Leaning her head back away from me, her dark chocolate brown eyes gazed up into mine for a moment.  “Please excuse me!”  Suddenly those captivating eyes vanished and I heard her running behind me.

Freezeframe

Copyright  © 2010 Kaho Nakamura

DISCLAIMER:   All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.   Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

The first time I saw her, I was quite surprised.   She looked very young, surely not much older than my own sixteen years.   I am not particularly tall for a Japanese model at 158 centimeters, yet this girl was several centimeters shorter. She had her long black hair tied in a braid, and was wearing a t-shirt and faded blue jeans.   Honestly, she really looked like nothing more than some cute ragamuffin they had pulled in from off the street.   Yet, according to my manager, this little girl was one of the top fashion photographers in Japan.   As a matter of fact, her camera looked like it was too large for her to carry.

I was just starting under contract with Japanese clothing maker Underlove.   They wanted me to model some of their Misses and Junior sized fashions for their on-line catalog.   The company catered to teen and college-aged girls, and I expected this job to be good for my modeling career.

My manager, Morimoto Maya-san, and I had arrived at the studio with plenty of time before the shoot.     As a result, my makeup was ready, and I was already in the first outfit when the photographer, Iseya Ume, arrived.   Honda Mae, the company representative, was on site coordinating the shoot and took a moment to introduce us.

“Chikamatsu-san, this is the photographer, Iseya Ume.   Iseya-san, Chikamatsu Satoko is the model you will be working with today.”

“Please take good care of me, Iseya-san,” I said, bowing to her.

“Ah!   Yes, please take good care of me as well,” Iseya-san replied as she bowed back to me.   Her tiny, soft voice matched her appearance.

With that, Honda-san led me over to the 'set' where the shoot was to take place.   I stood there waiting, watching Iseya-san as she setup her camera and tripod.   Then without warning, she took the first picture.   Then she took another.   Obviously, this girl was going to start without me.   Putting my mind on the task at hand, I started posing, shifting my pose a little after each shot.   After about ten shots, she paused and looked at me for a few minutes without saying anything.   Then she resumed taking pictures, all without a word spoken to me.

* * *

“Thank you for the hard work!” Honda-san called after us as Morimoto-san and I were walking out the door.

I barely registered the comment.   The photo session was very different from any I had worked on before.   Usually the photographer has an idea of what kinds of pictures they want, and directs the model in the poses needed.   Iseya-san never said a word, nor did she ever leave her camera.   It was up to me to decide what pose was appropriate.

“Well!   That was something!” commented Morimoto-san after we had gotten into her car and pulled away from the curb.   “What an unusual photographer!”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”   There was something bothering me, but I couldn't put my finger on just what it was.   Seeing that I was deep in thought, she said nothing more and drove on in silence.

* * *

It was a few days after the shoot that I walked into Morimoto-san’s office to find her talking on the phone.

“–okay, I will have her there in an hour or so.”

As she hung up the phone, I asked, “What’s up?”

“Underlove is unhappy with your pictures from a few days ago.   They want you to retake the shoot since they feel the photographer treated you much differently than she did any of the other models.”

“I see.   Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

Once again, I was in the studio.   I was sitting in the chair while the makeup artist worked on my face when Iseya-san walked in.   Upon seeing me, she walked over and quietly watched as I was finished up.

“Here you go,” said Honda-san handing me an outfit to put on as I stood up from the chair.   It was an airy blouse and skirt combination and looked to be the same set I wore for the last shoot.   As I was pulling the curtain shut on the little changing area to the side, I noticed that Iseya-san remained watching my every move.

“Iseya-san, don’t you need to setup?” I heard Honda-san ask.

“Ah, yes.   Thank you.”

As I changed clothes, I wondered how someone so spacey could be such a great photographer.   Did she behave this way all the time?   Maybe I needed to see how she behaved around other models.   It could be that she just didn’t like me for some reason, though for the life of me, I could not think of why this would be the case.

As I stepped out of the little changing room, I looked right into the eyes of Iseya-san.   Hmm, maybe it isn’t a case of dislike after all.

“Oh good, you are ready,” said Honda-san as she turned to look at me.   She took me by the arm and led me over to the set.   “Here you go.   Do your best!”

As she walked away, I looked at Iseya-san.   She was fidgeting with her camera, and I could see a tint of pink on her cheeks.   How very interesting!

Finally, she finished whatever she was doing with her camera and looked up at me.   The pink on her cheeks darkened a little, and I thought to myself, I wonder.

“Re–Ready?” she asked just barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I replied softly back and assumed a pose.   During the last shooting, I had tried to present myself as a carefree cute young girl.   This time, on a whim, I chose poses that were a bit sexier.   I imagined the camera as the eye of a potential lover, as someone to seduce gently with my appearance and poses.

After ten or twelve pictures, Iseya-san stepped back from her camera.   With a quick glance my way, she said, “Please excuse me!”   Suddenly she ran for the door.

“Iseya-san!” called Honda-san as Iseya-san opened the door and went into the hallway.   “I wonder what is wrong with her?” she asked as she looked at me.

“I will go check on her,” I replied as I walked to the door.   “Maybe she is not feeling well.”   Stepping out into the hallway, I closed the door behind me.   I looked both ways and saw Iseya-san standing in front of the vending machines.   Stepping back into the studio for a moment, I grabbed my purse.   Then I walked down to where Iseya-san was standing.

“Eep!” she chirped when she noticed me walking up.   The pink that had started to fade from her cheeks flared back with a vengeance.

“Are you ok?” I asked.   “Can I buy you a coffee?”   I reached into my purse and took out some coins.   Feeding them into the machine, I gestured for her to make a selection.   Taking a good look at her as she hesitantly selected an item from the machine; I thought to myself, she really is cute!

As soon as she had removed the can of coffee from the machine, I fed some more coins in and selected a coffee of my own.   Opening it, I leaned against the machine and looked at her.

Glancing up, she became aware of my gaze, looking back down at the can in her hand, she said, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You are most welcome,” I replied, watching her face.   By now, it was very red, and I was afraid she might faint.   “You look like you might have a fever, are you not feeling well?”   I stepped over in front of her, noticing that she had a very cute nose.   Pay attention Satoko! I scolded myself.

As I leaned forward and touched my forehead to hers to check her temperature, she stammered, “I–I–maybe I am not feeling well after all!”   Leaning her head back away from me, her dark chocolate brown eyes gazed up into mine for a moment.   “Please excuse me!”   Suddenly those captivating eyes vanished and I heard her running behind me.

Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the studio door closing.   That could have gone better.   Leaning against the vending machine again, I watched the studio door as I finished my coffee.   As I was putting the empty can in the garbage container, I saw Iseya-san come out of the studio with her camera equipment.   With a quick glance at me, she turned and walked down the hallway toward the exit.

Deciding I had done enough damage for today, I went back into the studio to see if I still had a job.

“Ah, Chikamatsu-san!” exclaimed Honda-san as I walked in.   “It seems that Iseya-san is not feeling well, so we will need to reschedule the shoot.”

“Okay,” I replied.   At least they aren’t blaming me for this setback.   A thought hit me, “Honda-san, Iseya-san looks so young.   How old is she?”

“Hmm, I believe she is seventeen years old.   I know she is in her second year of high school.”

I was stunned and a bit confused.   On the one hand, since she was a professional photographer, I expected her to be older than that.   On the other, she looks so young.   Since I was in my first year of high school, she was technically my senpai.

“Honda-san,” I asked, “Is Iseya-san doing any other photo-shoots with Underlove?”

“No, she has finished all of her other assignments with us.   Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if I could watch her do a photo-shoot where I was not the model.   Maybe I can get a better idea of how to work with her.”

“That isn’t a bad idea.   I will check around and see if I can find out when and where her next job is.   I will contact you through Morimoto-san.”

“Thank you very much!” I said, bowing to her.   Since the photo-shoot was effectively over, I went to the little cubical and changed back into my street clothing.   Morimoto-san had an annoyed look on her face when I came out.

“I don’t understand why they don’t just find a different photographer,” she said crankily.

Realizing that she was just ranting and not really talking to me, I tuned her out as I usually did.   She would go on like this all the way back to her office.

* * *

A few days later, I was wandering around my high school at lunch.   I had already eaten and still had some time to kill.   A certain photographer was still very much on my mind.   I had not heard back from Honda-san yet.   It was my suspicion that Iseya-san didn’t behave around other models the way she did when I was in front of the camera.   The only way to be sure though was to try to watch her work without her knowing I was around.

As I rounded the corner, I came face to face with a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.   Next thing I know, I am falling backward as the owner of those eyes collided with me.   “Aah!” I cried out as I fell.

“Gyah!” a soft voice echoed.   Then we hit the floor.   I saw stars as the back of my head lightly hit the floor.   When I got my wits back, I realized that I had my arms around a small body and that a curtain of black hair fanned out to cover us.

“I am so sorry!” cried Iseya-san as she pushed herself up.   Then she froze as she got a good look at my face.   “Sa–Satoko, I mean, Chikamatsu-san!”   She finished climbing off me and then helped me to my feet.

“Satoko is fine.”   I replied as I straightened my uniform.   “May I call you Ume in return?”   When she nodded, I continued, “I didn’t realize that Ume was a senpai in my own high school.   I am quite surprised.”

“I am surprised as well to find Satoko here.”   Ume looked me over, noting that my scarf was a different color than her own.   A little bit of pink had started appearing on her cheeks.   I am sure my own cheeks had not just a little bit of pink on them from the memory of having my arms around her body.   “If Satoko will excuse me, I need to visit the toilet before class starts.”

“Yes.   It is time I returned to my classroom as well.   See you!” I turned and walked back to my classroom, pondering the stroke of luck at finding Iseya Ume attending my own high school.

* * *

I got a call from Morimoto-san the next day as I was finishing cleaning duty at school.

“The photo-shoot for Underlove is rescheduled for the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay, I can do that.”   That would be Saturday, which was a half day at my school.

“Do you still want to watch Iseya-san do a photo-shoot?” Morimoto-san asked.

“Yes.   Why?”

“Honda-san emailed me with details on Iseya-san’s next shoot.   Come by today and pick it up.

“Okay!”

* * *

Arriving fifteen minutes early seemed like the best plan.   When I walked into the studio, I saw that Ume had not yet arrived.

“Are you the observer that Honda-san mentioned?” a woman asked me as she walked up.

“Yes, where can I watch from?”

“Honda-san said that it would be best if Iseya-san didn’t know you were here, so let’s first disguise you.   Then you can stand in with my crew.”   She led me over to the wardrobe rack.   A few minutes later, I was dressed down like the rest of her crew with my long brown hair tucked up in a cap.   She even put a pair of fake glasses on me.

Ume walked in a few minutes after that.   The makeup artist and wardrobe technician had model ready.   Evidently, Ume and this model knew each other, because they casually greeted each other before going to their places.

The Ume who photographed this model was a completely different person than the one who tried to photograph me.   Gone was the silence and shyness.   Ume was very strict and direct on how she wanted the model to pose.   At one point, the two of them got into an intense argument, which I think would have come to blows if the model’s manager had not interfered.

This Ume looked just like my Ume.   But the personalities were so different.   I just could not reconcile the two.   Why did Ume act the way she did around me?   My subconscious offered up an answer, but I rejected it as impossible.

I stayed in the background the rest of the photo-shoot.   The last thing I wanted was for Ume to discover me here.   I didn’t know how she would react, or how it would affect how she did her job.   Finally, she was finished taking pictures and put away her camera equipment.   In my carelessness, I had become mesmerized with her taking pictures.   Too late, Ume’s eyes made contact with mine as she was walking toward the door.

“Sa–Satoko!” she exclaimed, coming to a halt.

“Hello Ume,” I returned.   “Would you like to get some coffee?”

When she just stood there looking at me like a lost child, I walked up and took her arm, leading her from the studio.

“What are you doing here?” she asked once she got her wits together.

“I wanted to watch you work.”   I led her outside and over to some nearby vending machines.   “Milk coffee?” I asked as I pushed the button for the kind she had purchased before.   I was actually surprised that I had remembered.

“Um, yes thank you,” she answered, taking the can from the machine.

Once we both had a coffee, I lead Ume across the street into a park I had noticed.   Sitting down on a bench, we drank our coffees in silence.   Glancing over at Ume’s face, I saw that she had a slight blush.   Fortunately, it didn’t seem too out of control.

Looking at my can of coffee, I asked, “Ume, why?”

I heard a little gasp.   Silence settled around us as I watched a girl a little younger than us walk through the park.   She had caught my attention because though she was clearly Japanese, she had such unusual dark red hair.

“She’s cute, but you are cuter,” Ume whispered beside me.   My head whipped around so that I was looking at Ume, who was sitting there looking at me.

“Tha–thank you!”   Looking at Ume was dangerous I was learning.   I had a bad tendency to get lost in her eyes.   “Ume–.”   I stopped because she had stood up and walked around in front of me, turning to face me.

Bending over a little bit she said, “Satoko, please do not be too shocked, but I like you a lot.”

Now it was my own turn to gasp.   I had unconsciously suspected such, but had refused to accept it.   “M–Me too!   I like Ume a lot too!”

Ume smiled and placed her hands on my shoulders.   Slowly she leaned over and kissed me.

* * *

I assumed the next pose.   I could see Ume behind the camera, looking at me through the lens.   From the first picture, she had not said a word to me.   She didn’t need to.   I knew what my Ume wanted to see.   After each shot, she would wait however long it took for me to get into the next pose.   Several pictures and wardrobe changes later, the camera signaled that the memory card was full.

“Good work you two!” exclaimed Honda-san.   “These are going to look great!”

Ume smiled at me over the camera as she started to take everything apart and put it away.   With a smile of my own, I turned and headed for the changing cubical.   By the time I had changed, Ume was already gone.

“Do you want a ride home, or just back to my office?” Morimoto-san asked as we walked out of the building where the studio was.   Down at the street, Ume was finishing putting her equipment into her manager’s car.   As the car drove away, Ume turned and held out her hand.

“No, I don’t need a ride today,” I told Morimoto-san.   Walking down to take Ume’s hand, I asked, “So, where are we going?”   Today, Ume was taking us out on our first date.

* * *

Author's Notes:
I made use of a couple of Japanese words in this story that I want to take a moment to define.  The "-san" suffix is a respectful way of addressing someone, and is used in place of "Miss", "Mrs", or "Mr".  The other Japanese term, "senpai", in this usage refers to someone in a higher grade level.

Technically, this story takes place in my Fox Tales universe, though the story itself is devoid of magic and supernatural creatures.