#shinoruri

Every tap of her feet on the cement steps sends a cold ache up her already tired legs. Chiyo mourns her decision to leave her slippers behind on her way out, thinking it would be inconsequential to her short plight. She had remembered her coat at least, pulls it in taut around her like one would a blanket. Despite the blistering mornings and muggy nights inside in her room, Chiyo had been aware how much chill lingered outside in the early summer nights, had trudged through it without a single extra layer on her way home from work in the early hours of today.

Her eyes sting as she moves forward and up, sleep as foreign to her as another country, but the searing hot determination in her belly brings her to her upstairs neighbor's door. Cicadas cry through the quiet morning, like her own personal war song.

She knocks.

It is after the deed, that Chiyo worries she may have woken them. That she has come to the wrong door. That she shouldn't have come at all.

But half way through her panic, the door opens.

“I live beneath you and I have to be at my next job in three hours,” pours from Chiyo’s mouth. She'd been rehearsing it in her head the whole way up, but her voice catches in a way she had not planned. Still, she pushes forward, squeezing her eyes shut, “And I can't sleep and keep hearing the barking and the scratching and the running and I've been wondering all week—”

“I'm so sorry!” the voice of another woman starts, panicked. “It's just—”

“—Can I please pet it?” Chiyo rushes in a hushed whispers. She cracks her eyes open, hands squeezed before her to beg, back ready to bow.

The woman before her stills for a moment, then seems to trip over her own feet despite not taking a single step. Chiyo fears that if the door slams shut she'll never get another chance.

But the woman blinks at her, bewildered, wispy waves of brown hair framing her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she murmurs, eyeing Chiyo skeptically. “What?”

*

“So soft,” Chiyo sighs. In her arms, the little orange-brown dog wiggles. She buries her face into the warm, silky fur. Her mother's voice in the back of her mind reminds her to never put her face near a dog's she doesn't know, but when the little corgi finally pushes away, it—she— leaves several, slobbery kisses to Chiyo's face.

“I know we're not supposed to have pets here,” the other woman—Ruri— says. Her voice is still quiet, as if she's afraid someone else might hear, “But I found her wandering the streets, fur matted, skin and bones and I couldn't leave her out there.”

Chiyo let's the corgi hop down from her lap. She doesn't go very far from her, curling up in a small pile of pillows and blankets against the kitchen wall. Chiyo turns and smiles up at Ruri who's sat at the kitchen table, working on something Chiyo can't see, just the flick of her wrists and the pointed end of a painting brush. The surface is messy, she notes, with an assortment of items Chiyo doesn't quite recognize and a giant mirror in the center with lights so round they make her think of bubbles.

“I think you did the right thing,” Chiyo says, rubbing at her eyes. Ruri smiles back down at her. “She looks happy.” Through the blinds Chiyo can see the stirrings of sunrise, little strips of sorbet pinks and oranges sitting so peacefully on the other’s cheek, highlighting her hair. “Should make posters, though. Put ‘em up. See if she belongs to someone…”

Chiyo leans back, her head meeting the thigh of the little dog and nuzzling it's fur once more. She gives Chiyo a short kiss, curling inwards until her little black nose touches Chiyo's own. It feels like her heart could burst and with a deep yawn, Chiyo closes her eyes.

*

Ruri shakes her awake some time later, cool fingers wrapped gently around Chiyo's upper arm. She blinks herself to awareness, but doesn't move. The little corgi is still tucked around her, soft and warm, and Chiyo breathes in deep. It feels like months of stress have suddenly vanished in—

“How long was I asleep?” Chiyo shoots up. The dog follows her in a clamour, little claws tapping on the tiles.

“Just two hours,” Ruri grins. Chiyo feels her shoulders droop in relief. Ruri helps Chiyo to her feet and collects the corgi in her arms. At the door she waves a little paw at her, wishing Chiyo a good day at work.

It's a lovely sight, Chiyo thinks as she waves back. It's a sight that keeps her smiling through her shift at the restaurant, a pretty woman and an adorable puppy seeing her off. She wonders if she'll be brave enough to knock again.

*

But Chiyo doesn't have to wait. She doesn't even need to take the initiative. When she opens her door later that evening after a barrage of knocks, Ruri greets her with a wide grin.

“Good morning!” Ruri says, cheekily, backlit by dusk. She calls attention to the bag strapped around her arm. “Got any time?”

Chiyo steps aside to let her in. The bag rustles and she jumps. As soon as the door is closed, Ruri holds a finger to her lips and unzips the very top.

“Oh!” Chiyo gasps. The corgi comes jumping out, shaking herself momentarily and huffing. Chiyo kneels down, the corgi excitedly running between her legs, mouth open and panting excitedly. “You came, too!”

Ruri pulls a few more items from the side of the bag. Chiyo notices the sketchbook tucked under her other arm when she brings it forward to sit on her lap. “I've been thinking about what you said,” she mentions, tapping the cover of it.

Chiyo stares.

“Posters,” Ruri giggles. “You gave me the idea last night. Figured you knew something about them,” she continues, ruffling at the dog's ear as Chiyo strokes the chin. The corgi looks like she's in paradise. “And I figured you might want to see your friend again.”

“Oh,” Chiyo repeats.

They settle at the kitchen table, markers littered here and there, and a fresh sheet of Ruri's notebook open, drafting the information at the top. The puppy rests it head down on the surface where she has a close-up view from Chiyo’s lap, watching with barely opened eyes. Chiyo strokes her from the head down.

“You should get a picture of her printed,” Chiyo mentions. Ruri looks up at her, surprised. They've only met twice now, but Chiyo finds her focus admirable. “That way her family can find her,” she explains.

“How would I…” Ruri purses her lips. In the dim kitchen lighting the red of them are vibrant and beautiful. Chiyo never wears lipstick, but she licks at her lips and wonders if the brand is flavored, if it would taste like cherries.

Chiyo's heart pounds as she rushes to say, “You can send me one. One of my jobs is near a printing place, I could get the copies done there.”

Ruri beams at her. “Excellent!” She grabs one of the brighter markers from the table and takes Chiyo's hand. Her fingers are warm, eyes focused, and Chiyo's pulse skyrockets. When Ruri pulls back she points at the series of numbers now going up the length of her arm. “My phone's at home, so text me later and I'll send one over.”

Chiyo stares at the pink numbers, feels her cheeks turning a matching shade. “Couldn't I have just… texted you with my phone, though?”

Ruri smiles bashfully.

*

True to her word, Ruri sends over a photo of the dog, small little snout open mouth smiling at Chiyo through the camera. She gushes over it for the whole night, sets the corgi as her background.

And then she awakens to several more.

I couldn’t choose, Ruri writes her with a worried little emoji. One of the pictures has the  corgi fast asleep in the new bed they had gone out and bought together, another of her draped over the back of Ruri’s couch. Chiyo’s heart thuds over the cutest picture of the pup, cradled in Ruri’s arms. It’s angled just so that most of the woman’s face is in view of the upper left. They both look so happy and if Chiyo saves all of the images to her personal phone gallery, that’s absolutely only her business.

“We should come up with a name for her,” Chiyo says one night a few days later, kneeling on the carpet of her living room. Ruri looks up from her sketchbook. Chiyo breaks eye contact long enough to toss a ball for the corgi. It’s tiny little tail wobbles as it gives chase and Chiyo clamps her hands to her mouth to keep in a squeal.

“Should we?” Ruri asks, adjusting her feet on the edge of the couch cushions. Her toes flex as she considers it. Ruri frowns, tapping her pencil to her chin. “We’ll just get more attached.”

“I know,” Chiyo sighs as the dog drops the tennis ball in her lap. “But I feel bad having nothing to call her.”

Ruri’s eyes on her are intense, and Chiyo has to turn away. “Ai,” she says finally. The light scratching of her pencil on paper starts back up.

Chiyo swallows. “Ai?”

“Because she’s a lovebug!” Ruri says. Chiyo blinks at her. Ruri’s cheeks are bright, darker than the rogue she’s wearing and it causes her own pulse to hammer. The corgi—Ai— decides that fetch is over for the evening and hops her way up on the couch, nuzzling under Ruri’s bowed arm and resting her little head on the woman’s leg. Ruri laughs, ruffling her hair and adjusting further into the couch back. Chiyo can still hear her drawing, but the sketchbook is now too far raised to see Ruri’s face. “And because she brought you to me.”

And Chiyo’s very glad that Ruri probably can’t see her face, either.

It’s a week before either of them has time to run by the printers before they’re closed; Ruri says she’s in the middle of a big job and is hardly home, and Chiyo doesn’t have work on that side of the city until the weekends. But on Friday night she bypasses her own floor and heads straight to Ruri’s apartment. It takes a minute to open the door with the spare key without dropping any of the papers, but Chiyo’s in catering and so  she manages to slip in without issue. Ai greets her, hopping at her legs and Chiyo slams the door shut before anyone can see in.

“Have you been a good girl while I was gone?” Chiyo asks, smiling. Ai lets out a small oof noise as if to let her know that, yes, she’s been very good.  

“Good, good,” she continues as if they were actually conversing. She pulls out one of the posters and shows it to Ai, bending over and petting her atop the golden crown of her head. “Do you like it? Think your people will be able to find you?” Ai wags her little tail and Chiyo just giggles at her.

She slips off her sandals in the foyer and pads down the hallway as Ai follows behind her, leaping at her heels. Down the hall she can hear light humming and Chiyo asks, “Is your mommy home today?”

Ai sits down on the carpet, looking up at Chiyo and tilting her head.

Chiyo stops and realizes, “I meant Ruri.”

“Yes?”

Chiyo looks for the source of the voice, but she doesn’t find who she wants. What she finds is nothing short of horrific and Chiyo lets out a shriek, every single last poster flying up and scattering in the air.

*

Ruri looks like an artist, the paintbrush and canvas kind, with her wild hair tamed into a top bun and splotches of what-could-be paint marking up her cheeks and neck. Her overalls are caked in whites and browns and glitter just above her knees where she's wiped off excess powder. In her left hand is what looks like a single, long claw. Ruri holds it up, grinning. “Ready for some horns?”

Chiyo musters up a nod as Ruri begins coating the base in a glue-like substance. She then takes the seat right in front of Chiyo and places the horn directly to the side of her forehead, holding it there for a short while.

“This is what you do for a living?” Chiyo asks, awed. Ruri nods, still grinning as if she’s having fun applying monstrous extensions to someone’s face.

“I’ve always had a passion for art,” Ruri says. She turns back around and reaches for another horn just a little bit of a ways down her kitchen table. She coats that as well in glue and places it on the symmetrical end of Chiyo’s forehead. “But I was watching horror movies with my friend Kanou one day and I saw the kind of monsters people could make and it got me thinking: Someone has to design those creatures. Someone has to execute that somehow. And since then getting into special effects makeup was my dream.”

“That’s amazing,” Chiyo breathes. Ruri’s grin widens, showing off the dimples on the far edges of her lips. She dabs Chiyo’s face with a purplish-gray little sponge and the wetness makes her wrinkle her nose. Ruri giggles, padding the very tip with her sponge before turning back to apply more—paint?— humming as she goes.

“My grandfather didn’t really like it,” Ruri says, making a face. “He’s always been kind of controlling, but he couldn’t say anything if I spent my own money on supplies.” She gestures at her apartment. “And I pay for this place myself. It’s cheap and small, but I like it. That’s what matters.” Ruri frowns, “But I wish they’d allow pets. Probably why it’s cheap, though.”

Ruri’s so animated, in her own world, telling Chiyo about all the sets she’s worked on, grabbing at brushes without a thought as she talks. Under the kitchen lights, Ruri’s eyes shine brightly. This close Chiyo can see the little flecks of gold hidden between the amber browns, the quiet hum of hazel freckling around her pupils. It is intoxicating and humbling to be the center of Ruri’s attention, and Chiyo thinks she could become addicted to this.

Ai makes a low whine over Chiyo’s shoulder.

“She’s dreaming,” Ruri tells her, reaching for another prosthetic. She holds it up on several parts of Chiyo’s face before deciding the perfect application spot. “Speaking of,” she says, licking at her own lips, “how about you?”

“I cater on the weekends,” Chiyo says. “And I have work at a local restaurant three nights a week.” Ruri watches her, eyes furrowed as Chiyo continues listing, “Sometimes I assist at the library, and I have a part time secretary job, Monday through Thursday.”

Ruri sits back. “Wow. No wonder you passed out cold on my kitchen floor. But what I meant was,” Ruri says with a little laugh, “what’s your dream?”

Chiyo colors. She wonders if Ruri can tell under all the makeup on her face. Chiyo breathes in, Ruri’s eyes still sharply regarding her, and finds the courage to say, “I want to be a sports announcer. Specifically for baseball!” Chiyo feels excited momentarily as she continues, “I was the manager of my high school’s baseball team. We made it to Koshien— Oh, Ruri, it was beautiful.”

She can almost see the field in her mind’s eyes, remember the brilliant summer sun beaming down as they took their victory and pride swells anew in her chest.

“I’ve wanted to go back ever since,” Chiyo admits. “I’ve wondered what it looks like, from the top.” The last bit comes out as a mumble, “But I need to save up to get my bachelors.”

“I see,” Ruri says. “So you’re here because you’re saving up.”

Chiyo nods. Ruri turns away to grab at a dark palette on the other side of her light up mirror. The brightness of it burns Chiyo’s eyes and she looks away. Ruri readjusts in her seat and opens the top to show an array of powdery colors. She dips a brush into one of the darker blacks. When she looks back at Chiyo, Ruri stills for a minute. “It seems kind of like a shame,” she mutters, “to hide such a pretty face.”

Ruri smiles, rosey cheeks caked still in a ghastly white with smears of red, and it is almost too effervescent to stand. When she tells Chiyo to hold still the command is irrelevant because she can barely even breathe.

The end result is terrifyingly realistic and somehow, hauntingly beautiful. But Chiyo still screams when she sees her own image in the mirror, devil horns and bruised skin.

*

Ruri lays across her lap, eyes straining backward to watch the first cascade of snowfall that winter. “Your hair’s grown longer,” Chiyo notices as she runs her fingers through it. Ruri turns her gaze on her, smile as vibrant and as red as one of the first days they had met.

Ai sploots along Ruri’s stomach, dozing softly. Her head perks up to hear Chiyo’s voice, dark brown eyes blinking tiredly, before draping back over the other woman’s side. Both of them laugh.

“It’s a shame no one’s claimed her,” Ruri remarks, poking one of Ai’s pointed ears. It twitches lightly and Ai whines at the distraction from her sleep.

“Yeah,” Chiyo sighs, reaching over to run her hand along Ai’s back. Ruri sits up suddenly, maneuvering the dog seamlessly into her lap.

“It’s cold,” she mutters, reaching for the old gray throw blanket Chiyo keeps over the couch. She holds it open, staring at Chiyo in question. She nods and Ruri grins, burying the three of them underneath the quilt. Ai sighs, but Chiyo thinks it might in gratitude. This close to the window brings in quite a chill, but bundled up together brings its own warmth and the dark sky filled with flurries and city lights is perhaps Chiyo’s favorite part of winter.

Ruri hums next to her. “Are you still thinking about starting school this Spring?”

“Maybe,” Chiyo laughs. She grabs for her mug of hot chocolate, tempered now from where its sat against the windowpane, collecting the outside chill. The chocolate is still delightful to taste. “But I don’t know how I’ll afford school and an apartment on my own.”

“And a dog,” Ruri adds, leaning her head onto Chiyo’s shoulder.

“And an illegal dog,” Chiyo agrees.

“My lease is up in the Spring, you know?” Ruri grabs her free hand under the blanket, squeezing it gently. “We should find a place where dogs are legal.” Ai sits up in her lap, her little cold, dark nose poking up through the quilt’s edge. She pants excitedly, as if she understands, too, and agrees.