From Sailor Moon Flash!
| Featuring: | Tsurian, Li-Nian, Kenrou |
| IC Date: | February 2002 |
| Status: | Completed |
| Summary: | Lordly Elder Brother Authority Figure Amakusa Kenrou entirely by accident collects demure, well-behaved young ladies as younger sisters who require his expert guidance and direction. |
Like all good Japanese, Kenrou was of the belief that calling attention to someone publicly shaming themselves was the height of rudeness. If they were to lose face all on their own, that was their problem, but acknowledging it made it more real and a part of one's own honor to repair the slight; thus, he fully intended to let his eyes glaze inconsequentially past the lovely young woman weeping on the Ikebukuro platform so as to not cause the poor girl further shame. It had been a busy morning of meetings with tiresome publishing contacts, and he was looking forward to a quiet afternoon in the studio before Chikara was home.
Unfortunately, the girl, tears streaming down her face, took two steps backward to look up at the overhanging clock to collide with him, and the ability to ignore her was lost when she whirled, horrified, to stare up at him with watery indigo eyes. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she pleaded, almost flinching away. "I -- I missed the Ginza train, and the Ginza train is the only one I know, and I can't -- I'm sorry, I just wanted to know what time it was for the Ginza train, but it's another hour and I'll be so late and I --" She broke off, burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs.
Kenrou considered his newly-acquired duty, and reached into the pocket of his coat. Withdrawing a packet of Kleenex, he held them out to the crying girl. "Please take these, young lady," he instructed. "Dry your tears and calm down." He smiled at her as she obeyed, and glanced at the clock. There was still plenty of time to make his own train after he attended to this minor matter.
"The Ginza train does not have another stop here for another hour, it is true," he said aloud, noting that his voice pulled her attention away from her tears. Most commendable. "Perhaps there is an alternate, if circuitous, route to your destination. Where, exactly, did you intend to go, young lady?" His hand tucked back into his pocket, closing around his cell phone. He did not pretend to hold the entire train schedule of all of Tokyo in his brain - it being filled with other matters more suited to his contemplation - but Tsurian-kun had, if not the entire schedule, a great portion of it tucked away in her mind. A quick call to her would set things right, he was certain, and then the young woman could be sent on her way, and he might go his, honor and duty satisfied.
"Hibiya," she whimpered out weakly, her tears subsiding to stare at him with wide eyes over the tissue held shyly over the bottom half of her face. Her attention was fully on him, now, and she was calming; very good. "I have to go home to Hibiya."
He nodded slowly and smiled at her as he would at any wee kitten that had lost her way. "The Yurakucho line will go to Hibiya, and it will be departing in only a few minutes. Will that suffice, to send you home?"
The young woman nodded vigorously, her whole face suddenly alight with happy beauty. "That's wonderful! That is just what I need, thank you." Still she hovered, like a cherry blossom still fixed to the branch, and he looked at her again with that fixed, august smile. "Where is it, please?" she whispered, biting her lower lip.
He smiled at her, and indicated the sign over their heads. "It is this line, miss. In a few minutes, the train will arrive, and after the current passengers have alit, you may take your place within one of the carriages." He reflected that it had been a very long time since he had had to explain trains to someone - twenty years ago, with Katsumi-chan? Or perhaps only twelve years ago, for Mushio-kun. This lovely young lady had that same air of lost child to her, and no good Japanese could fail to respond to that.
The girl smiled brilliantly at him, her tears fading away, and Kenrou was well pleased that he had done his duty; she was calming and her sobs had stopped, so she was no longer in danger of further embarrassing herself. "Would you wait with me?" she asked hopefully, her dainty hands wringing together. "I'm afraid I'll miss the train."
Kenrou considered. It was presumption for the young lady to thrust herself on him this way, but the fact remained that, once thrust, he could not refuse her. To do so would deny all of amae.
Besides, it seemed entirely likely that if she were denied, she would again burst into tears: an unacceptable slight on his ability to soothe children in need.
Besides which all of the foregoing, this was in fact his own train, and thus it would not inconvenience him at all.
"Please wait with me," he repeated, casting her request in a more seemly direction. Surely a good example would bethink the young lady to mould her own behavior in like fashion; he settled on a topic likely to further soothe her and set her thinking like a proper and well-bred young lady. Ah. Of course. The family and in-group. "Please feel free to regard Us as in your own circle, miss, and let Us know if there is anything We might tell you to help settle your mind."
As soon as the words left him, her shoulders straightened and her chin tilted. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," she said, and her tone was utterly different; Kenrou was very gratified that indeed his own example had been so effective. "You are most kind. Might I offer you my card?" As if her tears had never been, she presented a silver card-case that was swiftly popped open and a business card presented for his perusal.
He bowed, accepted the card, and studied it as thoroughly as etiquette demanded.
Jade Dragon Enterprises. That sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps Tsurian-kun or chichiue had mentioned it, or perhaps Maroe-san had told him of the great zaibatsu in passing. He noted the address; apparently the young lady's office was directly across the park from his own building.
And then his eyes fell on her name-kanji. "Ei Reinen," he murmured, his brow creasing. This was not an ordinary name, surely - then his glance moved on the discreet furigana below them, and his puzzlement was solved. "Ying Li-Nian," he said aloud. Well, this would explain the deplorable lack of self-control necessary to a grown Japanese woman; however, now she was behaving in an exemplary manner. Clearly her time spent amongst the Japanese employees of Jade Dragon Enterprises had greatly assisted her.
He carefully placed her card in his own case, and in turn presented his own.
"Ying-san, please accept this," he said, secure that now they could continue properly. 'Li-Nian' - quite lovely, in Cantonese, but slightly less so with the Japanese reading. He considered how best to render it, absently, as he watched her take his card and study it in the most polite manner. Perhaps 'Reinen-san'? A small girl would be Rei-chan, of course.
Her eyes flicked over his card, and then she slipped it neatly away. She bowed, primly and perfectly, and Kenrou felt a brief swell of socially acceptable pride that his countrymen in her company were assuredly the epitome of all good Japanese to have taught a foreigner so well. "Thank you again for all of your assistance, Amakusa-san," she said with the humblest of modest propriety; indeed, she had learned her lesson, and was quickly attempting to regain face for her earlier display.
With a rush of air, the train they'd been waiting on arrived at the platform, and he waited calmly for the disembarking passengers to remove themselves from his path. Once clear, he graciously indicated that Ying-san should board before him, and considered his duty well-performed; she bowed again, still smiling that bright smile. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of occupying a seat near me, Amakusa-san? I would be most pleased to pass the long ride discussing art with you."
He had planned to spend the ride back composing return-poems for Chikara, but how could he honorably refuse a well-meant request on the behalf of a foreign young lady who required elucidation upon art? It was his duty by both giri and amae to incline his head and smile back. "Of course, Ying-san. Do you have any prior knowledge of Japanese art, or do you have another speciality?"
He guided her to a seat while speaking, making sure to seat her away from some young men who did not look especially worthy of serving as exemplars of Japanese youth.
She didn't even look so much as a moment at the rest of the passengers on the train, doing Kenrou the courtesy of providing him with her utmost attention. Perhaps even the Chinese could be considered mannerly, in some instances. "I am only passably familiar with the standards of form and composition, sir," the girl said demurely, painstakingly smoothing wrinkles from her suit's skirt as she sat with crossed ankles on the train bench. "However, I very much enjoy discussing aestheticism, and who better for a conversation partner than a talented artist himself?"
Satisfied with her manner and with her recovery, Kenrou inclined his head to her. "Ying-san is too kind," he said, while agreeing completely with her premise. He drew out his portfolio from under his arm and opened it over his lap. Drawing out several sketches, he guided her eye over different aspects of the works and was pleased when she followed intently. The art lesson comprised five stops, and Kenrou finally called a halt when his own stop was approaching. "I will need to depart here, Ying-san," he said, reclaiming a sketch from her hand, and then reconsidering as he glanced at it more closely. "I would be honored if you would keep this, Ying-san," he said, and smiled at her. "This kanji is 'giri', a concept you would do well to commit to your heart as you dwell in Tokyo. Please remember that your own stop is the one directly following this, and do not hesitate to ask any of the attendants if you have further trouble."
He stood up as the train slowed.
Li-Nian got to her feet as the train stopped and bowed primly; perhaps just a hair more deeply than propriety strictly demanded, but Kenrou considered that the young woman was still working to regain the face lost in her unfortunate spectacle in the station. "I am very grateful for your time and company, Amakusa-san. Thank you for your gracious gift." She slid the sketch neatly into a briefcase he hadn't noticed before and reclaimed her seat with a pleasant, shining smile..
He did not glance back at Ying-san after moving forward to depart, nor did he spare her any thought once he had left the station. It was not, in fact, until Tsurian-kun was sorting through his portfolio that he recalled the Chinese young lady at all.
"... you gave a sketch to a Chinese girl on the train to make her stop crying," Tsurian-kun said, staring at him.
"She had already recovered her good comport," he corrected her. "The sketch was meant to remind her to keep her self-control about her, lest such a thing threaten her peace of mind again."
"Did you get a receipt?" Tsurian-kun demanded.
"We did not feel it needful to document the change of hands of a mere sketch, Tsurian-kun," he said gently. She snorted, but returned no other answer, and Kenrou put the incident out of his mind entirely as he went upstairs, home to his beloved.
Yoshinaga Tsurian was minding her own business -- which, at the moment, consisted of minding Amakusa Kenrou's business -- when the door to the studio opened and some babe in a business suit walked in.
The business suit was lilac-colored -- can you beat that, lilac -- and Tsurian wasn't sure but she thought it was probably Givenchy. She knew the shoes were. Giou Ayame had pointed them out in a magazine a week ago and commented that they were world-beater shoes. Tsurian had to agree.
She had no idea what they, or their wearer, were doing in a calligraphy studio. People like this were supposed to be in ... ... ... ... somewhere not remotely connected to Boss.
"May I help you?" she asked, mentally running through all sorts of "okay, THIS is how you get to Ginza" and "Oh, I see, no, Amakusa-sensei doesn't do portraits, he's not that kind of artist".
She was, therefore, utterly nonplused -- no no no, le mot juste was "peeved", or maybe "sure that she was being mocked" -- when the lilac-suited, well-shod, impossibly pretty visitor politely asked if Amakusa-sensei was in, and if so might she take a moment of his time to discuss some artwork for the lobby of her company's headquarters.
Tsurian took a quick mental inventory of exactly how much that woman's wardrobe would have set her back, not to mention that alligator briefcase she carried -- wait, did they seriously still make bags out of alligator? Apparently so -- when she looked over the crisp, clean card the woman snapped out of its silver case. She'd heard of her company, of course, everyone had, and the sudden realization that an Amakusa piece might be hanging in their lobby sent Tsurian reeling.
She was totally going to get a raise out of this. It would rule.
"Have a seat," she offered grandly, putting on airs for the sole purpose of being able to laugh hysterically about it later. "I'll see if Amakusa-sensei is available."
The woman sat like a picture out of Miss Manners, legs neatly crossed at the ankle and everything, and Tsurian fought not to stare when she slid through the partitions into the work-room. "Boss," she hissed, "There's a really rich Ying-san with an alligator bag, I am dead serious, alligator bag here to commission work from you. You aren't busy."
Boss, being Boss, did not bat an eyelash at this. Tsurian checked a sigh. She'd hoped that maybe the alligator bag would throw him, but no such luck. She considered the possibility that Amakusa Kenrou wouldn't know what an alligator really was -- Boss's brain worked in mysterious ways, most of them orbiting around his august self -- but shelved it.
She was surprised that Kenrou stood up and preceded her out into the waiting area, himself.
"Ying-san," he greeted the woman. "We are pleased to see you again, in more felicitous circumstances."
The nice thing about being Boss's assistant was that it meant Tsurian could hover just outside of their sphere of notice and watch, fascinated. This wasn't the studio's usual clientele, which tended toward gaijin name-platers or old musty folks from old musty places wanting something impressively boring enough to pass for old and musty; no, this lady was excruciatingly well-do-to and representing an international corporation.
And Boss had left his other work to see her. Without an appointment. Without even batting an eye. Oh, this had to be good.
"The corporation is looking to meld the modern and traditional," Ying-san was saying, passing architectural drawings of the lobby-space in question while Boss looked like he was actually listening. "We want to present a contemporary business embracing its cultural roots. There had been mention of a fountain and a garden, but I think some calligraphy scrolls, especially those of Amakusa-sensei's skillful talent, would evoke exactly the right spirit."
Boss nodded, and reached for a fresh sheet of paper. He kept on smiling, which Tsurian (an old expert) categorized as Creepy Professional Smile #53: "please keep talking, I'm deigning to pay attention and require more input before We can dispense Our flawless wisdom and advice." He was sketching as he listened. Tsurian craned her neck, but couldn't see anything except a scrawled kanji in the upper corner.
She didn't need a piece of paper of her own to figure the commissions on these. Even small scrolls went into tens of thousands of yen, and several scrolls meant that Boss would probably celebrate by getting Ishino two horribly adorable little figurines.
She blinked as she caught the tail-end of what Ying-san had said. "-- and if Amakusa-sensei might find a way to incorporate 'giri' into the larger of this pair, I would greatly appreciate it, as his kind gift has been so inspirational to me."
... this was the crying Chinese girl from the train?
Tsurian couldn't give a toss about etiquette, and stared incredulously at the girl -- no, woman. To take Boss's word for it, the girl he'd given that sketch to was one of those simpery weepy types who couldn't even manage to get on and off the train properly, and the reality of the situation was a smart, sharply-dressed businesswoman who probably had about the same concept of money that Boss did, judging by her shoes. Her wide, shocked gaze flicked from this Ying-san to Boss and back again. He couldn't be serious. Not even Boss could be this retarded.
Maybe, thought Tsurian wildly, it was a different woman that Boss met on a different train and gave a different sketch! Yes, that had to be it, despite the fact that Boss never met anyone anywhere and certainly never gave them things.
Oh, her poor retarded boss. His penchant for perceiving things as completely contrary to actual reality, in favor of him being Lordly and August, had finally kicked his ass.
Luckily, she was here to save things. She cleared her throat and said brightly, "Would Ying-san like a cup of tea, or coffee perhaps?" Whatever Ying-san answered, Tsurian could take advantage of her absence to go and scream very loudly in exasperation out in the little kitchen-partition, and then she could come back in and shove Boss back into his sanctum to sketch and there would be no possibility for Boss to offend anyone, especially well-dressed and well-connected businesswomen.
"Oh, I would very much enjoy--" The way Ying-san broke off was kind of creepy, darting a look at Boss with those impossibly expensive-looking eyes. "--Tea," she finally said, and the pause was only noticeable because Tsurian was looking for something to explain the strangeness. "If it were not too much trouble for Amakusa-sensei's studio to provide such a thing. I am humbled by the generosity of the offer." She bowed at least twice, and Tsurian was grateful for the opportunity to flee to the kitchen and humbly fetch the humble concoction of humble tea whose humbleness humbled the humble.
Obviously, that much money made people weird. Just look at Boss.
Tsurian made tea, and hurried back, and pressed a teacup on Ying-san, just to stop her from looking at Boss as if she thought he knew anything. It didn't really work, and it made Ying-san thank her so profusely that Tsurian began to wish that she'd made the good tea instead of the stuff in bags.
Apparently, they'd concluded the business while she was gone, as Ying-san was already stowing sketches in her bag and standing up to leave. This mildly peeved Tsurian. Boss knew how she felt about him dealing with clients -- namely, that she preferred he never did it at all ever.
"And then I will come back next week to see Amakusa-sensei's progress. Tuesday at this time, if that's convenient," Ying-san finished, and somewhere inside her head, Tsurian wept at the idea that Boss could have gotten this far without her to make sure that he didn't do anything as insanely stupid as quote prices.
"Of course We will look forward to Ying-san's appointment," Boss said politely, and bowed shallowly to her. She bowed back -- very deeply, Tsurian couldn't help noticing; Boss always got bows that deep and it weirded her out every time -- and left. Tsurian watched, counting backwards, and made sure that the studio door closed behind her, and then listened for the elevator beep, and then she turned to Boss.
"Okay, so, ... you knew her, I'm guessing," she began, "although that can't be the Ying-san you told me about that you gave a sketch to, because this one was, you know, a normally functioning adult woman."
Boss gave her a gracious smile and turned to go back into his screened room. She could tell by the look in his eyes that Art was happening and if she talked any more at him he'd have to double-process, and that really unnerved her.
She sighed, and let him go, and blackly went back to her desk to make an appointment in her little book.
It was awesome that he'd gotten a commission from Jade Dragon Enterprises, but there was still something weird about this whole set-up.
She'd figure it out. She always did.
Ying Li-Nian, the perfect, shining ladylike bastion of all that glittered and gleamed about the high-profile corporate structure, arrived for her two o'clock appointment that Tuesday so precisely on time that Tsurian was a little weirded out when the buzzer sounded the very moment the second-hand swept past twelve. "Yoshinaga-san," she chirped brightly with a deep bow, "May I humbly request Amakusa-sensei's presence when he has a moment free?"
Tsurian considered something snappy in response -- that Hermès scarf alone deserved it, not to mention that where in the world did she manage to find a Versace suit in indigo -- but discarded it. She'd store it up and hit Boss with it all later, not that he'd notice. "He's waiting with your proofs in the studio. I'll show you back."
Tsurian hesitated a second before sliding open the screen into Boss's little haven of Being An Artiste, and dithered.
She hated dithering, especially when she knew that she knew what she was talking about. What was a Hermes scarf, anyway, compared to assuring Boss's commission?
"So," she said, not even trying to sound casual, "Amakusa-sensei hasn't quoted you any prices yet, has he?"
Ying-san actually tittered, for goodness's sake, bringing her hand up to demurely cover her mouth. "Oh gracious no, Yoshinaga-san," she said entirely too grandly. "I would never dare to bother the artistic grace of Amakusa-sensei with something as banal as money. One could never put a price on the honor Amakusa-sensei does our humble offices by providing us with such grace and tradition."
Tsurian considered what to say to this. On the one hand, it was absolutely awesome that here was someone who agreed with Tsurian's own opinion that Boss should never involved with money ever; on the other hand, ... ... ... it downright unnerved whenever people referred to Boss's artistic grace with a straight face.
"Sure," she said, finally, and yanked open the screen. "Ying-san is here to view the proofs."
Boss looked up, and smiled (Bland Professional Smile #14, Tsurian diagnosed: We Are Quietly Gratified At Punctuality), and rose in order to welcome Ying-san.
Tsurian shook her head and got the hell out before anyone could refer to anything as 'artistic grace'.
"I am so pleased to see you again, Amakusa-sensei," Li-Nian effused with several gratefully humble bows. "And allow me to say again how pleased my corporation is to have the opportunity to display Amakusa-sensei's work in our image." Then she paused, her expression dimming just a bit. "Wait -- I'm sorry, did she say proofs?"
Amakusa-sensei smiled at her serenely, radiating calm assurance. "Of course, Ying-san. We have several different themes prepared, and would be honored by Ying-san's selection from among them."
At the implication of choice, Li-Nian's face drained of all color as rapidly as if someone had pulled the plug on a drain. "Surely Amakusa-sensei has the piece chosen," she started, trying to maintain her business-like diction but dropping briefly into and out of shrillness. "Surely he would never expect such a humble girl as this one to decide which of his works are greatest." There were tears in her voice, and it broke in several places; there was no dropping out of the shrillness now. "Surely he is jesting with me, because I could never shame him by implying that any of his pieces are lesser."
Kenrou observed this in silence, his smile never wavering. "Ying-san," he said, when he judged that she was finished being unbecomingly shrill, "please be calm. This artist would never jest in matters of what Ying-san in this case possesses that this Amakusa does not: context. Ying-san would make a far better choice of which piece would best suit the lobby of her building, which this Amakusa has only seen in mind's eye from Ying-san's kind and thorough description."
Li-Nian wrung her hands together in her lap, cringing visibly. "It's just a lobby -- we could go, and you could see, and you could choose. Wouldn't that be better? Wouldn't it?" Her shrill pleas broke off with a shuddering breath, and when she spoke again her voice was hushed in terror. "What if I picked the wrong one?" She wept silently now, tears coursing down her cheeks.
Kenrou surveyed her in silence. This was, he reflected, what came of admitting persons of Chinese extraction to the realms of higher business.
It was not unreasonable to suspect, as well, the impact of art. The Chinese were susceptible to it.
He put aside such considerations and turned his attention to the fact that there was a weeping young lady in need of guidance.
"Ying-san," he said, smiling at her, "Please be calm. Ying-san could never make an incorrect choice. We will go through the proofs together and decide which one is best suited."
She looked at him with starry, tear-shined eyes, and meekly nodded, and settled down to listen as he carefully explained each artistic choice and nuance. As they came to the last, his personal favorite (incorporating as it did both 'honorable face' and 'duty to community'), he mentioned that he favored this piece the most.
Li-Nian seized on the suggestion like a drowning man grabs a rope. "Oh, it's perfect," she gushed in effusive relief, parroting terms that Kenrou had already mentioned about the shape of the lines and the use of negative space. "It's exactly what I wanted." All trace of the weeping, shrill girl was gone, though happy tears in more relief glittered in the corners of her eyes.
Kenrou nodded tranquilly. "There," he said, setting aside the other proofs and centering the selected one on his table. "Ying-san has made a most appropriate choice. Now, as to size and number --"
This proved to be too much for Tsurian-kun, who had been hovering just outside the screens for the past few minutes, ever since in fact Ying-san had begun to cry.
The screen was yanked most unbecomingly open and Tsurian-kun entered. "Ying-san was budgeted for three scrolls, two medium and one banner-sized," she said. She handed Ying-san a handkerchief and gave him a very cold look. "Although if certain people want to wave her off with trite sayings that have practically nothing to do with a certain corporation's published motto, she might want to reconsider those sizes so they can be hidden behind potted plants."
Kenrou said, gently, "Tsurian-kun may wish to lower her voice slightly; she seems to be upsetting the young lady."
Li-Nian stared for a moment at the handkerchief suddenly in her hand, looking from that to Tsurian and back again for several moments, utterly unable to form a coherent thought while Yoshinaga raged at her about incomprehensible business matters so soon after her emotional breakdown. Finally she spoke very slowly, as though she were feeling out each careful step in words. "Surely Yoshinaga-sempai is not implying that Amakusa-sensei would fail to provide his --" She broke off, lips pursed. "I could not even voice such a concern. Ani-ue would never steer this Li-Nian incorrectly, knowing how important it is that Daddy's lobby be perfect."
Tsurian's brain stuttered. She seized on the least blither-y bit of Ying-san's conversation, which happened to be the tail bit. "Daddy's lobby," she repeated, feeling petty vindication. Well, of course that was the deal; Ying-san's father was on the board of Jade Dragon Enterprises. No wonder she was weird. No wonder she went tittuping around in designer clothes and fluffy thoughts.
She wasn't going to think about the horrible part. She wasn't going to think about the horrible label Ying-san had called Boss. She wasn't going to think about this 'ani-ue' business --
Oh hell, she'd gone and done it. She fixed Ying-san with a gimlet eye and ordered her out of the room. "A million billion pardons and fawning on your ancestors, Ying-san," Tsurian said, absolutely radiating reassurance and iron control of the situation -- Yoshinaga-sempai, what the hell? -- "But a private word is needed with, er, Amakusa-sensei."
Ying-san's lovely face vanished behind the screen, and this was because Tsurian slid it closed so quickly it suggested slamming.
"BOSS," she hissed in a whisper, regardless of the fact that people unacquainted with stress would call it impossible to hiss whisperfully, "that woman is insane and also she called you ani-ue."
"Apparently Rei-chan is somewhat in need of guidance," Boss said serenely. "Tsurian-kun would do well to calm herself and give Rei-chan a much-needed example of how best to behave under trying circumstances."
Tsurian gaped at him, then said something very rude in Korean under her breath -- no one could swear like Koreans; no one else had cause to -- and slid open the screen again. "Okay," she said, giving up entirely. "Come on in."
Ying-san stepped back into the room beaming brightly as if nothing had happened. "Yoshinaga-sempai's Korean is very good," she offered with great and sincere compliment, "Though in my experience the 'nyun' tends to have a higher tone. Your 'bal' was very native; Yoshinaga-sempai could successfully negotiate a contract with any of the more discerning collectors of Seoul." Ying-san paused and beamed, eyes sparkling. "Of course, Ani-ue would only employ the most talented of businesspeople."
Kenrou did not pretend to understand what Tsurian-kun had been saying in Korean, but he was certain that it reflected shiningly on her learning and willingness to behave herself well in front of an impressionable little girl.
It was not done to behave so arrogantly as to accept praise for a full member of his batsu, and so Kenrou merely nodded in acknowledgement of the fact that Tsurian-kun was adequate to her duties. "Rei-chan is kind to say so," he said. "Will Rei-chan be taking a copy of the proof with her, or will it suffice to see the finished products delivered to the Jade Dragon Enterprises building in two weeks' time?"
The thing who had, much to Tsurian's utter incredulity, become 'Rei-chan' shook her head so vigorously that her hair bounced. "Oh no, Ani-ue. Would you deliver them, really? Daddy will be so pleased. Perhaps you could give me the proofs then, so I may keep a memento of your wonderful work." Tsurian wasn't sure if this was disgusting, creepy, or hilarious -- or perhaps all three, and that's why she wanted to throw up.
The feeling of utmost nausea increased one hundredfold when Boss -- BOSS -- said that of course he would be pleased to deliver the finished scrolls and a personally-drafted proof-set for Rei-chan in two weeks time.
What the -- but -- Tsurian took a deep breath and thought fixedly about the fees and the lovely lovely invoices she was going to get out of this, and clung to one ray of sunshine when Ying-san took her leave, glowingly so, of Yoshinaga-sempai.
Tsurian turned to Boss and said in what she hoped was a crushing, bringing-back-down-to-earth manner, "Your mother is going to hit the roof when she hears that you let some Chinese kid call you ani-ue."
She felt a brief pang of normalcy at Boss's gentle smile. "Tsurian-kun thinks so?"
"Fine whatever," she said, and hoped like hell that at least Ying-san would spread around Boss's name and refer him like mad, because if all Tsurian had to keep from this hilariously awful commission was one invoice, she wasn't going to buy any more JDE stock.
