Girls on Fire

Ranko stepped carefully out of the limousine, Akane trundling her dress for her from behind to keep the puffy skirt from getting caught on the door handles. Immediately, she was greeted by a cacophony of clicks as rows of paparazzi snapped photo after photo of the new arrivals. The young singer could only blush and wave as flash bulbs flickered in her eyes from every direction like so many stars flickering into existence and immediately going nova and burning out. 

"There's so many cameras," Ranko whispered to her companion through teeth gritted in a smile. 

Akane nodded with a suave grin. "Of course there are. Who wouldn't want a picture of the most beautiful thing here?"

"Ranko!" A photographer in a sky-blue dress waved at her excitedly across the red velvet rope line, and the redhead snapped her head in her direction, waving excitedly. 

It's so crazy. These people get paid to follow stars around all day just to take their pictures.

And they know my name.

"Is that your husband, Ranko?! Do we finally get to meet him?"

Ranko's face went red, and then white, and then red again. She looked up at Akane, who gave her a pleading look. She reached down for Akane's hand, and when Akane looked down at her, a fire lit in the singer's blue eyes. 

Well, babe, Ranko thought. I can't spare you from the cameras, but I can make it so you don't have to talk at least. Maybe this isn't necessary. But I want it, and I'm taking it.

"This… is the love of my life." As the cameras flashed all around her, Ranko stood on the tiptoes of her silver heeled boots, closing her eyes and planting an open-mouthed kiss on Akane's lips. It took her a moment, but Akane responded in the kiss eventually, wrapping her arms around the small of Ranko's back in her restrictive tuxedo jacket. The singer whimpered quietly, her whole body warming at the thoughts running through her mind at warp speed as the sound of camera shutters built into a thunder-like rumble in a semicircle around the couple. 

Look at all these people watching us, Akane. Look at them watching me love you. Look at them watching you make me yours. Don't you dare ever stop.

After seven seconds that Ranko wished could have lasted seven years, Akane pulled back, squeezing her wife's hand tight. "Come on, babe," Akane said, affecting a gruff tone in her voice. "We're gonna be late."

Ranko nodded, lacing her slender silver-tipped fingers between Akane's as the pair strode the red carpet together. She was positively aglow. "Thank you for doing this tonight. For being here with me."

Akane nodded, squeezing her wife's hand tighter in a wordless you're welcome. 

The redheaded celebrity's mouth fell open as she scanned the crowd. "Holy shit, Ak… Aki! Look! That's fuckin' Noriyuki Makihara over there! Like, just standing there!"

"Go say hi," Akane said with a grin, nudging her bride gently. "I told you, you belong here as much as they do."

"No fucking way! I couldn't possibly!" To avoid further temptation, she pulled Akane forward into the front entrance of the Tokyo Budokan. Off to the left, a variety of small booths were set up, each with a cloth backdrop advertising some magazine or television program. Musicians and other celebrity guests packed most of them, especially the ones for music-themed publications, giving interviews and posing for photo shoots. Ranko found one that was largely unoccupied, squeezing Akane's hand to get her attention before pointing at it with two outstretched fingers. "I'm gonna run down there for a quick sec. I'll be right back."

Akane blinked as Ranko slipped down a short flight of concrete steps and stepped into one of the little photo alcoves. Is that Ranko Tendo, my Ranko Tendo, flitting off to be photographed for a freakin' fashion insider show? Voluntarily?! What the actual hell? Am I taking crazy pills?

Sure enough, Ranko posed with her hip thrust out, showing off every angle of the flowery mint party dress she wore. Her smile could have outshone the sun. 

"Hey, will you guys be here after the event?" Ranko leaned forward, blowing a cute kiss to the camera as she queried the diminutive photographer. 

The young brunette behind the camera nodded. "You bet! Not that anybody stops. They're all in too much of a hurry to get to the afterparties."

Ranko smiled knowingly. "So, if I come back after, you promise you'll be here?"

The slender photographer gave a bit of a shrug, clicking off another photo as Ranko lifted her skirt out to her side. "Not sure why you'd want to pose for the same pictures twice, but, yeah, sure. I promise."

"Great! Thanks!" Ranko giggled, throwing her a giddy wave as she bounced back toward the steps, retaking Akane's hand.

"Holy shit," came a clear voice from some unknown young man a few dozen meters behind her as she rejoined her 'husband', his voice carrying in the concrete entranceway of the martial arts hall. 

"Is that Ranko freakin' Tendo? Just, like, standing right over there?!"

~~~

"Figures. Put you in a fifty-thousand-yen suit, and you still look goofy as fuck." 

Crash stood from his seat at the round table designated for the Dapper Dragons and their plus-ones, pulling his best friend into a hug with a guffaw. "Yeah, well, at least I'm not dressed like a party piñata."

"Easy, Matsuyama. My sister made me this dress, and I'll whack you until candy falls out if you insult it." Ranko winked surreptitiously, confirming the answer to Crash's question before he could ask it. "Or I'll just have your girlfriend do it for me. Hey, Ukyo!"

The young brunette seated to Crash's left beamed, waving with wiggling fingers. She was positively scintillating in a sapphire evening gown that sparkled from the low neckline to her ankles, matching blue stiletto heels that tied up her ankles with long satin ribbons, and deep blue opera gloves that sparkled like stars all the way up to her elbows. Even her trademark white hair ribbon was missing, and her long hair had been curled into bouncy brown waves stretching to the middle of her shoulder blades. "Hey, Ran-chan. Looking hot, girl!"

Oh, you have no damn idea, Uk-chan. "If you think I look good…" Ranko reached behind her, hooking the arm of the tuxedoed individual behind her that was exchanging greetings with Hitomi and pulling her into view. "Take a look at this guy, wouldja?"

Ukyo's face caught fire. Whoa. Those are… feelings I didn't expect to feel. She covered her gaping mouth with her right hand, her fingers outstretched, as she identified the young man on Ranko's arm. "Ak…"

"Aki," Ranko quickly interjected before her friend had a chance to accidentally out her date. "My husband." 

"Well, um… He certainly cleans up nice." Ukyo giggled knowingly up at Akane. 

The young singer cupped Akane's blushing cheek in her hand, gazing lovingly up at her. "He's just the sexiest thing alive." The Full Body Cat's Tongue made Ranko acutely aware of the several degrees warmer her lover's face became at her statement. 

Ranko waved to Ken, who sat by himself on the far side of the table staring up at the stage. She approached, clapping her hand on his shoulder supportively. "Hey, bud. I know what you're feelin'. I'm so sorry he couldn't be here for you tonight."

Ken sighed sadly, turning and shrugging in Akane's direction. "Yeah, well, I guess Ryoko doesn't dress up quite as convincingly as Aki does."

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the thirty-third annual Japan Record Awards, presented by the Japan Composers' Association!" A roar of applause came from the audience in response to the public address announcer, both in the rows of seats above, and the round tables at floor level where the nominees for the major awards were seated. 

"Please take your seats! Our live telecast begins in just five minutes."

Shinji smirked, the silver collar chain that he wore in lieu of a tie tinkling against his water glass as he reached for the plate of complimentary snacks at the center of the white tablecloth. He picked up the large glass platter, holding it out to Ranko. "Oi, Ran-chan! Want a cookie?"

Ranko sputtered quietly. "No, I'm good. No cookies for me! Thanks, Shin." Her face was aflame, remembering the last time she'd taken a cookie from her bassist. She'd woken up five hours later on the stained green couch in Crash's apartment, having no idea how she'd gotten there. Crash had been the consummate gentleman, as well as she remembered at least, having just brought her home to let her sleep off the worst of the effects. Afterward, they'd agreed that, in the interests of saving Shinji's life, it was probably better not to let the woman who currently had her arm around Ranko's right hip know about her little edible adventure.

~~~

"Here's your drink, man. Anything else you want?" 

Mei frowned admonishingly at her elder sister, handing the young man a steaming basket of fried potatoes over the counter. "Here ya go. Enjoy. On the house."

The patron nodded his thanks to Mei, giving Yui a bit of a disaffected glare as he turned to head back to his table. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mei whirled to her left, frustration in her eyes. "Honestly, Yui. Can you not pull yourself together for one night?"

"Fuck off, Mei." Yui growled, turning her back to her sister and wiping the polyurethane bar counter down with a towel even though it did not need it.

The slight creak of a hinge behind the bartender was largely drowned out by the bar's sound system, which was currently thumping Not Yours, Don't Touch through its eighteen thousand watts of Electro-Voice speakers. "Yui, can I talk to you back here for a minute, honey?" The voice coming from the saloon door was gentle in tone, but left no question about the fact that it was not a request.

"Sure, mama." Yui threw the damp blue bar towel on the counter dejectedly with a loud suspiration, trudging behind Mei and pushing through the swinging door less than gently. 

She followed Hana into her office, shaking her head as the bar's proprietress closed the door behind her. "Look, mama. I just…" Yui trailed off, hushed by a silent wave of Hana's hand as the elder woman took her seat behind her ever-cluttered desk.

Hana sighed sadly. "Yui, I love you. You know that, right?"

The blonde nodded sharply. "Of course I know that. What's up?"

"I'm shutting you down for the night, Yui." Hana bit her lip grimly. 

Yui rolled her eyes with a groan, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "I snapped at Mei one time. Come on! She's been chirpin' at me all friggin' night, ma!"

Hana motioned to the leather couch to her left. There was a gentle, but firm, air about her voice. "Sit down, baby."

"I don't need to sit down! I'm fine! It's New Year's fucking Eve, and I need to get back out there!" Yui reached for the doorknob behind her, but missed it with her hand falling a few centimeters too far left. She felt a hand clasp her shoulder, looking up with turmoil in her eyes to meet its owner.

"Yui, I'm your mom. You can't lie to me. You're not fine." Hana rubbed her daughter's back gently through her black long-sleeve Pantera tee shirt. "First off, I've owned a bar for twenty years, so I think I can tell when somebody's drunk."

Yui scoffed, waving her hand in the air dismissively. "Oh, please, ma. You know I know better than to drink on the job." 

The young woman's adoptive mother nodded understandingly. "And what about drinking all day before the job? Mei told me everything, honey, not that she had to." 

The bartender roared in anger. "I'm gonna fucking kill her! It's none of her damned business what I… You know what? Forget it. I don't have time for this. I need to get back out there. Izzi's gonna drown."

"I'm shutting you down tonight so you can make time for it, Yui." Hana squeezed her daughter's shoulder tight in her strong right hand. "It's admirable how you've tried to soldier on to keep this place going, but I'm watching you come apart a little more night after night. You didn't even come to Christmas."

Yui shrugged. "I mean, everybody knew Aya wasn't gonna show, and between that and both Akane's family and Kaito's doing stuff with them in the afternoon, I don't know why you didn't just cancel the damn thing anyway."

The old barkeep slumped her shoulders. The last thing she needed right now was a reminder that she and her eldest - and only biological - daughter were still not on speaking terms. "Yui, please just listen to me, okay? I'm telling you from experience, baby. Sometimes you just can't fit any more duct tape on your heart, and you just have to give yourself permission to let it break."

Yui turned her back to Hana, her eyes glistening. "I can't. If I start, I won't stop."

Hana reached out immediately, pulling the slender girl into a tight hug with a loud clap as the younger woman crashed into the front of her mother's leather jacket. "Let it go, baby. I'm here. It's okay."

After but a moment's hesitation, the tall blonde buried her face in Hana's shoulder, gripping two huge handfuls of black leather behind her mother's back as she began to sob. 

"I miss her so f… f…. fucking much, mo… mom."

Hana nodded, stroking her daughter's short blonde hair with her free hand. "I know, sweetheart. I know you do. So do I."

~~~

Ranko looked up as Akane squeezed her hand.

"I love you. I'm proud of you no matter what. Remember that." 

The young songstress smiled nervously in response, her hand quivering in Akane's. She nodded, not taking her eyes off of the older, heavy-set man in the black tuxedo speaking at the podium.

"We're proud to present our five nominees for the Best Album from a New Artist, in the Rock/Pop category. First… Arisa from Alisa Mizuki!" 

A bright spotlight beam swiveled to a table a few dozen meters from Ranko's, where a girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen waved to the cameras as the audience cheered from the tiered seating behind her. 

"Who Are You Getting Sleepy With, from Noriyuki Makihara!" The spotlights whirled a few rows back, to a tuxedoed man sitting alone in one of the front rows of folding seats. The crowd roared at the mention of the popular artist's name. 

Even Ranko cheered for him. "We're so screwed," Ranko said. "No way we're gonna beat Nor…"

"Phoenix Rising, by Ranko and the Dapper Dragons!" 

Ranko froze mid-word as the spotlights found her. She sat at the table with only Akane, Ukyo and Ariel, as the remainder of the band had already headed to the performance stage to set up for their performance immediately after the Best Album from a New Artist award presentation.

"Smile, babe."

The singer blushed at Akane's words, managing a nervous grin and a wave. The audience erupted as her name was called, possibly even louder than they had for the previous artist.

"Nakajima, by Michiyo Nakajima!" 

Ranko blushed, craning her neck to find the teenager the spotlight centered on. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Aki, do we know her from somewhere? She seems familiar."

Akane shrugged, unable to get a clear view of the young brunette. "Not sure, babe."

"... and Shadows and Scales, by Three Red Eyes!"

The spotlights whirled to the table to Ranko's immediate left, where a group of young boys who could have been triplets stood up and whooped loudly for themselves. One of them made a muscle flex with his arms, and another shot the camera a smoldering look as if he wanted to make love to it.

Ugh. So obnoxious. Ranko scoffed, bouncing in her seat nervously. Ukyo reached across the table, taking the trembling hand opposite the one Akane already held with a reassuring squeeze.

~~~

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The bar fell to stunned silence at the sound of the normally mild-mannered Izumi Sando roaring loudly enough to be heard over the din of two-hundred-plus New Year's revelers and the bar's audio system. Mei pushed a few buttons on the audio mixing board, silencing Eurythmics as Izumi pegged the volume of the little television mounted above table twelve with a silver plastic remote control.

The saloon door swung outward, and Hana led a bleary-eyed Yui Fukawa by the hand out into the main bar. The haphazard little family's mother held her breath, staring at the television and squeezing her daughter's hand as she whispered a silent prayer. 

The balding man in the tuxedo opened an envelope as the camera zoomed closer to his glass podium. He read the ivory card he pulled from within slowly, not yet turning his eyes back up to the camera.

"Come ON!" Mei groaned, gesturing furiously at the television. "You're killing us, dude!"

"And the winner is… Phoenix Rising, Ranko and the Dapper Dragons!" 

The video feed cut to a different camera, showing Ranko in her bright mint green floral dress as she slumped forward and hid her face in her hands. A handsome young man in a black tuxedo rubbed her back, grinning adoringly at the singer as the only other woman at the table stood, whooping excitedly and clapping her opera-gloved hands.

Eleven kilometers away from the table at which she sat, in a little dive bar in the Minato district of Tokyo, two hundred and sixty-eight souls went absolutely berserk.

Ranko stood, the whole of her body vibrating as Akane released her. She turned and gave a sharp nod to Ariel, who darted off toward the production booth with a purpose. Without offering an explanation of her technician's mission to Akane, she began the walk up to the steps at stage left. In the puffy, heavy dress, it took her a moment to ascend them, but she waved with a bright blush as some thirteen thousand people roared for her in the same arena where she'd released her second album on her birthday not five weeks ago. The same arena where, just a few days hence, she would be competing in the first ever appearance of Anything-Goes Martial Arts in a mixed martial arts tournament environment. Talk about a left turn, that one.

The tuxedoed man handed Ranko a large orange plaque featuring a gold relief of Euterpe, the Greek muse of music, holding her harp. He motioned with a smile to the glass podium, where a gooseneck microphone extended toward her, before stepping back and making his way offstage.

Ranko inched forward, clutching the plaque tight to her chest. She didn't remember the last time she'd been really nervous staring into the head of a microphone, but that night, it could not be denied. She was well and truly terrified, and the hot mic was the least of her worries.

"Oh my gods, everybody. Thank you so much," she began, her voice quavering slightly. "There's just so many people we need to thank, and I guess gotta speak for the boys too, 'cause they're gettin' set up for a little somethin' over there." Ranko smirked playfully, leaning closer to the mic and whispering into it. "Probably a good idea anyway; I think Shin's been drinkin' a little bit." She giggled along with the crowd's laughter.

"To Amaya, Yuji and everybody at Yokai Records, I just wanna say thanks for taking a chance on some awkward girl you found slingin' cocktails in a bar. Our business manager, my sister Nabiki. We love you, girl! All of our families - there's too many of you to name, but we love you all so much, and none of us would be here without you. Ukyo, Zoe, Aki…" Ranko sighed softly, both at having to use Akane's assumed masculine name, and having to omit mentioning Ken's boyfriend Ryo by name entirely. "All our partners. We're just the singers; you're our song." 

Alone at their little round table, Akane and Ukyo cheered as loudly as the pair could manage.

"There's one more group I gotta shout out," Ranko continued. "Over in Minato, there's this little bar called the Phoenix. Maybe you've heard of it?"

Hana could not hear herself think over the crowd surrounding her in the bar she'd built with her own two hands.

"That place gave us a place to play, and it gave me a place to become who I was meant to be. I even wrote a song about it. I love all of you so much. You made this happen tonight." 

Hana rubbed Yui's back through her daughter's denim jacket. After Hana herself, it had been Yui who had done the most work to put the heart of the fragile girl they'd found on the sidewalk just over two years ago back together, and now, that girl was on national television winning awards.

Ranko looked up and to her left, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She set the plaque carefully on the podium. "Crash, I'm talkin' here, dude!"

The crowd laughed again as Ranko gave her guitarist an exaggerated shrug, throwing her hands up and letting them fall limply to her sides. "What do you want?!"

Crash grinned, playing along as he leaned forward to speak into the gooseneck microphone on the podium. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Ran-chan, but… We gotta go play now." He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb to the performance area where Shinji, Ken and Jacob were already positioned at their marks, at the ready with their instruments.

~~~

"Um, Iz, you do know she already won, right?"

Izumi did not gratify Mei's question with so much as eye contact, waving her off frantically and continuing to stare nervously at the television, leaning over table twelve on her elbows and not caring in the least that there was a middle-aged couple currently eating their pizza in the booth at the time.

Please, gods, let this work, the young brunette prayed, holding her breath as she watched her sister turn back to Crash on the little television. 

"Sure thing, Crash!" Ranko smiled nervously, looking up and to her left at her table. I love you, Akane. Here goes nothin'. 

"Just let me get changed. I mean, I can't very well dance in this." Ranko grabbed at her puffy, crinkly green skirt, stepping out from behind the podium and swishing it around her legs for emphasis. 

Still behind the podium, Crash shook his head as he bent the microphone to the left so it could pick Ranko up as well as himself. "No, Ranko. Listen, girl. We don't have time for you to go backstage. We gotta go play now."

"I think you're forgetting something, Crash." Ranko turned to look at him, a confident smirk on her face that was an absolute lie. "You're talking to a phoenix."

The door to the production booth burst open, and a young man in a black suit rushed into the dimly-lit room. Two yellow-jacketed security personnel closed on him immediately, restraining him before he could take another step toward the three rows of broadcast equipment and its tenders. 

"What the hell?" The producer, a stout man in his mid-forties, looked up from his monitor with an irritated glare. "We're broadcasting live nationwide right now!" 

The young Caucasian man dug in the pocket of his suit coat, producing a lanyard with a laminated pass dangling from it. "I know. Sorry! My name's Ariel Wright. I'm Ranko and the Dapper Dragons' audio tech. Cut her mic!"

"But, she's in the middle of her acceptance sp…"

"Just do it," Ariel pleaded. "Now!"

Izzi, I sure hope you know what you're doing. Fuck. Ready or not, Ranko. Here we go.

Ranko took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly and not taking another. She closed her eyes, bending her knees slightly. She bent her right arm at the elbow until her upturned hand hung just a few millimeters below the tails of the large mint-green bow adorning the neckline of her gown.

And then, slowly and deliberately, she snapped her fingers. 

A collective gasp rose from the audience, and Akane rocketed out of her seat. "Ranko!" 

Where the lead singer of the Dapper Dragons had stood at center stage not a moment before, all that could be seen was a bright orange column of flame.