Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Ansatsu Kyoushitsu.
Allure
Three years ago…
December 25th 2013,
Unknown location
"Y-Yuki."
The first snowflake of winter.
"Don't worry Shiro-san," the timid bespectacled woman whispered. The albino mouse in her hand trembled under the soft caresses of her fingers. The frightened look in its eyes made her heart clench. "I-I'm not going to hurt you. P-Please believe me, Shiro-san," she gently coaxed the mouse to relax. "We'll find a w-warm place to stay for the night, alright?"
The shabby brown, tattered coat that she had found lying discarded on the streets a few moons ago had pockets large enough for 'Shiro-san' to rest comfortably inside. As well as protect from the brunt of the cold wintry winds as winter shrouded Tokyo in a sheet of ice and snow. Lowering the mouse into her breast pocket, she let slip a tiny giggle at how eager Shiro-san embraced its warmth.
Brushing aside a few stray snowflakes from her hair, Manami took a moment to collect her wits about her before she tried to venture out to find another temporary shelter. Head tilted towards the inky black sky, she idly traced the silhouette of the full moon and the cluster of blinking stars gravitating towards it.
Manami was reminded quite suddenly of another time, the exact view she shared now overlooked from a different vantage point. A familiar white paned window with blue tinted glass, on a second floor of a two-storey terrace house.
She blinked. The memory faded away.
Manami had never spent a night outside during Christmas before. But then again, she had never been homeless either.
Feeling the rough, coarse ground next to her, she let loose a sigh of relief when she felt the strap of her bag was still there. The ways of the streets are cruel; she had discovered after nearly a fortnight of exposure to the shadowy underbelly of the city. It was a small wonder how she had managed to survive with the meagre supplies that she had been able to 'collect' thus far.
Carefully getting to her feet, Manami secured the strap around her, and pulled the coat a little tighter as she stepped out of the small alcove she had hidden herself in.
As much as she wanted to remain there for the night, she knew better than to try and stake a claim on territory that was already taken. It was out of sheer luck that the usual occupant had been absent when she had stumbled across it. And she knew better than to try and push her luck.
After meandering around for awhile, she realised the lack of people on the streets and the height of the moon above her. Has so much time passed already while she had waited for the common people to disperse and return to their homes? How had she not come to notice the growing darkness and the subtle lengthening her shadow?
It was without a doubt a time that all good little children were fast asleep in their comfortable beds, not sculling about the streets at night with an albino mouse tucked away in their pockets. Manami took a moment to envy the luxury of that the occupants of the houses had as she passed them by, toying with the memory of a time when she had been able to sleep without worrying about thieves slipping away with her supplies when her eyes were closed or the dying in her sleep from the biting cold.
As she turned, a flash of light drew her attention to the town square, the sounds of rushing and falling water of the fountain echoed along with her footsteps as she headed towards it.
The town square was a ghost town; the streets lamps flickered as they illuminated the sleeping town in a musty yellow light; darkened windows and shuttered doors lined the solitary street, the slight creaking of the hinges as wind roughly ambled through the town, setting to motion the various shop signs swinging about their metal poles.
It was exhilarating, she had to admit, a midnight excursion outside. Though she may not get to celebrate the warmth and joy of the holiday with her family anymore, she could not say she was alone that night either.
"Shiro-san, Shiro-san," Manami gently coaxed the mouse to stick its head out. She smiled the series of irritated squeaks that followed, for a moment allowing herself to bask in that small, rare moment of amusement that her cute white mouse had elicit. "Look at all the b-books, Shiro-san," she excitedly whispered, gesturing at the tinted glass in front of her. In bold letters, the sign read: The Yukimura Bookshop.
"I-I used to get as Christmas presents, Shiro-san. B-But ever since Tou-san d-disappeared, and Mama got really sick, books had b-been an infrequent luxury f-for these past few years." Manami gazed sadly at the bleak grey pavement, scuffing her incredibly worn shoes. "I-I miss Mama and Tou-san, Shiro-san," she sniffled. Thinking about her parents never fails to make her feel tearful.
Too caught up in her reminiscences, she missed the subtle elongation of her shadow, the appearance of another silhouette in the grimy glass window.
"Aw, isn't that sweet? I think they'd miss you too, little mouse."
Startled, she whipped around, a hand clutched at her racing heart.
Unearthly mercury eyes glowed with mischief as he watched her as she regain her composure, a lazy smirk curled on his lips.
As she forced herself to calm down and steadied her breathing, her violet eyes took the time to assess the stranger that had found her sculling under the moon's yawning shadow.
The man was dressed in what seemed to be working clothes - the ones that her Tou-san used to where every morning before going off to work - a neatly ironed royal blue dress shirt and formal black slacks. There was a dark lumpy shape wound around his arm, what she assumed to be his jacket. It was too dark to identify his hair, but by then she had seen enough.
When she had not said anything to his sudden presence, he apparently took that as an invitation to step closer. Manami, for the moment, stilled herself not to show weakness so soon and stayed rooted in her spot. Taking his own sweet time, the man took his time to survey her appearance - dirty, gaunt and bundled up in a shabby looking coat that had probably seen better times. She reckoned that she was a frightening sight to behold.
"It's a little too dark to be out strolling about town at this time, don't you think?" he commented casually, those glowing silvery eyes of his flickering to the bookshop sign and back to her. His smirk seemed to become a little sharper. "Word on the street was that some gang wars was going to take place at town square tonight and everyone cleared out of here as fast as they could," he said, doing one big sweeping motion with his hand.
"Oh," was her only response.
It was obvious he was laughing at her, those eyes of his said so much. "Unless you're part of the gangs, which I'll take a wild guess that you're not, what's a pretty girl like you dressed in drags doing in a place like this?"
"I...um, well that...It's n-not what it l-looks like!" As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Manami winced. She had literally said the one cliche phrase that would make the man even more suspicious of her when all she wanted was to disappear before anything serious happened. It was her mistake for not remembering the warning that a fellow street rat had told her a few days ago about the rising tension between the gangs.
He raised an eyebrow. "Not what it looks like?" he echoed back at her, leaving Manami with the distinct feeling that he was mocking her in someway. Her eyes glanced at the colourful books left on display before returning back to him. It startled her again to find out he was still standing right there, watching her.
"Hm, like how you weren't confessing your life story to the books you could never have again?" he said. Manami looked at him, really looked at him. The man grinned at having her attention. "Really touching story by the way, it almost moved me to tears. Your father abandoning you and your mother, who I gathered is probably going to die sometime soon...Basically, you have no one else to turn to and the streets swallowed you up when you weren't looking."
That hurt. That really hurt.
Turning away, she clutched the front of her coat. "W-Who are you?" she asked, though it was said in a strong voice, her gaze never left the sight of his polished boots. "W-What are you doing here?" Then a thought struck, his words finally sinking in. "H-How long h-have you been watching me?" she whispered, horrified.
The man carelessly shrugged, and she had to mentally tore her eyes away at how his sinewy shoulders rippled with that single, smooth movement. "Just how long have you been living in the streets?" he replied evasively, causing her to visibly recoil from him.
"T-That's none of your business!"
"Tsk tsk," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. Manami trembled. "I'm afraid that's where you're wrong, little mouse. You have undoubtedly captured my interest - whether this is unfortunate or fortunate for you, I will let you decide. But the fact remains that I'm curious."
He took a step closer.
"It honestly confusing me."
She took a step back.
"W-What is?"
"You," he said simply. "You're nothing special. Just an innocent girl who was unlucky enough to be saddled with an unfaithful father and weak mother for parents. A generic backstory that can be cut and pasted over a million other people around the globe-"
"D-Don't you dare talk about my parents like that! You have no right!" Manami felt like bolting but the unseen pressure coming from the man kept her from running. That, and the self-righteous need to defend her parents in the face of his mocking slander. It was enough to make her angry that she could temporarily push down her mind mounting fear. "You don't know anything about me or my family. My father did not abandon us, he disappeared! And my mother was not weak, she was…" She took a deep breath. "She was the strongest person I know!"
"Hm? Is that so?"
His face was the perfect mask of amusement.
Manami glared at him. "Yes," she told him, firmly.
She was startled when he laughed.
"Haha, I haven't seen that look in someone in a long time. How cute," he said after the laughter subsided. "Usually, everyone is quick to crumble when I poke at their defences but not you apparently. You're making me more interested in you, little mouse." He took a step closer. "But maybe it's still too early for me to decide."
Once again, she took a step back.
"T-To decide what?" Her stuttering returned as her back hit against the cold glass. "P-Please!" she pleaded, scared. The situation felt more tense than before. "I d-don't have anything you'd want! You s-said yourself, I'm nothing special. So please, l-leave me alone."
An arm stretched above on either side of her head, caging her in.
"Tell me," he muttered, glancing down at her with a wicked smirk. "How do you think this scene would play out?"
Manami glanced furtively around, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She hesitantly looked up into those predatory silvery eyes and minutely gulped.
"Y-You could suddenly find kindness in your h-heart to let me go. And we can go our separate ways and p-pretend that this never happened..."
She trailed off when he started laughing again, his whole body shaking with mirth.
"You're adorable, little mouse. An absolute riot."
Any hope she had to escape sank down the drain.
"N-No, please…"
Her eyes widened as he smoothly leaned in and closed the infinitesimal distance that had existed between them, pressing his lips firmly against her own chapped ones. She felt his rough, callous hands cup the sides of her face, his lips slightly tilted at an angle to better slant them against her own, pressing more intimately against her.
His tongue brushed against the seams of her lips, trying to tempt her to open her mouth to him. She trembled under his touch, refusing to part her once virgin lips for him.
He suddenly gave her lower lip a sharp nip. She gasped. Ever the opportunist, he slyly slipped his tongue inside the hot cavern of her mouth, prodding around it until he successfully wrapped his tongue around her own. Leaning in closer, he proceeded to stroke it lovingly, making her tremble under his ministrations as she became overwhelmed by the sensations he was forcibly eliciting out of her.
It was an oppressive feeling - as she struggled to cope with his aggressive dominance and assertiveness in commanding her body to dance his desired tunes, trying to combat his seduction. Her mind threatened to whiten out into blank static with her emotions spiralling out of control.
Conscious control was a dream.
Give in. Surrender.
Mercurial eyes bore intensely into her own as he deepened his French kissing even more, pressing himself against her that she could intimately feel almost every bumps and crevices, every contours of his body. His heartbeat - erratic and loud - and the warm breaths exhaled with each seconds their lips remained locked together.
Surrender, little mouse.
She did not understand it, how his voice, rough and coarse, vibrated through her mind like a tuning fork seeking harmony. It made the very foundations of her being tingle, the muscles in her arms and legs slacken, the beating heart of her hastening into a quick pace suited to be called a gallop.
No! I refuse to give in to you! Her hands tightened, her eyes narrowed in concentration albeit unfocused. Stop pushing me. In a hasty move, she gripped the lapels of his dress shirt (she minutely took pride in the shocked expression that flitted over his face) and pressed back against him. He stumbled back two steps easily, giving her no resistance. And get out my head. The pressure on her mind lessened, and continuously pushed against any lingering presence of him.
Get out my MIND!
But it was a temporary reprieved since he regained control once more - were his eyes suppose to be golden in colour? - and the victory she had won was lost in a sea of numbness and static, his domineering will empowering her thoughts and actions.
You don't make the rules.
Anger that did not belong to her clouded her mind in waves.
I do.
His presence came back in full force.
Surrender.
And she was ashamed to say, her defences fell to shambles.
It was not later until he finally pulled away, and that his tongue languidly uncurled itself around her own, that her glazed eyes fluttered opened. The first thing she saw was the lazy contentment in his face and felt mortified when she also felt how wet her mouth was, their joined saliva threatening to slide down from the corner of her lips due to how hungrily he had devoured her.
Stepping back with a self-satisfied smirk, he let his hands fall from her arms.
With his hands no longer holding her up, she slid down with a solid thud.
She stared at the pavement, trembling uncontrollably.
There was a loud sigh, and suddenly he was there crouched down in front of her, his messy red hair more sinister looking especially paired with those imperious golden eyes.
She blinked at the offered hand.
Manami curled inward into herself away from him. She wanted to run away, to burn the memory of what had just transpired from her mind, to have the pavement beneath her open up and swallow her whole.
The dead can have her. Her instincts screamed at her that this man was dangerous.
Touching him was the last thing she wanted to do.
It must have shown on her face since he retracted back his hand, a pensive look on his face. In this past godforsaken hour (or days, it felt like a number of days has passed) that she met this man, the thoughtful expression he now wore scared her the most. There was a smudge of darkness to it, adding to his eerily coloured eyes, blurring the lines between reality and nightmare. She shivered.
He was staring at her.
"...wait, she nearly broke through," she heard him mutter, though it seems like he was not conscious of it. "She nearly broke through my orders." Manami flinched when he suddenly addressed her. "How?" he demanded. "How did you broke through it?"
Manami shook her head fearfully, pressing herself hard against the wall.
"No, you probably wouldn't know what you were even doing," he continued muttering to himself. "A conscious action is doubtful. Involuntarily...maybe as a sort of defense mechanism-"
She tuned out most of his ramblings, her mind going haywire. She needed to escape, she needed to leave. Her body felt like it had been dropped into a tub of slime and she just wanted to wash him off of her.
So it was a tiny window of opportunity, when he turned to stand up and looked away from her briefly to check out the streets, that she quickly got up and bolted.
Manami did not care where she was running towards. Putting more power in her legs, she did not look back as she tried to put as much distance as she could between him and her.
Shaking his head, the redheaded man watched as his prey tried to escape his clutches. Normally, if she was a typical tryst he charmed off the street, he would have let her go. Pursue and kill the tramp of he was feeling the mood.
But this girl - straight-long unkempt deep violet hair, clear lilac eyes and have the defiance to stand up to him at times - his tongue licked his wet lips, savouring the lingering taste of her. Her worth had just about escalated the moment she tried doing what she did.
Not many can resist his orders.
Few could fend off his mental persuasions for that long.
And no one could override his dominance.
She almost did.
Akabane Karma glanced at his watch.
I'll give her five minutes.
::
Five minutes passed.
He gave chase.
::
To her credit, she lasted a little longer than he thought before falling into his trap.
A little over five hours.
Impressive.
::
It was not until she was finally left alone to her own devices
that she realised that Shiro was gone.
::
Another bridge burned.
Behind her, there was nothing left but ashes.
::
"Enjoy your new home for the next...eternity or so."
He leaned over her.
If her mouth was not muzzled she would have spat at him.
"I suggest you learn to get comfortable quickly."
He grinned.
"I'm never letting you go, after all."
::
The drugs they administered her made her feel constantly weak.
He said it was for her own protection.
She knew it was just him making her subservient to him.
::
The first year felt like hell.
It was the fight for her life.
She lost more times than she could count.
But she took pride on those times she won.
::
The second year, he was wearing down her defenses.
The drugs became stronger as she mentally grew stronger.
She resisted more.
"Do it!"
Another backhand, and she was spitting out blood.
"Listen to me!"
It was obvious he didn't like it.
::
He cheated. Constantly.
::
It became more obvious whenever she retained some lucidity,
which was becoming rare with all the chemicals they were pumping in her body.
::
It was hard to win against pheromones.
::
The third year came and she fell all over again.
This time harder.
::
Okuda Manami refuse to hate.
::
But Akabane Karma was her sole exception.
::
Present time.
November 9th 2016
Kiseki General Hospital, Underground Research Facility
The glass door smoothly slide open.
"How are we feeling today, Manami?"
If looks could kill, the Director of the whole scheme, Akabane Karma would have been dead at her feet ages ago, precisely the night he had violated her and took away her freedom of right by locking her up in this cell to be experimented on at his leisure.
Okuda Manami was not a hateful person by nature. But even she could not deny the twinge of that vile, acrid emotion taking up residence in her heart at the mere sight of that blood red hair and self-satisfied smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Nor the way her face voluntarily twisted itself into a mask of cold indifference, her violet eyes reminiscent of the sharp tips of ice glaciers found in the Arctic Circle.
It frightened her how much three years of solitary confinement had changed her. She was losing herself; gradually with a piece chipped away each day for as long as she allowed herself to be trapped in this cell of hers.
Not liking her silence, he tsked loudly. "Oh, that attitude won't do at all. It's not very polite, ignoring your superiors like that, Manami." She absolutely abhorred it, hating the way his very lips mould together and caressed her name as a lover would. His voice, low and sultry, could be felt gliding across her exposed skin, phantom hands touching everywhere and anywhere on her body, especially places where she did not want to be touched.
Stalking towards her as a predator would towards its prey, Akabane squatted down so that their eyes were level with each other with her seated form, long arms enclosing her from either side of her, forcing her to take note of his unwanted presence in her personal bubble. Not turning her face, she cut him a glance, amethyst eyes narrowed into a steely glare. Instead of deterring him, as she knew it would not, it served to make him more highly amused.
And, dare she say it, aroused.
Tracing a teasing finger down the length of her collarbone, he leaned in to whisper against the pale skin, his hot breath causing her to involuntarily shiver. "Do we really have to do this again, my little mouse?" he breathed, placing a wet kiss on her neck that made her squirm. "Not that I don't enjoy our little mind games, but must you really resist this? You know how much easier it is to give in to me."
She tried leaning as far away as she could from him, but the hand that had somehow snaked its way around her waist pulled her back, flushed against his toned body, her hand force to find purchase by grabbing a fistful of the silky white dress shirt that he always seemed to wear.
Akabane tsked again, disappointment clearly written on his handsome visage. "Do I really have to order you to have you completely bend to my wants? Unwillingly? That's not fun," he whined to her, tugging her a stray hair out her plaited braids.
"L-Let go of me, A-Akuma!"
He laughed. "Never."
Slipping his hands under her loose hospital gown, he thumbs traced indiscernible patterns on her stomach, his lips long since detached themselves from her lips to attach the nape of her creamy neck willingly exposed to him.
And Manami hated herself for falling for it.
His allure.
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A/N: This was written to set the right mood for Karma and Manami's interaction in Compulsion.
-The Last Deathly Guardian
Japanese terminology used:
Shiro means white.
Yuki means snow.
Akuma means devil.