Disclaimer: Digimon is the property of Toei. That is all.
Summary: A vengeful Mimi has returned to Japan, and she's set her sights on a certain Yamato Ishida.
IN THE EYES OF PERFECTION
—Chapter One: Whispers—
by Ascendo Tuum
Word was spreading fast among the Shiseido personnel about the return of one of Japan's native models. Groups of young women loitered about in the halls, gossiping about why the model had left and why she was returning. It was hard to believe that after nearly a decade, she was coming back, but it was unbelievable in a good way.
The Princess was coming home, and though not all knew of her identity, they whispered in droves regardless. She was beautiful, she was ugly, she was natural, she was plastic, she was short, she was tall, she was pale, she was tan--conflicting rumors swirled in the atmosphere. Despite the contradictions, it was generally agreed that this mysterious Princess would be welcomed with the utmost of sincerity and love. Whatever she wanted, she would get.
"Oh I'm so happy," one of them sighed. "It's too good to be true, but it's true!"
"She's just a model, what's the big deal?" This came from an intern who had only recently joined the company and knew next to nothing about the fashion and cosmetic industry. Her uneducated words were like heresy.
"Just a model?" Another woman practically shrieked in horror, her thin eyebrows two round arches on her face. "She's the best of the best! She's one of the first Asian models who made it big!"
The same ignorant intern stared. "Is it just me, or are all of you on crack or something... you act like she's a goddess."
"Oh but she is, she is! She commands, and they listen. There's no more taking advantage of her, no, there isn't. Treat her bad, there's plenty others on their knees waiting for her to grace their campaigns."
"And just who is this?"
"Mimi Tachikawa!" Five women chimed simultaneously, and then giggled at the realization.
Finally the intern began to show signs of recognition. "Oh my, are you serious? Tachikawa's coming back?"
"Yes, and to start off, she's our new face for our Crystal Shine campaign!"
All the employees sighed with delight, unable to wait for the return of one of their own.
All the fame had gone to her heard, swelling into a monstrous superiority complex. With her on the verge to break through into haute couture, Sora wasted no time with compassion, a quality that would take her nowhere. She emerged with cut-throat tactics, willing to dump inept assistants as soon as they made a mistake, regardless of how much experience they had. She did not believe in surrounding herself with inferiors, thinking that inferiority was contagious.
Hard to believe that only years ago, Sora Takenouchi had been a sweet loving girl. This Sora was no lover, she was ruthless and went after what she wanted with endless zeal. And who'd have thought it, that tomboyish Sora would become a fashion designer, of all career choices? Even her own family thought she would've become an athlete, perhaps a soccer or tennis player. And if not a career in sports, then as a florist, following in her mother's footsteps. A fashion designer seemed the most unlikeliest job, but here she was.
Sora's introduction into the fashion world had been most opportune, when she met a friend at a cafe. What had originally been a lunch meeting turned into an hours long conversation, with the friend asking about a dress to wear for her mother's birthday. Sora had drawn an idea for a dress on a napkin, and the friend was impressed, and declared that she should be a designer. Initially, Sora took the comment as flattery, but after a few months, decided to take her friend up on the compliment. A career in sports was too grueling, and unless she became famous and broke a record, retirement would be painful and poor. Her boyfriend Yamato agreed, thinking that a less physically-traumatizing job would be best, despite the fact that he was an astronaut and worked his ass off every day to stay in shape.
Sora smiled at the memories as she climbed into a cozy chair with a sketchpad and a pencil. She was thinking of new designs for the upcoming summer fashion show in Tokyo in four months, believing it to be her breakthrough.
"Designing for department stores is so limiting and boring now. Once I make it onto the couture scene, I'll have my own line that isn't so pop-tartish. Hmm and flagship stores in Tokyo, Paris and London..."
She hugged the book to her chest, envisioning people swooning en masse for her creations.
"Ah, I should tell my assistant to make a list of potential models. Only the best for my designs."
Sora got up, and went over to the window. It was late in the afternoon, probably around four to five o'clock. She had had a late lunch, her assistant offering a mushy uninspiring bento box, only an hour or so ago. Atleast the tea had more than made up for the lacking food. Craning her neck, she watched the people below, walking or running. They were alone, they were with friends, with parents, they were all her potential customers.
Her cell phone trilled, and Sora set down her sketchpad onto the chair. Flipping open the phone, she tucked the earpiece into her left ear.
"Hello, this is Sora."
"Hey Sora, it's Yamato."
"Oh hello Yama-chan. What happened?"
"Nothing happened. I just want to know if you want to go out for dinner later. I'm getting out of work early."
"I just had lunch--"
"I made reservations already, Sora. C'mon, you've been cooped up in your studio for several weeks now. You won't be falling behind, taking one night off for dinner. You need a break hon."
Sora pursed her lips in consideration. "Oh alright Yama-chan, you always get me anyway. When?"
"I'll pick you up in three hours at eight okay?"
"Alright. Bye Yama-chan."
"Goodbye Sora. Love you."
Removing her earpiece, Sora then screamed down the hallway. "Anna! Anna!"
A young black-haired woman came running in. She was clad in denim overalls and a blue t-shirt. "Yes Miss Takenouchi?"
"Bring me a nice dress and some shoes, I'm going out for dinner in a few hours. I trust your judgment," she said, raising her eyebrow at her assistant's disheveled appearance.
Anna's mouth closed and opened like a fish. She had only been working as an intern/assistant for Sora for a month, and Sora had often berated her for her sense of style. And now, she was asking her to pick something from the sample closet downstairs? This was unbelievable! "Yes Miss Takenouchi. I'll be right back!"
"Take your time, but not too long. I'll be expecting it in an hour and a half."
"Thank you miss," Anna breathed and ran out the room.
Sora smiled wrly. The girl worshipped her. No surprise too, considering how she was one of the most popular emerging designers. Sooner or later, she'd be designing couture, not department store stock. With a grin, she sat back down. Her dreams were coming true.
She had Yamato tied to her little pinky, she had a nice cushy job, she had a nice apartment and a house--
"I don't want kids." She decided out of nowhere. Children would only take up her precious time, and Yamato came home tired every night. She really didn't think it fitting that someone of her status be forced to change diapers. And having a maid or nanny was too dangerous--tabloids were willing to pay large sums for household gossip.
She stood up and closed her book. Tucking the pencil into the spiral, she sashayed out of the room, her knee-length skirt swimming about her legs.
elsewhere...
Mimi strolled down the sidewalk, her expressive eyes hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses. Winter was over, and the weather was slowly beginning to brighten up. She smiled, anticipating the advent of the spring season. She loved spring because it was the perfect season not only in terms of weather but also in beauty. In a couple of weeks, flowers would blossom and once stark naked trees would grow verdant leaves. And of course, she could wear clothes in bright shades, like orange or green. She was tiring of wearing mostly neutral clothes in colors like black and white.
Reinforcing her grip on her Louis Vuitton handbag, she stepped into a store. Bright lights assailed her, and she blinked repeatedly, her eyes adjusting to the light. Almost instantly, a saleswoman came up to her.
"May I help you?" The thirtyish-year-old woman asked blandly, her eyes skimming over this customer. She seemed like the noveau rich, someone attempting to claw her way into the ranks. A complete wannabe socialite.
Mimi could hear the smugness dripping from the woman's voice and she smirked. She could milk this woman's bitchiness to her advantage, make a scene, get something for free even. It wasn't like she couldn't afford it. She just believed in quid pro quo, this for that. A bitch for a bitch. The clerk wanted to be arrogant? So be it.
"I'm actually thinking of getting some new shoes. For the coming spring," she said calmly.
"Any particular feature?"
"Oh... maybe a pair of espadrilles, and definitely some stilettos. I want some day sandals and evening heels. You are carrying the new lines, are you not?"
The woman gave her a once-over again. She had an impeccable sense of fashion, wearing a long gray trenchcoat with khaki slacks and brown stiletto boots. Her handbag's metal clasps shone in the light, and her shades alone screamed "expensive." As tasteful as she was, she was probably one of those people who shoved their way into the social scene. "Possibly. Follow me."
Mimi kept in step with the clerk, laughing inside at how the woman's nostrils flared. She probably thought her to be some desperate socialite. Soon they reached the back of the store, where there was a gallery of shoes. Mimi sat down upon a cushioned white seat. "Do you have any suggestions?"
The saleswoman smiled evilly. "Why yes I do," she said happily. She went over to a pair ofvivid orange espadrilles, with lemon yellow straps that wrapped around the ankle. These shoes had been hard to sell, with only two pairs sold in the last month. No self-respecting woman wanted to be caught in such awkward looking shoes that emphasized how big her feet looked.
Mimi crinkled her nose. "Those are hideous. Have you even sold a single pair of those shoes? Most likely not--they add to the overall length of a woman's feet. No one wants to wear shoes that make her feet look big. Are you trying to sell these to me, because you think I am some fashionista-wannabe?" She kept her voice level, wanting to draw out the scene. It was rather a shame that there were not much shoppers inside. "Dear, I wonder how you were hired, when you obviously have such bad taste to offer me such hideous shoes."
"Excuse me?" The clerk began in an incredulous tone.
"You're excused. I want someone else to help me."
"You cannot just barge in here and order me about!" The woman almost shrieked, enraged at this snippy shopper's attitude.
Mimi laughed, her voice sounding like sharp crystal shards. "Really, I was just looking to buy some nice shoes, and here you are, trying to dupe me into buying possibly the most ugliest shoes in the world. I don't mean to sound so arrogant, but do you know who I am?"
"A nobody," the clerk hissed angrily, wanting so dearly to throw the shoe at the woman's head.
"Does the name Mimi Tachikawa ring a bell?" Mimi watched the woman's facial expression change from one of anger to shock to anxiety. Her face turned a brilliant shade of red as her mouth opened and closed. "I thought so. Now would you please show me a nice pair of espadrilles?"
"Right away," she babbled, as she returned the other shoes to the shelf. She walked over to the other wall, and pulled out a pair of espadrilles that had a cork bottom and striped fabric of blue and green on white.
"Much better," Mimi nodded as she slipped her four-inch-boots off and slid her dainty feet into the shoes. Setting her handbag down on the sofa, Mimi walked several paces until she stopped in front of a mirror. She arranged her feet so that the shoes were highlighted, and then struck a pose. "I want this pair. Normally I would have then asked to see some stilettos, but considering your attitude, I think I'll take myself elsewhere."
The saleswoman said nothing, her cheeks burning a bright red. "Yes of course miss. Please go to the register, and your purchase will be brought out to you."
Mimi nodded and went over. She hated it when people made assumptions about who she was, just because they didn't know her. She didn't want to paint herself as a bitchy person, but when push came to shove, what could she do?
Besides, she had more important goals in mind. One, command all of Japan's attention. And two, regain Yamato's heart.
Author's Notes: Something about this chapter feels wrong. Then again, maybe it's because I wrote it in bits and pieces throughout the past few weeks, making it choppy. I'm surprised it's so hard to write. I have all these ideas in mind, but I never thought they'd be so hard to express on keyboard.