Disclaimer: Paradise Kiss and all characters contained therein are the property of Ai Yazawa.

Author’s Note: And the conclusion! Miwako and Arashi get married. This chapter is about the length of the first to chapters combined, but hey, sometimes it takes that much.

For All the Tomorrows

Part 3

She had started cultivating blue roses shortly after the senior show.

They hadn’t been of any use, of course; by the time the bloomed in high summer, the show had been in the past for an entire year. George was designing for a prestigious design house and working towards building his own company. Yukari had been juggling modeling with college. Arashi had started devoting himself more fully to his band, and Miwako had started work at Happy Berry.

Isabella was the only one who saw the brilliant blue-purple flowers, and even she didn’t see them often. There wasn’t time anymore. She, like the rest of her friends, had been sent into a post-high school flurry of activity.

So the Bleu Magenta roses that she had carefully chosen were, for the most part, ignored while Isabella learned her new routine.

Once she had mastered her new life, she remembered them, and smiled.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she had bothered to grow them—the event they would have been most useful for was long past, and the show dress was carefully wrapped and stored in George’s closet with the rest of the beautiful clothing.

The roses grew in the garden, where no one but Isabella and Sebastian saw them, and occasionally served as a centerpiece in the dining room, but never left the grounds of the Yamamoto estate.

Until Miwako and Arashi had finally decided to get married, and Miwako had chosen purple and lavender as the wedding colors.

The Bleu Magenta roses would look lovely in Miwako’s hair. Or rather, they would look lovely in Miwako’s lavender wig.

Isabella pulled her silk robe closer around herself, picked up the basket, and headed back towards his empty house. The sun was just beginning to rise in the east.

It was going to be a long day.

***

Miwako was nervous, and tired.

She felt like she hadn’t slept at all the night before, and she put most of the blame for that on Mikako’s shoulders.

Her sister had, in an odd moment of traditionalism, insisted that Miwako stay in her old room at her home, instead of the apartment Miwako had been sharing with Arashi.

Over the past few years, Miwako had somehow forgotten how to sleep alone.

“Sit up, Miwako, or I won’t be able to put this on straight.” Mikako was scowling into the mirror in front of her sister, with half a dozen bobby pins in her mouth.

“I’m tired.”

“And whose fault is that?” Mikako responded automatically.

“Yours.” Miwako’s eyes sparkled mischievously, but she pulled herself upright and sat still.

“This wig is your fault, though. I have no idea why, after twenty-five years of pink, you chose lavender for today.”

“I wanted something that would make today different.”

“Today,” said Mikako as she shoved one last pin in. “Will be different no matter what. It can’t help but be.”

“I’ve got the flowers!” called Isabella as she glided into the room.

Mikako lifted her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you dyed those flowers.”

The roses were an unreal shade of violet, so deep as to be almost blue, and they rather resembled the color of the flowers Yukari had once worn in her hair for the Yaza Arts show.

Isabella shook her head and smiled at the older woman, who still looked as if she could be Miwako’s twin. “Of course not,” she said as she stripped off one white glove. “See, no stains.”

She set the white basket on the vanity and worked her glove back on her hand. “Blue roses are rare, but not completely unknown. I started growing these the year after we all graduated.”

“They’re beautiful,” said Miwako, trailing a fingertip over one deep purple petal. She smiled up at Isabella. “Thank you.”

Isabella smiled slightly. “They would go to waste in my garden.”

She scrutinized Miwako’s image in the mirror. The lavender wig was finally in place, and curls tumbled over the petite girl’s shoulders. “Now, how are we going to do this? Are you leaving the wig down?”

“I don’t want to contemplate trying an upsweep with that thing, so yes.” Mikako sounded a bit disgruntled.

“A wreath of flowers might be best, then,” said Isabella, tapping a fingertip against her chin. “What do you think, Miwako?”

Miwako opened her mouth to reply, but was forestalled by a voice coming from the room’s entrance. “I think a wreath would make Miwako look like a fairy tale princess or a wood nymph.

“If you want help, Isabella,” continued Yukari, “I’d be glad to lend my assistance.”

“Caroline!” squeaked Miwako. “You’re here early.”

Yukari nodded. “Hiro was looking at his computer screen in such a way that I know that he’d be out of it for hours.” She snorted. “I’ll call him, so he remembers to get changed in time.”

Miwako nodded in agreement. “I’d worry about Arashi, but George is handling him.”

Isabella grinned in a very un-ladylike way as she picked up a few flowers from the basket and started twining the stems together. “Poor Arashi. I saw the tuxedo that George designed for the occasion.”

“Oh?” said Yukari as she eyed Isabella’s wreath. Some baby’s breath would work well to break up the purple. Perhaps some leaves as well. “What’s it like?”

“Well, in keeping with Miwako’s theme, it’s purple.” Isabella filled in the gaps in the wreath with more roses, and accepted the baby’s breath Yukari handed her. “With pin stripes in a coordinating shade of lavender. The shirt matches.

“It’s a wonderful ensemble, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of an old American mobster. Perhaps one that stepped into a vat of purple dye?”

The other three women choked, and then started laughing.

***

Hiro dashed down the hall of the hotel where Miwako and Arashi were getting married. He was almost sure he was going to be late, and he hated being late.

Plus, Yukari had sounded particularly amused when she had finally gotten him on the phone.

Hiro smiled slightly as he knotted his tie. If she teased him about it too badly, he could always remind her of her spastic tendencies from high school.

He might remind her anyway; Yukari was cute when she blushed beet red.

First, of course, he had to find her. He had no idea where the women were hiding.

“Why do I have to wear this?!” came an irritated male voice from the left.

Hiro grinned. No, he didn’t know where the girls were, but now he had a fairly good idea where Arashi and Koizumi were. He stepped towards the appropriate door and peeked in. His eyes widened.

He could definitely understand Arashi’s objections now. He reminded himself to never allow George Koizumi design something for his eventual wedding day.

Still, it didn’t look at all bad on Arashi. The guitarist could carry off flamboyance quite well.

And it was too good of an opportunity to miss out on.

“You do look spectacular, Arashi,” he said, with amusement lacing his voice liberally.

Both men flipped their heads towards Hiro. Arashi immediately turned bright red, and started protesting.

A variety of expressions flitted across Koizumi’s face, finally ending with a mildly amused look.

Hiroyuki noted that the anger and pain that had been present on George Koizumi’s face during most of their encounters during the past year was conspicuously absent.

Interesting, that.

“At last,” said Koizumi, interrupting Hiro’s inner analysis. “Someone who agrees with me. Besides,” he said to Arashi, a grin widening his face. “Miwako would be hurt if you didn’t abide by her color scheme. You don’t want to hurt her feelings, would you?”

“And I’m sure you didn’t take the precaution of bringing something else to wear,” noted Hiro. “So I think you’re stuck.”

Arashi eyed both men. One had been his best friend from childhood, and they had finally started to heal the rift between them. The other was his best friend from high school. They were getting along.

Clearly, the entire world was against him.

“Why do I even bother,” he muttered as he flopped onto a couch.

“Don’t crush the suit,” said George automatically, before turning to Hiro. “Want some champagne, Tokumori?”

“Sure.”

George poured a glass and handed it to Hiroyuki. “By the way, you’re tie is crooked.”

Hiro looked down. “Ah. So it is.”

He set down his champagne and straightened it. “Better?”

“Much.”

Arashi merely groaned and buried his head in his hands.

He thought that he liked it better when Hiroyuki and George disliked each other.

***

When it came time to dress for the wedding, Yukari stepped out of the bride’s dressing room and donned her bridesmaid’s dress.

It was, of course, a very untraditional dress.

Instead of the floaty fabrics and feminine lines of most of the dresses she’d seen, it was sharp and modern, constructed of fabric that was more crisp than soft. It was dark purple, much darker than what was being worn by Mikako and Miwako, and had thin, black pinstripes.

In essence, it was a high-style business suit, with touches of black lace to make certain that it never dreamed of a conventional boardroom.

Yukari smoothed the long, narrow skirt over her legs, and checked her black boots for scuffs before checking the mirror one last time.

She looked fine; she looked the way she was used to looking.

People would probably watch her as she walked down the aisle, but not for long.

Because, Yukari thought as she shut the door behind her, today Sakurada Miwako was far more beautiful.

***

George closed his eyes as he leaned against the bottom of the wrought iron railing of the hotel staircase.

Only a few days ago, he’d been dreading this moment—he’d been afraid of holding his ex-girlfriend’s hand.

He’d always pushed Yukari to stand on her own, to be independent, but he’d been afraid that he was incapable of doing the same. He’d been afraid that when confronted with the girl he’d loved for five of his most tumultuous years, that he wouldn’t be able to let go of her.

Now, he knew he would be able to.

George heard the click of high heels on the stairs and looked up.

Yukari, of course, looked beautiful. But then, she always did.

She would always be beautiful, but his heart didn’t ache very much anymore when he saw her. George knew he was ready to move on.

“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

She smiled at him, an open, completely free smile that he’d rarely seen when they’d been dating. It was the final proof to George that Yukari was happier now than he could have ever made her.

“Yes,” she said, holding onto his hand tightly.

The music started, and they walked through the double doors towards the wedding.

He looked into the audience, and saw Kaori. She smiled at him.

George realized that he felt like laughing.

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