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It was a pretty slow day.

Which wasn't exactly weird, on account of everything seeming pretty slow when at night you were charged with being some kind of celestial heroine in the biggest cosmic joke to ever be. She had to admit there was some kind of rush involved in defeating monsters, even if every single one had been because of the help of an older sailor soldier, or just plain luck (to say nothing of the fires).

Still, despite nighttime sojourns, she still had a lot of work to do. Things had to be put in order after her parents' deaths, even if it meant she just had to clear up which lawyers were working on which estate. Her father's patents would last her for the rest of her life, and her mom had had substantial life insurance. Kaatje's style of living wasn't going to be greatly altered at all, but she still had things to do, like--

Like, was that Akio Yoshida?

She stopped, looked again, a little closer. It wasn't that she was tremendously experienced with J-pop, or really Japanese culture at all. When she was younger--thirteen or fourteen, maybe, she didn't remember--she had gone to Japan with her father for a few weeks, and this band "Banzai" had been all over the television, or at least the channels she was interested in. She thought, maybe, there might be a few songs on her iPod even now, but... with the way she recycled songs, there might not be. "Surreal," she said to herself, and then she cupped both hands around her mouth and said, "Hey! Are you Akio Yoshida?"

It wasn't that crowded, so he should be able to hear her... right?

Seriously surreal. When he wasn't posing in the mirror, it was pretty clear that the man was actually Akio Yoshida. He was older than she remembered seeing, but not that much older, and the years had been kind. (Really kind. He was cute.) This was, she reflected, the kind of thing that you could twitter about and people would be excited--maybe not her friends, no. Well, Cassia would care, because Cassia cared about everything. But still, this was interesting! Exciting!

And really, really surreal.

Okay, so he seemed a little arrogant, but that was okay. She held out a hand, presumably to shake, and you know if that had been all it was she would have been perfectly fine. But he kissed the back of her hand and she immediately flushed a shade of red that warred with her hair for color. "A-ah, um... Kaatje," she said, and suddenly her name seemed really bulky and that just made her irritated, which made her more embarrassed and then she was just mad. So she yanked her hand back and half-turned away, jerkily smoothed her hair behind one ear. "What're you doing in Destiny City, anyway?"

She winced. That came out a little more acerbic than she wanted it to. "Sorry," she said, a little reluctantly. "It's, uh, nice to meet you."

She watched his hands with her arms crossed over her chest, her whole manner a little irritatedly standoffish--but she was watching him with interest, her head tilted towards him a bit. His accent was a little hard to understand, because she wasn't as used to a Japanese accent as she was to Dutch or thick Manhattanite. It wasn't too bad, though; it was actually pretty okay, once you started really listening.
She snapped her fingers after a moment when it clicked: "Oh! Meadowview," she said in sudden comprehension, "You're going to Meadowview?"

An exchange program? Sounded interesting, and maybe someday she'd hear about it, but. "It's a good school," she said. "I go to Crystal Academy for Girls, up past Kingston Boulevard."

Okay now he was coming back towards her, and--he wanted to touch her hair? What? She knew it didn't look all that great today, but she hadn't thought she'd actually see anyone she knew (or wanted to know). "Hey," she said, holding up both hands, "My hair's just fine. It's just naturally like this! Really, it's fine."

At least he took no for an answer; she'd heard of celebrities who didn't, after all, and... well, yes. Self-consciously, she touched her curls in the shitty-a** messy bun, then forced her hands to drop back to her bag. Did it really look that bad that a complete stranger would want to fix it? Ugh. She hoped it didn't, she hated it when her hair looking sloppy. It made even the (expensive, trendy, custom-fitted) clothes she wore look terrible.

And, you know--well--

When she took his hand, it was with an air of well if you insist, bitchy and a little childish, but her tone was genteel enough. "Yeah, it's where they send all the old money girls. Some of us get in through scholarship--" and a high opinion she seemed to have of that! "--and the rest of us. Well."

With a preoccupied look, she stopped at the map of the mall. "I was going to go to a late lunch," she said, bending at the hips to read smaller text. She hated contacts, didn't like glasses, so just dealt with poor vision. "Would you like to come with me?" Sweetly. Kind of weirdly sweet, considering her temper a moment before. But whatever, it was all good, right?