Wednesday, 12/7
"You're lucky."
"This year is proof that I'm unlucky."
"Yeah, okay, but it's balanced out by Sojiro agreeing to let you take the night off. If he said no, you'd miss the gallery, Yusuke would cry, the moisture would ruin his painting, he'd be the failure of the gallery, and he'd be forced to burn the whole building down."
Ren stopped walking, Futaba did the same. She pleasantly smiled at Ren as if she only spoke in hypotheticals of obvious agreement. "You frighten me," Ren said.
"But Sojiro is nice, and you're lucky, so none of that will happen. He'll need another reason for arson."
"That's just great. Why don't we think about how happy we are for our friend to get his big break?"
"I dunno about you, but Yusuke getting his big break means that my labor force shrinks by one. Today is the end of my industrial era."
Ren laughed the joke into silence; it was unshared by Futaba, concerning Ren that there may have been less humor than he thought.
Oh well… I'm happy for Yusuke. I can't change Futaba's perspective.
They approached the Rainwater Gallery, curated by the famous art dealer Yanagi. Ren flashed back to Destiny Land when he saw the lines. He was struck by the sudden feeling that a moped-driving senior would run him over to move up in said line. Futaba, as the smaller one, embraced the line, starting to part the crowd with Ren struggling to keep up. Where he bumped limbs, she ducked. Where he tripped over shoes, she hopped. Where he was yelled at for being a "stupid prick that needs to mind his manners!", she held up, waited, and blew a raspberry at the old man with a stick up his ass.
There was no reaching the front of the line for them—they were pushed out before long, Ren tumbling onto the sidewalk and Futaba catching herself with surprising agility. She flipped off not the person who shoved them, but the line in general as Ren got to his feet, dusting off his pants and jacket.
"Why did we think we could cut the line?"
"Because they're a bunch of stuck-up hipsters that should be too meek to do anything about us cutting…" Futaba shrugged. She looked around where they wound up, a corner of the gallery's exterior that yielded them little light to ensure they were truly presentable. "But here we are."
Ren balanced on his tippy-toes to see over the line. "Ah, friends!" He flinched at the voice, tripped forward, and fell to the sidewalk once again.
You know, I don't feel like getting up again if I'll be starring in a slapstick comedy tonight.
He didn't need to pick himself up—firm hands bit his shoulders and dragged him backward until his feet were under him and he wasn't staring at concrete. The hands released, then dusted Ren's shoulder and flicked his messed hair back in place, or the intended place of mess, that is. "Welcome, welcome. I trust your journey wasn't difficult?"
Ren knew who it was before he turned around. "Nope, just some arguing, line-cutting, and shit-eating. Are the others here?"
Yusuke's outfit transformed him, going from the lithe struggling artist to a respectable, seasoned gallery-goer. He wore a suit and tie, a combination more official than any he wore as the Lord of Kosei.
Is that… Stubble?
The sight of facial hair on Yusuke couldn't be believed, and Ren jumped at the opportunity to come up with the "true" story behind the stubble. Yusuke tapping a thin-tipped marker on his face felt suitable.
"Wow, Yusuke. Very put together…"
Yusuke nodded to Futaba. "Thank you." He turned back to Ren. "The others are here, yes. Allow me to escort you to join them, hm?" Futaba and Ren followed Yusuke around that dim corner of the gallery, taking a service door into equally dim maintenance corridors.
VIP entrance, surely.
In the gallery, Yusuke gave them no time to look around. He kept a pace that required Ren's focus and Futaba's effort. The speed allowed Ren no time to look around and appreciate the art he was so ignorant of, and Futaba was forced to accelerate her short legs beyond her usual limits.
One flight of stairs, two corners, and three crowds of snobs later, Futaba was out of breath and Ren was striding to Makoto for a hug. The rest of GRAVY took up posts near their hub of Yusuke's painting. Yusuke again thanked Ren and Futaba with a bow, which Futaba had to match due to her lack of energy.
Joining the rest of GRAVY, aside from revealing Yusuke's great pride in his achievement, also revealed something about Ren and Futaba.
We're line-cutters, but that's not the only evidence of us being discourteous dickheads.
The rest of GRAVY, even Ryuji, went through the trouble of dressing up and matching the gallery's fancy dress code. Ren hadn't expected the dress code nor GRAVY's will to conform, so his casual chilly outfit drew stares. Futaba did even worse—her baggy sweater and pajamas sent snobs to the bathroom to throw up.
Makoto's blue dress, Ryuji's button-up, Haru's hat that was fancy enough to bypass the hats-aren't-fancy rule; each friend made Ren a little more embarrassed for his lack of checking for (or assuming) a dress code.
That didn't make Yusuke any less thankful, or Makoto any less happy, that Ren was there, though.
If the snobs have a problem with that, I'll shit on a wall, call it avant-garde, and they'll praise my outfit as that of a laboring creative genius. Problem solved.
The rest of GRAVY did not care. Haru busied herself trying to fix Ryuji's half-assed bow tie, Shiho stood in front of the painting, so moved by the masterpiece that she could not move, and Ann stood by the painting's side to pass out her business card to anyone taking even just a passing interest in Yusuke's opus.
Yusuke… He looks normal. He's shaking hands and bowing when his painting is complimented. Sociable.
A familiar feeling crept up on Ren. There was the ever-present out-of-placeness that lingered with him, the perpetual discomfort, and an unending appreciation for his friends for nearly erasing the prior two, but a new feeling had gotten more recognizable since Kosei.
Yusuke acting like this is really strange… Even in general, watching expected normalness, smiling and all that, weirds me the fuck out sometimes.
He was happy for the "normalness", especially with how the year had gone and would probably go, but he doubted himself. That thought did not deserve maintenance or attention, yet it lingered and cultivated in him, coming out when everyone else was happiest.
What does that say about me?
Yusuke was just Yusuke.
No duties to his high school, no outrageous stunts to pull, no pupilship to mention as a way to sell his name. Yusuke was the closest he had ever been to being down to earth, relatable even, and his only possession was the painting, but that couldn't even be called his.
Ann, as the subject of the painting, did the real heavy lifting. It warmed Yusuke's heart to see her getting her name out, even if the snobs weren't her usual audience, after months of her work getting denied. Both of them overcame their lingering in the lull, their stagnation, their stuckness.
One could say that we successfully performed the unstuck, Yusuke thought, watching Ann give out a business card and a smile worthy of a prime minister nomination. But they would be wrong—I've painted to completion, but will it happen again? Ann's modeled for a friend; will she get a contract from an agency?
With more work on the horizon and plenty of motivation to circle the globe, Yusuke approached Ann.
"Hello, Ann."
"Hey, how's it going? Has Yanagi stopped by?"
Yusuke shook his head. "You must be my manager. With your outgoing marketing skills and my artistic capabilities, we will climb to the top of Tokyo, slash paint across the clouds, and—"
"No, sorry," Ann said, frowning. "I'm trying to be a model, and finish high school, and have a social life. Managing, especially someone as busy as you, just doesn't fit in my schedule."
Ann went from a friend to a betrayer, a soulless devil that preyed on Yusuke's talents to boost her career past his. There would be no further words between them until Yusuke had his revenge and the apocalypse swallowed Ann whole. She would look up from the pit of despair that Yusuke dropped her in, begging for a savior, and he would say—
"Why don't you ask Futaba? She's jobless and bored."
"Hm?" Yusuke scratched his head. "Ah, good suggestion. Thank you, Ann. Best of luck with the promotion." She smiled thanks as he left her at the painting.
Yusuke scanned the crowd around his painting for Futaba. There were snobs-a-plenty, but no bright-haired tech-specialists. Perhaps she lingered in the depths of the crowd, pick-pocketing phones and installing tracking software. Perhaps she stepped away to use the bathroom. Both were likely.
He circled around the perimeter looking for her but stumbled on someone else.
"Kitagawa-kun," said the mouth that ridiculed 'Desire', the painting Yusuke had been so proud of a few months prior. The critic had more gray hair on his head, perhaps from all the bitching and moaning he did as a career. "Congratulations on your newest work. It truly impresses. The soul with which you paint will make you one of Japan's greatest in a few years, I can see it now."
"Okay."
"The brushwork is immaculate. There is enough intentional clutter to convey human imperfection and leave the soul of the work intact while being precise enough for your model to vividly pop off the canvas."
"Indeed."
"And the color choices—my goodness! Such vibrancy! Never before has this aesthetic been attempted in a portrayed, much less executed with such skill. For such a painting to come from someone your age is staggering, and speaks greatly to the future of our industry."
"Indubitably."
"If you will… May I give you my number? I believe I could be a great benefactor to your career. You can learn the business side of the practice from me, and hone your skills with less to fret over. What do you say?"
"I say this, good sir: the day of that gallery where you criticized me was one of the most soul-crushing in recent memory."
"Yes, but you clearly learned from what I said, and emerged with your masterwork." The critic held his head high, gray hair yellowed by the rich lighting above. "If not for me, you'd still be dwelling on man's folly and wallowing in your status as a wannabe artist."
"That's very enlightening—I wasn't aware of your influence on my work, but this has opened my eyes. Perhaps you deserve my paycheck and meals, too?" Yusuke said, putting a hand on the critic's shoulder so he could feel the gasp leave his body. "I must ask, sir: would you like to see my next work before it's official reveal? Think of it as repayment for your kindness!"
"But of course—how could I refuse?"
Yusuke smiled, motioning for the critic to follow him. They left the painting and passed by many others, most of which the critic refused to look at unless his nose pointed at the ceiling and his shoes were adequately shiny. I must not take issue with it, not now, Yusuke thought. He occupied himself by doing the opposite of the critic and admiring the paintings. Yusuke existed outside of the world his peers lived in; he couldn't keep up with every up-and-comer, every painting making the waves, lest it would over-influence his work. So I tell myself, he thought. Perhaps I'm too comfortable on the outside, but I cannot face the need to look in.
There were works of inarguable talent, emotion, and beauty; so many that Yusuke started to regret his outsider status. Missing out on all the wondrous work was a misdeed that needed correcting. He needed to network, to compliment, and to share with his fellow young artists. There needed to be engagement, or else Yusuke would be doing a disservice to Japan's art world.
Until then, gathering all the great art in one gallery was enough for his happiness. He could walk ten paces, spend an hour with a painting, and move on to the next, finding something new every ten steps. Alas, he had a critic to lead, and they passed all the paintings Yusuke would have loved to obsess over.
He remedied his sadness by reaching his goal: the awe-inspiring masterpiece that was the Rainwater Gallery's first-floor storage closet.
"Just in here, please," Yusuke said. He opened the door and waved the critic in.
"Ah, great choice of a spot!" The critic eagerly stepped through the door to the unlit room. "The darkness will serve your aesthetic purposes, yes… And the moisture! I know this will give the paint a certain texture, a certain eastern flavor! Will there be—"
The door closed and clicked, and that was the last anyone heard of the critic.
Back to my entourage, Yusuke thought.
On his way back, there was time for paintings. Yusuke could mingle, introduce himself, and shake hands. Still, he kept walking, pressing through the crowds that knew him as the highlight of the gallery because his friends were back at his painting, alone and defenseless from the etiquette-illiterate slobs that attended these things. That, and GRAVY is ignorant of the usual way of things here, Yusuke thought, comparing the two groups in his head.
GRAVY provided friendship and the occasional meal.
Snobs provided many meals.
It was a well-timed thought—his arrival at the painting got the attention of Ann, he ran to him as fast as she could in her red dress to drag him to the painting's side. "Yusuke! A buyer! There's a buyer! Work your magic!" She put him squarely in front of a sharp-dressed elderly man, dark glasses resting on his nose and his wrinkled skin.
"Quite the work you're showing, young man."
There he was, the end of all art. A time had existed when artists could freely roam, meals provided without price, supplies granted without compensation, shelter given without terms, and art was their sole purpose. There wasn't any worry except the next piece. The inception of currency, or that first man to trade a goat for a chicken, ended Yusuke's fantasy. The man in front of him, the potential buyer (and livelihood provider), was to blame, his money corrupting that simple concept of artists making art into a need for survival. Paint to make money. Paint by a certain date. Paint to put food on the table.
Yusuke was grateful, though. Beyond the simple need for the money, a high-profile sale at a high-profile gallery would be a major step forward. He didn't have to worry about being an outsider, he could mold the industry around him.
The money, and the meals, were just a bonus.
"Why thank you," Yusuke said.
"I've expressed my interest in a purchase to your model friend here, so I won't restate it for you," the man said, nodding at Ann. "But know that I will leave with that work no matter the bid, and you will leave with a small fortune."
"I…" Yusuke gulped. He regularly came into contact with more money than any teenager should see in adolescence, but he poured it all into Kosei. It seemed like the forthcoming sale would dwarf the figures that brought Makoto to a near nervous breakdown. "I'm honored by your enthusiasm, sir."
"And you," the man turned to Ann, "won't go home empty-handed, either. I run a magazine—Tokyo Drifter, maybe you've heard of it. We're shooting a cover on Friday and I want you there."
"W-wait… Like… You're offering me a job?"
"A cover shoot, yes."
"Um… Yeah, of course, deal!"
Ann jumping up and down, circling around the man until she bumped into Yusuke for a hug, was better than any painting Yusuke could do. It even brought a smile to his face.
"Just a catch, though—it's a dual-focus shoot. You'll be sharing the cover with Mika. Have you worked with her before?"
"So when are you buying me lunch?"
Yusuke, leaning over the railing, looked over to see Ren. They stood on the gallery's third floor: a perimeter path where they could look down all the way to the first floor to see pickup crews carefully handling the sold paintings and readying them for transport. Yusuke's was long gone—the buyer paid extra for a speedy delivery.
"I suppose I'm in an odd spot owing so much food. Now that I have the means…"
"I'm just messing with you. Congrats, man. It's been a long time coming."
It hadn't really sunk in, even when the number was read and the sale closed. Life-changing money, even if Yusuke only got a quarter of the total sum (half to Yanagi, the other quarter to Ann), couldn't begin to describe it. Yusuke poured enough money into Kosei that there were barely any projects remaining, and the money he had on hand wouldn't make much difference at the school.
Was he supposed to let it sit? I'll have to pick a charity. GIFS, Gardeners Isolating From Society, is a worthy cause… I'll need to look up their website, Yusuke thought.
"Thank you for being here for it. The backing of you all… I know I am difficult to support."
"Aw, come on. You're pretty weird, but it's not hard to want to see you succeed. Besides, we have unfinished business."
"That is…?"
"You haven't told me what the Hell doing the unstuck is."
"Ah." A wave of clarity hit Yusuke. "I'm confident in your unstuck abilities revealing themselves when the time is right." Ren muttered more curses, perhaps as a spiraling intro to a more emphasized repetition of his question, but Yusuke switched the conversation's path before. "I thought you referred to my undergoing a clinical trial."
"Oh… Yeah. When do you want to do it?"
"This weekend, no later. Time runs short."
"That it does."
Ironically, the sentiment lingered. They watched a delivery crew nearly tip a painting onto its face and break it, only for a ball-capped worker to catch it by its frame, prompting laughs from the crew as if hundreds of millions of yen weren't on the line. In a corner of the room, certain GRAVY members (whom Yusuke conveniently forgot the names of) admired avant-garde sculptures that may or may not have been shaped like genitals. Their admiration was shown by chasing each other around with said sculptures.
"I'll be there to walk you through it. Trust me, it's not—"
"No, thank you."
"Well, you have no idea what it's going to be like. You're gonna want—"
"I have some idea." Yusuke knew the depths an unhinged conscience could sink to, and it was for that very reason that he did not want the walkthrough. "I must go alone."
"Yusuke…"
"I request that you leave me to experience it without help. I expect it will yield more help than any guided hallucination. A lack of preparedness means more openness."
"Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"Any plans to tell me?"
"When you do the unstuck, we'll discuss them." It would be taken as being told to wait for pigs to fly, but Yusuke genuinely meant it. Ren would get an explanation one day.
Again, silence. Yusuke watched a member of GRAVY (who definitely didn't have orange hair) brandish the experimentally phallic sculpture like a rocket launcher, then commence the assault on another GRAVY member (who definitely didn't show a slight limp as he ran away). This sight was so humorous that Yusuke forgot to gauge the simmering anger at his side.
"If your painting was still here, I'd punch a hole in it," Ren said flatly.
"You know I would physically stop you before we reached that point, likely in a fashion that would humiliate your family for generations to come."
"Yeah, probably."
Friday, 12/9
"Ann-chan, bring the energy!"
Ann's smile strained against human limitations. She cocked her head and steeled the arms that held the sci-fi pistol prop. Ryuji and Shiho could see the effort—according to the Tokyo Drifter shoot director, it wasn't paying off.
"No, no! Embody the soul of the Drifter! You're not getting it!"
Wish I could help with this… But I dunno what the eff the Drifter is, Ryuji thought, helplessly watching Ann lose character in her frustration. Next to her, Mika went back to back, modeling circles around Ann's effort. It must have been rust that held Ann back, or it was the grueling photoshoot. Her arms slipped and the gun dropped alongside her smile.
"Agh, cut it!" the shoot director shouted. "Everyone take ten!" Scattered groans released around the room. Crew members stepped back from their lighting setups and camera arrangements. Ann and Mika set her props down, the latter growling unheard words at the former as she stormed off to her corner. Ann sulked. She hung her head as she retreated to Ryuji, Shiho, and the breaktime bottle of water they offered.
"I'm wasting it…" Ann said, taking the bottle of water and plopping down into the folding chair set up for her. "This is my chance, and I'm letting it slip away."
Ryuji wanted to argue, to hammer it into Ann's head that she was doing great. The break was a clear argument against that and trying to say otherwise would be insulting. She knew she wasn't doing great, she had to turn it around. This modeling stuff ain't for me… Way more intense than any track meet, Ryuji thought. Running was easy—if you do it fast enough for long enough, you win. Ann had to hold a ridiculous variety of poses, considering the shape of each muscle, do it while acting in the desired way, and do it for hours. Few were cut out for such a job. Maybe Ann's just rusty... Only problem is that she doesn't have time to shake the rust off.
Shiho was steps ahead of Ryuji. "So let's gameplan. What's going wrong?"
"It's Mika… Little jabs of her elbow, snarky comments… She's in my head." The thought of Mika inspiring any lack of confidence in Ann soured Ryuji. His girlfriend was already upset—another person being the cause of it was enough reason for action. "I already said something to the producer, but he said a cooperative model would ignore it."
"Asshole," Ryuji muttered.
"Do any of us have earplugs?" Shiho and Ann checked their purses and bags. Ryuji, with his entire livelihood of phone, earbuds, keys, and cash in his pant pockets, knew he would come up empty. "Shit… We need to brainstorm."
Ryuji raised his hand. "I could punch Mika in the face?"
"I like your enthusiasm, but, ideally, we'll be allowed to stay at the shoot. We need something non-violent."
With Ryuji's one idea out, his brain was fried and his energy drained. Brainstorming, even if it only led to an incredibly satisfying imaginary punch, required a lot and Ryuji needed to recharge if he was to be of further use. "Oh, alright… I'm gonna hit the bathroom. Maybe an idea will pop in or something."
Shiho and Ann nodded, resuming their conversation as Ryuji walked away. He followed the path set up by temporary portable barriers, reaching a deeper section of the building where a real hallway had a vending machine next to the sign for the bathroom.
Ryuji turned into the inlet entrance for the bathroom and—
"Hey-aggh!" Mika hollered, her legs vanished, and the opened sports drink she carried flew, splashing across the hall (and her dress) as gravity took its course. Ryuji stumbled backward, barely dampened by the sweet orange drink. Mika, hair soaked and outfit ruined, sat on the ground, in shock as if she'd been in a violent limb-removing accident. "You… You pig!"
"I'm sorry, it was an—"
"I don't care what it was!" She bared her teeth; Ryuji knew that any part of him that got too close would be rabidly assaulted. "You ruined me!"
"Here…" Though she was his sworn enemy due to her status as Ann's bully, Ryuji felt bad because it was objectively his fault. He cast off his fear of being bit and lowered a hand to Mika. "Sorry 'bout the dress, but it's not so—"
She slapped his hand away. "Ugh! Daddy will hear about this, rest assured. You and that bimbo will pay!" She shot to her feet and stormed down the hall, leaving behind the stain of a sports drink.
Ryuji rubbed his hand—Mika hit hard. He cleaned himself up from breathing the same air as her and dusted himself for all Mika particles, then looked around at the crime scene. Besides the stain, there was one other piece of evidence.
She littered… That makes me hate her even more, Ryuji thought, staring at the empty sports drink on the floor. Wait a minute. An idea started to form. Ryuji reached into his crammed pockets, digging through his keys to get his phone so he could dial the only phone number that could help.
A few rings later…
"Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, Futaba. I've got a pitch for you—how do you feel about hacking a Pitter post to trend?" Futaba gave little hums to tell Ryuji she listened, like verbal nods of agreement. "It's to help Ann, so any price is on the table, and—"
"Juuuuust fucking with ya, congrats on reaching my voicemail! Leave a message at the beep and say anything—I won't listen to it."
The long beep was the cruelest "Fuck you" Ryuji ever heard.
Still, the idea formed and he knew what had to be done. Futaba would be contacted, Mika would face judgment, and Ann would model without that bully holding her back.
"Mika, put your hands on Ann's head," the director shouted. "Yeah, that's it. Lean in. More energy! That's the stuff!"
There was a clear pivot in the shoot following the break, with Mika taking the lead and Ann being a supporting model, posing beneath Mika, who stood behind her holding all the power in the world. It was even more of a cover to get away with berating Ann under her breath, or so Shiho assumed…
Ryuji did bring his plan to Shiho and Ann at the end of the break, but who knew if it would work? They were already a quarter of an hour back into the shoot and nothing changed. There needed to be something drastic, some emergency alarm to pull to stop Mika from standing over Ann and forcing her to be the second fiddle.
The alarm pulled itself—a door nearly burst from its hinges, turning heads from all about the room. Shiho heard a camera tip, fall, and spur an embarrassed groan from its operator, but the rest of the room was too occupied with the interrupting presence of building security.
"Mika Kanno?"
"Excuse you! We're shooting the cover for Tokyo Drifter. If you have any decency you'll leave before—"
"Actually, Mika-chan, we're here to question your decency," said one of the two security guards, the other nodding along as he beat a fist into the opposite palm. "And we're not the only ones."
Mika crossed her arms. "What could you possibly be talking about?" she spat.
"The Pitter Mob has come for you, Mika. They know that you litter, and we're here to deliver you to them. No user of our building will trash our floors."
"Wha—"
"Come now, Mika-chan, or else we'll drag you out."
"This… This isn't fair!"
"Was it fair to the floor when you left that plastic bottle on it?" The security guards advanced, readying their hands for a person who was Hellbent on not going quietly. "Was it fair to Mother Earth?!"
"Someone call my father! D-do you know who he i-is?! This isn't a-a-allowed to happen to me!"
"Not you, your father, or even the prime minister are above our building's littering rules." The speaking guard grabbed Mika by the arms, twisting them around her back to hold her still. As much as she thrashed, writhed, and screamed, she folded easily. "Not to mention the environmental protest that's starting outside right now…" The guard looked up at the director. "There might be a boycott of your magazine if it's Mika on the cover—better switch up your angle, huh?"
The director muttered curses, but they couldn't be heard due to Mika's storm.
"Let go, you bastard! When my dad finds out that you assaulted me he'll—"
"Somehow, I doubt your dad wants an environmental boycott of whatever company he runs. Let's go, Mika-chan. Shout all you want, but you will answer for littering."
Scream as she did, there wasn't enough to free her from the security guards and their righteous path out the door. When the door shut behind them, there were only muffled screams of nepotism fading into the building.
"Well…" The director scratched his head, looking around the room to take charge of the crew. "We've got the space rented for another two hours—better get back to work, right? Ann, you take lead."
"Um, are you sure that—"
"I told you to take lead, didn't it?"
"Right…" Ann assumed position at the center of the staged background and props, but it wasn't natural. Shiho could see the apprehension. Ann spent an hour getting berated for everything she did and was demoted for it, only getting re-promoted because the other model was a piece of work.
She doesn't have the confidence for it, Shiho thought.
"Ryuji," she whispered. Anything louder would get her kicked out, especially with the raised tension in the room. Cameras shuttered as she tapped Ryuji's shoulder. "We need to hype her up."
Which might be impossible, given that they don't want us interrupting the shoot, Shiho thought.
"Like tell her she's beautiful?"
"Sort of, but more energetic. Since you're her boyfriend… I figured you'd have something."
Ryuji, face blank and lacking in any sort of good idea, began to nod. "Yeah… I got something." That left Shiho more concerned than enthused, but it was precisely what she asked for. Either Ryuji would save the day or get all of them kicked out, meaning Ann didn't have to struggle for much longer.
Or I just made a worst-case scenario into a win-win one. What a friend I am… Shiho watched Ryuji walk closer to the set, passing observing crew members who noted him with confusion. They glanced at each other as if someone would have an answer as to why the Hell the random teenager approached the director.
"More energy, Ann!" the director yelled. He sounded like he did before the previous break, but another break would end the shoot. "You're not giving enough to the camera! Show me some life!"
Suddenly, Ryuji stopped.
"You're a panther, Ann!"
The room went silent, except for an uncomfortable cough that deserved a bathroom trip. All eyes turned to Ryuji, wishing him to be removed from the room like Mika. Ann herself went as red as the background. She hid her face from the camera in case it continued.
As for Ryuji, he didn't get the memo.
"A jungle panther stalking its prey! A panther, Ann!" He even mimicked the growl of said animal, though it came off as more cringe-worthy than ferocious. Shiho admired Ryuji's courage and his care for Ann… But she could not watch anymore. Ryuji kept trying though, making animal noises and panther proclamations to get his girlfriend into… Panther Mode?
There's a good question—what's the end goal of calling her a panther? What does it mean? What emotions does it inspire? If my boyfriend—if anyone—told me I was a panther, what would be my reaction? Shiho thought of slapping the faceless person; that seemed like a reasonable response.
Somehow, Ryuji made it worse: it became a proper noun.
"Show them The Panther!"
"Ryuji… I've seen a lot of stupid stuff this year. I dealt with you being oblivious to all flirting. I am in the same class as Ren. I watched Yusuke play pool. I heard second-hand what you thought bird calls would do… But you've topped them all." Ann had yet to take a bite of the Big Bang Burger that Ryuji bought her. "Honestly, I'm not even mad because I'm just so lost. Like, what the Hell made you think of pa—"
Ryuji set down his half-eaten burger and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "It was a good idea at the time!"
"No, it definitely wasn't," Shiho said. She declined the meal even after Ryuji offered to pay. "Good ideas remain good ideas. This was bad from the start."
Ryuji lowered his voice as if he only wanted to speak to himself. "Well, there was some merit to it."
"Really?"
"Yes, really! I would feel encouraged to be more free if someone told me to act like an animal."
"So was panther just a randomly chosen animal, or…?"
"Yes!" Shiho and Ann stared at him, neither of the blondes daring to touch their food. "Okay, no! I don't know! It just popped in." He picked up his burger with his main hand. With the nervous energy he spoke with, the burger was pointed at Ann and Shiho, moving as he talked. "Now, is trying to be helpful really such a bad thing? I don't think so, and I'm gonna enjoy my burger in peace." He bit in, lowering his eyes from Ann and Shiho to admire the progress on the burger. They listened to the bustling fast-food restaurant around them.
Ann and Shiho shared a smile. Which one of us is going to have to ask? Shiho wondered. I know we have the same question.
"Would acting like a panther have been sexy, Ryuji?"
Ryuji spit out his food. "Aggggh, eff! What?! What're you asking me?"
Ann shrugged, deferring to Shiho. They worked in sync for the inquisition of Ryuji's preferences. "We're just wondering if there's something about panthers that—" Shiho cut herself off so Ryuji could speak and, hopefully, dig deeper into his grave.
"No, I ain't into panthers for your information! And—"
"Ooh, hold on." Ann took out her phone and showed it off to the table—Tokyo Drifter called. Ann and company had been removed from the building after Ryuji failed to cease his fetish-wailing, but photos had been taken and money had been paid. The phone call that Ann took was the fated notification of whether the cover would be redone or not. Ryuji stopped eating and Shiho forgot all about pressing Ryuji on the panther issue.
Ann listened and nodded. Shiho could hear a static voice speaking but could discern no words. It did lack the tone of an angry executive, and it didn't sound like a disappointed agent, so Shiho began to get her hopes up. Maybe Ryuji didn't sink Ann's career, she thought.
"Thank you, thank you so much! I won't let you down!" Ann hung up and set the phone down, nearly knocking her burger tray to the floor. "They're using my photos for the cover—they were better than expected." Shiho smiled and Ryuji stretched out his arms and relaxed as if to ask if anyone expected otherwise. "And they're inviting me back for another shoot."
"I knew it…" Ryuji said. "They saw your talent."
Ann pointed a sharp finger. "You're off the hook." Ryuji smiled and breathed; perhaps he could finally savor his meal instead of eating it to avoid the heinous accusations he seemed to be on trial for. "For now," Ann added, laughing with Shiho.
"For about two seconds, actually," Shiho said. "So, is there a reason you prefer panthers over other ani—"
"No, there isn't—"
Ann adjusted invisible spectacles. Her voice rolled with years of psychiatric training, making it easy to imagine the well-decorated office she worked in. "These… Panther Perversions… When did they first—"
"That's it—no more Ryuji." He waved them off; they weren't worth his time and the burger was. "He's leaving the conversation."
It was the perfect pass. Ryuji left it so wide open that Shiho would be a fool not to take it. She was so sure of its obviousness that she knew her friend would be, too. Ann and Shiho shared their final mischievous glance, and the latter struck a death blow.
"Because he's busy thinking about panthers, right?"
Saturday, 12/10
"Hear me out: we start a GRAVY snack fund."
"Why would we do that?"
"Because you are sorely lacking in anything that tastes good between after-school and dinner-time. Do you really just eat toast all the time in between meals?"
"I'm not really a snack person."
"Think of the poor guests! Someone may want some instant ramen, then they open your cupboard and see bread. They open the fridge and see all that healthy shit Makoto is stocking," Ryuji said. Shiho listened to the argument from a distance, standing a few feet away from Ren's couch where the one-sided debate occurred between friends. Ryuji wasn't wrong, of course—Ren's food supply was limited, but that did not matter to most of GRAVY from what Shiho saw. "What's a normal person 'posed to eat here?!" Ryuji wondered, shaking his hand as if it was an existential question posed to the void.
Ren was no void, and there was no deeper truth to reveal to Ryuji; only the simplest shrug.
"Bring your own snacks."
Shiho wanted to laugh, but that would've exposed her lack of focus. She stood between Ann and Makoto, who were occupied with a discussion so important that they could not realize the value of conflict between a snacker and the snackless. Boring felt like too biting of a word for Makoto and Ann's conversation… But Shiho preferred Ryuji's dramatic victimhood.
"Excuse me, but I live somewhere else in Tokyo, and carrying snacks as good as mine could get me robbed on the subway. I'm sure you understand."
There was the tipping point: Ren would fall to the exaggerated joke and cave to Ryuji's demands. Unless he's able to push it back to Ryuji, Shiho thought, now giving the more interesting conversation her gaze. Ren appeared calm while Ryuji left the comfort of the couch for a warring stride around Ren's scarred coffee table.
"So you're suggesting that I start buying snacks as good as yours for my apartment?"
Ryuji put his hands up in victory. "Yes!"
"Then my apartment would be more likely to be broken into and robbed, according to your opinion of the snacks."
"W-well, that's not really what—"
"I understand, Ryuji. The need for safety outweighs your need to jump the gun on dinner."
Shiho let her guard slip and laughed. Ren's reversal left Ryuji standing in the center of the room without purpose, just an object to watch stammer and mumble until he took a seat. Maybe—
"What's so funny, Shiho?" Ann's voice turned Shiho back to supposedly important matters.
"Oh, um…" How important could they be? Shiho considered herself a serious person, yet she drifted from the subject. Ann would understand at the least—Makoto was a different story. She was harder to read but had more reason to try to personally appeal to Shiho due to their previous encounters. "Sorry, I was listening to Ryuji complain about snacks."
"Wow, he finally said something?" Ann crossed her arms and looked over at Ren's kitchen. Futaba scrambled around throwing things in various devices for the sake of making something edible (by her standards). "I've had to listen to him whine about it for months now… Not that he's wrong."
That made Shiho more sympathetic—imagining Ryuji mustering the courage for months only to be effortlessly shot down was touching. She supposed neither side was really right or wrong. Ren was a little strange for having so few food options besides his trustworthy bread and Makoto's lunch materials, but if others didn't care for the selection, they could bring their own.
"There's plenty of stuff in the fridge—why don't you make a small bento?" Makoto said.
Ann shook her head. "Respectfully, I want to eat spicy things that crunch out of a plastic bag, not feel healthy."
The rest of GRAVY lounged around the apartment, all tired from the long week. Makoto, Shiho, and Ann were the only ones standing. Ryuji returned to the couch and joined Ren for some interactive carnage on the TV. Haru played with Morgana and compensated him for his time with many treats. Futaba forced Yusuke to sketch her sitting atop Ren's kitchen counter for reasons unknown.
Shiho had her guesses. She likes his attention… She didn't know Futaba well enough to observe similar behavior with the rest of GRAVY, making her assume it was special to Yusuke.
There was no singular purpose to their gathering as there had been for Destiny Land and the gallery; GRAVY simply convened for the sake of existing next to one another. Shiho wondered how common this could be. Their friendship was observable, but it was constant—did it exhaust any of them?
Makoto brought Shiho back from her drifting. "What's your family doing for Christmas, Shiho?"
"We're going up to the mountains to stay with my aunt and uncle, then my cousin will be getting married a few days later."
"That sounds fun."
"No, it definitely doesn't…"
"Why not?"
"My uncle… He's a bit of an asshole. My aunt is less of one, but she has more expectations for me so they're equally bad in different ways." It was little to go off of, and Shiho didn't want to appear unjustly bitter. People had their judgments when there were family disputes, so Shiho needed support to avoid those judgments from Makoto. "Right, Ann?"
Ann had met them. The two girls had occupied the entire top floor of Shiho's house for a sleepover a year before Shujin, when Ann got dragged along to a family dinner as Shiho's best friend. Ann played the role well and was liked by the aunt and uncle, but Shiho saw through their friendliness. They were polite enough to reserve their opinions of Ann until she had left.
"They're not the best people to spend the holidays with," Ann said, her voice a little quieter than before. Shiho realized she put her friend in an awkward position having to insult people she didn't truly know. She nearly apologized, but Ann recovered for her. "Actually, if you don't want to spend Christmas with them, why don't you stay in Tokyo with us? Makoto and I were just starting to plan Christmas when you stopped listening," Ann playfully accused.
It's a wedding. There's no way I can get out of it. The invite was appreciated, though Shiho wasn't sure how appreciated she would be at Christmas time. Ann was keen to involve Shiho, but they were best friends. An invitation from Futaba or Ren would symbolize true acceptance from GRAVY. Not that Futaba would ever be the one doing inviting, and Ren… How involved is he in planning these kinds of things? From Ann's oral history of GRAVY, Ren did host many GRAVY Saturdays but planned none of them. Otherwise, unless one was named "Makoto Niijima", there would be no invitation to Ren's apartment. There isn't a problem with that. Ann might be a little offended by it, but it sounded like more of a funny observation than a genuine gripe with Ren.
"I doubt I can get out of this," Shiho said. "My parents will want me there, and…" She could only shrug. "Yeah. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
The idea of spending time with GRAVY around Christmas did linger, and Shiho let it. An environment like Ren's apartment where everything was fair game and everyone understood each other had been lacking in Shiho's life for… A year? Multiple? She couldn't think of a comparison, so she let her idea of one start to form.
Would they even want to go? Shiho thought about each member. Ann and Ryuji were easy to guess. Futaba was the most indoors-oriented person in the group, so Shiho counted her out. Yusuke was tough, but Shiho assumed he would go because she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Haru would go, maybe. Makoto, and Ren by proxy, had obligations to Tokyo. Ren with his cat and job, Makoto with her student council position and fast-approaching entrance exams. Perhaps it was more ask-able than she thought, but she didn't feel much more encouraged. I'll wait and see how it feels. If it's right, there will be a time to ask.
"I don't think we'll do too much anyway," Makoto said. "We'll probably just be here, Ren's, giving each other gifts. We're a little boring," she said, laughing and looking away even though it sounded right up Shiho's alley.
"Will you decorate?"
Ann and Makoto looked at each other. "We have to, right?" Nobody answered, so their look continued. Makoto pulled out her phone and Shiho could see the icon of the calendar application. Makoto looked up. "We should do that soon, actually."
"We could do some today?" Ann suggested.
"Yes, we could… But it is Ren's apartment. We need his approval."
"I approve!" Ren called from the couch, standing to join them on equal footing. "But I choose what decoration comes first."
This should be easy. He doesn't seem like he cares too much, so it'll be something small, Shiho thought.
"Good evening, Amamiya-san," said the lobby attendant with rare manners, at least for Ren. Any previous animosity seemed forgotten, but that could be questioned later. Ren had more pressing matters. "How may I be of service?"
I'm surprised he's friendly this late in the day—I expected him to be tired, crabby, and ready to go home. Maybe he's excited for his shift to end?
"Quick question," Ren began, interrupting himself before he even asked so he could glance back at the front door and make sure the question didn't ask itself. Seeing the entrance as clear, normal, and lacking anything interesting, he turned back to the attendant. "What's the building policy on trees?"
"...Trees?"
"Yeah, trees. Like, if a tree was being transported through this lobby and into the elevator, would—"
"I'm afraid that would violate building policy."
"And if one did violate building policy—hypothetically, of course—what would be the consequences?"
"It depends on the violation." He tapped away at his keyboard, presumably navigating to the documentation of similar incidents if the building had any. "I cannot disclose a specific action that would be taken, but it could include fines, penalties, and the voiding of a lease if the situation is severe enough."
Hm… It's probably a bad idea if it could get Junpei's lease voided… Good time to have a moral conscience—I'll call off the whole thing. Yeah, everyone's gonna be pissed after all the work we put in, but I'm sure they'll understand that it's not worth the trouble.
"Thank you," Ren said, turning away from the attendant at the perfect time to see the catalyst of the burning of Junpei's lease in Hellfire.
GRAVY, ordered from strongest to weakest, had gotten stuck in the revolving door entrance. Normally, this would not be a problem. They were great friends and were generally patient people, able to wait out the repair team that would save them from their rotary demise.
Unfortunately, a tree was trapped with them—a Christmas tree. Ren handpicked it at a seasonal market across the city; that was hours ago. Since then, the tree had been carried down city blocks, through the subway station, and onto the subway. It also got off the subway, but not anywhere close to Ren's apartment.
First time getting kicked off the subway. Oh, what a rush it was when I realized I had to drag a tree for three and a half kilometers…
When they reached the building, they sent Ren ahead as a scout, but it seemed that they had jumped the gun on their entry. They must have gotten impatient after all the steps they took with needles poking their hands and destroying their clothes. Somewhere, along the way, Ryuji got dirt on his face and Futaba rubbed pine needles in her hair.
They feel the call of nature, surely.
"Ren, stop staring like an idiot and get us the eff out of here!"
It was a good point but maybe Ren was too traumatized by the tree-carrying trek to do more than stare.
"Ren, I will break up with you if you—"
Say no more.
Ren looked behind him at the poor attendant, his end-of-the-day look shocked to furious, frothing life. His jaw and lips contorted from the most violent teeth grinding. One slip would cut his tongue clean in half, Ren thought. "Sorry, sir. We'll be out of your hair in just a moment," he said as if it was a gathering of rowdy guests, not a tree stuck in a door.
He left the desk. At the revolving door, his friends were wedged along the tree's trunk, frighteningly bending it from its position stuck between the doors. At either end of the tree, GRAVY members were trapped by corners and angles, unable to push forward or retreat through the back of the door. Ren's task was simple: free them without ruining the tree or causing any pain.
And I'll have to placate the attendant, but that's after GRAVY is free. So… How do I do this?
Ren looked up and down at the closest barrier's edge, the one that trapped GRAVY on the other side. He placed both hands on the edge, put a foot against the solid wall next to the door, and almost got impaled by the tree as GRAVY charged forth, the door spinning with inertia as they crashed through the lobby until they fell.
Naturally, their heap was built on a foundation of pine needles and their strewn coats. When GRAVY began picking themselves up, they left these things behind; Ren's fear of the void (the lease-losing one) intensified. Though they were free, nobody in GRAVY was in a good mood.
"You know what? I'm canceling Christmas this year." Ryuji picked needles out of his hair. His mood was the worst, but he was the luckiest—he had short hair. "Effin' stupid holiday…" Ann's pigtails got the worst of it, but she didn't say a word, only showing her anguish in her glum, tired eyes.
She looks a little ill.
The rest of GRAVY was close to Ann, exhausted from a long walk, maybe even a little sick of each other. Futaba's jokes grew grating after the first kilometer, Ryuji's effin' complaining was stale before they got kicked off the subway, and Yusuke's platitudes about lodges of differing colors drew groans before they had the tree.
Ren knew he would remember this mental image of GRAVY and their Christmas tree battering ram for the rest of his days because of how strong the emotion was. What emotion was that?
The festive spirit, of course. If you're not stressed the fuck out getting ready for Christmas, you're not doing it right.
As the least grumpy member of GRAVY, and the one with housing obligations to maintain, Ren took no time to collect himself or help the others—the attendant deserved some explanation. He walked to the front desk, pine needles dropping from his messy hair, to address the tree in the room.
Ren bowed his head. "So… I'd like to say sorry, but that won't cut it. Words don't work for this apology, sir, and I humbly—"
"Hush, hush. There's no need to apologize."
Ren looked up. There was no fury or confusion on the attendant's face, but tears. The red-faced pressure that had built up was released in emotion that came with a smile, snapping Ren out of the freestyle trance he had for the apology.
"There isn't?"
"No, Amamiya-san, for it is Christmas time. I'd be a Scrooge to not allow your tree to pass through our lobby." The attendant briefly bowed his head. With the apology returned and his fears voided, Ren could stand up straight and respect the attendant—that felt like a first. "Gather your friends and go on. Staff will handle the needles."
"I don't know what to say… Thank you!"
"You can say, 'Merry Christmas'."
"Oh yeah, you're right." Saying those words was always a possibility, one that became more acceptable and polite when the weather was cold and the days were short. Not that Ren would take advantage of that possibility. "Thanks!" He left the desk to find his friends standing. They began aligning themselves along either side of the tree to carry it.
Ryuji and Makoto in the back was a smart call on my part, but I don't deserve credit—they did the heavy lifting.
"Ready?" Ryuji asked as Ren joined them, taking a spot in the middle of the tree. To his right, Yusuke and Futaba held light enough portions that they only needed one hand each. "Three, two…" They marched through the lobby and dropped a breadcrumb trail of pine needles. "To the elevator!"
When their crossing finished, they were presented with a dilemma.
"Futaba, could you hit the button?" Ann said forward, spurring nods of agreement. They were ready to put the tree down and never look at it again.
"Booo, that's boring." Futaba waved everyone off and positioned herself closer to the button panel. She gave a great yank of the tree that threatened another toppling (and made Ren question if Futaba should've carried more weight), pressing the button with the top of the tree. She snickered as the rest of GRAVY yelled her name in frustration.
In silence, they watched the floor counter tick down. The walls hummed with machinery, getting louder and louder as GRAVY grew more restless. The horrors they saw, the lactic acid in their muscles, the expletives thrown at the most festive holiday—their suffering neared an end, and the floor counter put a numerical value on that.
"Come on… Come on…" Ryuji muttered at the back of the tree. "Come on you effin' elevator… Ding you sonofabitch… Ding… Ding right now… Right… Now!"
In addition to being rabid and insane from the journey, Ryuji was prescient. The elevator doors opened to vocal applause from GRAVY and they advanced forward into the elevator, their sanctuary that would carry them to the promised land.
Ren breathed a sigh of relief as he walked into the elevator.
You know, the tree was never very heavy because all of us carried it. The difficulty came from the journey… But so did the accomplishment. Maybe the real Christmas tree was the friends we—
"Guys…"
"Yeah?"
"The tree doesn't fit in the elevator."
The way GRAVY acted, one would be forgiven thinking that they'd been sentenced to death by prolonged flaying. Even after they planted the tree in the corner of Ren's apartment, just near the TV, like a flag in conquered land, their minds were still so oppressed by the journey that they never left the struggle. Lounging around the apartment, their muscles heaved and their mouths groaned with complaints about the worth of Christmas.
What even is Christmas? A time of giving?
Ren gave his friends the task of finding a suitable tree for his apartment, and they deservedly hated him for it. Granted, when the task was given, nobody expected to carry the tree up dozens of flights of stairs.
At least it looks nice.
"Ren…" Futaba wheezed, face down on the floor. Morgana circled who he surely considered the most annoying of Ren's friends, indecisive on whether she lived or not. "You're giving me a tour of Shujin within the next week."
"I thought you loved Kosei?"
"I should tour multiple schools before making a decision, don't you think?" Still on the ground, she raised a finger to make a more valid point. "And I must— must —put the 'tour' back in 'torturing Ren because he made me drag a tree up a gazillion steps'."
"Ah… Understandable."
"I thought so."
Ren let Futaba go back to catching her breath, although it was his opinion that lying face-down on the carpet was not the best way to do so. He kept it to himself because he understood the bad mood of the room—same with the fact that the tree was undecorated.
Ornaments should be way easier, but I am not pitching that idea to these guys for at least a week.
A hand pressed on Ren's shoulder. "May I speak with you?" Ren turned and looked up at Yusuke. The downward stare lacked the annoyance and exhaustion of the rest of GRAVY, but it certainly wasn't a friendly look.
"What's on your mind?"
"Outside," Yusuke said, nodding to Ren's front door.
He's gonna murder me in the hallway, right?
Ren gulped. He got off the couch, drawing an irritated grumble from Ryuji because anything, positive or negative, happened at all. Yusuke waited at the door and opened it for Ren—the last polite act before the inevitable killing in the hallway. When Ren crossed through the door, he expected an instant attack from Yusuke.
Instead, Yusuke took his time closing the door, then assumed a reserved position next to the door.
Oh… He literally wants to speak with me… I watch too many movies.
Able to relax, Ren leaned against the wall and watched Yusuke, awaiting the topic that was serious enough to be delivered away from friendly ears.
"I must leave for Takemi's clinic."
"Right now? It's dark, you're tired, we've got a GRAVY Saturday waiting to happen… You sure?" That last part was a complete and obvious lie or perhaps it was sarcasm. Ren didn't know his own sentiment.
"I must. Tonight is the night I have perfect courage for it… On any other night, I would be imperfect and vulnerable. I've faced true horrors today, and I know that it cannot go lower than climbing fifty flights with my hands scraped red from tree bark."
Usually, Yusuke says some nonsense when asked for any reasoning, but that… That makes sense. No matter what he sees in there, it can't get worse than today.
Another secret popped into Ren's head.
Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I know I'm one to complain, maybe a top three complainer of all time, but I'm out of place with how normal I feel now.
"Do you want me to come with?" Ren asked. He hoped the answer had changed since their last conversation about the clinical trials.
"No."
"Alright."
"Thank you for respecting my request."
I'd say "No problem," but I definitely have a problem with it… Not that I can change his mind.
"There's another reason I pulled you out here," Yusuke added. "Tomorrow, I have an obligation to Iori-san to join him at his anti-alcoholism group. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I cannot make it there to support him."
…And he wants me to go in his place. I have plans—Makoto. I want tomorrow to be really special, and having to end it early to go help Junpei is how to make it special in the worst way. But who else can Yusuke ask? No one else has a connection to Junpei. And Yusuke… He doesn't know Junpei as well as I do, yet he was going with him to one of the meetings.
Ren did want to support Junpei, he owed him that. He planned to spend every hour after the morning with Makoto; cutting a few off the end of that couldn't hurt.
"I'll be there."
"Iori-san will appreciate it. It's quite easy—you only need to be present." Yusuke's hand found Ren's for a show of respect: shaking hands in the empty hallway. "Thank you, Ren. I'll be leaving now."
They parted and Yusuke walked down the empty hall. It was an odd feeling for Ren. That emptiness was maintained ninety-nine percent of the time, and he never got used to seeing people, even his neighbors, in the personality-lacking blank canvas of a hallway.
I hope he knows what he's getting himself into.
"Text me how it goes!" Ren called after him. Yusuke didn't turn, nor did he stop walking, but he did hold a thumbs-up behind him when he turned the corner for the elevator. It didn't relieve Ren's worry.
Relax, it's Yusuke. He's never met a situation he's not ten steps ahead of... Right?
Ren entered his apartment to a different GRAVY. The misery had vanished, replaced by a social bunch of people gathered around Ren's coffee table, trading war tales of who dropped the tree when, who was the most tired, and who had the worst jokes. Ren even heard a mention of the tree looking nice, which warmed his heart.
His steps stopped their conversation and they all looked up at him. Ren wanted to flee—perhaps their newfound joy had been obtained when they completed the plan for his murder.
"Ren," Makoto said, looking up at him from where he had sat on the couch. Ryuji had been moved to the floor; Ann and Shiho took his spot. "Do you have any plans for winter break?"
Ren mentally scanned through a list of pre-said responses: an array of bullshit that only he and impartial observers would find amusing. Makoto knew him well enough to understand true answers through such bullshit, but… Ren felt compelled to speak plainly. No one needed to read behind the lines at the price of Ren laughing.
"Nothing."
"Shiho's invited us to spend the New Year at her family's house in the mountains."
Mountains?
"We'd also attend her cousin's wedding that weekend."
Wedding?
"More importantly, their house is at the local ski resort. If you're up for it…"
Psycho Mantis?
"Sign me up. Now. Do it. Put my name on paper." Ren nodded thanks at Shiho, but he was too excited. Skiing was a rare event in his life. The few times he had gone, though, were among his favorite memories, unspoiled by the fact that all the people he went with now despised him. Skiing was enough to make those memories smile-worthy.
The wedding was another thing. Ren hadn't ever been to one, and going to a wedding he had no business attending sounded awkward.
Will I reject the invite? Fuck no. Weddings are sick.
Ren remembered that every idea he had about weddings was second-hand.
Supposedly.
The group resumed chattering about their exciting plan: who would ski, who would snowboard, who wouldn't handle the thrill. Some were more excited about "crashing an effing wedding"; they were slapped before they jeopardized the invite. Ren managed to slip into the group on the floor with no change in mood. All smiles, especially Shiho.
It's the tree. It has magic powers. We survived its treachery, and this is the reward.
Behind him, the tree stood watch over the whole apartment. Its blank green was appealing, but Ren couldn't wait for the rainbow of ornaments that would dress it. Past Christmases were always spent with the family visiting cousins, grandparents, and the closest friends of his parents.
I was always just another Amamiya.
His first Christmas in Tokyo would be different, he knew it and savored that fact. The day itself would be even better.
Not just Christmas, but the days before it. I'm a sick bastard for saying it, but I'm looking forward to exams. I want to succeed. There's Futaba's tour of Shujin, even if it's her getting back at me. Yusuke's got more art on the way. Junpei will get healthier. Makoto and I get the day together tomorrow.
Back at the coffee table, everything was in its right place, all members of GRAVY engaged except for Ren. He was happy to sit back and admire the moment, and the many more that would come.