5 ✦ Optimism!

My screen flashed with a big 'REGISTER NOW' button.

“Okay!" I said, rubbing my eyes as I stared at my laptop screen. “So, the Pacific Northwest Grand Invitational is in about three months. It’s a massive contemporary showcase. Scouts from Juilliard and some big West Coast academies will be there. It’s perfect."

Naoko leaned over my shoulder, smelling like vanilla scented shampoo. Her new light chestnut hair brushed against my cheek, I jolted backward at the soft sensation.

“It sounds magnificent, Rowan." she murmured, her dark eyes scanning the screen. “We shall enter immediately. Send them my family crest."

“... Erm. They don't want a crest, Naoko.. they would probably want an entry fee." I scrolled down to the fine print. “And it’s... five hundred dollars. For the solo category."

Naoko blinked. “Is that a large sum?"

“It’s half my rent..." I said grimly. “That’s just the entry by the way.. we would also need to pay for your costume, a bus ticket down to Portland where the qualifiers are held and a hotel room. We are looking at a thousand dollars.. minimum."

I leaned back in my creaky desk chair, letting out a heavy sigh. It was my one day off from the convenience store and so far I had spent it searching for competitions for Naoko’s sake.

“Alright well, you know how in the parking garage I said you wouldn't have to wash dishes or answer phones and that I promised that I'd find a way to let you dance without grinding away at a terrible job?" I muttered, staring at the ceiling.

Naoko nodded and looked at me with an expectant smile on her face.

“Well that may have been a bit optimistic." I concluded.

Naoko’s smile faltered. “Is that a formal declaration of defeat?"

“No, no, it's a formal declaration of temporary compromise." I groaned, pulling up a google doc. “The competition is the goal. But to get there, we need capital. Which means the noble Lady Honji needs a part-time job."

“I am prepared!" Naoko said, straightening her posture. “I shall trade my labor for currency. How do we petition the local lords for employment?"

“We write a resume.” I pushed the laptop toward her. “Type out your skills and any past experiences doing... anything. I'm going to make us coffee.”

I went to my kitchenette and started the drip machine. When I returned five minutes later with two mugs, Naoko was typing with intense precision, using only her two index fingers.

“Done!" she announced proudly.

I took a sip of my coffee and looked at the screen.

NAOKO HONJI

Objective: To amass commoner currency to defeat my father's mandate.

Skills!

Ikebana (Traditional Flower Arranging) Master Class Certification!

Chado (The Way of Tea) 10 Years Practical Experience!

Calligraphy, Capable of writing in beautiful brushstrokes.

Equestrian Dressage.

I stared at the screen, took another sip of coffee and then I looked at Naoko. Then I did a double take. She was beaming at me, practically vibrating with pride.

“Naoko.." I said gently. “We are applying to Buffalo Wild Wing's. Not the Imperial Court of the Meiji Era."

“Are these skills not valued in the Western service industry?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "If a patron desires a culturally enriching beverage--"

“If a patron wants a beverage, they want a Diet Coke with extra ice, and they want it in three minutes or they’re going to yell at you." I explained. “Proficiency in horseback riding does not translate to flippin’ burgers princess.”

Before she could argue, three loud knocks hammered against my apartment door.

“It's open!" I yelled, assuming it was my landlord coming to complain about the shower incident.

The door swung open, and Khris strolled in. He was wearing a neon green hoodie that said “HUSTLER” and holding a plastic bag from a local bakery.

“Hey, peasants." Khris announced. “Brea left her magic tinting brush here yesterday and my mom told me to bring you guys these day-old croissants because she thinks Rowan is starving to death."

“I am." I said, snatching the bag.

Khris paused. He looked at Naoko and let out a low whistle. “Hair looks sick. Brea really worked a miracle. You don't look like a countryside girly anymore. You look like you're about to debut in LE SSERAFIM.”

“I am grateful for your sister's expertise." Naoko said, dipping her head in a perfectly measured nod. “And for the... aged pastries."

Khris ambled over to the desk, peering over my shoulder at the laptop. He read the screen. He snorted. Then, he started laughing so hard he had to grab the back of the chair for support.

“‘The Way of Tea?’ What is this?!"

“It is my employment petition." Naoko said defensively, her cheeks dusting pink.

“You can’t be serious.” Khris laughed. “Listen, Princess Mononoke. You want a job? Just type in ‘7-Eleven’ in that search bar right there. We need more people on the night shift. You could stand by the slushie machine and bow to the drunks at 3 AM. You’d be the talk of the town.”

“Absolutely not." I snapped. “I am not exposing her to the 7-Eleven night shift. Some guy threw a half-eaten burrito at my head last week just because he didn’t like the sauce in it. She'd probably try to fight him with a broom."

“I have studied Naginata polearm techniques.." Naoko confirmed darkly. “If he dared to harm you, I would strike him down."

“Exactly. No convenience stores." I said. “Look, we just need to translate what she has into corporate nonsense and it’s a job well done.”

For the next hour I think the three of us engaged in the most ridiculous bullshitting exercise in history.

“Okay 'Tea Ceremony'" I said, typing furiously. "Let's call that... 'Meticulous attention to detail in high-stress, formal hospitality environments.'"

“Ooh, good one." Khris nodded, eating a croissant over my floor. “What about the flower arranging?"

“Spatial organization and... aesthetic presentation.." Naoko suggested, catching on.

“Boom. Hired!" Khris said. “Put 'Customer De-escalation' for the horseback riding. If you can calm down a big ol’ horse you can handle Karen complaining about her son’s cold fries."

By noon somehow I think we had crafted a resume that made Naoko sound like a disciplined and highly focused hospitality professional. We then sent it out to every cafe and diner within walking distance as she requested.

“Alright, my work here is done.." Khris declared, grabbing his sister's salon bag from the corner. He did a theatrical motion with his hands. “Bon voyage.. don't let the corporate grind crush your beautiful spirits."

After Khris left, the apartment fell quiet and the sun peaked through the blinds.

I looked at the center of the room. The space between the kitchenette, the desk, and my futon wasn’t much at all.

“Stand up." I told Naoko.

She blinked, putting down her coffee mug. “Have I done something wrong, Rowan?”

“No. Just stand up and move to the kitchen."

She did as instructed. I grabbed the heavy wooden frame of my desk and dragged it scraping across the floor, pushing it flush against the window and then I grabbed the foot of the futon and hauled it sideways wedging it tightly against the closet door. When all that was done, I finally rolled up the cheap, faded rug and shoved it under the bed.

I stood back, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead, my shaggy hair sticking to my brow.

In the center of the apartment, there was now a clear, uncarpeted space. Not much. But it was empty.

“What are you doing, Rowan?" Naoko asked softly.

“You can't practice in a parking garage." I said, out of breath. “It's going to be freezing down there soon and it's covered in oil. I also think its quite dangerous at night. Maybe you could use this space instead?”

Naoko stared at the empty patch of cheap linoleum. She walked over to the edge of it, looking down as if I had just carved out a piece of gold. When she looked up at me, her dark eyes were shining with a profound warmth that made my chest feel dangerously tight.

“A practice space..” she whispered. “Thank you, Rowan."

That night I kept my promise and took the sleeping bag on the floor, tucked between the fridge and the wall, while Naoko took the futon. The lights were out the only illumination coming from the streetlamp outside.

I lay awake, listening to the soft sounds in the center of the room.

Naoko had her phone propped up against a coffee mug, playing a choreography video on mute. In the dim silvery light, she moved. She was restricted by the tiny space, but it didn't seem to matter. She was controlled, her spins tight and breathless. She looked much like a bird testing its wings inside a cage finding exactly how far she could stretch before hitting the bars.

I watched her in secret, the squeak of her bare feet on the floor lulling me into a strange sense of peace. Though, watching her dance and seeing the sheer joy on her face in the dark... I was really glad I could give her this space so she could relish in her passion. I closed my eyes, a small smile on my face and finally went to sleep.

~

“Rowan. Rowan, wake up."

I groaned, burying my face into my pillow. It was morning. The smell of burnt toast hung in the air.

“Rowan, the electronic mail has arrived. I have been summoned!"

I cracked one blue eye open.

Naoko was standing over me. She was now wearing a pair of my old, faded denim jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a tight, practical ponytail. But what really woke me up was the red bandana tied fiercely around her forehead like she was Rambo preparing for a jungle insertion.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Summoned? You got the job?"

“Yes." she said, holding up her phone like a battle standard. “The manager of Gus’s diner responded to my petition. I begin at zero-eight-hundred hours."

“That's amazing!" I smiled, fully waking up. “Gus's is a busy diner. You'll make great money as a server. With your new look and your polite accent, the locals are going to tip you like crazy."

Naoko frowned, adjusting the knot of her bandanna. “I am not a 'server.' The manager, a very loud man named Gus, informed me that I lack the 'hustle' required for the floor."

I blinked. “Wait. If you're not serving... what are you doing?"

“I have been assigned to the aquatic sanitation station!" she announced proudly.

“No... not the dishwasher." I stared at her. “You got lost in a ‘monsoon’ in my shower, how in the world did they hire you to wash dishes?!"

“I told him I possess meticulous attention to detail and a high tolerance for punishing repetitive tasks." she said, quoting my fake resume perfectly. “He laughed, handed me this protective headgear, and said I start today."

She looked down at her hands, then balled them into fists, a fiery determination in her eyes. “I am ready for the battlefield, Rowan. I will conquer the grease. I will sanitize the porcelain until it blinds my enemies."

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. It was the hardest I had laughed in months.

“What?!" she demanded, hands on her hips. “Do you doubt my resolve?"

“No!" I chuckled, pulling myself off the floor. “I don't doubt you at all. Just... try not to break the plates, tigress.”

I walked over to the desk and grabbed the printed flyer for the Pacific Northwest Grand Invitational. I held it up between us.

“Alright, master dishwasher Honji." I said, my tone turning serious. “This is the goal. Every dollar you make in the trenches, every hour I work at the convenience store. We're putting it together. We are going to pay that entry fee and get enough to get you a costume. Then we are going to get you in those qualifiers.”

Naoko looked at the flyer. Her gaze softened, the fierce 'battle' energy melting into gratitude.

She looked up at me, her dark eyes locking onto my blue ones. “I'm ready!" she beamed.