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“I didn’t expect you to actually come over,” Umiri said, holding the door open for Nyamu. “Just so we’re clear, I really don’t have the money for your consultation fee.”
Nyamu waved a hand as if brushing away an annoying fly. “I can’t have you running around in my collab outfit looking like a fool,” she said, stepping out of the oppressive summer heat and into Umiri’s apartment. “It’ll sully my good name.” I was really just hoping to run into Layer-san on my way over, she thought, as she knelt down to slip off her heels. But, I can’t admit that. The wooden floor was ice cold under her bare feet. “Brr! Do you have any slippers?”
Gesturing towards the wall, Umiri said, “Next to the umbrella stand,” then walked into the kitchen.
A pair of fluffy slippers were haphazardly stashed next to the small bucket containing a blue umbrella. Nyamu slipped her feet into them, feeling the imprint of someone’s feet worn into the sole. “What are these, your mom’s?”
Umiri turned her head and nodded. “Yes. She likes to wear those when she visits me. Don’t worry, I washed them recently.” She grabbed a glass from a dish drainer and filled it up with water from the tap. “Here. You must be parched.”
“Yeah, don’t break out the wine for me…” Nyamu said. Still, she was quite thirsty from the train ride and walk over here, so she accepted the cool glass and drank heartily. The cold water felt good going down her throat, and she noted with some satisfaction that her lipstick didn’t mar the rim of the glass when she pulled it away from her lips. Another Nyamuchi-approved brand! She placed the glass down on the counter, next to a stack of Calorie Mate packages, most of which were already torn open. “You’re lucky I ended the stream before you blurted out your address to the whole world,” she said, looking around at the apartment, which jammed a kitchen, living area, and bedroom into one concrete-lined dungeon. “Yikes. I didn’t expect that you were living in a prison cell.”
“It’s called an efficiency unit,” Umiri said. She walked over to the bed, where numerous bags had been placed, and began to dump their contents onto the sheets.
“It’s efficiently disgusting.” Glancing at the bare walls, Nyamu said, “At least buy some posters or something. The decor is as bland as your personality.” Sidestepping a bass guitar sitting in a stand secured to the wall, she sauntered over to the expensive-looking audio equipment and took a peek at the record player, which sat above a pair of head units made out of brushed steel. “This turntable is the only thing in here that has any vibes.” The sound of rustling fabric caught her attention, and she looked over only to see Umiri with her arms over her head, pulling her shirt off. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”
Umiri paused, then folded her red shirt and placed it on top of her leather jacket. “You came here to help me look the part in your collab outfit, did you not?” Her belt buckle jingled as she undid the clasp and slid out of her skirt. “I would have to walk past you to get to the bathroom, anyway.”
As Umiri stood back up, Nyamu felt her eyes drawn to Umiri’s noticeably-muscular abdomen. “Those are some serious abs,” she said, pointing at Umiri’s belly. “Are you sure you didn’t spend some time in prison?”
“It’s from hauling band equipment around all the time.” Umiri stretched, showing off her toned body. “I’ve worked with many dainty girls like yourself, who act as if an amp is as heavy as Sisyphus’s boulder.”
Nyamu felt her cheeks heat up a bit, then the AC unit rattled on. “Hmph. Well, whatever. So, what outfit did you pick out?”
“This one.” Umiri picked out a red shirt and purple blouse from the pile of clothes dumped on her bed. She had an inquisitive look on her face. “I’m still not sure why I bought it. It’s really not my normal style.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t look like something you’d wear while riding a motorcycle.” Sighing, Nyamu placed her bag on the bed and fished out her makeup case. “Well, don’t keep me waiting.”
“Of course.” Umiri quickly put the clothes on, and Nyamu felt more than a little disappointed that she didn’t get more of a chance to look at Umiri’s body. Standing up straight, Umiri put her hands on her hips. “Well?”
Rolling her eyes, Nyamu gestured towards the hideous chair sitting in front of the desk. “Well, we’re only halfway done. Go sit down so I can do your hair,” Nyamu said. Umiri pulled the chair out and sat down, looking more than a little like a porcelain doll. Walking behind her, Nyamu secured a hair tie around her own wrist, then ran her hands through Umiri’s soft hair, trying to figure out what to do with it. The long hair seemed like less than a fashion statement and more like the product of not having enough time to go to the salon, with her bangs looking like they were cut by Umiri herself. Twintails certainly wouldn’t do, Nyamu thought, running the thick strands through her fingers. Ah. Recalling her own earlier advice, she gathered up the hair into a high ponytail, securing it with the elastic band from her wrist. “There! That really opens up your face,” Nyamu said. However, the new do had the unfortunate side-effect of showing off Umiri’s earrings. “Blech. We have to do something about those safety pins. It’s not the start of the Heisei era, you know.”
“They’re part of my style.” Umiri reached up, gently touching the safety pin earrings.
“Sweetheart, that style went the way of the CRT television.” Nyamu went back to her bag and retrieved a pair of heart-shaped earrings, then knelt at Umiri’s side. “Here, sit still. I only want to hurt you in the emotional sense.” With practiced fingers, she removed the safety pin earring from Umiri’s ear, then placed one of the cute heart-shaped earrings in the empty hole, then did the same to Umiri’s other side. “There! Now you don’t look like a shoplifter. Now, go take off your makeup so I can do it right.” She went back to her bag and retrieved her makeup supplies.
Umiri turned in the chair, a confused look on her face. “Oh, I don’t wear makeup.”
“W-what?” Nyamu nearly dropped the makeup palette in her hand. “What, like never?”
“Why would I?” Shrugging, Umiri leaned forward a bit in her chair. “Putting on makeup is a waste of time that I could be spending practicing bass.” She said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Licking her lips, Nyamu felt like she was in the presence of a space alien, an entity that she couldn’t possibly understand. “Well, whatever. Leave it to Nyamuchi to introduce you to the wonders of makeup!” Starting off with a foundation in a neutral tone, she was appreciative of how steady Umiri kept herself. She couldn’t imagine doing something like this to the fidgety Mutsumi, or Mortis, or whatever she called herself. With her eyes closed, Umiri looked peaceful as Nyamu’s fingers danced across her face, with the sound of her breathing competing with the racket of traffic from the street below. Next, Nyamu went with a cooler pink-toned blush from her palette, brushing it across Umiri’s high cheekbones. When she finished, she took a step back, admiring her handiwork. “Hmm! Another masterpiece from Nyamuchi!” She snapped her makeup palette shut, then cleared her throat. “Well, I will admit that I had a pretty decent canvas to work with.”
Umiri turned to the window, looking at her reflection. “I see. Yes, cool pink tones do look good on me. As expected of Nyamuchi-sensei.”
“That better not be sarcasm.” Placing her makeup things back in her bag, Nyamu’s fingers brushed against a thin tube. “Oops, almost forgot the lipstick! Here, turn towards me.” Twisting up the rose-colored lipstick, she applied it to Umiri’s cute, heart-shaped mouth. “I wear this brand myself. The best thing about this lipstick is that it never smudges, even if you kiss someone!” Not that I would know, Nyamu thought, as she finished up and reapplied the cap. She tossed the lipstick into her bag and retrieved her phone, then opened up the camera app with a few practiced taps. “Now, to commemorate another Nyamuchi makeup masterpiece!” She pressed her cheek against Umiri’s, feeling warmth flood into her skin. “Say ‘Nyamuu!’” Just as her thumb slid down to hit the shutter button, she felt something warm and wet touch her lips. A flash of black hair passed in front of her vision, and she dropped her phone in shock, which clattered to the floor. “Wh-Wha-” Nyamu said, her lips tingling as they formed the words. She reached down and retrieved her phone from where it had fallen at her feet and thumbed on the display. The first picture in the gallery was of her being kissed on the lips by Umiri, a lame look of surprise on her own face. An ice-cold chill ran down her spine. “Ahh! I have it set to auto-upload selfies!”
Umiri looked completely unperturbed by this. “Hopefully, this will show our fans that we’re serious about getting Ave Mujica back together.”
“That’s what you’re concerned about?!” Nyamu’s phone had already begun buzzing. She tossed it in her bag as if it was a live grenade. “What about my fans, huh?! They’re gonna freak!”
“Just tell them that you’re now in a relationship,” Umiri said. She stood up and drank the rest of Nyamu’s water. “To say otherwise would make you untrustworthy.” She held up the glass, appraising it in the light. “Indeed, it didn’t smear at all, even from a kiss. As expected of Nyamuchi-sensei.”
Nyamu wanted to crawl under the bedcovers and never come back out. “Is that your idea of a confession? I swear, you girl band people are freaks.”
“To deny my feelings for you would make me untrustworthy,” Umiri said. She nodded her head, seemingly confirming something to herself. “I won’t be that way anymore.” Reaching over, she took Nyamu’s hand in her strong grip. “You said earlier that you wanted something sweet, did you not? I know a place near the station.”
“Yeah, I think my stomach is full of butterflies at the moment.” Walking on rubbery legs, she kicked off the slippers and slid her feet back into her heels. She had already started sweating, and they weren’t even outside yet. “If you wear those boots with that outfit, I’m breaking up with you immediately.”
“Fear not.” Umiri slipped on a pair of sandals. They weren’t terribly cute, but they were better than those chunky boots. As she pushed open the door, she turned around, her face surrounded by sunshine. “By the way,” she said, dragging Nyamu out into the light, “I seriously don’t have any money.”