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The week after the HANA preview shows, Tokyo Fashion Week began. Claudine didn’t have any obligations until the final run throughs that evening, so while Maya left to get some treatments at the salon, she logged onto her laptop for her weekly session with the therapist Kaoruko recommended.
“Claudine! I was wondering if you were going to make it this week,” her therapist said as the call connected. “I know it’s the beginning of fashion week.”
“I need to clear my mind before the shows, I think,” Claudine replied.
Hina, her therapist, was a little older than Claudine, and wore her hair clipped back in a messy style. She had a kind face, and now, like always, she looked like she had all the time in the world to talk with Claudine about her concerns. “What’s been on your mind?” she asked.
“It’s nice,” she said, trying to form in her mind what she was trying to articulate, exactly. “Before, when I was working under Kirin, I was always doubting myself: my talent, my importance, my ability to make it without him.”
“And you don’t feel like that now?”
Claudine shook her head. “The preview shows were great. Everyone on the staff was so supportive, but most importantly, we did it. I feel like we’re really making a splash, Maya and I.”
“What was holding you back before?” Hina asked, adjusting her glasses. “Why, say, did you not feel like that in the fall shows?”
Claudine considered this question for a moment. It was just like Hina to point her in a direction her thoughts hadn’t wandered in before. “I guess, last time, I still had his voice echoing in my mind,” Claudine admitted. “He was always saying things like ‘You’re nothing without me. No one wants you in this industry. I have to fight and claw for every opportunity for you. No one else will put in that effort for you.’ He told me all the time that he was the only one to see my potential, the only one who cared if I was successful.” Claudine felt her throat constrict as she repeated the phrases that often echoed in her head aloud. “So in the fall, I still thought that might be true.”
“And you don’t anymore?”
Claudine shook her head. “No, I mean, it’s wild. The way fans have been so eager to meet us, the way we get mentioned in even the top publications, it’s undeniable that I’m successful without him.”
“But all that was true in the fall, even.” Hina gave Claudine the pointed look Claudine disliked, the one that asked her to dig deeper for the truth.
“Maya,” she said, sighing the name out, almost reluctantly. “I got closer to Maya since then. She’s always beside me. She believes in my success in the same way I believe in hers - we push each other higher.”
“It’s nice to have someone like that.”
It was true. Claudine conceded the point with a small nod.
“Have you talked to her about this? About these feelings?”
“Not yet. I guess - I guess I wanted to be sure that my feelings for her were true - that I wasn’t leaning on her because I needed anyone beside me to feel less alone.”
“And you’ve figured it out?”
“I have.”
Claudine chatted with Hina a while longer, and when she logged off she felt at peace. She wondered if she was ready to admit her feelings to Maya - perhaps after the Tokyo show.
She checked her notifications and saw she had a text from Yachiyo, inviting her to see the Siegfeld show that afternoon. She texted Maya, asking if she’d like to come along, but she replied that she still had a couple hours at the salon. Claudine wondered if Maya was purposely avoiding the Siegfeld show until HANA had had their debut show. She wouldn’t be surprised if this was the case, as Maya was odd about Yukishiro Akira, but she accepted Maya’s excuse without asking. Instead, Claudine ate a quick meal and got dressed to meet Yachiyo at the venue.
They had excellent seats, courtesy of Yachiyo being a Siegfeld designer. Claudine was surprised that Yachiyo wasn’t down with the models, ensuring the show ran smoothly, but realized that in her childhood, designers weren’t often backstage with the models, at least not consistently. HANA’s extreme hands-on approach was more the exception than the rule.
Claudine didn’t have a chance to speak with Yachiyo much before the show began, as she was busy greeting industry person after industry person, praising her work ahead of the show. She finally sat down as the lights went down, and Claudine admired her outfit - a baby blue bespoke suit, accessorized with a pearl necklace, earrings, and a white leather clutch. She often wondered if Yachiyo missed modeling - she was somewhat forced from the industry as she grew into an adult due to her height, despite her prodigious skill - but at moments like this, Claudine truly felt that Yachiyo was in her element.
“Sorry about that,” Yachiyo whispered sheepishly in the quiet before the show began. “Let’s get a late lunch after this, and we can talk properly.”
Claudine nodded, agreeing, and no sooner had she done so than the Siegfeld show began. A regal theme of drums and trumpets grew louder and louder from the speakers throughout the hall, and the name of the show was projected in large letters over the runway: Reign.
Claudine watched as staff rolled out a red carpet over the runway, and her eyes widened as the curtains at the back of the stage, the ones ‘Reign’ was projected on, parted, revealing a throne with Akira atop. Her legs were crossed casually, as if bored, but her posture was regal, and it was impossible to miss the crown atop her head.
Yes, it was good that Maya didn’t attend, Claudine thought. She would be seething.
For her part, Claudine thought the excess was excellent. Her eyes followed Akira as she stood from the throne, strutting down the runway, sporting a design that was unmistakably Yachiyo: tailored grey pants, a double breasted white jacket, and a cape - a cape! - trailing behind her in a luscious red velvet. Claudine heard Yachiyo laughing beside her and realized her mouth was agape. She quickly shut it before she was photographed in such awe.
Mei Fan appeared next, wearing a gown befitting a queen - periwinkle in color, with ruffles on the sleeves and an elaborate tiered structure. Her face was made up like old French royalty - round spots of pink blush and pale blue eyeshadow - and her hair was piled high atop her head in a rococo style. It was so over the top, so in your face, but carried with such confidence and grace, that instead of being gaudy, the effect was stunning. Hierophant, a voice in her head told her, sounding uncannily like Hikari. Yes, certainly this dress was Michiru’s work.
Shiori appeared next, in what appeared to be a riding outfit, her hair tied back in a slick, low ponytail, and sporting clean white pants and a tailored brown jacket, but on closer inspection, the jacket was complete with thousands and thousands of stitches of detailed embroidery. Claudine could imagine Yachiyo stitching each one with care, losing sleep over her elaborate work. She pictured Yachiyo and Michiru sitting together as they planned the next season’s concepts, ultimately coming to an elite, royal theme, sharing gossip and drinking too much coffee all the while. She was happy for her friend - her oldest friend - to have success and a supportive environment.
The rest of the show was as elaborate and excellent as the beginning. While Claudine couldn’t be sure that HANA would certainly outdo Siegfeld, she was feeling very motivated to do her best. She knew the level they would have to achieve, at least.
She and Yachiyo left the venue, squinting at the afternoon sun that still was high in the sky. They left through the regular entrance, not the staff entrance, so Claudine was not surprised to find a few people vying for soundbites and photos of herself, Yachiyo, or both. She was surprised, however, to see Fumi Yumeoji, leaning against the wall of the venue, smoking a cigarette. Fumi wore a maxi dress and heart-shaped sunglasses, and Claudine had to admire the effect, if nothing else. Yachiyo approached Fumi, and Claudine realized this meeting was part of Yachiyo’s plan. What else the plan entailed, she was not sure.
“Hey,” Fumi greeted them, putting out the cigarette against the brick wall.
“Hello, Fumi. Did you enjoy the show?” Yachiyo asked. Claudine didn’t put together that Fumi was likely just inside with the rest of the people milling about, watching her sister on the contract she used to work on.
“I did,” Fumi said, a little stiffly. “Shiori was excellent - better than me, to be honest.”
Claudine wasn’t sure what to make of this awkward exchange, but Yachiyo seemed to have it taken care of. “Are you ready then?” Yachiyo asked, “To speak with her?”
Fumi looked at Claudine as if inquiring why she was also involved with this plan, and honestly Claudine didn’t have a good answer for her. She was just about to excuse herself when Fumi finally spoke. “Yeah, I’m ready. Saijou-san can come if she wishes, God knows I already know all of her dirt, it only seems fair.”
Within a half hour, Claudine found herself at a nearby restaurant, tucked into a back corner with Yachiyo, Fumi, and Shiori. Shiori apparently skipped the Reign afterparty for this meeting, and to Claudine, this showed how desperate she was to speak with her sister.
Still, despite the wine being poured and the meals decided on, the air was awkward, tense. Only Yachiyo seemed unaffected, peeking at the dessert menu before sending off a couple rapid-fire texts.
“It’s good to see you,” said Shiori finally, seemingly unable to endure the silence any longer. Her voice wavered a little, and to Claudine it seemed like she was reaching out to Fumi with a lot unspoken in that short phrase. “I missed you.”
Shiori wore a green chiffon dress, her hair a little frizzier than usual after being styled so extravagantly for the show. She had removed her makeup.
“I had to stay away for a while,” Fumi said.
“But why?” Shiori asked, her expression pained. “Just when I finally made it to Edels, you left.”
“That was just bad timing, mostly,” Fumi replied.
Their appetizers, oysters in the half shell, arrived, and there was a pause as they each took the time to try one.
“You still don’t like them, huh?” Fumi asked, watching Shiori squirm as she swallowed. Finally, she let out a small laugh, and Shiori laughed in turn, rolling her eyes.
“No, can’t stand them,” she conceded.
“Fumi, I think you can tell Shiori what happened after all this time, no?” Yachiyo prompted.
Fumi sighed, pushing aside her appetizer plate. “The reason you came to Siegfeld is the reason I left,” she said. Claudine looked to Shiori for understanding and found none, and realized Shiori was as in the dark as she was about Fumi’s departure. “I… it happened during summer previews last year,” Fumi said, biting her lip as she paused. “I was supposed to be live-tweeting the fashion from the weekend, getting some questions from fans answered by the designers, showing small video clips, things like that.”
“Oh,” Shiori said, with an expression as if she was trying to remember. “We were overseas with HANA at that time, I think.”
“You were in China, I think,” Fumi confirmed. “Anyways, I don’t know if I should have done more research, or if it was inevitable, but my tweets caused a bunch of controversy. One of the designers I praised was in the midst of a scandal over copying and stealing designs, and one of the event coordinators I interviewed was apparently a creep to underage girls. Immediately after the event, I had dozens of antis harassing me every day, filling my comments and timelines with “pedophile apologist” and “copycat model” and just telling me they’d never support me.”
“I remember that vaguely,” Shiori said, her hand trembling a bit. “But I thought it blew over after a day or two. Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”
“I hired someone to manage my pages for me, to clean up all the harassment. But really, it was still coming in. People were boycotting Siegfeld and it was getting worse and worse. If I told you, I thought you would put something out in support of me, and it would just drag you down with me.”
“So you left,” Shiori said, her voice low with sympathy and disappointment.
“I was pretty much fired,” Fumi clarified. “I mean, I don’t blame them. I was terrible for their brand at that point, but they needed to replace me quick, so they offered a spot to Akira. You and Mei Fan were part of that deal as well.”
Claudine looked back and forth at the sisters as Shiori struggled to understand how much Fumi had kept from her. It was at this moment that their food arrived, and there was a brief break in the tension as they accepted the meal.
“I’m glad you told me,” Shiori said at last. “I kept thinking it was my fault, that you just didn’t want to work with me.”
Fumi shook her head. “I mean, it’s hard, in a way, watching you on the contract I used to be on, surpassing me-”
“No way! Onee-chan I still have to do a lot more to come close to your level,” Shiori interrupted. Claudine thought she looked younger and younger, more like a proper little sister, as the conversation went on. Yachiyo was cutting up her food, casually listening to the reconciliation as if it were dinner music.
“Anyways, it’s alright now. I’m happy with my new contract, the antis have really calmed down, they don’t really run in the traditional Japanese fashion circles. They think it’s my punishment, but I don’t feel like I’m being punished anymore.”
“Then why did you wait so long to tell me?” Shiori asked.
“Well… for a while it did feel like a punishment, like you were getting the rewards of me messing up, and it hurt to watch. But Tamao and the others have helped me find my own place. I wanted to wait to meet you until I could be genuinely happy for you. And I am.”
“Cheers,” Yachiyo said, holding up her wine glass. Claudine participated in the toast, watching in amazement as Yachiyo’s shoddy plan worked, and the sisters began to catch up.
Claudine left the dinner first, rushing back to the Fashion Week stages to participate in rehearsal for HANA. She was surprised when Maya arrived even later than she did, apologizing to the staff. “There was traffic, we couldn’t get through,” she said, out of breath from running down to the dressing room. She tossed her bag and jacket aside and sat bedside Claudine in the stylists’ chairs, ready to begin.
Claudine was surprised at how happy she was to see Maya. They had only been apart a few hours, but Claudine was so used to doing nearly everything with Maya that it felt strange to spend the day apart. Since it was only rehearsal, they did not need full hair or makeup, and they were out of the chairs in a fraction of the time as normal.
“Want to get dinner after this?” Claudine asked Maya. To be honest, she was still full from the late lunch, but she wanted an excuse to spend some time with Maya.
“Sure. Sushi?” Maya asked, walking with Claudine to the huddle Kaoruko was forming.
“Sounds great.”
They turned their attention to Kaoruko, who gathered the staff and models for a talk before the rehearsal began. “Alright, thanks everyone for your hard work so far,” she began, “But the hardest work is still to come. Most of you have done this before, you know what I mean - the back to back shows, the travel, the socializing, the press. But I want you to enjoy it as well. This is our season, we are coming out stronger than ever. Let’s show them our absolute best, and make some good memories!”
Everyone cheered, and Claudine was surprised there wasn’t champagne being passed around. But everyone moved dutifully to their stations. The runway was similar to the one at the preview show, but a little longer. There were more complex lights and audio cues, so most of the rehearsal was spent walking, pausing, letting the techs adjust something, and repeat. Claudine and the other models practiced some of the more complex changes with the help of the stylists backstage.
About halfway through the show, in terms of outfit changes (though they had been rehearsing for far longer than the show would last, Maya emerged on stage late, a stylist following her out to hand her a glove she’d forgotten.
“Stop, stop, hold up, what is this?” asked Kaoruko, her voice amplified by the handheld mic she was using while she positioned herself in the audiences’ seats. “Maya you’ve been nearly late for your cues this whole time, is there a problem getting changed?”
Maya looked abashed, blushing as she answered Kaoruko. “My apologies, Hanayagi-san. The stylist I worked with at the preview shows, Nakana-san, isn’t here, so we’ve been making do with a substitute, but she hasn’t had time to learn all the changes and the intricacies of the outfits.”
Kaoruko sighed. “What? I didn’t hear about anyone being absent today.”
The stylist who came out with the glove now stepped fully onstage, bowing to Kaoruko. “Nakano-san arrived, I believe. She was helping us set up the outfits earlier. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Alright. Let’s take a short break while we try to get in contact with her. Everyone, feel free to get something to eat from the tables in the dressing room.”
The rehearsal stopped, and the house lights came back up in the venue. The stylists were tidying up before taking their break, so Claudine walked up to Maya, who looked to be rather flustered.
“Let’s get something to drink, at least,” Claudine suggested, and Maya nodded. They walked side by side back to the dressing room, and Claudine could tell Maya was not in her usual state of focus. She was probably frustrated because there were elements out of her control affecting her performance, Claudine realized, and it was very unlike Maya to give anything but the very best.
“Listen, we’ll find that stylist,” Claudine reassured her, “And get you back in the zone.”
Maya looked as if she wanted to protest, to assert that she was indeed in the zone but seemed to decide better of it.
They turned the corner into the dressing room and paused, coming face to face with the stylist Nakano, one hand deep in Maya’s bag, and the other holding a phone that appeared to be livestreaming. “Yeah, let’s see what else is in here,” she said, focused on the camera.
Claudine felt Maya freeze beside her, all muscles tense and she seemed unable to speak. Claudine cleared her throat, enough that the stylist looked up. Distantly, Claudine could hear more of the crew coming down to the dressing rooms. Desperately, she hoped Futaba was among them.
“I- I wasn’t…” The stylist trailed off, seemingly torn between ending the livestream and getting out of there and filming even this confrontation.
“Who are you?” Claudine asked, stepping in front of Maya.
“I don’t mean any harm, I’m just a big fan of Maya’s!” The woman put both her hands forward in a gesture of peace, but this ended up with the phone camera facing the two of them. Claudine stepped forward, blocking the view of the camera from anything but herself.
“Turn it off,” she said firmly. The woman did as she was told, and Claudine looked closer to see Maya’s things spread out on the table: her phone, her wallet, her apartment keys, and more. Claudine felt ill. She wanted to turn back and let Maya know things would be alright, but she also didn’t want this woman getting away. Finally, from behind her she heard the voice she was waiting for.
“What is this? What’s going on?” Futaba asked.
“This woman is a fan who snuck in as a stylist. She was livestreaming the contents of Maya’s purse during the rehearsal.”
Futaba moved closer to assess the situation, and Claudine dropped back, desperate to find Maya. She was no longer in the doorway. “Sorry, Futaba, I’ve gotta find Maya!” she yelled, leaving the dressing room. She was still wearing a satin gown, and it was hard to move quickly. She kicked off the heels as she ran down the corridor, towards the stage and the exit. “Have you seen Maya?” she asked some of the crew who were walking towards the dressing room. They shook their heads and she ran further, her bare feet cold against the concrete floor. “Maya!” she called, wishing she hadn’t focused on the woman for so long, wishing she still was beside Maya, hugging her, letting her process what had just happened.
Claudine ran through the backstage area and all the way to the exit. Maya’s outdoor shoes were no longer at the staff entrance. She was gone.