Mannequin Ch. 1
Title: Mannequin
Pairings: Matsumoto Jun x Sakurai Sho, Ohno Satoshi x Ninomiya Kazunari (and more as the story progresses)
Rating: NC-17
When Sakurai's father sends him to manage a small costume shop, he doesn't understand why he's being punished. He doesn't belong there-- he belongs in the heart of the city, leading his department and working his way towards being company president. But somehow he finds the queer little shop more intriguing than he anticipated, and he's especially drawn to one of the shop's mannequins. Which is pathetic, he knows, because the thing is an inanimate object...
Or is it?
If you want to take over the business, you have to have experience-- and you have to start small. That’s what Sho’s father had told him. If his eldest son, who had slaved away at university and then progressed quite well in very few years with the overhaul of the economic department of the corporation (which is a direct reflection of why he’d chosen to major in economy, minor in business management), wanted to have any chance at succeeding his father as president, he would have to have experience in running a business.
And Sakurai Sho, of the prominent Sakurai family known throughout three continents, had no such experience.
Apparently, overseeing an entire department wasn’t good enough. According to his father, Sho hadn’t actually integrated himself. He hadn’t become a truly assimilated member of the economic department, but was rather a distant figurehead, untouchable upon his ivory tower.
Or maybe it was a white horse. Sho didn’t remember his father’s exact wording, and the man could get a little wordy at times, in Sho’s opinion. Everyone else seemed to love the old man’s poetic little tidbits. They offered valuable advice, or so his mother told him every time she’d caught him grumbling as a teen.
Sho didn’t see the need to become “truly assimilated.” He worked hard, taking weeks to develop the best plan possible for the revision of the department, and then spent the past few years implementing it. Yes, he will admit that the majority of the people in the department were only recognizable to him as names on a page. Their faces all ran together as they worked in identical cubicles; bodies around the conference table... but so what? The corporation’s economy was thriving. His plan was wildly successful. It was better than anyone had anticipated. So why was he being punished?
That’s all Sho kept asking himself as he drove out towards the strip of shops renting from his father where he’d be taking over a management position of one of them. It wasn’t in the most lucrative of neighborhoods, mostly just families and businessmen taking the train to work. Stray stones and gravel crunched under his tires as he pulled into a parking space, and he noticed that the lines were faded and starting to blend into the cement. That was going to have to be rectified.
Stepping out of his car, he also couldn’t help but notice how out of place his BMW looked and decided it might be better to drive the Mitsubishi from there on out. Plucking Louis Vuitton sunglasses from his face to get a better look at the store front, it would have been obvious to anyone that he was a man used to luxury. His clothes were what he considered “business casual,” but even those cost more than what most of the men in the neighborhood paid for their best suits. His wristwatch probably cost the same as some of their cars.
Sakurai felt out of place, basically, and he felt even more out of place when he entered the shop he was going to be managing. Color saturated garments hung in heavy racks on both sides of him, with even more elaborate and vibrant colored clothing hanging on the walls, all the way up to the ceiling. His attention was immediately drawn to an intricate and fiercely scarlet dragon costume, with glittering gold embroidery and inlay winking back at him; flickering menacingly in the slightly-too-dim light in the store. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Sakurai made a note to figure out what was wrong with the lighting.
The second thing he noticed was the smell, and really, that hit him just as he saw the dragon costume. It was heady, somewhat musky, and woodsy. The scent wasn’t overbearing, but it was definitely there, wafting forward from the back of the shop. And Sakurai had to admit, for a costume shop, the ambience was well suited... if they were in the movies.
But they weren’t, and it wasn’t appropriate for a store in the real world that had any expectation of turning a worthwhile profit.
He’d have to talk to the owner about that.
The third thing he saw made him do a double-take, because he thought at first that he’d run into a person... But people don’t dress in violet velvet suits with long black opera capes. It was a mannequin, and yet, Sho still found himself staring. He wasn’t even looking at the costume. He was staring at the mannequin’s face.
It was beautiful. Arched brows over deep brown eyes framed by a thick fringe of delicate lashes, the rosy mouth a stark difference to the pale skin tone. The artistry even went so far as to include a smattering of moles, each placed perfectly. Especially the one below the lips, which Sho imagined would feel lush against his own... if they were real and not carved.
Sho blushed and ripped his focus away from the wooden form, embarrassed with himself for getting caught up in an inanimate object. Of course the man wasn’t real. Real men were never so beautiful.
“Can I help you?” a voice from off to his left made him jump, and he turned to see who had spoken.
The voice belonged to a man who was arguably handsome enough to have his likeness painted on a mannequin. His body was long and lean, good mannequin material as well, and Sakurai did his best to shake the thought out of his head.
“Ah, you noticed one of the mannequins,” the store clerk said cheerfully as he approached, “Gorgeous isn’t he? The owner painted that face on him. I think he might have carved him too... See how narrow his waist is? You don’t see many male mannequins like him in department stores.”
“Erm, no, you don’t,” Sho agreed, then cleared his throat, “Sakurai Sho. I’m going to be the new manager here, at least for the time being.”
He extended his hand, and the other man’s eyes lit up. “Ah! So you’re Sakurai. I should have guessed when I saw your car pull in. I’m Aiba Masaki. I only work here part-time, so this is great. The owner needs help here.”
“He does?”
“Absolutely. He wastes so much of his time selling things when he should be creating!” Aiba answered emphatically.
Sho cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty sure he preferred the act of selling to creating, especially when there appeared to be a surplus of costumes all around him.
“Does he sell a lot of costumes, then?” Sho decided to ask, instead of voicing his opinion.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say ‘a lot’,” Aiba shrugged, “but what I meant was, he spends too much time managing the shop and trying to sell things when he should be making more awesome costumes. It’s something of an artform, the way he designs costumes.”
“Right,” Sakurai said, noting Aiba’s flair for the dramatic that seemed oddly genuine, “Well I’ll do what I can to handle sales so he can focus more on his art... Where is the owner anyway?”
“Ah, he’s probably in the backroom. It’s his workshop away from home.”
“Away from home? He doesn’t live above the shop?” Sakurai asked, because his father’s architects had designed these units with apartments above each store, “Does he rent it out?”
“Nope. It was used mostly for storage before Sakurai, er, your father called,” Aiba replied, starting to walk to the back of the store and gesturing for Sho to follow.
Sho’s eyebrow immediately shot up in suspicion, but he held his tongue while Aiba poked around stacked boxes, bolts of fabric, and other odds and ends before he found what he was looking for, “Ah, there you are!” Aiba exclaimed and a man in a stylish fedora looked up from where he was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor.
Sho realized that this must be the owner, and watched as the man set aside the cloth he was embroidering. Introductions were made, and Sho tried to discern just how old the man was, but found it difficult with the shadow cast by the hat.
They moved to the front of the store, where the owner and Aiba both showed Sakurai the different merchandise categories (monsters, period, film reproductions, romantic frillery, animals) and how they were broken down (full outfit, outerwear, underwear-- Sakurai blushed-- hats and headdresses, gloves, masks, shoes, scarves, jewelry, and so forth). Then the owner briefed him on store policies (polite to customers, enthusiasm is encouraged, handle the costumes carefully), and all the while Sho kept finding his attention drifting back to the beautiful, caped mannequin.
Sho didn’t mean to keep looking at it, but even from behind, the mannequin was beautiful. Aiba caught his line of vision and turned to the owner, “Sakurai’s already seen the dark-haired mannequin, where’s the other one?”
“There’s another?” Sakurai mumbled, intrigued and simultaneously embarrassed that Aiba had caught him eyeing up the mannequin-- again.
“Yeah,” Aiba nodded, “There are two that are so detailed. Both are dudes, though.”
The owner didn’t expand on why he made two male mannequins even though it seemed to Sho that customers would probably respond better to handmade lady mannequins, and pointed to a rack of ghostly Victorian costumes, “He’s back there. I dressed him as an admiral apparition.”
Sho didn’t want to seem too eager to see it, and hummed what he hoped was nonchalant that
he’d look for it later... but his interest was piqued. He couldn’t help but wonder if this other mannequin was as beautiful as the first.
So he waited. Eventually the owner seemed satisfied that he’d shared enough of his costume shop wisdom and bid Aiba to show Sho how to use the cash register. And while Sho took notes and listened, he must have appeared distracted because Aiba was suddenly saying, “We’ll go look at him together. I haven’t seen him yet today anyway, and a ghost admiral sounds pretty cool.”
Sho’s expectations were both exceeded and slightly defeated when he saw the other mannequin. The mannequin was exquisitely made, and his charming face couldn’t be described as anything but beautiful. The craftsmanship was incredible here, too. The painted eyes looked soft and warm, if not less expressive than the dark eyes of the fair-skinned mannequin... Which brings up the point that this mannequin appeared to have a tan. His skin tone was a creamy bronze, as if he’d spent countless lazy summer hours outdoors. The lips weren’t as full as the other mannequin’s either, but that was partially due to the mouth being smaller in general. Or maybe Sho just wasn’t as tempted to kiss them, thus making them seem less full in his mind. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to think about it any longer. What he chose to think about instead was how the mannequin’s face seemed less expressive, while simultaneously easy going-- which made the mannequin a rather lax admiral. Even with the wool jacket, fancy pins, shiny boots, and impressive hat; Sakurai just couldn’t find the mannequin intimidating.
“He doesn’t look much like a leader,” Sho muttered.
“Hmm?”
“Of a ship,” Sho clarified, “He doesn’t look like the leader of a ship. He’d be too lenient with the crew.”
“Oh,” Aiba said, understanding, “Or maybe he’s a different sort of leader. Maybe he leads from behind.”
“If you say so,” Sho smiled, then changed the subject, “So what did my father say he wanted the apartment above the store for?”
“I didn’t speak with him, but he said he wanted it cleared out so furniture could be brought in.”
“Furniture?”
“Um, yeah,” Aiba sounded surprised that Sho was surprised, “It came yesterday. From what I’ve been told, you’re going to be staying above the shop while you’re here.”
“I’m what?”
Aiba was about to repeat himself when they both jumped. Something had crashed to the ground, and upon closer inspection, they found it was the taller mannequin in the opera cape. Somehow, he was face down on the floor. Sakurai reached down to grip the mannequin's shoulders and pick him up when the owner appeared out of nowhere and blocked him. Instead, the old man pulled the mannequin upright and started to brush him off.
"Don't be so dramatic," he admonished the dress-form, smiling. Beside him, Sho's fingers itched. He'd wanted to touch the mannequin...
So he did. Unable to stop himself, Sho reached around the owner to lightly brush his fingers through the mannequin's dark hair. He was just fixing it, he told himself... but his hand lingered, and the hair felt so oddly soft. He only pulled back when he caught the shop owner smirking out of the corner of his eye.
Something about the way the owner smiled didn't sit well with Sho. It was like he knew something Sho didn't... such as why he found this mannequin so incredibly irresistible.