LU Chapter 5

# Chapter Five - "Lovebirds"

### Megumi

    "Magnifique! Perfection! I am in très l'amour! The designs? Magnifique! The costume? Perfection! The little stringed thingy I get to play with? Incredible!"

    The woman showing us around laughed at my friend's reaction to her costume. As the first of us to be fitted, Ms. Chanel is to play the fitting role of a bard, though unlike the most famous example from Avon this version appears to be some sort of musician, indicated by the mandolin she was being given in place of her usual melodica.

    "Tu parles français? C'est impressionnant pour ton âge."

    "Eh?! You know French?!"

    "That's what I was asking you."

    "Wow! Très magnifique! Nana, you're amazing!"

    "Well I've done a few projects in France, so you pick up a few useful phrases. I can also sprech' kein Deutsch, a little Italian, and I'm more or less fluent in English by now, so I guess I'm not doing too bad for myself. But I've got nothing on Ms. Rossi. I don't even know how many she's up to now. Her brain is like a sponge with that stuff. It's kind of creepy, but that's why she makes the big bucks. Hey, don't just admire it, go try the costume on so we can figure out the adjustments, then you can get to the stage for blocking. Actually, all of you go ahead. Let's not waste time."

    True to Anette's words, I believe that Ms. Nanasawa is, indeed, amazing. In fact, though it embarrasses me to say, I find her mannerisms - emphasizing both her authority over this workshop and a certain attitude of artistic freedom - somewhat intriguing. Artists are seldom understood by those around them, and it's well known that they have a tendency to cling tightly to their displays of individuality, as though their art somehow depends on the outrageousness of their personal style. This artist, however, is undoubtedly talented, not only from her station but clearly evidenced by the sketches and designs covering the walls of her makeshift office in a corner of the costume shop. Yet despite this talent she presents herself as no different than your average office worker. Where others may see nothing noteworthy in this, the display of confidence isn't lost on me. An artist who sees no need to do anything other than let her art speak for itself. What a tremendously powerful statement.

    "You can go next. Your producer said that you were one of the first to join the group, and we've given the standard roles to the first girls. You know, warrior, thief, wizard. You're the party's wizard, so you're big into books and trinkets. Real standard mystical stuff. Your photos just kinda screamed 'astrology', am I wrong?"

     "Well, I suppose not…" Ms. Junko - who, as of this morning, swears she is not Ms. Midori or, in a rare double elimination, Ms. Aoi - tried to play coy, but every one of her friends is well aware of her penchant for astronomy, astrology, and other star related subjects. The costume that has been prepared for her is a deep blue, her preferred color, and is in the form of a silver-trimmed outfit resembling a cross between a school uniform and a mystic's robes, complete with a wide-brimmed, western style hat of the type you usually see adorning Halloween decorations. If you asked me, the small smile on her face spoke to an approval of her role in this production, and it does seem that it is the sort of role which Ms. Junko would feel quite comfortable in.

    "Go ahead, try it on." Ms. Nana handed the hanger over to Ms. Junko and pointed to the privacy screen, behind which was already a flurry of excited activity from Ms. Chanel, her clothing flying in all directions in her determination to don the new costume. Ms. Junko took the costume but made little haste to try it on, evidently preferring to let our new friend finish her fitting first. A prudent thought given the zeal Ms. Chanel is putting into her wardrobe change. Sensing the need to provide Junko with a measure of cover for her sense of self-preservation, I gave voice to a thought I had been having for some time now. At least since this morning's orientation, which I suppose means it hasn't been a long held thought, just a persistent one.

    "Ms. Nana, if you're positive it's okay for me to address you as such, may I be so bold as to ask you a question?"

    I had, so far, been merely standing back and observing the goings on, waiting patiently for her to address me specifically. It's rude after all to interrupt someone when they're in the course of doing their job. She turned to glance at me, her hands running over the wooden hangers on the clothing rack on which all of our costumes-in-progress were hung.

    "Sure, what's on your mind?"

    "Please excuse my forwardness, but I'm afraid I can't bring myself to let this go unmentioned. I've noticed that as you extend your right arm your sleeve tends to ride up, and there appears to be something peeking from beneath the fabric. May I inquire as to exactly what that is?"

    Ms. Nana cautiously rubbed her right wrist, making sure her sleeve was in place. Ms. Junko, who had probably seen that to which I had been referring, looked as though I had just asked something taboo, which I suppose in a way I had. Even Ms. Chanel, busy behind the curtain, tutted a word of disbelief at my boldness. Some things are meant to go unspoken, are they not? Yet here I was, speaking of it anyway.

    "Ms. Aihara is it?" Ms. Nana asked, undoubtedly already sure of the answer.

    "Yes, Ms. Nana. Though given your insistence on familiarity, I'm quite okay with you using my given name."

    "Okay then. Megumi… Is this going to be a problem?"

    It's important at this point to understand that, in Japanese culture, tattoos are almost universally taboo. In fact barely anyone sports one who isn't on the outskirts of polite society, primarily due to their unfortunate association with organized crime. Men with tattoos are deemed to be thugs and gangsters, and women are seen as the sorts of girls whom those men find appealing. Those are, of course, just the prevailing attitudes of my culture. Those who have been raised in other countries don't tend to have the same taboo, and working in Europe it isn't without question that Ms. Nana could have adopted the same relaxed attitudes as her host culture. In fact, given her behavior so far, I would consider it almost certain. I can already tell what she's thinking. Before her stands a prim and proper young Japanese woman. What other attitude could she have except believing what every traditionalist thinks? Well, I'll have you know that my own mother, who came of age in England, has a cheeky little tattoo on her ankle she got to commemorate her eighteenth birthday, and she is most assuredly not the sort of woman that traditional beliefs would say.

    It's true that in Japan tattoos carry a certain connotation, but they can also be quite lovely, can't they?

    "Is that a souvenir from your time in Italy?"

    "London, actually. I went to college there."

    "England? How exciting. My mother grew up there. May I see it?"

    Ms. Nanasawa sighed at my forwardness. I was pushing the limits of decency, I know, but I couldn't help my curiosity. "Fine. Let's get it over with."

    Being in the company of exclusively women, Ms. Nanasawa promptly unbuttoned her blouse, which I found a bit perplexing. I had expected she would merely roll up her sleeve to reveal a small heart or flower, but the extent of her artistic imprints made it clear why she had taken that exaggerated course of action. There, on her right arm and extending to cover some of the still-obscured parts of her chest and shoulder, was a positively gorgeous life-size rendering of a pair of colorful lovebirds - African parrots, if my recollection of a zoological encyclopedia is accurate - one green with a reddish head and the other a lovely sky blue with a gray face. They were nesting among a mass of vines sprouting flowers every color of the rainbow, and looked real enough that I wouldn't have been overly surprised to see them take flight now that they were free. For once I understood keenly how Ms. Junko must feel at times like this. While not normally bothered by the mere act of changing or bathing among my friends, something about this situation - perhaps the aforementioned taboo - stirred feelings of discomfort I wasn't used to, rendering me temporarily speechless in my embarrassment.

    "Wow. That's really quite beautiful. I'm sorry that you have to keep it covered while you're here." Ms. Junko spoke instead, flattering Ms. Nanasawa.

    "Thank you. I know your culture doesn't appreciate it…" Interesting how she called it that, given her Japanese name. Our culture, not hers. How curiously similar to how my mother describes her own homeland. "I designed it myself. Don't worry, I'm not a big time Yakuza member or anything. I just love art. Are we cool?"

    My face felt tingly and warm. A part of me was dissatisfied having neglected to see the entire canvas, to follow the spiraling flowers and vines winding their way across the woman's body to their eventual end, but that sort of thought was deeply inappropriate to merely think, let alone voice, no matter one's comfort with the human body, so it was pushed out of my mind. Lovebirds. What a lovely surprise.

    "Ms. Nana, I'm very sorry if this sounds inappropriate, but I feel the pressing need to tell you that your art is the most beautiful I've ever seen. It's very important to me that you know I don't hold anything of your dedication to art against you at all. If anything, I think it only adds to your natural beauty. I only wish that I were half as lovely myself. Please take no offense at my forwardness."

    I lowered my head in a deep, respectful bow, but in truth it was as much to hide my complexion as anything else. I could feel Ms. Junko's eyes on me, likely wondering what was going on, as well as Ms. Nana's confused silence. Was she sensitive about her decoration? It feels it would have been even more taboo to compliment the beauty of her face, which reflects the allure of our people in a way which mine never will, or the surprising voluptuousness of her slender figure - also quite unlike anything I'm likely to ever possess. A tantalizing blend of Japanese conformity and classic beauty disguising the colorful individuality and forward thinking attitudes of modern Japanese culture. Truly a one of a kind woman. Still, what I said was true, however embarrassing, and I was raised by my mother to believe that it's always right to speak the truth, even if my father put in overtime trying to instruct me that there's a time and a place for it. Nana is, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I have ever seen - even narrowly more beautiful than Ms. Inagawa, though I won't be telling her that… It would be far too much trouble to deal with her insecurities should she believe she was only the second most beautiful girl in the building on top of our busy shooting schedule.

    "Well, thank you. That isn't what I had expected, at all." She hurriedly redressed herself, caging away her decorations before young Anette emerged, clad in her bardic attire. It was clear that I had embarrassed the woman. Perhaps I'll need to apologize for that at a later time, when I'm better put together myself. "I'm glad to see we won't have any difficulties working together on this project, though. But maybe we should keep this our little secret, okay? Ms. Rossi would flip if she got word that I was showing off my ink at work, and the rest of what you said is honestly the kind of thing I don't even want to try to explain…"

    "I promise we won't tell a soul. Right, Ms. Junko?"

    "We'll keep it just between us. There's no need to go gossiping about something so well-intentioned." Junko, now behind the privacy screen, agreed.

    "While we wait for her to change, would you mind telling me more about your time in London? I've always been very curious about my mother's homeland and would love to hear your impressions of it."

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