A picture is worth a thousand words.
-old saying
It wasn't easy being a supermodel.
Oh sure, it seemed easy. All you had to do was be born with incredibly good looks, right? Then get discovered by some agency – pose while fashion designers draped their latest creations on you and photographers scurried about snapping away – and watch as the world fell all over themselves to treat you like divinity descended to earth. Right?
Wrong.
The kind of good looks that agencies wanted in their models was more than just classic features and sculpted cheekbones. You had to keep your body fit and sleek and generally drool-worthy, and that involved hours wrestling with exercise machines, as well as living on a diet a rabbit would have rejected as too bland. And that wasn't counting the hours you spent on hairstyling, make-up, and studying which shades of fabric went best with your coloring.
And then there were the hours. No steady nine-to-five with lunch and coffee-breaks here, folks. No – it was periods of rest followed by periods of intense activity, sometimes (a lot of the time, actually) in foreign countries which necessitated learning to live out of suitcases and on room-service.
Sometimes it was almost – not quite, though – enough to make her want to reconsider her career.
And there was the fact that modeling had placed a wedge in between her and her daughter. Ruki didn't approve of her mother's job, and even less of her mother's lifestyle. She resented it so much that she took pains to avoid even seeming like her mother, stubbornly holding onto the most non-fashionable, non-frilly, non-Rumiko-like style of clothing she could, as well as an attitude that was the polar opposite of Rumiko's.
Rumiko glanced absently out the window as she passed by it on the way to the kitchen. Since she was uncharacteristically immersed in thought, the full significance of what she'd seen didn't impart itself on her until she was several steps past the window.
When it did hit her, however, it hit her like a sledgehammer to the head.
"Oh my god in heaven…" She rushed back to the window and gaped. That is, she gaped for a whole second before she was rushing off to her bedroom, actually picking up the hem of the skirt she was wearing so as to run.
She was back at the window within a very short while, this time with a state-of-the-art digital camera in her hands. How nice of Hikaru (her favorite photographer) to lend it to her.
Even if he didn't know he had.
Anyway (cough) getting back to the story, Rumiko stood at the window, happily taking pictures and squealing like a much-younger girl when that cute goggleheaded boy (really Ruki was quite her mother's daughter to snag such a catch!) dropped a short kiss on her daughter's cheek. That was so sweet!
She barely heard the quiet measured tread that were her mother's signature as Seiko came up behind the happily engrossed model. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, hello mother," Rumiko said absently, angling the lens for a shot of the Matsuki boy walking into the sunset. Hey, you didn't hang around the best fashion photographers in Japan for years and not pick anything up. She pressed the shutter-button, sighing as a little beep announced the camera's memory was full. Just as well – all Ruki was doing was staring blankly after Takato, and by now you couldn't see him at all.
She turned to face her mother, the wide sparkly smile that had helped catapult Rumiko Nonaka to supermodel status on her face. "Oh mother, today our little Ruki has finally…finally…"
Seiko was actually alarmed at the sheer joy she saw in her daughter's eyes.
"…finally gotten a…boyfriend!" Rumiko burst into tears. Seiko reflected briefly how Rumiko was one of the few people she knew who really cried with happiness.
"This…calls for…a celebration!" Rumiko choked out through her half-laughing half-sobbing. "Can we…cook Ruki's favorite food?"
What she meant was, 'Can you cook Ruki's favorite food?'
Seiko glanced once out the window, and froze a little. "Um, I don't think that's a good idea."
But Ruriko had already gone into the kitchen, where Seiko could hear the clashings and bangings of various pots and pans being hauled out of the cabinets. "Do we have any curry sauce, mom?"
Seiko sighed, and walked into the kitchen to try and explain to Ruriko why confronting Ruki about whatever had just transpired between her and Takato Matsuki was not the brightest of ideas. She glanced once more out of the window, to see her furious granddaughter kicking at a poor defenseless telephone post. Chunks of wood were actually flying out of the post.
***
first of all, let me thank everyone who reviewed. My first Digimon fic got zero, so this is a nice surprise. ^_^ Thanks to crystal-dragon29, zx, ruriko-sakura, Kai Comsi, SerpentTreize, DarkMagician, Sugah-high, Shaman King, Katherine the Great (btw, I always thought Ryo and Alice could go well together; and Leeri!) JoeCool, CanisBlack, Digital Damita, and Rukato 86.
Various comments: first of all, I know the first chapter is somewhat less'n stellar. I comfort myself with the thought that it's just a place-setter for the other chapters.
I'm sorry it takes me so long to update. I've got fics I haven't touched in more'n a year. I'm trying to change that though. This was meant to be a two-chapter humor, but it seems to have other ideas of its own…hope it decides to end before five chapters…^_^
Now, remember: frequency and quality of updates directly proportional to reviews! ;)