[i]Talent show.[/i] She had signed up for it soon after she had told the upperclassman she had met in the pool. Was she ready for this? She could preform in front of gaggles of powerful old geezers with fancy aftershave and even fancier cars. Could preforming in front of her peers be so different? Yes, of course it was. Traditional music was 'boring' and the traditional arts even more so. She couldn't just preform her normal act. Having asked for a special guest to help her with her act, she had even sent invitations out to her father and mother to attend. But would they show up? She had no idea. But she knew the one person who would. The only reliable person in the dark swirling orb of her world.

"You look so pretty, Miss," the soft worn voice of her old caretaker, Kitome, behind her. Old gentle hands fixing her hair and adjusting the necklace around her neck. Gentle and warm. But even that didn't quiet the storm inside her mind, tossing her about like a piece of drift wood in the ocean. 

"Do I?" there was a nervous tilt to her smiling voice, "Nothing is out of place? Will you stay with me till I have to go on? I don't want to go out looking silly." Such frivolous thoughts. But for some reason it felt like it really mattered. Most of those people out in the uncomfortable chairs of the audience... They were her judges. They'd all be judging her tonight. Just like everyone had always done. From old corporate CEOs to disabled teenagers and preteens. Judges... Watching her, knowing she couldn't watch back. Swirling, swirling black water...

"Slow down, slow down," the old woman chuckled softly, the warmth and worry in her voice pulling her momentarily to the surface, "You may be last but you always do well under pressure. No need to be nervous, Miss. Just take deep breaths."

"You're right, as always," she sighed leaning back in her chair and closing her useless eyes. She could feel Kitome adjusting her hair and the adornments heavy in its dark locks. The fake lashes felt so alien on her eyes and even the long dress around her felt a bit too tight. She wouldn't be playing piano, or any other instrument she was skilled in. However this was like letting shadows and burning eyes take just a brief peek at her soul. Even her own steady confidence was shaken at this. She wasn't used to this sort of audience, so unpredictable and fickle. It was singing though. She liked singing the most. There was that nervousness in her, though, that whispered everyone would tire of her, being last and all. But the other side of her made her smirk just a bit. 

A dark and ice cold side of her, laughing in the back of her mind. Tomohina rubbed her forehead. Now it was just all about the wait. Wait, and wait, and wait some more. Don't try to peek out the door. Nothing to see. Nothing at all. Just vast darkness, feeding her secret anxiety like a parasite on a host body. 

"Kitome," she said softly, "Tell me a story while we wait... I always feel better listening to your stories..."