Chapter Four

"I just can't wait!" Tomoe Hotaru said, dashing back and forth across her tiny bedroom, tossing clothes into an old, worn leather suitcase. "I haven't even been on an airplane before. This'll be an awesome trip, probably even better than the camping trips we used to all take together, don't you think?"

Hotaru stopped to open up her bedroom window for her friend, letting the breeze tickle the curtains before she went and jerked open another dresser drawer. Her short, sleek black hair fell to her chin and she touched it as she passed the mirror, checking it over with cute, deep violet eyes. At age fifteen, even though she'd always been so pale and thin, she definitely looked more ripe and feminine, which Setsuna noticed from the doorway.

Meiou Setsuna grinned and watched Hotaru in envy of her youth, and how the girl blossomed just about every year. She could barely remember what she was like herself at fifteen years old, but going to Okinawa to innocently celebrate something with friends was certainly no part of it.

"All your clothes are gray and black, and I think I'll buy you a colorful swimsuit. How about that? Maybe even a two-piece bikini, something cute."

"Really?" Hotaru glanced at her, blushing slightly. No one would believe she'd ever worn anything even just a pinch ostentatious before, or ever would. She'd always been in such delicate health, Setsuna really didn't know whether or not she could be out in the sun for very long.

"You're fifteen and in high school. Why not? Is there even a boy you like?"

"No, not really."

Setsuna chuckled. "Someday there will be. Anyway, how about something pink or orange, and flowery? We'll go shopping for one later."

"Are you going to swim with us too, Setsuna?"

The older woman looked down at her feet. It had always been so hard making promises to her as a child. Something usually came up, and it was even harder explaining what drew her away from Hotaru, Haruka, and Michiru so often. Perhaps Hotaru had always understood what it was, but never had a complete comprehension of what her full duties were. In any case, things were much different after a full year, and now she would try her hardest to fit in as a close friend and a normal girl, for maybe the very first time.

"Well, sure. Why?"

"I…" Hotaru picked at her fingernails and stared at them for a few seconds, before she found something else to say. "Because actually, black might be the best color swimsuit for you, with your green hair and red eyes."

Setsuna giggled and walked over to her, patting her shoulders. "How about if I help you out? How many tank tops and shorts do you have? Okinawa's very hot."

"Not very many…"

"So now you have tank tops, shorts, and some really cute skirts," Setsuna said, carrying half the shopping bags as they made their way down the sidewalk in downtown Tokyo, herself in high heels and Hotaru in new sandals. "Are you ready to look for a bathing suit?"

"I suppose so," Hotaru said meekly, peering down at one of her new skirts. "I don't know what my father will say about all this, though."

"Not to worry. I've been a family friend for a long time, and even though he trusts me, some of these can be our little secret. You can wear the shortest and tightest ones to the parties when we get there."

Hotaru giggled and slurped the remainder of her iced coffee.

"So you name it. What's the number-one boutique where all the girls at school go for their swimsuits?"

"That one." Hotaru extended out a thin, frail arm and pointed out a huge shop down the street with exaggerated stick-thin mannequins in the window modeling beachwear and attracting what young people these days believed to be the most glamorous of women. A look of intimidation crossed the girl's face as she, too, noticed what kind of girls left the store.

'How laughable,' thought Setsuna.

The store was heavily perfumed and pink, so much that Setsuna worried about little Hotaru getting dizzy, but instead she led her through the racks and acquainted her with the most outrageous price tags and showy clothes. They were greeted loudly by painted old women and plastic young ones who stared at them with sudden profound interest in Setsuna's tall, curvy figure and Hotaru's slim, blossoming one.

"Show me what you like," Setsuna told her.

"I couldn't even think of buying anything from here except the towels!" gasped Hotaru, clasping her hands together innocently and gazing at the older woman with large, overwhelmed eyes.

"How about this," Setsuna said, with a gleam in her crimson wine eyes and tapping her lip with her finger thoughtfully. "You just go into behind the curtain and I'll pass you something to put on. Maybe once we see you in something, we can make a decision."

"O-okay," Hotaru agreed, nodding obediently and drawing the curtain around her in the changing area over in a corner. "Just nothing too loud and bright, okay?"

"Don't worry."

Hotaru peered meekly at her reflection in the mirror, combing her sleek black hair behind her ears with her fingers. She couldn't really argue when Setsuna told her that she was pretty, though Setsuna herself was a sight to behold for anyone. Setsuna was so tall, with all that gorgeous spruce hair, her sexy and mysterious eyes, and slight tan color to her skin. How it was possible that Setsuna could ask her if she had a boyfriend, when she could take her pick of any gentleman herself, was beyond Hotaru's imagining.

Slipping her frilly black blouse up over her head, she checked the mirror and took a good look at her body. She had resembled a stick for as long as she could remember, pale and with a very visible ribcage. A cute little navel peeking out from underneath the waist of her jeans, a smooth and creamy stomach, small and shapely young breasts protected by a modest, black lace bra. Maybe everyone else might have said that she looked older, but she felt no different from when she was thirteen.

"Try this on, Hotaru."

The fifteen-year-old nearly jumped when she saw Setsuna's hand poke through the opening in the curtains, holding a lime bikini. Hotaru took it reluctantly, blushing and barely recognizing what she saw in the mirror, turning around after slipping the bottom piece over her black-and-white butterfly panties. In truth she actually had very pretty thighs, but exposing them was far from natural to her.

"This doesn't feel right," she uttered softly, opening the curtains only so that Setsuna could see through the small gap. "I hate the way the top feels. I think it's too small."

Setsuna feigned a youthful giggle, looking at the triangle top that hugged the girl's chest closely, so that it came dangerously close to covering only half her nipples. "That's the style, and the tag says it's your very size. You don't like it?"

Hotaru shook her head. "Let's try something else."

She'd repeated that line for awhile until they finally agreed on something that had her name written all over it: a burgundy strapless one-piece that brought out the fresh curve of her girly hips and clung to her chest so that it wouldn't slip.

"It'll feel a lot better when I swim," Hotaru explained as they left the store, squinting from the sunlight and the glare in Setsuna's dark sunglasses. "Arigato, Setsuna."

"Don't mention it," the older woman replied, feeling very accomplished and somewhat motherly. "You and I haven't done anything together in a long, long time. Instead of shopping next time, though…"

"What?" Hotaru looked up at her curiously, as if wondering whether or not to stop walking.

Setsuna's thin, moist lips curled in an attractive smirk. "I want to make your dress for the next school dance. Is that okay?"

"I'd like that very much!"

"Good, it's settled. You've grown so much, and I have the perfect design in mind. Now, how'd you like to go out for sushi?"

"Actually, um… can I run in there real quick?" She pointed to an arcade they'd just passed by, the window lined with differing sized plush dolls. "A friend of mine works here and I'd like to show her what you got me."

Setsuna nodded. "Sure! The next bus doesn't come for another fifteen minutes anyway. I'll be on that bench over there."

"Fifteen minutes," Hotaru whispered to herself as she broke into a jog and pushed the door open, her eyes scanning among the men sitting at the pachinko machines, boys at the air hockey tables and simulation stations, and at last found what she was looking for.

She walked around on the blue and pink arrow panels, nervously watching the screen flashing what felt like a thousand brilliant colors at once, hearing a techno beat pulsate in her eardrums, into her blood, into her soul. Back in her old mary-jane style shoes, she lightly tapped the rectangular button below the screen.

The machine guided her in an enthusiastic voice as a few people gathered around the metal dance platform, almost as if they'd cross their fingers any minute in excitement.

The knowing that she had an audience set her feet in a rigid yet slippery motion as she met the scrolling arrows with her anxious step, only barely catching the beat, until the rave feeling of her song built up inside her like the stone wheel gathering momentum and rolling into motion. Her slim figure reflected in her audience's eyes like another game screen, marching and hopping proudly to a fast rhythm, even if her score and her precision faltered.