It's totally not a date

“Are you sure this is the place, Makoto?” Kimiko held on to his arm as she eyed the simple white door in the alleyway. He'd looked at her a tad longer than usual, which she thought meant he was as lost as she felt she was. In fact, it was actually her ponytail that mesmerized him for a second.

Her question echoed back to him, luckily. Makoto looked at his phone for clarity. “Yep, this is it.”

The moment his head tilted down she adjusted her sports bra under her light blue crop top. She twisted the band of her slate grey sports leggings to line up the white stripes with the sides of her thighs.

He looked back at her, then at the door.

Makoto spent the previous night finding somewhere fun to take Kimiko. He was able to cloak the outing under the guise of a "play-date" once more thanks to Kimiko.

The marketing genius herself was looking at him now. His hair was carefree, silky. A pair of dark, lightweight sweats and a semi-fitted grey t-shirt. It was a simple combination, but it was hard not to crush on him a little more.

Oh no, he was talking to her.

“Hm?!” She looked at him with big, guilty eyes.

Makoto chuckled. “Ah. So you have that problem too, huh?” He ruffled the top of her hair. “I was saying that, according to what it says online, we have to knock on the door three times and yell that we’re here.”

“Eh?” Kimiko tilted her head to the side.

“Well, go on Kimiko. Knock on the door.”

She nodded, then pulled away from the safety of his arm to knock three timid times. “Um, we’re here.” She said.

It was silent.

Kimiko turned to Makoto. “What do I do now?”

“Same thing as before, you just gotta be louder is all. They probably couldn’t hear you.”

She did it again, but this time a little louder.

Nothing.

Again, louder.

Nothing.

With a frustrated huff, she blew her bangs away from her face, then pounded on the door three times. “WE’RE HERE!”

The door swooped open with a gust that Kimiko had to jump back from to avoid getting knocked in the nose.

Peeking behind the door, the bright shine of round glasses reflected like mirrors. The devilish smile of an older woman greeted them. Her brown hair was like the earth itself, matted in braids and stuck with flowers both dead and alive. The teeth sat jagged in her mouth, skin wrinkled but her energy was as spry as a young person.

“Now. You are here.” She said.

The old woman turned and walked down the steep drop-off of stairs, leaving the door open.

“Well, that's an obvious safety hazard. Watch your step, okay?” Makoto cautioned, his hands in his pockets.

It was a long path down the darkened stairs. The steps were lit with a subtle orange glow from the fake candles on the walls. A smell of an indistinct incense made the air dense. Pieces of art splattered along the wall subjected the pair to each oddity as they walked.

A painting of golden apples stabbed with swords made of keys.

A picture of a door, flipped upside down, printed by a cheap copier.

A drawing of teeth in the shape of a heart.

"Oh um… how… interesting." Kimiko's voice was reminiscent of a mother looking at a child's crude artwork. Makoto did not hold back his judgment, though he did keep quiet about it for now.

These oddities only made him keep a closer eye on Kimiko. The stranger leading them was either some kind of genius, con-woman, or they were going to end up in body bags.

Or all three, if they were very unluckly.

Luckily, at the bottom of the stairs, besides a few more odd paintings, it looked more like a normal workout space. Light wooden floors, with the front wall made completely of mirrors. The population of the room was a shuffle of bland colors and curved, insecure shoulders.

Looking back at Kimiko, he noticed the contrast. It was obvious she'd put in some effort to look cute. In this crowd, it might as well have been a ball gown. Both his and Kimiko’s attention shifted to their teacher, who stood at the front of the class.

A myriad of beads of different shapes, foods, and objects adorned her crinkled neck. Her clothing was more layered than an onion, if that onion made you cry colors instead of tears. Every moment she made elicited bells or clatter. Her expression was serious, eyes staring at each person as if she saw their souls on their irises.

“Let us begin.” She said, then slipped her hand in her pocket.

Click

The lights dimmed. Two pots flickered with fire, bouncing flames to every reflection along the walls. Round glasses flickered fire in both lenses.

Makoto felt that familiar weight of Kimiko on his arm as she stared at the woman. Tight breaths and big eyes.

Now he wondered if he really was in the wrong place. Makoto casually eyed the back door until the woman spoke once more.

Her voice crooned over their heads like crows looking for meat. “Welcome to the doom of the insecure fetish the soul of your depths is craving. The itch that is clawing you into the makers of hell... shall be vanquished!" Her hands swooped out in circles, beads clacking.

"Your transformation will tear at your flesh and eat it! Then, return as the blaze of a phoenix, rising from the ashes of its fallen masters! This journey will challenge your every thought and slice it up anew. Every failure will be your fortune. Every fracture your future. This is deliverance. This is the ending of the old world! This! IS-”

Shaking, she lifted her hands. The woman aimed up to the ceiling and pulled a string.

Pop

The masses shrieked in awe and horror.

The small popper exploded bits of colorful paper into the air.

A halfhearted flourish.

“Confetti. Yoga.”

Makoto deadpanned harder than he'd ever had to in his life. Like the pan had died seventeen years ago, and came back purely to haunt the living world. That kind of deadpan.

His casual confident stance kept its hold with his hands still in his pockets. With a quick swept the room, he saw several frightened faces.

“Wait, so I am in the right place?!" Makoto exclaimed. "I thought this was gonna be a fun thing! You know, like cake and stretching or something like that. I would have never taken this girl here if I thought you were gonna try to brainwash her into your weird cult.”

With a mild click of her remote, the fire went out, and the lights returned to the normal brightness of a plain room.

Her posture transformed from "black-magic witch" to "in line at the bank".

“But it’s not a cult.” Her tone held the same disappointment as a child who’d been told that Santa isn’t real. (Which, the bearded man may, or may not be. Makoto was agnostic when it came to the fat man.)

The impressionable people in the room stared at them both. A bunch of nervous mice huddled together under a fridge. His decision was made for him when Kimiko's sweet eyes looked up at him. "It's okay Makoto, let's see what she has to say." She said with a tug on his shirt. "I don't want her feelings to get hurt." She whispered in his ear.

That made him smile. Hearing her out, he relented. “Alright, alright. Go on.” He said with a waving motion of his hand.

Drums pounded with the fervor of a jungle beat, fans spun on either side of the room, whipping the hair of everyone in the room.

"Hands up to the sky and spin!! Spin like the helicopter you are my dandelions of rage!" She declared, everyone spinning round and round.

Makoto leaned back against the wall and watched Kimiko twirl, a smirk on his face.

"Twirl or you get it." The old woman threatened, armed with a confetti popper.

Makoto leaned up, hands in pockets, then swirled around with the same meandering pace of an ice cream machine.

"Dodge the hate!" The woman declared, then raced around attempting to assault people with confetti. When she approached Kimiko, Makoto wrapped his arms around her and spun her away from the blast, him taking the confetti hit to the back instead.

"And so we find our priorities!" The woman declared.

Kimiko looked up at Makoto with ruby cheeks, her body steaming up from how close they were and how kind he was.

"Ah-ha…" Makoto laughed nervously, reverting to his signature laugh. "Gotta protect the princess, right?" He winked before giving her a twirl out back into the fray.

"Now!" The old woman yelled. "Reach your hands forward and grasp what it is you seek! Take it! It's yours! Ahahahaha!" The delayed sound effect of thunder emphasized her maniacal laughter.

The small group of people reached out and made twinkling stars with their hands, grasping at air.

"And then… we fall." She dropped to the ground so abruptly Makoto thought for a minute she might have broken something, but in the next, her arms and legs were in the air. "Broken into the ground like dirt we lose our way." She wiggled her arms. "Falling, counting the days until we reach the inner depths. But then. We swim." She stopped her mystic voice and demanded, "Swim!"

Everyone seemed to have their own interpretation of what that meant. Kimiko dropped down with her knees together, her nose pinched closed with her fingers. She turned to a curious Makoto with a nasal voice. "Cannonball."

That single, mild word, sent Makoto into a fit of laughter.

The teacher glared at him. Unfortunately, not being allowed to laugh was a sure-fire way to make Makoto laugh more. He doubled over from laughing so much. Kimiko sat there staring at him with a blank face like a fish. She liked making Makoto laugh.

"That's it! Both of you! Out!" The woman declared.

In a blur, Makoto instantly stopped, almost like he'd never laughed at all. "Aww come on don't be like that." He said, hands in pockets again while Kimiko stood up, head tilted to the side as she looked at the instructor.

"He was just laughing at me, ma'am." Kimiko defended politely.

"Out!" She demanded with a point of her finger.

Makoto shrugged casually. "Alright, come on princess."

The nickname retrieved the blush she'd lost. She hurried over to Makoto and looped her arm through his as he walked them to the stairs.

"And um… the money?" The old woman said meekly, her hands fiddling like she was playing cat's cradle.

Makoto turned over his shoulder to say, "No thanks."

After leading Kimiko outside, he sighed and leaned against the wall. She refused to take her arm away so she ended up squished beside him.

"Sorry I got us kicked out of there." He said, more sincere now that he was talking to her.

"Are you kidding? That was amazing! I've never been kicked out of a place before." She giggled, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

He looked down at her with amusement in his smirk. "Is that right?"

"Mmhm! First time." She nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you had fun with me." He said, removing his hands from his pockets and standing up. When her arm slipped away, he placed a single palm on the top of her head to give her a pat. "Let's get you home."