Oh God! Kill me now! Just kill me right now, Sakura thought as she stared at herself in the full length mirror. Was this really her? Holy Mother Jesus Christ! She had pink hair. Candy floss pink hair! It was intricately formed high on her head into a chignon with a garland of cherry blossoms and beads of pink mother of pearls artistically decorated on it.

Her face! She moved closer to have a good look. She had to gasp again. Was this really her? She blinked. Her face was flawlessly made-up with rosy pink blush, bright eyes, long, dark lashes, and hot ruby lips.

Sakura, she thought, you looked like one of those high fashion models who was about to do a catwalk. Her heart did a somersault. Oh God, yes, that was exactly what she was about to do in twenty minutes times, and it was all due to a case of mistaken identity.

She was supposed to be here, minding her own business to steal a sneak peek at her supposedly biological mother Haruka Tanaka, but now looked at where it got her.

The gown! She couldn’t believe she was wearing a famous designer gown that no woman had ever worn nor anyone had ever seen before. Well, until tonight in—

She glanced at the huge clock on the wall to the right. Her heart did another jolt. Jesus! In only eighteen minutes times. Breathe, Sakura, just breathe—she told herself.

She had to call Jane. Jane would know what to do. Jane would sort all this mess out.

Her hands shaking, she dug into her bag and searched frantically for her cell phone. She found it and quickly dialed her friend’s number. Her whole body was shaking with nervousness as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Jane?” Sakura shouted into the phone, panic in her voice. “Jane?”

“Oi! You there. Quickly take this to Mr. Tachibana. Oh shit! What are you doing? That’s supposed to be over there. Quickly fix it. Now! And how are the backstage people going? What the heck! We’re on in fifteen! Oi, you fix her dress now. Shit! Where the hell is Chris! Chris! I need help here!”

Sakura gritted her teeth. She knew Jane was busy with work, but Sakura needed help. Pronto!

“Jane?” she shouted into the phone again.

“Huh? Oh God! I’m sorry, is that you Sakura? Where are you? I can’t believe I’ve lost you in this crazy mess.”

Sakura thought—forget about the crazy mess! She was the crazy mess!

“Jane? I need you. Please come quickly. I’m in trouble,” she begged. She was almost on the verge of crying but managed to control herself because she didn’t want to mess up her beautifully made-up face that three make-up artists had worked so hard on. She just couldn’t believe she was in this stupid predicament. That was all.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“They mistook me for Sakura,” she said.

“What? Hold on a second. I can’t hear you properly in this crazy noise.” A moment later, “What was it again?”

Sakura sighed and shouted into the phone. “They mistook me for Sakura.”

A pause and then, “But you are Sakura.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. The make-up artists mistook me for Sakura, the famous Japanese super model.”

“Holy Shit!” Jane swore loudly into the phone. “Where are you?”

“The dressing room,” Sakura replied, her voice shaking. “Please come quickly.”

“Right, be there in a second.”

“Okay,” Sakura whispered into the phone, her heart thumping hard out within her chest. She took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes. Yes, everything would be all right. Jane would be here soon.

“You looked shorter than I remember,” a seductive voice with a hint of Japanese accent said softly.

Sakura gasped and twisted around, her eyes wide in panic. She came to face a very beautiful Japanese model. Tall, slender, and with a face to die for, the woman could really crash the stage with her look alone. She was wearing a light purple gown, beautifully designed and decorated with beads of tiny diamonds around the collar. Her hair, candy purple in color, was also fashioned high on her head into a chignon with a garland of purple flower artistically arranged to the left side. 

“Baka!” the woman said, blinking as she stared at Sakura in awe.

Sakura licked her lip as she gazed at the woman, her heart continued to pound within her chest.

“You’re not Sakura,” she said.

Sakura blinked. “Well, I’m not and I am.”

The Japanese beauty blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sakura knew she had to come clean whether she liked it or not. Then there was also the fact that this Japanese beauty might be able to help her out of this stupid misunderstanding. She cleared her throat and squeaked out, “They mistook me for the Japanese model Sakura. What am I going to do?”

The Japanese beauty cocked her head to one side as she gazed at Sakura for a long while, as if she was assessing Sakura. Then suddenly she laughed. It was a beautiful, rich laughter that any man would find very attractive. She came forward and smiled at Sakura, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Well, I for once am quite glad you’re going to be the finale. Oba-chan would be very pleased indeed you’re the one wearing her necklace,” she said.

Sakura blinked. “Huh? What? Finale?”

Lisa, the stylist, reappeared. “Quick!” she muttered, her face red from running and ordering people around. “We’re on in twelve minutes and you need your mask. And where the hell is that precious necklace?” she shouted to someone behind her.

“I’m Akira, by the way,” the Japanese woman said. “And you are Sakura, yes?”

Sakura nodded, and before she could say anything further, Lisa twisted her around and made her sit in the make-up chair again. “Mask! Mask! Now!” she shouted.

Sakura watched as a beautifully designed mask of white, pink, and gold with cherry blossom flowers appeared before her. Then a make-up artist arranged it on her face so that it sat comfortably on her. A moment later, they moved back and Sakura blinked. The shape of the mask was like that of the phantom of the opera with one fourth of her face covered. She couldn’t recognize herself. She wasn’t her anymore.

Akira chuckled. “Amazing, yes?”

Sakura nodded, lost for words.

“Where the hell is that stupid necklace!” Lisa shouted again.

Akira said as another make-up artist also placed a mask on her pretty face, “I don’t think you should call that precious necklace stupid, Lisa. It is, after all, worth at least two million.”

Sakura gasped and shot up. “Two million?” she shouted out in surprise. “Two million?”

“Hai,” Akira said, smiling, mask neatly in place. “You are the finale, after all. And besides, you shouldn’t be too surprised. Your gown is worth at least five hundred thousand, what with those beads of pink diamond and all.”

Sakura could only stand there and stare at Akira, her eyes wide open in shock. Then the expensive necklace appeared, securely placed in a locked velvet box.

Sakura watched, dazed, as the intricately designed necklace of pink diamonds was placed around her neck.

Oh no! She shouldn’t be wearing this. Not her. Not Sakura. What if she lost it? What if she damaged it?

“You’re ready,” Lisa said. “Now then, off you all go. We’re on in ten minutes.”

Suddenly, Sakura found herself being ushered toward the stage. No. No. No.

“Why are you so nervous?” Akira asked.

“I’ve never done this before,” Sakura said breathlessly.

“Oh.” But instead of sympathizing with Sakura, she laughed again with that beautiful rich voice of hers. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Look, all you have to do is to not pay attention to the audience. Just listen to the music and walk. That’s all you have to do. Walk. In your mind, just imagine you’re somewhere else. Anywhere else but here.”

“Does that really help?” Sakura asked, curious.

Akira nodded. “It helped me.”

Sakura wasn’t so sure that this would help her, but she was willing to give anything a try. Then she thought about Jane. Where the heck was Jane?

Sakura was praying very hard Jane would miraculously appear and sort out this mess when she heard a commotion on the other side. She looked up to see the famous Japanese designer Mr. Tachibana coming toward them, his long hair—dyed bleach blond—flying and his long white robe fluttering about him. Beside him was the woman Sakura had been waiting eagerly to meet in person, the woman who had given birth to her twenty-five years ago, Haruka Tanaka, also known simply as Ms. Ruka. She was tall, Sakura realized, with strong, angular face, and thin nose that sat nicely on her face. She was very beautiful.

“What?” Mr. Tachibana shouted at Chris Williams. “Sakura isn’t here yet? And you didn’t tell me this until now? When we only have ten minutes until show time?”

Sakura licked her lips, her stomach flipping in dread as she watched them coming closer to her, still arguing about the missing super model Sakura Taito.

Ms. Ruka watched Chris flustered in his spot as if he wanted to die. After all, Sakura Taito was their finale and thus without her the show couldn’t possibly be a success. They only had ten minutes until show time. There were thousands of rich and famous people out there waiting to see Mr. Tachibana’s famous gowns and Lady Suzuki’s one-of-a-kind necklaces. They had to come up with something. Of course, they could always cast another model for the finale. There was no problem with that. Thus with that idea in mind, she stepped in and said, “Moushiwake arimasen, Tachibana-sama, but I have just called Sakura-san, too. She refused to come without an escort. She wants a limo not a taxi, so she told me.”

Mr. Tachibana was ready to tear his hair off. He was stalking toward the line of models who were wearing his latest spring-summer collection, waiting to go on the runway here at the famous Princeton Hotel in New York. And yet, his finale, his best piece—his pride and joy—couldn’t be on the show because his first choice of model refused to come on stage? Because she wanted a limo and a proper escort? Yes, Mr. Tachibana was ready to scream the hotel down and kill himself when suddenly he spotted his master piece on the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She really took his breath away as he gazed at her. Instantly, he calmed down and cocked his head to one side.

Oh my Lord, she looked exactly like that spring Goddess he had seen in his dream. She was beautiful. She awed him. She was perfect. But she wasn’t Sakura Taito. At this moment, however, Mr. Tachibana had no choice. Then there was also the fact that he was so impressed and taken by the pink hair beauty that he just didn’t care anymore and raced forward.

He came to stop mere inches away from Sakura and stared at her long and hard.

Sakura was taken by surprise. Oh God, she thought, he was going to rip her to pieces. And where the hell was Jane?

Mr. Tachibana reached out and arranged the diamond necklace around Sakura’s neck properly. “Now you’re perfect,” he said, his eyes shining.

Ms. Ruka appeared behind him and looked at Sakura. “But she’s not Sakura?”

Mr. Tachibana waved his assistant aside. “Doesn’t matter. She’s perfect. Get ready girls, we’re on in five.”

Sakura could only stare at Ms. Ruka, her heart thumping loud and hard within her chest. Finally, she thought, she was able to meet her biological mother. Here of all places.

Sakura licked her lips, and was about to say something to Ms. Ruka when the woman walked away after Mr. Tachibana.

Akira chuckled. “What? Are you taken by him?” she asked.

Sakura turned to look at Akira in confusion. “What? You mean Mr. Tachibana?”

Akira laughed. “No silly, I mean Haruka Tanaka. Or I should say Ms. Ruka.”

Sakura blinked in confusion. Akira could only laugh even more at Sakura. She said, “Haruka Tanaka was a man. She looks pretty as a woman, yes?”

Sakura’s brain went numbed. Wait! What?

She turned to Akira. “What do you mean?”

“Haruka Tanaka had a sex change. She was a he before,” Akira said, emphasizing the word ‘he’.

Suddenly, Sakura felt her world spinning around her. Then when that information finally sunk in, she gasped. She couldn’t believe it. She was here to see the woman who was supposedly her biological mother named Haruka Tanaka, and here she was, finally meeting that particular woman who turned out to be a transgender. Sakura wanted to die.

She turned to Akira, just to confirm that the information she had just received was a fact—a real, hard fact. “You mean Ms. Haruka Tanaka who liked to be call Ms. Ruka was actually a male?”

Akira smiled and nodded her head pleasantly. “Hai.”

Sakura felt as though her heart was going to burst out of her chest any second now. But she didn’t have time for that when only a few lines down some girls were giggling loudly.

“Really? Oh my Gosh! I have to do my best then,” one said.

“I can’t wait until this is over and we get to meet the brothers,” another said.

“I’m going for Tristan. He’s so hot.” One giggled.

“Be careful, he’s a one night stand.”

“I don’t care. He’s totally hot.”

“The hottest one is Sebastian.”

“I’m going for Darcy. I think he’s the hottest. He’s also one of the youngest billionaire in the world, according to Ford’s magazine. That new game he created was amazing. What was it? Snow White and the Seven Knights or something. It literally took over the gaming world by storm, so my brother said.”

“Oh I’m totally into dark hair guys.”

Sakura gritted her teeth, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably. Oh God! They were here? Now? Yes, she knew this was their hotel. Yes, she knew they all now lived in New York. But she knew for a fact that she’d never have to meet them again since there were millions of people living in New York. In fact, she had been hiding from them and had been avoiding them for a year now. She had done that marvelously, and she wasn’t going to ruin that great record by stomping down the runway and letting them see her in her full glory, was she?

She was about to bolt when Akira caught her by the arm and said, “We’re on.”

Sakura froze. Now? On stage now?

At that moment, a couple girls up ahead of them glanced at Sakura.

“So that’s the famous Sakura from Japan? She’s short,” one said.

“And she gets to wear the best gown,” another muttered. “Just because she’s Japanese.”

“And the best necklace,” yet another said.

“She doesn’t look Japanese to me,” another commented.

Sakura, however, wasn’t listening to them. She was too busy being freaked out by the thought of going out there on the runway. The girls giggled and pretended to fall on each other, bumping into Sakura.

Sakura fell to her knees, causing the delicate mask to fall from her face, landing on the concrete floor and breaking into pieces.

“Shit!” she swore under her breath, staring at the broken mask.

“Hey, what was that for?” Akira shouted at the girls. “You definitely did that on purpose.”

The girls laughed. “You got a problem with that, Kimono girl?”

Akira gritted her teeth and was about to head over to give them a piece of her mind when Mr. Tachibana appeared. “What happened?” he asked, his face red.

Sakura looked up. Mr. Tachibana could only stare at her in disbelief.

“Sorry, the mask, it’s broken,” Sakura said apologetically.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Akira interrupted.

“It was an accident,” Sakura said, feeling pleased all of a sudden. “I suppose I can’t go on after all.”

Mr. Tachibana didn’t answer. He simply stared at Sakura, his eyes wide in wonder. Without the mask on, she was simply too beautiful for words, especially with the gold glitter lining the recently broken mask still stuck to her flawless face. And those two different colors eyes of her. They were simply amazing. One was the color of summer, a bright azure blue like the wide-open spring sky. The other was the color of the cold winter, a mauve grey that he’d never seen before.

Mr. Tachibana couldn’t be more pleased.

“Tachibana-sama, we’re on,” Ms. Ruka shouted from the other side.

Mr. Tachibana nodded. He said to Sakura, “Do your best. I’m depending on you.”

Sakura blinked. Come again?

“You’re my best work. Don’t you dare let me down.”

Sakura blinked. Is he crazy? She’d never done a catwalk before, let alone on a runway this big and in front of the richest and most famous people of all.

Suddenly, Mr. Tachibana was gone and the music blared all around them. The line started to move up, and Sakura shook from head to toe. Oh God, she felt sick. Very sick.

Then she realized something. My mask! She needed her mask. How could she go out there without a mask on like everyone else? What if the Princeton brothers were out there? What if they recognized her? Even with this pink hair, glittered face, and fancy gown?

Breathe, Sakura, breathe! She closed her eyes, wondering what she should do.

“I’m next,” Akira said lightly. “And then it’s you. Don’t forget. Don’t think about what you’re doing. Just listen to the music and walk.”

Sakura nodded, and then Akira was gone, as Mr. Tachibana and Ms. Ruka signaled for her to go.

“Sakura!” Jane suddenly appeared and called out to her. “What are you doing?”

Sakura was about to explain when Mr. Tachibana grabbed her by the arm and nudged her onto the stage.

* * * * *