A Warm Friction Welcome

Lidded eyes stared out across the city skyline, over the sea of stagnant traffic locked end to end in a colorful tapestry of vehicles. Everything seemed to cast a glare, the afternoon sun handing high above being split to fractal light against towering skyscrapers whose darkened glass windows looked more like mirrors stacked like totem poles of modern architecture. A tired sigh slipped from her lips, making them flap loosely as she sat with her head resting with a cheek against a closed fist, and an elbow propped against the car door.

Every brightly colored sign and billboard advertisement had been deciphered, by what she could recall of the language and with the aid of a small pocket dictionary she kept in her pocket. The poor book was worn at the bindings, marked on nearly every page with small notes left for herself. She had been chastised for the book, instructed to simply use an app on her phone, but she preferred the tactile. Pages to flip through and the feel of the impressions left from her writing inside, far more engaging than another like of soulless text on one of her digital devices. It had been a far better way to pass the time as well, now all she was left with was counting cars and colors in a fruitless attempt to entertain herself.

The traffic in Tokyo was a nightmare and more reason to have just taken a train and walked the rest of the way. Each pedestrian she saw who passed by her window made her mind itch at the thought of paying her driver and walking the rest of the way. It would no doubt be faster, but she still had time to spare. Getting there faster wouldn’t mean much if she wound up waiting again. Still, the thought was there, and had her side eyeing the small gym bag seated next to her.

Seraphine lifted her arm, glancing at the sleek band around her wrist. At the motion, it lit up a small digital display with the current time. She was still ahead of schedule thanks to having thought to check traffic reports. She dropped her hand with a huff going back to idly people-watching with the stop-and-start traffic continuing. Time ticked on and nothing much changed. Minutes later she would slip her phone from her jacket pocket, checking the time again, annoyed at how little time had passed. With a swipe of her thumb, she painted a series of strokes over the numbered display with the digit to unlock the screen and pull up her text messages.

The most recent messages from a contact saved as “Final Boss” was brought up with a tap and she scanned it over again.

Final Boss wrote:Your appointment is Tuesday at 2:15 pm JST. You are expected to have both comfortable clothes for a tour of the facilities and whatever manner of training attire you deem necessary as you may be required to perform for your instructor. The representative at your little wrestling federation assures me your employee ID badge issue will be sorted by this upcoming Thursday.

Final Boss wrote:Your instructor will be able to access any areas for you that require a badge in.  You will be able to access your personal locker at the facility without needing to scan your badge but security will require you to check in. I look forward to hearing how your day goes.

Final Boss wrote:You can only make one first impression Seraphine. Try not to disappoint.

“Love Mom.” Seraphine whispered with a hint of bitterness, filling in the term of endearment the correspondence was lacking. With a tap of a button, she darkened the screen, tucking the advice away

---

Seraphine:

Stepping out of the taxi she stretched out her legs, nearly sprang from the vehicle with such haste to leave it behind she nearly forgot her gym bag. Seraphine had managed to catch herself, halfway to closing the door when she reached back in it to retrieve it. Another kind thank you to her driver before she departed leaving the kindly Japanese man a sizable tip on his fare. Annoyed as she was by the trip, it hadn't been his fault for the traffic. Slinging the bag over her shoulder she made her way along the brickwork before the Friction arena. It was a large building that housed not only the staging for their televised productions but a whole training facility on top of that. Not bad for a one-stop shop.

She strode her way towards the entrance but spied a nice place to have a seat and wait for her instructor. While the building itself was slick and modern, she couldn't help but gawk at the large statue that stood before it. Tacky and out of place, it depicted a man in a suit pointing towards the building surrounded by… she assumed they were children? Maybe imps. Whatever they were they had pudgy unsettling faces and were gathered around his pants legs as if it were feeding time. She circled the monument until she spied a gold placard, and crouched down to read it with a squint.

“The children are our future. ~ Maximillian Kingsley, General Manager of Friction and All Around Great Guy…” Seraphine read the words slowly as if she were one of the children the plaque was referring to, unsure of what to make of it. Her eyes drifted up to the towering man with his billowing hair and wide grin and just took it in for a moment. “Pretty sure you weren't the one who said that, Mr. Kingsley.” with a small shake of her head she about-faced and sat herself up against the sloped side of the statue to wait.

Even with the bumper-to-bumper traffic she had arrived early enough to relax and let the secondhand stress of the gridlocked streets vent from her body. Setting her gym bag down at her feet, Seraphine withdrew her small travel dictionary, eyeing the words and phrases to commit them to memory. There were probably e-mails to pour over or business reports to eyeball but she wasn’t here for that and the moment and kept it neatly compartmentalized as to not overwork herself. Hee design deadlines were distant now that work had been shifted away from her to make something of her wrestling idea, all thanks to mother dearest.

“Koko ga watashi no mokutekichidesu. Tasuketekurete arigatō.” She mused over her accent as she reviewed the phrases, playing back her interaction with the driver. She would have to work on her inflection a bit but her pronunciation seemed almost perfect. Her head lifted when she caught the sight of flashing red lights in her peripherals. Leaning off to the side she peered past one of the unsightly children depicted at the base of the statue to look towards the road where a motorcade of vehicles was coming through a sea of parting vehicles.

This was her first instance of seeing Japanese police cars. White and black mostly as opposed to the white and blue she was more accustomed to. The lights were different as well, back home their light bars and beacons were blue whereas here it was a solid red. An interesting choice on an authority figure’s vehicle given the connotation that red often was a color associated with aggression. All of her mental musings slowed to a crawl when the limousine between the authorities stopped before the arena sidewalks. She snickered softly having thought it was some dignitary or person of importance… was this just how the General Manager rolled up to his arena?

Then her eyes settled on the pronounced flags at the head of the limo. The stylized “P” of the Primol group. She had been to countless fundraisers where it was plastered on pamphlets, napkins, gift bags, and anything that could be slapped with it. She scowled, quickly ducking back behind the statue again. It would be her luck, of all the times for the Bettencourt family to show up here it was when she was waiting for her instructor. She clapped her small book shut and tucked it away in her jacket pocket. Her hands soon followed as she hunkered down in her lean, trying her best to blend against the stonework.

"Seraphine Rossman-Schwartz~..."

Seraphine closed her eyes, drawing in a deep inhale through her nose. The unraveling of her full name was one generally reserved for a bout of chastizing from her mother and unfortunate meetings much like this one with the proud heiress of the Primol group. Straightening up now that her attempts to remain undetected had gone awry, she opened her eyes with a strained smile. It was the most this woman would get from her in terms of pleasantries. Her eyes followed the tablet and the dutiful assistant was forced to contest with gravity, feeling nothing but pity for the poor woman. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips when it was firmly caught though it tapered into a huff when her eyes settled back to the blond blueblood.

“Gwendolyn.” A slender brow quirked at the mention of vacancy and family name. The corner of her lips tugged with annoyance. She pushed off the base of the statue to wheel about of her heel, facing the other woman with her parade of cars visible over the blond’s shoulders her attention remained there for a moment as she spoke. “I see you’ve taken to a humble living here in Japan. Most admirable.”

“I’m here on business but your concern is noted.” Something itched at the back of her mind, something uncomfortable. Gwendolyn didn’t really seem surprised to see her. In Japan that would be a coincidence. In from of the Friction Arena, that wreaked of a setup. Her mother had likely spilled her plans to the Bettencourts and it trickled down to their daughter. Lovely. “I wouldn’t want to keep you. Stay too long in the sunlight and you might just burst into flames.”

“Ah yes, the helicopter. How silly of me to not have considered.” Seraphine repeated flatly. She would have wondered how it was possible for Gwendolyn to somehow outdo herself as she lavishly demonstrated why people of means were seen as a blight on society but she had met the woman before so was well-versed in her particular brand of entitlement. “It's good you had your priorities in order. I almost believed some humility had somehow burrowed its way into your heart and I worried for your health."

She saw no issue with living within more humble means, she had done just that for a while when she had absconded and left the family business in the wind. Gwendolin’s tone however painted in a broad stroke though, making both her journey of self-discovery and family business seem as though they were somehow of a lower standard. Normally a patient woman, she already found herself clenching her jaw to keep her thoughts on the matter from spewing out in a torrent of vitriol. The last thing she wanted though was to hear from her mother about the fallout of such an incident.

Seraphine instinctively leaned away as Gwendolyn’s perfectly buoyant hair curls were swept back, nowhere near her face but she treated their proximity as if they were poisonous and kept herself at a distance all the same. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the change in airs on display. There was no one here to see them save for the servants so it felt uncharacteristic of Gwendolyn to offer an olive branch of peace without reason. While the woman claimed to be her better in every way, honest compassion was never among her virtues.

“There have been more than a few fine gallas between then and now that I don’t find myself hurting for attention, strangely enough.” Seraphine turned over her hand, eyeing the illuminated black band on her wrist. She eyed the glowing numbers of the time display before letting her hand fall back to her side and gave Gwendolyn her most apologetic of expressions, really selling just how disappointed she was that circumstances couldn’t be different. “I’m afraid I’m on a rather tight schedule and my afternoon appointment will be starting soon so I must regretfully decline your kind invitation. Perhaps another time? It's nice to see you so interested in that servile lifestyle though. You might find being a guide to be something of a hidden calling as they tend to talk a great deal and gesture towards things. Not too different from your duties hosting parties I imagine, other than it would be you doing the work of course.”

Seraphine’s lips curled into the smallest of curt smiles, incredibly happy to have a good reason to dismiss the offer. The last thing she wanted was to spend her day being paraded around her new place or work by this woman. If the people here had any reason about them, being attached to Gwendolyn should be reputational poison. She couldn’t count on that though, the woman had her ways of worming her way into people’s good graces be it by money or convenient displays of what passed as charm these days.

“Most unfortunate.” Seraphine assured Gwendolyn, content to let the worry hurry along to whatever business she had at the facility today. With any luck, they wouldn't bump into each other again and be forced to converse. It was an unlikely scenario in her mind, where the common man tread, a Bettencourt likely would not travel, the heiress most of all.

When the blond continued in what appeared to be an attempt to pry, it got a soft grumble and roll of the eyes from the fashionable jeweler. She didn't want to entertain this conversation anymore. Before she could protest, the unspoken details reared their head, her rival practically reciting her own instructions.

How did she know? Did her mother… no, it couldn’t be.

Gwendolyn stood there, her expression so smugly satisfied, as Seraphine's irritation simmered beneath the surface. The revelation that the meeting was not a mere coincidence but a carefully orchestrated plan by her mother or even Gwendolyn herself seemed to dawn on Seraphine. The jeweler crammed her hands deep into her jacket pockets to obscured her fists clenched within her jacket pockets, clenched in white knuckled rage while her mind danced between the urge to confront Gwendolyn and the realization of the consequences.

As Gwendolyn turned to face her, Seraphine's internal struggle was evident in the tight grimace that tugged at her lips. The tension in the air was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed as if Seraphine might succumb to the violent urge to lash out. Yet, she drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly to quell the fiery emotions threatening to consume her. A calculated decision not to jeopardize her aspirations in AFW, not after she had finally convinced her mother to take her off the leash.

Just breathe.

As the storm within her subsided, Seraphine adopted a neutral demeanor, flipping the switch from anger to feigned composure. With a soft chortle, she approached Gwendolyn, leaving her bag behind, as if this encounter was a mere social visit. The wide smile she wore, however, failed to reach her eyes, betraying the turmoil beneath the surface.

"As sharp as ever I see, I should have known I couldn’t keep up the charade. You look radiant as always with such a grand entrance to boot," Seraphine remarked, waving her hand dismissively in Gwendolyn's direction. She embraced Gwendolyn with feigned warmth, a light hug accompanied by a mimed kiss on the cheek. It was a display of familiarity, the kind expected between long-time friends.

"Mother dearest always wishes the best for me, it is true. Here I thought you might be far too busy with all your accolades to take the time to see me through such a mundane process like this… but here you are. All for me. I feel like I am perhaps the luckiest woman in Japan," Seraphine continued, her tone with a friendly inflection with none of the warmth. The complete about-face was a practiced maneuver, one Gwendolyn had witnessed at private affairs where appearances took precedence.

The tension lingered, concealed beneath the surface of forced camaraderie. It was a delicate dance between feigned friendship and underlying rivalry, both women navigating the intricate steps to maintain appearances in the high-stakes world they inhabited. "I suppose I will take that tour."

She had come here to cast aside the phony airs and free herself from the cage that was her family image and here she was right back where her mother would want. Quiet, subservient, and under the tutelage of a woman far more influential than herself. She must have thought herself so brilliant to set all of this up, to help mold her daughter into a newer, better, blonder version of herself. It took all she had to maintain her practiced smile as Gwendolyn laid a finger on her, urging their eyes to meet with a condescending display of power where they both stood in relation to one another. It was their school days all over again.

Threats spoken sweetly. Nothing new to her and she had her doubts those around them who served under the heiress took her gentle intonation as anything but a pointed dagger polished to a shine. The careful dance they all played at, tip-toeing around her ire was plain enough to see to Sera, even if her actual wrath was never displayed past closed doors and soundproof walls.

“Words can hardly express my gratitude.” She could only grimace broadly at the prospects of a day spent shackled to Gwendolyn where the woman had free reign to embellish her accolades. She had heard about them before, scattered stories from party to party, but never witnessed any of the locations of memorabilia that went with it. It dawned on her that this first day of acclimation and training might be nothing more than a giant wash as Gwendolyn shoved her face in every accomplishment she could imagine to waste their day.