The Phoenix Saga

It had certainly been one of her more interesting birthdays. She supposed that made sense, considering it was technically her first birthday. Izumi hadn't mentioned it; Hana probably hadn't told her and it seemed kind of selfish to bring it up herself. Sipping on the boba tea in her hand through a thick straw, she trailed alongside Izumi, wondering where the roller coaster would stop next. As she raised her hand with the little plastic cup, Izumi looked at it quizzically. "You bite your fingernails, don't you?"
Ranko nodded. "Didn't exactly pack a trimmer."
Izumi gave her a little tsk. "Come here, you, let's take care of that." She pulled Ranko into an open stall with several small desks, each with a chair on each side. Rows of small colored vials lined the entire length of the room's walls, and the whole place smelled of paint thinner.
A very short woman in her late forties approached the pair. "Can I help you?"
Izumi nudged her companion forward as if to present her for inspection. "My sister here is in dire need of some acrylics."
The redhead turned to face her, confused. "So, like, spray paint?"
Izumi giggled. "Not exactly. Go sit down over there."
Ranko complied, and the shop employee took her seat at the other side of the desk. "Okay, are you ready?"
The redhead shrugged. "I… guess?"
The woman picked up what looked like a popsicle stick wrapped in sandpaper, taking Ranko's left hand in her own, and began to drag the stick over her fingernails. She worked the edges of the nails, rounding out the rough spots and uneven breaks in the nails where she had bitten them off, and then used the grittier side of the stick to rough up the surface of her fingernails. Man, being a girl sure involves letting a lot of people fidget with you, Ranko thought.
After repeating the process on Ranko's right hand, she pulled out a vial of viscous clear liquid, spreading it in a thin layer over her right thumbnail with the tiny brush built into the lid of the bottle. The stuff did not smell pleasant, and Ranko truly hoped it wouldn't linger once whatever she was doing was done. The woman opened a small plastic package, dumping a small pile of what looked like fingernails out of it onto the white particle board surface. She picked up one of the larger bits and pressed it to Ranko's thumb, covering it in a veneer that extended almost a centimeter beyond her fingertip. She held it in place for a few seconds, and then lightly jostled it to make sure it wouldn't move. As Ranko watched in some combination of embarrassment and morbid curiosity, she repeated the process on the other nine fingers, resulting in what appeared to be a fairly perfect set of feminine fingernails.
"Want to go pick a color?"
Ranko looked up at the stylist with confusion. "Huh?"
The nail tech motioned to the racks of vials lining the walls. "For polish."
Oh. That. Of course. Ranko blushed at her foolishness, standing and walking the rows. She looked to Izumi, who was sitting in a chair reading a magazine, for help, but Izumi gave her a smile and a "run along and play" hand gesture. Having no idea what she was looking for, or how women normally picked such a thing, she made two laps around the room. She eventually settled on a pastel pink bottle with little flecks of glitter in it that she thought was a pretty good match for her new underthings; it seemed appropriately feminine but also neutral, and Izumi had already picked that color for her once. She held it up for her mentor, who nodded approval, and the woman took the bottle from her hand.
SItting back at the desk, Ranko offered her hand, and the stylist went to work, quickly applying one coat, and then two, of the shiny pink substance to her new fingernails. It didn't seem quite as shiny as it was in the bottle, though, and Ranko was about to ask why when another bottle of clear liquid was produced from the desk drawer. As this new substance was painted over the pink, it took on a glossy sheen.
When the top coat was complete, Ranko was led to another seat, and instructed to place her hands under an orange lamp. The heat from the lamp on her skin was uncomfortable but bearable, like being out in the sun on a summer day.
Izumi sat next to her, complimenting her choice of color and making general small talk for a few minutes until the egg timer next to the lamp made a little ding. "All set! Try to be careful with your fingers for the next hour or so until it has a chance to fully dry. Let me get the doors and stuff." Ranko blushed for probably the millionth time today – now someone would be opening doors for her too? She half-expected to be taught to curtsey like a maid by day's end at this rate.
After paying the woman her asking rate, Izumi and Ranko exited the salon. Izumi checked her watch, seeming a little concerned but not saying anything about it. "Okay, one more thing, one more thing… We can probably hold off on clothes for now; it's going to take you a while to figure out what sort of styles you want to branch out into anyway. Shoes… I think you'd be hot as hell in heels, but you probably don't have a lot of practice wearing them." Ranko smirked. While most elements of femininity eluded her entirely, if she could run at full speed atop a chain link fence, she could probably handle balancing on stilettos.
Ranko brushed her hair away from the left side of her face, getting it out of the way of her mouth to make way for her straw, and Izumi looked at her with a realization. "Got it. C'mere." Not taking her hand for fear of mussing her nails, Izumi led her charge to a small store that was absolutely jam-packed, ceiling to floor, with hair bows and clips, headbands, plastic costume jewelry, and other assorted accessories. Basically everything in the store was pink, covered in sequins, or both. Izumi motioned to a bar-height canvas chair in the corner by the front window. "Sit over there a second."
Ranko complied, and Izumi came over to her with a store employee in tow. She was wielding a strange-looking object shaped like a gun, and Ranko assumed it was for printing out price labels.
The teenager, who might have been a year younger than Ranko, brushed her flame-red hair to the side and smiled. "First time, huh?"
Ranko shrugged. "I guess?" She was beginning to worry a little bit; she had no idea what was about to happen to her, but she'd placed her faith in Izumi.
Her mentor leaned on the arm of the chair. "Okay, hold still. This is going to sting for a few minutes, but it'll be okay after that, I promise."
Ranko looked up at her, mystified. "What are we going to do?"
Izumi smirked. "You'll see. Trust me."
The employee tore open a little packet, pulling out a folded sheet of paper that smelled like alcohol. She tilted Ranko's head to the side with her hand, beginning to wipe down the bottom of her earlobe with the cloth. Ranko looked over at the gun on the table, and the realization struck her. Oh. Oh shit. This is happening. Her eyes darted up to Izumi, but before she could speak, she heard a loud kachunk from the surgical steel weapon clamped around her earlobe.
For as nice as some of the other sensations her overstimulated nerves had given her today, she had not been prepared for this. The sudden impalement from the piercing gun felt like she'd been injected with napalm, radiating through her ear, across her face and halfway down her neck. As it throbbed, she whimpered audibly, tears welling in her eyes. The teen wielding the piercing gun chuckled. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad. Don't be a baby." Easy for you to say, kid, Ranko thought. Let's see you last ten minutes with this Cat's Tongue nonsense.
Izumi squeezed her hand. "We're halfway done. Other side." Ranko turned her head, barely believing that she was volunteering to experience that sensation a second time. It wouldn't make much sense to do just one, after all.
"Okay, here we go." The girl brought the gun to her ear. "On three, ready? One…" Kachunk. Ranko yelped loudly, both in pain and surprise. "Sorry. It's easier when you don't know exactly when it's coming. But, all done!" She wiped over both piercing sites with another alcohol cloth and pressed a back onto each of the thin metal studs, then handed Ranko a small pink handheld mirror.
Ranko looked at herself, blushing furiously. Tears still gently running down her cheek, she pulled her hair back to inspect the damage. Her earlobes were an angry red, still reacting to their sudden injury. At the center of each earlobe, a dainty little golden heart now glittered.
"Super cute, huh?" Izumi grinned down at her. "You'll have to keep these in for a few weeks until your ears heal, but after that we can get you some different ones to play with." Ranko was a little miffed that she hadn't been warned before being permanently modified in this way, but as she looked at herself in the mirror, she agreed that her feminine face did look more natural with them. While there was no way she would have agreed to it if she had known it was coming, she didn't hate it now that it was done. Izumi paid the clerk, taking a small packet of information about how to care for a new piercing and slipping it into the bag with Ranko's purchases.
Izumi checked her watch again. "So, I've got somewhere I've got to be at seven tonight. How do you feel about heading back?"
Ranko nodded, managing a sincere smile even though her ears were still ringing from their ordeal. "Sure. Thanks again for everything today!" It had been an adventure, for sure.
"Well, Hana paid; I was just the tour guide."
Ranko took her hand, blushing as she remembered to be careful of her fingernails. "No. Seriously. Thank you. For your help and your patience." She smiled genuinely. Hoshi was lucky; from the way Izumi had treated her, it was clear that she was a great mom. A girl could do worse than to have her as a mentor.
Izumi grinned, putting her arm around Ranko's shoulder, careful not to touch her ears. "You're welcome, honey. And you've been a great sport about all this. I'm so proud of you."
Almost eighteen years of martial arts and Genma had never said that once. It took Izumi less than a week. And all it took was dressing up like a girl. She quickly corrected herself: becoming a woman.