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TEN

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Sora Takenouchi ran her hands over the fabric of a skirt displayed on a shop mannequin, her fingertips finding the smoothness of the material similar to the flower petals she so often handled alongside her mother. It was summer, and, ergo, it was wedding season, which meant lots of flower arrangements to keep both herself and her mother busy in their little boutique.

She shook her head and removed her hands from the skirt, troubled that she was thinking more about flowers than fashion when she was supposed to be out shopping with Hana. A quick glance over her shoulder placed her new friend a few feet away from her, eyebrows wrinkled as she stared at a pink top as if it were the greatest conundrum in the world. Sora realized, about five minutes into her shopping trip with Hana, that she wasn't as fashionably savvy as she imagined her to be. Perhaps she was disillusioned, thinking that since Hana was from France, she would have the perfect ideas for what was en vogue, but Hana proved clumsy and, frankly, too nice in her clothes shopping. Whenever Sora asked for her opinion on a shirt or pants or a combination of both, Hana would always say that they looked fine. It was during such moments that Sora wished Mimi was still around to give her honest fashion advice.

"Find anything you like?" she asked Hana, coming toward her.

Hana dropped the pink top she had been inspecting so scrupulously.

"No. How about you? I saw you eyeing that mini skirt over there for quite some time. Are you going to get it?"

"Oh." Sora blushed, not realizing she had examined the skirt for that long a time. "I… well… I don't know about it, actually."

Hana smirked.

"Well, you should try it on if you like it so much."

"But that's the thing. I don't know if I like it."

"Pfft. If you've been staring at it that long, then you definitely like it."

Sora did not look convinced. She could only mutter a faint, "Maybe."

Hana's eyes narrowed in on her friend. She never took Sora to be this terribly fashion conscious, especially since she always had the impression that Sora was the type of girl who would opt for comfort over style.

"Just go for it, Sora," she heartened, giving her an assuring smile.

"Well, I guess if I get the skirt, you'll have to get that top. You've been looking it a long time, too."

Hana laughed.

"Huh. I guess you're right. Okay, Takenouchi. You get the skirt, I'll get the top, and maybe at the next store, we can find the other halves of our outfits."

"Deal."

As they stood in line to pay for their items, Sora couldn't help but notice one shopper going into a dressing room lugging an immeasurable amount of clothing. The sight brought a smile to her lips, reminding her again of Mimi, who had a habit of making the most out of every shopping trip she embarked on. Hana caught her smiling, and nudged her with her elbow.

"What's the grin for?"

"Oh, nothing. I just… shopping just reminds me of an old friend of mine."

"Oh? Was she like the girl who just walked into the dressing area with a mountain of clothes?"

Sora chuckled.

"Yeah. Mimi was that kind of girl. She didn't like going to a store to pick out just one thing and get out. She took her time, and she scoured every shelf and hanger for the best she could find. Shopping with her was really a work out."

"Mimi? I've heard that name tossed about by the boys. She seems to come up every time Matt or Tai want to pick on Izzy. She lives in New York, correct?"

Sora nodded.

"She says she might fly in for the Christmas season."

"Aw," Hana cooed. "That would be a perfect time to revisit old friends and family, what with the holiday cheer and all."

"Yeah. Whenever Mimi visits, she stocks up on so many Japanese snacks and items that she can't get in America. It's good to see that we still mean a lot to her."

Hana smirked, her mind suddenly drifting to Paris and all of the life and friends she left behind there.

"So…" she began, guiding their conversation down a different path, "Matt and Tai seem to be of the mind that Mimi and Izzy…"

"Oh, that." Sora's smile broadened. "Well, I don't really know how to explain it since none of us really know what went on. We assume there's something going on between her and Izzy—even if it would be long distance—but Izzy refuses to speak on the subject and Mimi just cleverly eludes all of my questions about it."

"So… they dated or are dating."

"Supposedly."

"Huh." Hana pondered on the discovery for a few moments. "A computer science whiz and a fashionista? Who'd have thought?"

"Well, it doesn't sound so strange when placed next to a rock star and a tennis player. Or a ballet dancer and a psychiatrist."

Sora had, of course, been referring to herself and Matt in the former analogy, but seeing as Hana was never filled in on the nature of their relationship, her friend only registered the latter one, which was clearly about her and Ryo.

"Aspiring psychiatrist," Hana corrected. "He's not one yet, and I certainly don't want him going around talking as if he's Freud himself. That would drive me nuts, which would make me a prime candidate to be his first patient."

"Ryo does seem very knowledgeable in psychology, though, I have to admit," said Sora. "On the ride to the camping site, he told us about all of these psychological diseases, birth order theories. He's very smart, Hana."

"He is, isn't he? Now, if only Tai could agree."

"Tai?" Sora nearly squawked the name, the mention clearly not expected from her end of the conversation. "What did he do this time?"

"This time?" Hana repeated, laughing afterwards. "So he's pissed people off like this before? Makes sense. To keep it brief, he basically questioned whether or not Ryo is truly qualified to be in university. His snark wouldn't have bothered me so much if it weren't for the fact that he's no Einstein. So for him to make fun of my boyfriend's intelligence only puts him in a worse position."

"Wait… you fought?"

"With who?"

"Tai."

"… yes. A few days ago."

Sora processed the information with a deepening furrow in her brow. It explained why, at their lunch table, the two barely said a word to each other, and it also explained why Hana had taken to sitting next to Izzy, when normally she would have sat herself next to her science project partner.

"But don't you two have a project to finish?"

"Yes, but I'm not the one who needs a good grade. I can finish it by myself, but I don't want to do a good job and then have Tai mooch off my hard work and credit. I'm actually tempted to tell Mr. Tokoya that he's proved to be a lousy project partner."

"I'd… I'd hold off on that for as long as possible, Hana. I mean, I know Tai can be…"

"A jerk?"

"At times, yes, but he almost always comes around. Sort of. Sometimes you have to give him the okay to do so."

"You mean apologize first?"

"No..." Sora bit her lip. "Yes."

"Forget it, then."

"Hana. Tai's a good person. He just… he just sometimes forgets to mind what he says."

"So I've heard. Still, I'm not budging until he does. He insulted me and my boyfriend, Sora. I don't think I should be playing nice."

"Well, from what I know of Tai—and I've known him since we were kids—he usually doesn't fight back unless he has a reason."

Hana didn't say anything in response. Her mind recalled the comment she had made about him picking up a university girl, and she began to doubt whether or not her harmless joke was taken with more harm than intended. She glimpsed over at Sora, briefly, green eyes wide and open, but uncertain.

"I don't recall giving him any reason," she murmured, looking down afterwards.

Sora knew the expression of guilt when she saw it, and she set a hand on Hana's shoulder.

"This is heavy talk," she said, smiling. "Let's go get some ice cream."

Hana was thankful for the diversion, and she pushed back her regrets about arguing with Tai to the back of her mind. Though, now that the doubts were raised, she knew she wouldn't be able to escape them, regardless of how hard she tried to bury the past.

The girls had their ice cream fix, the two of them sitting on a mall bench with their shopping bags at their feet, Hana gesticulating with her plastic spoon in hand as she updated Sora on her ballet life. She told her about Ren, Emi and Max, the three dancers she considered her closest acquaintances in the corps, and their penchant for dry, almost insulting humor.

"They sound like characters," Sora commented idly. She was vaguely perturbed that Hana spent a lot of her life outside of school with people older than her—not that twenty-somethings were necessarily bad influences, but she was concerned nonetheless.

"Oh, they are," Hana replied. "Trust me. I hope you get to meet them one day just to see it for yourself."

They only stayed in the mall for maybe another hour, the slight aches in their feet signaling to them that they had been on the prowl for good deals for an extended period of time. Hana invited Sora over to her apartment to watch a French film, and the latter agreed, only because the plot summary Hana had given her seemed too scandalous and intricate to refuse.

Sora was disguisedly amazed upon seeing the interior of the Kurosawa residence. The ballet shoes hanging from a movable barre, the giant mirror beside it, the numerous photos of a tutu-and-tiara-clad Hana on a tall bookshelf. Upon closer inspection of the shelf, Sora found that some of the ballet photos weren't of Hana, but of a petite, auburn-haired woman with blue eyes.

"Is this…?" Sora began, never finishing her inquiry.

"Yep. That's ma mère." Hana joined her by the bookshelf, fists proudly on hips. She took one such photo of her mother and brought it down for the both of them to see.

Sora gazed at it openly.

"She's beautiful."

Hana laughed lightly.

"Thanks. I'm sure my mother would have appreciated the compliment. She was always told that she was pretty, but she didn't find the idea conceivable. She thought she was plain, too skinny, and too pale by French standards." Hana paused. "My dad says I look like her, but I grew up thinking that I looked more like him than my mom."

Sora looked up from the photo and studied Hana's profile briefly.

"I have to agree with your dad. You do kind of look like her."

Hana sighed and set the frame back on its space on the shelf.

"I guess it's about time I start acknowledging that fact then, eh? You happen to be guest number seven who has come to that conclusion. Tai, Kari, Yolei, T.K., Cody and Izzy are all of the same opinion." She crouched down to pick something up off of a lower shelf and retrieved a weathered, yellowed photo album.

"This is perhaps the most damning evidence," Hana declared, opening the book at a random spot. "It's an album of my mother growing up. My dad and I had asked ma grandmère in France for it before we left for Japan, and, considering that she had little reason to hold onto it any longer, she gave it to us to safekeep."

She motioned for Sora to follow her to the sofa, and the two girls sat, the album opened between them.

"Why would your grandma have no reason to keep it?" Sora asked, innocently.

"My mom died at the beginning of the year. Cancer," she said, bluntly, though without sounding cruel or bitter.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for your loss, Hana. I can't imagine it being easy losing a parent."

"It's okay. My dad and I are coping well. I mean, we're here and we're living, aren't we? It's just… different without her."

"If it's any consolation," Sora comforted, "my dad lives in Kyoto most of the time since he teaches there. When he first made the move out, my home felt so odd and fractured, off balance. It took a long time for both my mother and me to adjust to his long term absences."

"Exactly."

Hana pointed to a particular picture of her mother, one in which the late Mrs. Kurosawa was dressed in an elegant tutu, holding a bouquet of roses in one arm, a medallion hanging from her thin neck. She appeared no older than sixteen and was smiling in the picture. Sora glanced up from the photo to Hana and noticed that she shared the same happy grin.

"Do you ever think about your mother?" she asked, gently, aware that she might have struck a nerve.

Hana's smile faded somewhat. Her response came murmured, hushed, a mere, croaky whisper even though Sora was the only other person in the apartment with her. She sniffed slightly.

"All the time," she said. Her finger traced idly over another picture of her mother as a young woman, one in which she was posing in one of the Netherlands' famed tulip gardens. Sora gingerly placed a hand on Hana's bony shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile which was met in return.

After a short pause, Hana shut the album and returned it to its proper resting place on the shelf before going to the living room television and poking around in search of her movie.

"So, there are subtitles for this film, in case you want them. If not, I can always just tell you what's going on." She found the title she was looking for and turned around. "Would you like some popcorn?" she asked.

When the film was over and Sora had left, Hana sat for a moment on the living room couch, debating whether or not to start her homework. The pile of papers and books on her desk in her room desperately needed to decrease in size, but Hana was not keen on studying, especially with the way in which her project with Tai had turned out. She was tempted to check her email to see if he had given her any update on the status of their project from his end, but she decided that she shouldn't have been in a hurry to hear from him.

After all, she was supposed to be mad at him.

"Garçon stupide," she muttered, getting up and turning the computer on anyway.

Her body seized for less than a second when she saw that Tai had, indeed, replied to an email she had last sent him. She hesitated to open it, but her fingers seemed to act on the matter quicker than her mind, and before she knew it, she was reading Tai's current thoughts on how their now split project should continue.

It's fine, she typed in reply. Her mind drifted back momentarily to the heap of homework calling her name. A project of such proportions wasn't made to be completed solo, but Hana felt that that was what she would need to do in order to pass. Only, she didn't want to work alone.

And... I'd like to talk about what happened at the library…

Hana paused after she had typed the words, her eyes blinking in the face of the white glow of the computer monitor. Why was she even considering apologizing? Sora's kind nature must have rubbed off on her. That, and her unexpected heart-to-heart with the Takenouchi girl made her more inclined to be soft and forgiving.

I'm sorry for what I said. It wasn't meant to be insulting. I really thought we were just joking around…

She reread the flimsy apology with a bitterness rising in her mouth.

"No," she said aloud. Her middle finger mashed the "Backspace" button on her keyboard. She edited her original post further, deleting word after word until all that was left was a short, curt, "Fine."

Smirking, she pressed the "Send" button and leaned back in her chair, waiting for the confirmation that her email had reached its destination before she got up and laced on a pair of pointe shoes.

Setting her hand on her barre, she glanced at herself in the mirror, pondering over the likeness popular opinion said she shared with her mother. She corrected her posture some and raised her chin slightly, trying to emulate the picture of her mother that Sora had seen. But to do so only brought back unwanted memories, recollections of days spent in a white, sterile hospital, her father reading to her sleeping mother from her favorite novels. She remembered Ryo sitting with her in the hospital room, taking his vacation in France early in order to be with her family during their time of need, his hand gripping hers gently, assuredly, despite the inevitably that would befall them all.

The toes that had been pointe perfect dropped to rest on the heels, and Hana watched herself in the mirror, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She suddenly had no stomach for practicing ballet, and she returned to the sofa after rummaging through the bookshelf again. She lay recumbent on its cushions, flipping through pages of pictures until her father came home, surprised to find her asleep with one such album opened and pressed against her chest.