Christina turned on her toes and listened to the whirring as hundreds of photos were taken. She knew that modern equipment really didn't sound like that, but she had asked for the sound-effect to make her remember those early days when they wrapped up a day with silly shots using a motorised camera. Neither she nor the other models made any real effort to glide in and out of real poses, but rather played like buffoons.

Sometimes a lucky shot got taken, and if the crew were really lucky they found it back at the studio.

“Wrap it?” the photographer asked, but it hadn't been a question. The more they played around the more work for very little gain they produced.

“Ageruman-san?”

She grinned at the model who had turned to her for confirmation. “Yeah, I think that's enough with the silly.” She beckoned for attention and the photographer looked up from his display.

“Yes?” This time it was a real question.

“Tonight is the last one for the club. Our field trip,” she added when he showed no understanding. “If you want I think I can convince the others to participate in some group shots for free. If you want something where you display the entire range.”

He stroked a stubbled chin. “Dunno. They're not pros.”

“Mm.” Christina tilted her head. “Just an idea. You could mix in the models I guess, but I can't promise they'll do it for free,” she laughed and pointed at the young man closest to her.

“You know, I'll ask the producer. It's not a bad idea, and I guess you're doing the fireworks and all that kiddie stuff.” The photographer waved at the model Christina had singled out. “What about it? We're stuck here until tomorrow and I'll throw in some beer and barbecue if we have an OK.”

“Sounds more fun than spending the entire evening indoors,” the model agreed. “I'll ask the others.”

Christina waited for the crew to pack up and walk away. She wanted some time for herself, but in the end the photographer remained on the beach with her. She gave him a surprised look when he waved to the rest of the crew to have his gear carried away. When she gave him another look she wasn't as surprised any longer. It was the ace one.

“You know, I don't believe you just happened to have that idea,” he opened. “You've played a crapton of stunts on us that were a hell of a lot smarter than what our producer planned.”

And here it comes.

“What's the deal?” he asked in response to her silence. He looked out over the water and lit a cigarette. “You know way too much of my side of the camera,” he said and blew out a long string of smoke. “First I thought you were studio family, but you know the clothes as well. Now that takes a lot of years.” He fell silent, and she knew he was fishing for a response.

I'll hold out a bit longer. Want to know how much he's guessed. She said nothing and stared at the sand where it glimmered the few metres between land and sea where waves rolled up and back again.

When he took up the one-sided conversation again it didn't exactly come as a surprise to her. “If I didn't know better I'd say you've been in the business for twenty or thirty years, maybe more, but that would be crazy, wouldn't it?”

That was far, far too close. With a few words he had pinned her entire professional life.

“Yeah, that would be crazy,” she said. I should have denied it flat out, but, oh well.

“There were some strange rumours, when I worked for Asahi Shimbun back in the days.” He drew a deep breath, inhaled some more and exhaled. “Way back in the days.”

He's a bloody journalist? But he's with the big agency here, I'm sure of it. She had to put a stop to this, or learn more. In the end curiosity won. “What kind of rumours?”

“I and a colleague followed a trail of strangeness that led us from Japan to Sweden. Real strange stuff.”

What the hell? “I don't understand,” she tried, but she knew that lie wouldn't float.

“Science fiction kind of strangeness. Nothing we could have published and kept our jobs. Hell, I wouldn't have believed it myself until I arrived back here.”

Despite the summer heat Christina felt something cold running up and down her spine. She slowly turned to him. “What would you not believe, more exactly?”

He stared back at her. “Nothing a school girls would understand. Nothing a cute thing like you should believe.” He drew another lungful of smoke and waited for her response.

She decided to let him finish. Nothing he said should surprise her anyway, but she wanted how much he knew.

“But if a beautiful schoolgirl wouldn't believe it, then maybe the Princess of Scandinavia?”

Christina knew she was gaping, but it didn't matter. “You're from back there?”

He kept his stare locked on her. “I arrived here almost thirty years ago. It took me some time to recognise you. Must have been just after your breakthrough.”

Thirty years? I was in Paris then. No, the big one in Japan after I broke up with that creep. That's when I got my nickname. “How old are you?”

She received a grin in response. “Older than you, in both worlds. Forty three here and sixty nine in total.”

Her clothes were already dirty, and it wasn't as if they were really her clothes. She sat down in the sand grappling with what he had just said. “How many of us are there here?”

“I don't know,” he said. He remained standing, but she could smell his cigarette. “Quite a few I guess.” The smell grew fainter, and Christina could hear his receding footsteps. “I'm not going to make any trouble for you, but I would want to chat with you some other time.”

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

Christina rose to her knees and turned. “Why are you here? I mean in this town.”

The smile she got was both reassuring and sad. “I'm not here to spy on you if that's what you think. Honestly, I came for the shoot.” He shrugged, and she could see he was far, far away in his thoughts. “Asahi Shimbun was in that other world. Sometimes I miss it, but here I'm a fashion photographer.” Then his face lit up in a naughty grin that made him much younger. “One of the damned best you'll find. Let's just say I have twice the experience if you get my meaning.”

She felt sad for him, but at the same time this was an opportunity she wasn't about to miss. “Let's say we'll have that chat, and let's say you know who I am. I want you on my permanent crew.”

That had him. “You're one cold-hearted bitch. But sure, if you can prove you didn't end up a mayfly back there.”

A challenge, but one she could match. “Ask my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend, what does he have to do… shit!”

“Yeah, shit. He can tell you just how big I made it there.”

“From what you told him?” the photographer probed.

Nice try, but you know what I mean. “He's my age, a bit older actually. As you were saying, let's assume he knew of me when you arrived here.” Christina rose to her full length and slid into the pose that had made once her name. “He followed my career a bit closer than most, both my careers.” And to close the conversation she became the billion dollar empress.

The former journalist blanched at Christina's sudden change. Then he recovered. “I see. Very well, I'll see what I can do.”

Guess I'll have to talk with Ulf about this. Thinking of whom, where are you? Better call you. Christina thought better of it and called Yukio instead.

***

The feeling of Kyoko's embrace lingered in Yukio's mind long after he had changed for the evening. Their long, long embrace on a narrow street with fireworks and bottles spilling out on the tarmac, with neither of them caring in the least.

Yukio enjoyed the feeling of falling more and more in love with her, but it scared him a little as well. The emotions were so much stronger than any he had felt before. Sure he'd crushed on a couple of girls, but there was no comparison. Together with Kyoko he felt at home. They had only spent a couple of weeks as a pair, but added together with the months as awkward friends it was as if he had known her his entire life.

Rolling a paper thin wind-stopper Urufu had given him as a gift into a ball he slid the door to their room open and entered the corridor. He pushed the ball of cloth into a leg pocket and stretched his shoulders. Most of the club members were already on the beach, but he wasn't in any hurry.

When he arrived in the lobby he noticed how a small group of the models living in the hotel made ready to join the evening festivities. They were all a few years older than him, and normally his rival alarm would have screeched at full volume, but Kuri's earlier phone-call calmed him down a bit.

“You running that club?” one of them asked him?

He smiled back. “No, Kuri's the president.”

“Kuri?”

Love it when they prepare a home-run for the home team. “Yeah, she's been modelling with you the last days, but she's with us normally.” The words slipped easily from his mouth, even though it had been Kuri who instructed him how to answer should any opportunity occur.

“Ageruman-san?”

“Damn, the kid's on a first name basis with her. Awesome!”

Thank you Kuri! You sure knew how the guys would react. “We're not that formal in the club. But yes, she's our president.” She's played the crap out of you since you arrived here. It was time for the last favour she had asked of him. “She wanted me to introduce you to our club. But would you mind waiting for Urufu first?”

He should come down soon. Yukio hadn't hidden both his pair of shoes where it would take too long to find them. Another one of Kuri's nasty suggestions.

“Urufu?” The voice showed consternation both at the foreign name as well as the lack of titles.

Yukio looked up at the asking face. Damn they're a tall bunch! Well, time to nail the coffin shut. “Man, haven't you met her boyfriend yet? I'll have you shake paws with him when he comes down.” Yukio plastered a fake smile onto his face. “He's our vice president. I'm sure you'll like the guy”

“Fuck, Koji-kun said something about a boyfriend.” The smile that met Yukio was equally false. “Well, can't be much of a competition if he's a high school kid, can he?”

Yukio glared back at the model. You're in for a bad one. Kuri belongs to Urufu and not some porcelain doll like you. “Competition. I didn't know he had any?” Kyoko was the most important person in his life now, but that didn't change that Urufu was his best friend, and Yukio felt adrenaline surge through him as it always did whenever someone challenged Urufu. Calm down, Kuri has it all planned. Trust her the way you trust Urufu.

“Yukio you bastard! Was it you or Ryu who came up with this brain-dead prank?” the voice Yukio waited for called from up the stairs.

And here he comes.

And here he came. It wasn't a happy Urufu who descended the stairs in the tailor-made suit Kuri had coerced Principal Nakagawa to order when she sent him out to buy swimming trunks for the management people. Yukio had hung it where his friend couldn't possibly fail to see it, and the rest of Urufu's clothes were stashed together with Kyoko's luggage in the girls' room.

It wasn't an Urufu Yukio had seen before. What came down the stairs wasn't his classmate at all, but a corporate leader who lived in his life in expensive business suits, and one who for once was severely pissed off when more casual clothes were nowhere to be found.

“Yukio! Not fun at all!” Urufu said and pointed a finger at Yukio.

“You're late man. Some kids here want to meet you,” Yukio said and thumbed the closest model as nonchalantly as he could.

“What the fuck are you calling us?” the thumbed model growled.

“Shut it Shoji-kun! That's some serious money up there,” another said.

'Outward appearance,' Kuri had said. 'Those who live skin deep will only see skin deep,' she had explained. But Urufu wasn't just skin deep. For the first time Yukio saw the man Kuri had been smitten with before she fell in love with him. Shit, Noriko, I feel bad for you, but he's out of your league. He knew Urufu was older, but he hadn't understood the sheer magnitude of difference that experience carried with it.

Urufu walked down the stairs. “What do you want?” he asked the closest model. Just like Kuri he had that scary ability to look down on someone ten centimetres taller than him.

It was at that time Yukio understood that Urufu would be sitting in the sand in the horribly expensive suit later, because it probably was casual clothing to him. Game set and match, Kuri. I know he's an awesome friend, but that's one hell of a boyfriend you got. Yukio studied the short conversation between Urufu and the models and tried to remember as much as possible for future references.

“No, I'm afraid you're mistaken. She's not mine. She doesn't belong to anyone,” Urufu said in a tone that clearly stated that the talk was over.

The guy called Shoji-kun apparently had less brains than the rest. He grabbed Urufu's shoulder and leaned closer than what could possibly be considered polite. “So you don't mind if I'm hitting on her later?”

“Fuck it Shoji-kun! Don't be like that. He's her boyfriend so just leave her alone will you?”

Urufu smiled and waved his rescuer aside. “Shoji-kun, is it? Do what you want, but don't come for my shoulder when you want to cry.” That earned him a few smiles from the other models. He turned to them after giving Yukio a sly wink. “You guys mingling with us down at the beach?”

“Yeah, Ageruman-san invited us.”

“Yukio!”

What now? “Yes?” Damn it, man, you're playing along like you planned this with Kuri from the start. But he knew Urufu shouldn't have a clue about what was going on.

“The guys here are a bit older than the rest of us. Have you talked with Principal Nakagawa about some beer or wine for them?” Urufu asked as if he had been in the know the entire time.

“Ah,” what the hell, “I think that's taken care of,” Yukio stammered. Worst case it was a lie, but he hoped Kuri had thought of that. He stared out the door opening where it was darkening quickly. They had to go down to the beach soon.

“Then let's join the others,” Urufu said and tried to shake lose the grip on his shoulder. Shoji-kun didn't let go. “You're stuck or something?”

“You cocky little shit!” Shoji-kun said and threw back his other hand for a punch.

Poor sod, was everything Yukio had time to think. He saw the other models move to intercept their friend, but it was too late. A fist came rushing for Urufu's face. It never connected.

Urufu's feet moved across the floor as he somehow moved aside and behind his assaulter. Grabbing the hand on his shoulder he slid in, pushed the grabbing arm upwards in a circle and pushed down.

Shoji-kun would have crashed face first into the stairs hadn't Urufu suddenly pulled back. Instead the model landed hard on his bottom. “Careful there. The floor is slippery, and we wouldn't want any accidents, would we?” Urufu said with a sheepish grin about as trustworthy as Santa Claus in August.

So that's aikido? I wonder if expelling him from Red Rose wasn't justified after all. The rapists wannabes had been horribly maimed, and Yukio realised they never stood a chance to begin with.

Shoji-kun gurgled something and rose for a second round. This time his friends grabbed him and one of them even twisted his arm behind his back. “I think you should thank Hamarugen-san for saving you, OK?” he said and screwed up the arm harder.

“What the fuck...”

“Magic word, now!” he said and twisted some more.

“Fuck, it hurts! OK! Thank you, you...”

There was yet another twist, and the last word never left Shoji-kun's mouth.

“He says he's very grateful.”

“I heard,” Urufu said. “Tell him it's no big deal,” he continued as if Shoji-kun wasn't standing directly in front of him.

Yukio shook his head and led his friend outside.