Stranded in the Future

Chapter Eighteen: Drinking Night

A/N: If you've noticed that this chapter is before the seventeenth one, it's because they switch around no matter how many times I try to reorder them. 

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Saturday, 2 March 1985

Ichiro had fulfilled his end of the agreement by passing Kumiko's answer on to Futoshi, but he now felt disappointed that the older man had yet to make an effort to find more references.

Instead, he'd spent that time cleaning, tending to potted plants, and trying to cook rice under the supervision of Tsutomu. The last one had ended in much burning and the grating sound of a fire alarm, prompting Futoshi to rush into the kitchen with a water canister at the ready.

Now, he sat staring out the bathroom window while Kumiko finished drying his hair with some hot air machine. She disconnected it from the power source and returned it to the bathroom cabinet before reaching for the sealed yellow container near the sink.

"All right, it's time for the pomade," she announced with a gleeful smile upon creeping behind him again.

Ichiro raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?"

"Pomade. Men use it to style their hair, and I found this one on sale yesterday," Kumiko explained. "Let me know if you feel uncomfortable in any way."

She twisted the lid off, dug out some of the waxy substance with her finger, and then rubbed it between her palms. A feeling of peace came over Ichiro when she began to apply it to his hair, sweeping it back gently until her stopping prompted him to turn around.

"So, you're finished?" he asked while blinking.

"Yes. You can look in the mirror now."

Ichiro rose from the stool and approached the adjacent wall to study his reflection. His eyes widened in awe. "I... I actually look respectable," he remarked at the sight of how neat and shiny his hair had become. "Almost like a nobleman..."

"Well, that's what you are to me," Kumiko whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Now, could you wait outside for a few minutes? I need to put on my makeup."

"Makeup?" Ichiro glanced at her fair and unblemished skin. "You don't need it. You're already-"

"I do if I want to make the right impression. And, besides, it's easier than casting another illusion."

"Whatever you say." He supposed that a woman would have to look gaudy to be accepted by someone like Mrs. Konno, and he reassured himself with the knowledge that Kumiko would be barefaced again when they were in private.

Until then, he needed to focus on playing his part, which meant speaking suggestively to draw attention away from Kumiko and make it all the more surprising when she began to tell her story.

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Kumiko emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, as promised. Ichiro sprung away from the wall and stood to attention, prompting her to giggle.

"Come on, you don't have to be so serious. Think of this as just a casual outing."

"Of course." Ichiro allowed his shoulders to fall while noticing the light rouge on Kumiko's cheeks and that her lips were a brighter shade of pink. "You look nice, by the way. Odd, but nice."

"I'll accept the compliment," Kumiko said before reaching out to take his hand. "Are you ready to head downstairs?"

Ichiro swallowed his anxiety and nodded. "Yes. There's one more thing I should tell you, though."

"Oh, really? What is it?"

"Mrs. Konno doesn't know we're married, so we'll have to approach that subject carefully."