Something Mythical!

Chisaka Kutsuki

The driver pulls into a circle drive of a luxurious apartment building, nothing like you would see in ordinary towns of Japan that have a hint of the traditional Japanese style. This one was large with lots of glass structuring, bronze and silver statues, blooming sakura trees, and golden shiny lights. It looked like a place full of famous people, and if not, everyone else must have been extremely rich.

“Nervous?” Ryota whispers over to me as I take in the fascinating building. I shift in my seat, of course I am nervous. “Count yourself lucky to have been caught in a mix-up.”

“It wasn’t my intent. I know I’m not welcome here.” I put my headphones back on my ears and escape to the world of rock and anime songs, it’s much more peaceful that way.

The car drives into a dark parking garage and one moment, both headphones keep me in my escapism, the next—only one. I look over next to me, the wire of my headphones stretching across the seat and dangling from one of Ryota’s ears.

“So, this is the kind of music you listen to…” I blush from one ear to the next, music from an anime called Blood Note playing. “Sort of dark, but it’s also good, the rhythm is catchy and the bass in the background gives it an edge! Do you think fans would enjoy darker themed songs once in a while?”

“I think it’s relatable.” I admit, surprised he was judging like Gina or the others would have—they’d call me the ‘otaku girl’ any time I pull out a manga. I explain further, “It helps me feel like everyone has their own problems, and not just catchy lyrics about a happy perfect life.”

“I said that once, too, before my debut. But my producer shut down the idea and said they had to be a popular style of music.”

We park and a line of guards walk from the building to the car, opening the door for Ryota while escorting him in the building. Meanwhile, I stand aside and wait for a clearing. Ryota’s manager stays behind.

“Here’s your room number, please don’t disrupt Ryota’s schedule. I’ll also have you sign a contract with details regarding Ryota’s personal life and the secrecy of information while being his makeup artist. Once the contract is up, you will go on about your life as you had before and will not be provided any additional services.”

He pulls out a long form of information and I quickly read over it until the signature line appears at the bottom and I sign my name in cursive. Reading through the policies and signing a contract hit me harder than the original idea itself, it was becoming real.

After climbing the stairs because it seemed too weird to show my face on an elevator with people who look as if they are on another planet than me, I look up from the paper the manager gave me, the room number matches with the one plastered on the wall next to the room. I sigh with relief, I found my room without asking for help.

A click of a door sound has me jumping backward and I look to the left of me, my other half stands tall in front of the door next to my apartment, just as perfect as he was before—but with revealing loungewear that shows his toned, masculine body.

“What are you doing here?.”

I frown, “This is my apartment, now.”

He pauses for a moment, taking in the realization that I was in the apartment next to his. My own realization made me nauseous. I wanted to get closer to him, but this made me feel lightheaded. How am I supposed to relax when I know a hot celebrity who is also my soulmate is sitting in the room next to me?

“Whatever,” he sighs, walking past me with the same aroma of vanilla and cologne and walks to a man in a chef outfit and takes a pan of what smelled like spicy ramen before slamming the door to his apartment shut.

I didn’t get it… one moment he was warm, like in the car when we shared headphones, the next—he was icy cold. I couldn’t tell if he hated me or not.

I head inside and place my stuff around the rooms which already had furniture set up, decorating the walls in anime-themed posters and dark aesthetics to feel more home-like. Lucky didn’t mind having more space to roam, but both he and I share the same thoughts as I cuddle him in my arms. This is my first time living on my own, and that made me excited—yet, also, super bored.

My mom was always at the house, she was the opposite of me, loud and obnoxious, but I still loved her. I was used to dad gone, he only showed up once every few months, and with a different girl every time. They say only 1% of people find their soulmate—my parents found each other. That’s how I know the string of fate doesn’t work. What my mom considers a ‘fairytale,’ is a messed-up version of love where the other cheats and only one has faith in their love.

I gather my cat and stand on my feet, setting him on my bed. Maybe this is a chance to collect information. My body finds itself standing outside Ryota’s door and I lightly tap, but no response. I knock louder, the door creeping open—it’s unlocked.

His apartment wasn’t like mine, it was larger, more elegant, with curved vaulted ceilings and a glass view above my head to the blue cloud-filled sky. Frames of music awards and gold metals line the white walls. Such clean decorations with a white sofa and a black piano in the center of the room. Even though I’d never seen it, it was exactly as I imagined Ryota’s apartment to be like.

I drift off in the direction of my soul-string’s other half, leading to a door in a wide hallway. Before I knew it, the door slammed open and I jumped to hide in another room, just fast enough for him not to notice me.

My face grows warm with heat, his torso barely covered by a white towel which slowly crept down his waist showing a deep ‘v’ shape along his lower half. Water drips from his long dark hair, which was now all naturally down, compared to his normal half-up style. A wave of tingly feelings in my stomach, almost like butterflies, has me trying to cover my racing heartbeat.

But suddenly it drops back to a normal pace when I realize that his body isn’t nearly as jaw-dropping as this: his eyes glow red, not a natural hue of any human I’ve ever known.

This was different, this was mythical.