"Shiina!" Hachi barrelled me into a bone-crushing hug come after school. "I can't believe I get to do your nails! This is super duper exciting!"

A brimming bowl of sunshine, per usual.

"Hachi, you're gonna kill me before you get the chance," I laughed.

"Sorry!" he cried, lurching from me. Lips pursed in apology, he twiddled his thumbs. "I'm just looking forward to it so much. I have so many ideas! But I'll have to wait for Ban-Ban to finalize his concept."

He was referring to Banri, right? I smiled. "I never thought you had a side like this to you."

"Is it that surprising?" He matched my grin. "My mom actually works as a nail technician and runs a salon with my older sisters. They used me as their guinea pig a lot growing up, but as a result, I picked up on everything they did. I'm pretty confident in doing nail art—especially anything including flowers."

Accordingly, he retrieved his cell, swiped through, and brought it to my ray of sight. They were pictures of the most beautiful nail art I'd ever seen.

"They're so pretty!" I couldn't help but gush, scooping it into hand and scrolling through it myself. "You did this all yourself?"

"He he. Of course I did. Aren't you amazed?"

"By what? Your stupidity?" a sharp voice interjected. "All you do is doodle some flowers onto nails and call it a day. What about that is worthy of awe?"

Even without turning, I knew what to expect.

My countenance soured. "And you think there's something awing about your talent? You literally shave people's legs."

Naru flinched. "I-I— Do not!"

"Oh, my apologies. You shave their arms too, right? And give them massages afterwards?" I gagged. "Can't believe I ever let a guy like that make me cry."

"You—"

"Consider yourself lucky, Naru." I stuck out my tongue. "The girl you brought to tears won't be needing your unnecessary services. Waste that time on your damn self. Trust me, you need it."

"Y-you—you—" Uncharacteristic to his supposedly scary glare and accusatory index finger, his voice cracked. Seconds later, tears swelled and pooled over his cheeks. He fell into a squat, burying his face between his palms. "You don't have to be so mean. . . !"

I fluttered my lashes.

Hachi timidly tapped my arm. "Shiina, I feel bad. This is the second time you've made him cry."

I puffed my cheeks, his pathetic sobs ebbing at my sanity. "The jerk insults as easy as breathing. It's a taste of his own medicine. If anything, he should have a backbone big enough to handle it."

"But Rumi insults everyone!" Hachi defended. "It's his childish way of getting his feelings across."

My frown deepened as Naru wailed louder. If he cried like that, obviously even I'd start to feel bad. But why should I? He had it coming after everything he said to me. I wouldn't. . .

"B-but I'm the bigger meanie," Naru immaturely sobbed between choking breaths. "I had no right saying what I did. No wonder you h-hate me. I-I'm scum. This earth's dirt."

My stomach lurched.

I would not. . .

"I-If anyone should disappear—if anyone's a hindrance—it's me! I'm a crybaby who can't even be honest to himself or others. I have no right to live—"

"Don't say that!"

Cave. . .

Crouched in front of him, I pried his palms from his cheeks. I was rambling before my mind could catch up—my lungs squeezing in my chest. "I don't like you. I don't, but, you shouldn't say something like that. Even if you can't be honest, that's no excuse to say you don't deserve to live. There's not a single person who should ever think that! Even if it's hard—even if you can't fit in, and it's difficult not to succumb to those negative thoughts—that's the one thing you shouldn't. . ."

I didn't realize my vision had blurred—that I'd left Naru shell-shocked—until the words stopped flowing.

I stiffly batted the waterworks away, alongside the smiling face that came to mind. Then, I rectified my poise, which left a gigantic crater in replace of my heart.

""I didn't know she was a comedian." Shh, Taka. I'm sure we shouldn't read too much into this all. Besides, wouldn't this count more as melodrama than comedy?"

"The only remotely funny thing here is the fact that they're using school property to be so bold out in the open."

"Miyake, you're embarrassing the poor girl! I think her acting was stellar! Brought me to tears in one swoop."

My cheeks scorched as bright as a molten lava. And when I gandered upwards to locate the owners of the voices, having a swarm of charming individuals—the rest of the Beautician Boyz—lined up and watching this all unfold, only inclined my mortification.

Naru, sharing in my embarrassment, blushed darker than I thought possible. He rid his tears with firm swipes of his arm against his eyelids, and was up on his feet thereafter. His frown returned, much gloomier than before. If not for his reddened eyelids, nobody could ever guess he'd been wailing like a neonate moments prior. "I've forgotten," he declared. "Mr. Waka summoned me to his office for a quick meeting about my class rep duties."

"He's playing it off," Upperclassman Miyake deadpanned.

"Typical Narumi," laughed a boy of snow white hair and the gentlest smile known to man.

I straightened my posture amid their conversation, which left me vulnerable when Naru's gaze sourly left his peers and flickered onto me.

He hadn't expected for our eyes to lock, proven by how dramatically he recoiled. Another blinding blush enveloped every inch of visible skin. Ducking his head, he stumbled over his feet and speed-walked for the exit. Slamming face-first into the adjacent wall on his way out jolted all spectators in the gymnasium, but seconds later, as if it had never happened, he successfully sprinted out of sight.

Banri, after bidding the nearby student he'd been conversing with about preparations for the upcoming show, joined his peers. His eyelids fluttered slowly. "Did Jin just leave?"

"Ban-Ban!" Hachi interjected, darting his arm into the air. "Rumi got owned by Shiina and will probably be out crying about it for the rest of the week!"

All eyes shifted to me. I blushed harder.

Banri's features fell in disgust. "He cries way too much. It isn't beautiful at all."

"Narumi's just very honest," a brunet replied. Fixed onto his face was a pair of glasses, shielding his bright green eyes. "There isn't anything wrong with that."

"What's beautiful isn't beautiful," Banri enunciated. "Issei, if you're going to protect him, you'll be in charge of satiating his mood swings—every hour of every day—to make sure he isn't tarnishing our group's name."

"No, anything but that!" 'Issei' pleaded, clasping his palms together. "I have an important audition next week! Babysitting Narumi would only get in the way."

"Nobody will be babysitting Jin," Upperclassman Miyake interrupted. "He's old enough to take care of himself. Even if he may not act like it. . ."

He sighed.

"Hachiko, Juro, drag him back here by the neck if you have to. We don't have long until the show. I won't have any slackers ruining it."

"Aye aye, boss!" Hachi saluted.

The white haired teen, Juro, remained smiling, blue eyes soft. "That request is a lot more complicated than you make it seem, Kenji, but all right. We'll try."

Hachi and Juro vacated the room at that.

Kenji expunged another loud breath and turned toward the redhead with gorgeous bicoloured eyes. The last thing I expected was for Kenji to move his hands in a manner that caught my breath. Sign language?

The redhead responded with a few signs of his own and a nod, and the two departed toward the other students idling in the vicinity.

"Takaya is deaf."

I nearly jumped at the voice. Issei stood at my left. It was clear from his demeanour that he tried to say it in the gentlest way possible, though his grin sufficiently got his intentions across.

"He's pretty good at reading lips or body language so he does understand most of our interactions, but we all still use JSL around him to the best of our ability. His talents are incredible, by the way. He isn't ranked third in popularity for no reason."

I blinked rapidly. "Po. . .pularity?"

"The official Beautician Boyz popularity list," Issei said, as if it was blasphemous of me to ask. He rummaged through the bag slung over his shoulder and surfaced a bright purple magazine. "This book not only describes the group's overall achievements, but each member's as well. It also contains behind the scene photos, interviews. . . Not to mention a tier list of the Member Girls Want To Date Most to Least—all available at the school store for a measly 500 yen! It's a steal."

"Kisa has better things to do than read a book like that," Banri interjected, snatching it before I could get the chance. "Besides, everything in there isn't accurate since our fans made most of it up."

I slipped the book from Banri's fingers while he was preoccupied with his spat with Issei. They had fans who made magazines like this? Wow, they really were popular.

"Jeez, Banri." Issei pouted. "No need to be so bitter because they ranked you fifth on the list."

Banri's eyebrow twitched. "I don't want to hear that from someone ranked last."

"At the end of the day, it's about preference," Issei defended with raised arms. "I'm fine with being the least liked member because it does nothing for the amount of love I have for myself."

I grazed the very list they were talking about.

Upperclassman Miyake's face was pasted first. Followed by Juro Ando, Takaya Watanuki, Jin Narumi, Banri Taniguchi, Hachiko Ogami, and Issei Enatsu. Alongside the images, the statistics of girls who voted, and potential date ideas or astrological compatibility was recorded also.

It took a lot of meticulous work to comprise, that's for sure.

"But it hurts you because you work harder than anyone to be perfect. After all, perfection is the pinnacle of beauty according to you, right?" I woke up to Issei chastising Banri. "Maybe the true reason you don't want Kisaragi to read that book is because you don't want her to see you as anything but."

My shoulders stiffened. I shifted my attention back onto the two. Banri wasn't looking too bright—opposite to an indifferent Issei.

"You've haven't changed since you joined, Banri," Issei continued. "Always jumping right into things, caring only of what's beautiful or not. We've done dozens of shows with people you shove at us—certain they're what you're looking for—only to end up disappointed. But you've come to realize it, haven't you? That people aren't perfect. That there's no such thing as a 'beautiful world'. That what you're looking for—the mirage of Noir that you keep chasing—is something you'll never reach. Not with Shiina, or anyone else."

Countless emotions swarmed across Banri's face. A multitude of arguments he could've expelled. Yet, in that moment, he was tongue tied; speechless. It was the first time I'd ever seen that kind of expression.

However, before I could process it, he'd spun around and stamped out of the room.

"Banri!" I called instinctively.

I dogged him without thinking, out of the back entrance of the gymnasium and into the school courtyard. Utilizing fast strides, I caught up with him soon enough.

"I'm selfish, Kisa," he said before I could get a word in. I screeched to a halt, gazing at his shoulders that seemed so small at this moment. "Shoving all these thoughts and opinions onto you, a girl I barely know. You should've told me off."

I smiled, albeit barely. "I tried. But you're pretty hardheaded."

He snorted. Then faced me, a half-grin upturning the corners of his mouth. "That's one of my flaws. Once I make up my mind, it's impossible to change it. Even when I know I'm wrong—that I messed up—I've conditioned myself to follow through with what I believe anyway."

My hold on Issei's book tightened; I'd taken it with me by accident. "There's nothing wrong with that. I wish I could stick to my beliefs so strongly."

"But humans aren't perfect." He gazed up at the near bare tree ahead, and fallen leaves scattered around us. "I know that better than anyone. That outward appearances are deceiving. That shoving my beauty ideals onto strangers is nothing but my selfish desire."

I bit my lip.

"What even is true beauty?" he asked. "Is it something that can be measured by others? Is it something that clothes alone can create? It's all wishful thinking. It's not like I'm God. I can't put clothes together and somehow think that those who wear them will somehow be rid of their insecurities and flaws. Pieces of fabric aren't enough to conceal the ugliness of human nature. The fabric I even work with is something I can only receive because the rich exploit the poor into making them, while they alone suffer in silence. And even the clothes that circulate in malls—the fashion industry as a whole—focus only on certain beauty standards. To the general public, there's only one calibre of beauty, and the world scrambles desperately to attain it. People do incomprehensible surgeries, bleach their hairs and skin, admonish the way their eyes or noses or mouths—or something as simple as the way they smile—look, all to get closer to the very word. . . Beauty itself is an ugly word. But Noir's definition of beauty—his world—was different."

There it was again. That name. "Noir?" I asked.

"He's a legendary stylist and fashion designer," Banri elaborated. Albeit brief, a flicker filled his eyes. "He challenged the entire fashion industry with each and every one of his designs. Since Western countries as well as most of the world prefer fairer complexions, and certain hairstyles, he worked with individuals of various ethnicities and races to style clothes for them, and only them. To plus-sized women who were insecure to wear clothes designed specifically for the thin, to boys who are expected to only rock masculine styles, he contributed insurmountable ideas to abolish that. He revolutionized the entire definition of beauty that the fashion world had culminated with needles and fabric alone.

"His definition of beauty went against the entire fashion industry that only focused on a small population. He validated flaws and insecurities people held toward themselves for not fitting in, and gave them a place to belong. Of course, clothes alone aren't enough to change the entire fashion standard, but for people who for the longest time didn't see themselves reflected, or their insecurities accepted, he granted it to them. His world was much, much more beautiful than the fashion mainstream today. Growing up with my family who worked as models, I admired it. I wanted to make a world like that, too."

His spirits fell.

"But actualizing that dream is a lot harder than I thought. I can design clothes; tailor preexisting ones to the people I meet on a daily basis, but there isn't a guarantee I'm abolishing all their insecurities and flaws like Noir could. I think it's because the word 'beauty' is so vague, and convoluted, I lost sight of my dream along the way. What exactly is this world I want to create? What is this beauty I want to realize? I'm not sure. I haven't been sure for a while now. By pursuing Noir's world as my own, maybe I'm limiting myself in ways I shouldn't be. In that case, I should forget all about Noir's world, and. . ."

"I want to see this beautiful world you want to make, Banri." My words dealt a punch I wasn't expecting. "It's tough creating a world like that. You can try representing every living person in your designs, but it's impossible. Beauty is hazy, after all, and depends on the individual. What someone finds ugly, another will wear proudly. But while I say that, I don't think you should forget Noir's contributions either."

I gazed at the book in my hand, at the images and clothes Banri had both styled and tailored from scratch. The wide variety—its magnificence.

"I don't know the first thing about fashion, but if Noir did give these people a place to belong, what's wrong with idolizing that? He's way better than stylists who only focus on the mainstream, for sure."

"But this entire time, what I've made thus far have been my conceited ideals," Banri protested. "I've only been thinking of myself, not others. Deluding myself into thinking I was doing people a favour like Noir, when I haven't done a thing. I'm—I'm nowhere near as talented as him, and—"

I pinched his cheeks, lodging his voice in his throat. Bug-eyed, he stared at me, all the while I sighed.

"So what if you're not?" My face fell. "Jeez, you're putting too much pressure on yourself. We're still in high school. You have so many more years to figure out what you want to create. This whole thing about selfish desires and ideals. . . Who cares about stuff like that. Make what you want. If people like you for it, good. If they don't, too bad for them. Like I said, I want to see the world you imagine. So when you do finally make it a reality, no matter how many years down the line, I need you to also be there, happy as well. What fun is a world likes yours if you yourself are too busy stressing about the achievements of some extremely old dude?"

I released his skin from my clutches, glad to have gotten it all out of my chest.

Him clutching my shoulders with newfound force took me off guard.

"Wh—wha—"

"I wasn't wrong."

Open-mouthed, I fluttered my eyelids. "Banri?"

"Kisa, you really are everything I've been searching for."

Seeing it, the awed look in his eye I'd grown vastly familiar to, I popped a nerve. "Oi."

"How could I be so wrong?" he murmured, heart-eyed. "You're all I need! If I stay by you, my dream won't just be a fantasy."

"Are you an idiot?" I had to ask.

He was, but I needed confirmation.

More importantly, did he totally not listen to a single thing I'd said?

I slumped my shoulders.

Banri Taniguchi. . . what a guy I'd gotten myself involved with indeed.

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