Revelation [A Yu-Gi-Oh! Fanfic]

4. Answer

Satsuki hadn't fussed over her appearance for this long in ages. This should have come as no surprise to her, seeing as how she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a real date. Not that she considered the trip to Bazaarcade a real date either. But even her more casual encounters always seemed to come about so serendipitously that she rarely had time to consider things like what color top to wear or whether she should put her hair up or leave it down.

Eventually she settled on a neutral palette — a beige sweater tucked into a dark plaid skirt, finished with opaque tights and a few more layers to keep her warm on the walk. Miho had begged to let her jazz up the outfit with brighter colors and flashy accessories (even offering one of her own bouncy hair bows), but Satsuki managed to talk her down to just a simple scarlet pashmina scarf.

Miho was even giddier than normal as she worked her magic on Satsuki's hair and makeup. Satsuki had agonized for a while over whether or not to even invite Miho along. But, seeing as Yugi would likely be showing up with his three musketeers in tow, Satsuki figured Miho would at the very least serve as an excellent wingwoman.

Unfortunately, this meant Satsuki had been forced to lie to Miho about her true motives in arranging the lopsided 'date.' She tried to be at least half-truthful — about how she'd met Yugi at Jasmine's, and even that he was under the impression Satsuki was unemployed.

"I didn't want him to get the wrong idea," she explained, wincing as Miho tugged on a knot in the back of her hair, "or worry I might try to hijack his work." The irony of her words tasted as sour as a rotten lemon.

"Ohh," Miho said. "I guess that makes sense."

Her ambivalent tone was only slightly concerning, but Satsuki didn't have time to press the issue further before Miho jabbed another bobby pin into her scalp, securing the end of a complex braid at the nape of her neck.

Miho stepped back with a huff. "There. That should hold all night."

Satsuki swiveled in her chair to get a peek at herself in her friend's vanity. She was pleasantly surprised with Miho's work: the makeup was subtle and classy, the hairstyle charming but practical — all words one wouldn't normally associate with Miho.

Satsuki stood and thanked her friend with a quick hug. After donning their coats and bags, they dipped out of Miho's apartment, emerging onto the rainwashed streets of Domino. They shared an umbrella and dodged puddles and storm drains as they trekked downtown, with Miho grilling Satsuki the whole time.

"So do you like him?" Miho prodded, her voice venturing dangerously close to a sing-songy middle school tone.

"I don't know," Satsuki replied. "I mean, he's cool. But we've only hung out, like, one time."

"Well then tonight will make two times! Maybe you'll know after that."

Satsuki laughed. "Maybe."

Soon, they reached the block where Bazaarcade was located. It was easy to spot, sticking out like a sore thumb against the darkened boutiques and storefronts surrounding it. The owner had converted an old brick warehouse into a trendy social space, spread out over two floors. Trilling electronic sounds, twangy music, and raucous laughter poured out of its main entrance — a wide-open garage door trimmed in rainbow neon lights. Above, a covered balcony ran along the front of the building, with a bar on one end and standing tables scattered throughout where people huddled in smaller groups.

Satsuki and Miho ducked inside, handing their umbrellas and coats to the hostess, who tagged them and took them away. Satsuki grinned as she scanned the interior of the building, its tacky checkered floor a maze of retro arcade games and other coin-operated devices: toy cranes, pinball machines, and an entire wall dedicated just to skee ball. She saw no sign of Yugi and his companions amongst the sea of faces and flashing lights, so she swept her gaze over to the primary bar, nestled in the front-right corner of the first floor and already packed full with patrons of all different ages.