in the ataraxis of aftermath

shako dansu station

"I've sorted it all out!" Keyla insisted, waving her hands to shoo Naoko away. "Just head upstairs! Get cleaned! Get changed! You'll understand!"

Get changed? She'd understand? Naoko huffed but did as she was told, stepping through the doorway.

The inside of the grand theater was moldy and stale. The faded red carpet squished when Naoko stepped on it, sopping with filthy gray water. The walls were cold and cream-colored, with a delicate gold lining twirling and spiraling in intricate patterns.

Naoko searched around for a minute before finding one of the small staircases tucked innocently behind a pillar. She squelched her way up the padded steps. Washed-out portraits watched her go, narrowed eyes inevitably judging Naoko's tattered and mismatched appearance.

Upstairs was less professional, a cramped space full of long, black lines of costumes. Thick spiderwebs crowded the corners, but the outfits were covered in clear plastic. There were a wide variety of costumes here, Naoko realized, as she traipsed idly through them. From clown suits to pirate gear to princess gowns to- oh.

---

A dress. A suit. Something fancy. That must have been what Keyla had meant. Naoko slowed to a stop, feeling the edges crinkly plastic containing the glamorous clothing. They reminded Naoko of when she was little, the sort of thing so beautiful only a doll could wear it.

She had taken a sponge bath, using resources she had suspected that Keyla had left in the bathrooms, so at least she was clean. That was a start.

Her fingertips stopped, stalling on a short, dove-gray dress that looked like it was made of silk. It was perfect. Naoko wasn't sure she should be allowed anywhere near it.

After a few minutes, she unzipped the plastic.

It looked okay on her, Naoko allowed herself to think. The dress tucked in at the waist then flared out over her knees. A sash was tightly looped around her midsection, though it took a few tries until she managed to tie the ends into a decent bow that settled against the curve of her back.

Naoko carefully set herself down in one of the dressing rooms, pulling together a pile of things. A hairbrush, a jar of the jelly, a nail file, some hair ties, a pile of similar-colored shoes, any assortment of jewelry that was mostly intact.

It felt weird, Naoko thought, brushing through the black mess of her hair. Her own reflection blinked rapidly back at her, alarmed and exposed, as she tugged a few of the short strands into an adequate waterfall braid. Her face looked pale and soft and round without its mask and grime and bandana. Naoko couldn't look at herself for too long. It reminded her of someone she had been, a long time ago.

Naoko chose the shoes with the sturdiest heel (wedges) and then covered everything in the protective jelly, taking no chances.

She kept her boots on, though, as she made her way down the stairs and out the door.

Outside, Keyla was nowhere to be seen. Naoko peeked further down the lake. The ship was moored just around the corner of the hotel, just a few buildings down. Naoko was suddenly grateful that her dress was short, spared from the extra effort of trying to keep voluminous skirts out of the acidic grasp of the water. Regardless, Naoko still found herself clenching her fist around the glossy fabric of her skirt, the other grasping tightly to her silver shoes.

Her faith in the jelly was true, although it still sent her brain into a panic to step into the black pool, watching the water rise to her mid-calf, almost-but-not-quite reaching the tops of her boots. It always felt warmer than she thought it would be, and although Naoko couldn't feel it then, she knew it would be grimy too, even through the protective coating she always bedaubed on her skin.