensive, artsy cinema in the back of town. It's hard to get into because the screens are tiny and the tickets for foreign subtitled films and new, original short pieces from amateur filmmakers. It's a centre of beauty and art, rivalled by no other cinema in a 50-mile radius at least. Once, my mother took me there for my birthday, and it was amazing.

"We're going into Tsutsuji Cinema?" I say, my voice quiet and awe-stricken. "This is like, my field of dreams."
"I know the owner," he replies, and takes me inside. "I thought we'd go and see a French movie. Is that okay with you?"
"That's fine. French is a pretty language."

We walk in to the foyer, a pretty affair with a chandelier in the middle. A girl with her hair in a dyed, massive blonde messy bun, smoking a cigarette, struts over to us immediately, bathing me in a scent of strong, expensive perfume.
"Kouta… darling," she clutches him close, his head buried in her chest and her cigarette dangerously close to his hair.
"Rika, hello," Kouta says flatly, detaching himself from her and wiping a strong stream of blood from his nose. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, darling, how are you?" she winks at him vivaciously. "It's been a long time since we've met up."
"It has, it has," he agrees, using a handkerchief to neaten up his nose still as she tosses her hair and stubs out her cigarette.

Met up? Who is this woman anyway? And why isn't she acknowledging my existence?
"What are you going to watch tonight?" she takes out a small, over-embellished bottle of perfume from her handbag and sprays herself delicately, as if she didn't already reek of it enough.
"Amour en temps de guerre," he says, in a not-that-great-but-still-cute French accent.
"It's beautiful. Who's this?" she nods towards me rudely.

"This is Karin," he introduces me. "Karin Sato, meet Rika Nakamura. She owns this place, and she's been a friend of mine for a couple of years now."
"Mm," I nod. I'm sure she has. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Nakamura. You own a beautiful cinema," I nod politely.
"I know I do," she says. "Well, Kouta, have fun," she sniffs. "I trust you have your tickets. The showing is about to start."

She envelopes him in another all-consuming hug and when his nose is bleeding the second time he peels himself away, produces the tickets and we go into the screening, which is pretty. People are sparse. There can't be more than thirty in there. It's quiet.
"Who is she?" I ask him, quietly.
"She's Miss Nakamura. She's my friend, and she owns this place."
"How old is she?"

"20. She doesn't run this place, but her name is on the deed. She does modelling work."
"She modelled for you? That's how you know her?"
"She did, around two years ago."
"The pictures?" I ask.
"They were pretty," he holds his handkerchief to his nose, as if he's expecting it to bleed any moment. "But they weren't anything special."

"Would you ever photograph me?" I ask, before I can stop myself.
"It depends. You're not like Rika," he shakes his head.
"Well, thanks," I say, a little bit miffed. He looks at me for a moment, but then the showing starts.


It turns out that 'Amour en temps de guerre' means 'Love in Wartime'. It's a moving story about newlyweds who get torn apart by a sudden war, with death and destruction and love, and oh my God, by the end of it, I can feel a tear in my eye. Kouta is looking at me with a smirk on his face, but I can see that in his eyes, he has a tear too. I have so many questions that I want to ask about Rika and his photos and what happened between the two of them, but this isn't the time. I decide to concentrate on the movie.
When it ends, and people are beginning to leave, we go back out into the foyer. Before we step out though, Kouta seems to look left and right to check for the most wonderful Miss Nakamura, before going out into the fray.

"That was beautiful," I say, my voice shaking.
"It's dark outside," he replies, to hide the fact that his is too. "You're going to have to be careful walking through those backstreets. Wouldn't want to be you right now."
I look at him, alarm on my face.
"I have to walk back, by myself… through that?"
"I was just joking. Don't, um, let go of my hand though," he grasps for my hand nervously, and we go out into the cool night.

"I'm hungry," I say casually.
"All the places that are open will be full of sleazy businessmen. Do you really want that?"
"I'll probably pick something up from the konbini at the bottom of my block. Do you want to come have a picnic?" I say slightly excitedly.
"That sounds pretty good," he chuckles for the first time in the night.


We walk back through the dodgy streets in comfortable silence. I know that once he comes to eat with me, I can ask him all the questions that I'm itching to. We go into the konbini, pick up some random assorted crap, your regular onigiri, potato chips, fried chicken, fruit juice and chocolate. Then we go up to mine and sit cross-legged on my sitting room floor picking at the food.
"Can I ask you something?" I say, as Kouta pokes lightly at a piece of chicken.
"What is it?"

"Why did you say that I wasn't like Rika? What went on between the two of you?" I say, aware that I sound pretty freaky, but not really caring.
"We met up a few times. We watched a few movies, took a few photos. We made out. A lot. She was younger then," he points out the obvious and then shrugs like it isn't a big thing. "Not anymore."
"Am I not good enough to be like her?"

"Ha," he coughs, then look me up and down. "It's a long story."
"I have time," I check my watch.
"That's just a nice way of saying I don't really want to explain."
"That was just a nice way of saying that you don't have a choice."

"Rika's… Rika has no self-respect. She let me photograph her when she barely knew me, for God's sake, when she was older too. I was a typical teenage boy, I thought she was a bit…" he pauses for thought a moment, "easy."
"So you wouldn't take photographs of me?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No," I blush furiously.

"Exactly. You're not… like that. It's a good thing. I don't have any photographs of you on my camera," he says, but then checks just in case. "Nope, none."
"That's a good thing."
"It is," he agrees, thoughtfully, and then turns to look at me for a moment. His eyes are so blue in the light that I feel a little bit short of breath, and then curse myself for being so feminine and flimsy. He turns away for a moment and looks at the floor.

"You called?" I said, the blush not leaving me.
"You look pretty," he says, and pulls out his camera. The red on my face is replaced by fear.
"I… I thought you w-weren't going… to…"
"No, don't worry," he says, and then points the lens at my face and snaps the button down quickly.

I look at the shot he's just taken. I look so scared, you would think he was my attacker – let's just say it's not my most attractive expression in the world. Kouta struggles to keep in a snigger as I look at it and press the little trash can as quickly as I can, before bursting out laughing.
"Let's take a better one," I suggest, and take the welcome opportunity to snuggle in under his arm.

He snaps it again, and this time there's a picture of the two of us, me smiling coyly and him smirking as if he knows something I don't. I like the picture, and he keeps the smirk on his face as he looks at it on the little screen.
"That's nice," I point at it, as if he's not going to know what I'm talking about if I don't.
"Yeah, yeah it is. So this is where the party is going to happen this weekend?"

"Yeah, it's fancy dress. But I have a better idea which will make it even better."
"What's that then?"
"Couples fancy dress."
"Couples fancy dress? How does that even work?"
"It's like fancy dress, but with couples."
"Like?"

"Cops and robbers… Batman and Batgirl… cowboys and Indians, you catch my drift," I take a sip of the aloe vera juice that's on the table.
"Sounds interesting. I suppose you want to go as a couple with me?" he asks, still smiling like an idiot. I cough so hard on the juice that I think I'm going to choke. It brings tears to my eyes, even. Attractive, Karin.
"N-No… I didn't t-think… that…" I bumble. Get a hold of yourself! You're supposed to be a sassy, independent woman! Not a stuttering little girl.
"It sounds like a good idea to me," he shrugs, for the millionth time that evening.

"Um… well… okay…"
"Stop stressing. How about Himeji and Akihisa?"
"No," I say, stronger than anything else I had said all night.
"No? Why not?" he asks, puzzled. Because I need to be a good winggirl.
"Because I already thought that Akihisa and Minami could go as a couple. I think those two would go pretty well," I nod.

"I suppose. But there's Minami," he says flatly, "and Himeji," he says more excitedly (well, as excited as Kouta's voice ever gets) and gestures.
"Minami is lovely," I say, in a very unamused voice.
"I know, I know, but Akihisa is shallow."
"Coming from the Shallow King," I say sourly. I don't like how this is going.
"All guys are a little shallow," he retorts nonchalantly.

"Well, Minami is pretty, okay? I think it would be fine for them to go together – just because Himeji has a big chest doesn't mean that Minami doesn't get a look-in with anyone," I rant for a little bit, ending up silent.
"Mm," Kouta just ruminates quietly.
"Sorry for getting so worked up. I didn't mean to – it's just Minami is my friend, and…"
"It's fine."

"In fact, wait, what? I shouldn't be apologizing for this!"
"No, you shouldn't."
"It's not my fault most guys are just, ugh… my mom has a really big chest."
That got his attention – his head snapped round so fast I thought it was going to fall off.

"Um… what?"
"Well, my mom used to be flat as a pancake. Then she met my dad. He loved her just the way she was – and she got pregnant when she was eighteen."
"So she's young…"
"Keep on track."
"She was going to go to vocational school – my mom is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I digress… she had all the money saved up. She thought that she would put it off for a couple of years and then go when I was old enough. When my mom was twenty-one and I was two, we moved here from Osaka as a little family. I started a very high-pressure kindergarten – my father was determined that I would be top of the class. It was practically elementary school."
"I didn't go," he muses.

"Anyway, I had trouble with a lot of my subjects. I wasn't the brightest either. My main weaknesses were math and science, so we hired a tutor that sat there patiently with me and tried to explain the basics. It didn't work. My father had an affair with her, and later ran off with her, leaving my mom twenty-four years old in a town that she didn't know."
"What has this got to do with your mom's chest?"

"My tutor was the bustiest woman I've ever seen in my entire life. Instead of going to vocational school like she really could have done and transferred me to a kindergarten for working parents, she went and spent the money and got breast implants. Now she's a D75 and a hostess. She's the happiest I've ever seen her, and I know that she is genuinely happy, living with her sisters, doing what she feels like, but I know in my heart that she could have been more successful."

"Hmm…"
"Instead of working in one of those bars, she could have been owning one," I chuckle. "Whatever makes her happy though I guess."
"So that's why being flat is okay? The story ended with your mom getting a boob job."
"Yes, which was a bad thing. She looked fine before. Now she's still beautiful, and she has a great body, obviously, but there was nothing wrong with her before."

"You remember?"
"Photographs," I muse. "Not your kind," I glare at him.
"Well, obviously…"
"So, do you understand now?"
"Yes," he says. "Sorry," he adds quietly.

"Ah, you're the first person that I've told this to," I sit on the sofa and stretch. "Akihisa knows the basic storyline, but not the ins and outs."
"I feel trusted," he smiles.
"You are, I guess. Sorry for ruining your awesome night with my rambling and yelling and yeah."
"That's fine. I think it was kind of cute."

There's a little twinge in my heart. For the most part, it's a good twinge and it makes me feel happy – but it's tinged with disgust. Disgust? There is not supposed to be disgust there – not when it's getting late and I'm there with a guy that I think I like who's telling me I'm cute! What was this? I push it out of my mind and check my watch. Brilliant, it's around half-ten.
"It's getting late," I say.

"I better be going."
"I'll show you out," I say, and we walk down the corridor, to the elevator. There's another moment of beautiful silence in the elevator and I listen to its calming hum, when I realise that Kouta is looking at me through the corner of his eye. I blush furiously, when the door opens at the lobby and I spot through the corner of my eye some people that did not need to be here.

"Kouta."
"What?"
"Minami, Himeji, Akihisa and Hideyoshi at ten o'clock."
"Crap."