Sorry for the long wait, I hope to be able to write more but with school starting, I'm not sure. I'm trying my hand in a more light-hearted story this time. And yes, this is a KaitoxAoko fic, please be patient and give this story a try.
She wanders through the Hakuba garden, basking in the dim beauty of the pale flowers and the glowing moonlight that serves to be her guide. The gray cobble stoned path designed in a complicated geometric pattern, one that Hakuba Saguru himself had designed, makes a gentle clacking sound against her cream colored heels with each careful step she took. She wants to lose herself in the flowers and the trees. She wants to forget who she is deep into the forest of well trimmed roses and an ocean of large bluebells. Vaguely, she wonders what it would be like to evaporate right there from the garden. She imagines disappearing without a trace and in the back of her mind, she muses over who would take the time to look for her. The unachievable dream tempts her.
"Aoko-kun, is that you?" she hears Saguru calling from the entrance of the garden. She doesn't face him immediately but rather gazes at the grand array of flowers for a second longer before turning towards him with a soft smile plastered onto her face. "What are you doing here?" he asks, concern tainting his voice. "It's freezing." He walks toward her dressed in black tie. "I just needed to get some fresh air. I hope I'm not causing any trouble," she apologizes.
"Not a problem, he says smoothly. "Take your time. The stars are clear on cold nights like this. Really, it's beautiful outside. Perfect for clearing away troubles but I just can't see how you're not freezing to death in this 2.1 degrees Celsius temperature tonight. Especially in that dress. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but it surely can't provide much warmth."
She laughs lightly. Aoko wants to tell him that it was her mother that picked the dress out for her, though he could probably deduce it himself. The sleeveless one piece that shaped her physique and ended before her knees. She answers that she is rather cold, though she isn't. It was too stuffy and proper in the house. She's been trained by her mother to act the way she does. Her mother had stressed on the importance of acting like a southern belle, like her mother once was. She learned to never falter with her composure. To act dainty in the appearance of gentlemen. To sit up straight. Condemned to be soft spoken. Never to voice her opinions. Never be without the escort of a gentleman in any social appearance.
Really, she had tried to escape from the last one, with little proven success. She doesn't mind that it's Saguru too much though. Compared to other men, she's lucky that it's him. She grew up with him as a child back when her mother, Hime, granting her permission to have blotches of mud staining her dress at the end of the day. They went to school together until Aoko was forced to drop out and enlist in boarding school to become a proper lady. He was one of the few men she's met that seems to genuinely care for her well being and enjoy her general company while others fain interest and prefer to put her on display in public places with her by his side.
She knows that he knows she's lying about the cold bothering her. It's never seemed to be an obstacle for her since they were young children. She could walk to school in the cold with him as it snowed, wearing only her navy blue uniform skirt to protect her legs, but it doesn't stop him from Saguru taking off his suit jacket and placing it over her shoulders. He's a born gentleman through and through. Deep inside, she wishes she could have the natural knack for being socially charming. "Thank you," she whispers to him and he gives her a wink. They take a seat on the garden bench, wordlessly staring at the darkened sky, an inverted canvas peppered with splatters.
He gets up first after a couple minutes fly by like a shooting star and he offers her his hand to help her up. She's perfectly capable of standing up from the bench without his help, but she accepts and places her soft hands into his strong ones. "Would you like to go inside? There's someone I'd like to introduce you to," he states in the form of a question. He gestures towards his brightly lit mansion, often referred to as Hakuba Hall, an affectionate nickname bestowed by the news reporters that often make appearances to interview Saguru on his latest detective works.
"I'm sure mother put you up to this. He's going to be some rich man hungrily looking for any pretty girl that he can bribe with his old money to settle down with," she sighs, stretching her arms. She peels off Saguru's jacket and tosses it to him. He almost drops it in the dirt and lilies. Aoko glances over her shoulder to insure no one saw her being unladylike before dissolving into giggles. An impressive wall of hydrangeas protects them from society.
"He's a detective I've known for quite some time now." Aoko ignores him and takes an interest in the red roses. "I think you might take a liking to him," he offers. Aoko gives a dramatic sigh. "As long as he's not going to be one of the suitor's that passed mother's list of requirements, I suppose I can stand to accompany him for one night." Saguru sucks in his cheeks and offers no agreement, to which Aoko notices immediately. "You're kidding me," she murmurs with traces of faint callousness. She digs the extended heels of her off white shoes into the mud, dirtying them, until they are more like flats and not the four inch hells that pinch her toes tightly. Splotches of dark brown earth settle on the smooth surface of her expensive shoes. Saguru watches.
She imagines the heels of her shoes growing roots underneath the soft dirt and keeping her to the ground where her mother couldn't push her around wherever she fancied. She pictures herself growing into something like a flower, admired and cared for. Still, she'd be treated with kindness for her beauty, but as a flower, she could hold her ground. Really, Aoko doesn't care to be a flower; she just wants to live on her own terms.
With added gentleness and cautiousness, Saguru guides Aoko back to the bench and removes her shoes. She feels a bit like a reverse Cinderella, the way he slips her heels off with wholehearted concern. The Britt uses his pocket handkerchief and wipes off the mud that was caked onto them. She thanks him in a low, singsong voice as the realization of her mother's anger suddenly stung her as a possibility if she returned with dirtied shoes.
"Really, he's not all that bad. I was the one that suggested him coming to the party and your mother met him afterwards and interrogated him," he reasons, chasing Aoko back onto the topic of his guest and Aoko whispers a quiet agreement.
They walk back on the cobble stone path heading toward the house. "Madame Nakamori is looking for you," he whispers to her, pointing just above a trimmed hedge toward the second floor of the magnificent house. The grand windows of the third floor, glowing a vibrant gold from the lighting, released the blurred silhouette of a tall woman clearly in search of someone, occasionally stopping by maids assumedly to ask a question before walking away flustered. Aoko releases a groan.
"We need to get you back inside before she realizes you've been trying to avoid everyone." She nods wordlessly and her hesitancy to return inside fades. She follows him with a glimmer of dejectedness in her eyes as she follows Saguru back into the grand estate. Aoko's sense of comfort is left behind in the garden and her demeanor suddenly evolves. She becomes increasingly meek with every step they take. More polite, more agreeable. Less Aoko.
Her pale brown dress begins to reflect light as the pair walks closer toward the house. It begins to shimmer and reflect against the strong illuminations of the party, transforming the short dress her mother had forced her to wearing into a glowing gown of gold. Men outside on the patio turn their heads toward the attractive two and she becomes careful not to make eye contact with any of them. She had made the mistake at curiously glancing at her audience before and later felt deep remorse when she had become condemned to spend the rest of the parties catering to the guests that had caught her eye for a fraction of a second.
She lifts her head a little higher and takes smaller steps. Saguru offers Aoko his elbow to which she daintily accepts. Aoko gently feels the fabric of his Savoy Taylors Guild suit that he had custom fit from London, and the sturdiness of his arm underneath the thick, quality fabric. She can smell the faint scent of the cologne she had bought for him lingering in their shared space. She remembers that he wasn't particularly fond of it at first, as he had never heard of the brand, but was delighted nevertheless with the quiet aroma of the forest. To Aoko, it smelled like freedom. She herself had been doused in perfume by one of her maids that had been picked out for her by her mother. It drowned her in overgrown jasmine and violet. The heavy feminine notes of her expensive perfume flirted with Saguru's and she felt deep embarrassment brewing within her as she wished she could have sprayed on Saguru's rather than hers.
"Saguru Obocchan," a butler, as well dressed as the guests, bows in front of them in respect as they step onto the porch. He offers them a silver platter that sits two tall, thin glasses of champagne. He accepts, placing one into Aoko's hand before taking his own. They clink their glasses together. "A toast to youth, and all of the gifts that accompany it," he offers and she lifts the drink to her lips. Though she could finish the alcohol in one go, she remembers where she is and her place. Aoko nurses the bubbling drink in dainty sips, careful not to smear her new rosy red matte lip stick onto the intricately engraved glass. There's a small scene of a stampede of stallions on it, and she takes the time to admire it with genuine curiosity. White horse, she remembers fondly.
As she hands the empty glass back to the butler, with a ghost of a smile, the faint trace of a threatening red smear wiped away with a quick swipe of her finger. The girl suddenly feels a hand clamp against her wrist. She releases a breathy gasp of surprise before composing herself. She almost grinds her heels against the figure's foot before she realizes who it is. "Mother," she whispers lowly, suddenly very relieved that she didn't step on her mother's silver and blue Louboutin pumps. Her mother would kill her if she had, though she has a pair of shoes for every dress and she never wears the same dress twice.
Aoko gives her mother an attempt of a charming smile and an air of disguised elegance. She forces on a look of faded feminine composure at the woman towering over her. Saguru says nothing, standing over with the butler. He'd never admit it, but Aoko knows he's terrified of her mother as well.
Her mother, undoubtedly beautiful, with her perfectly contoured face and winged eyeliner sharper than her extravagant wit, takes a perfectly manicured acrylic maroon clad finger and swipes a piece of Aoko's hair out of her face. She mentions how shamefully messy it is, the number of flyaway's and bumps in her hair being disrespectful to the formal event. "Redo it," she states in her husky voice that taunts and tantalizes, without a second thought and order's one of Saguru's maids to take her daughter into an unoccupied room and unknot the braids only to reweave it back into the same elaborate plait, only tighter.
Stuck in a broom closet, as it was the only room the maid found to be free of the possibility of uninvited presences, the maid begins the task of managing Aoko's untamable hair. "I'm sorry," she apologizes without reason to the Japanese girl. The maid brushes her own light brown bangs out of her face before touching her focuses. Really, Aoko can't help but to admire the maid's hair. The paleness of her hazel hair cut in a wispy tom boyish manner hiding her ears seems to accentuate her petite feminine frame. Aoko grows a headache as the young worker with Western almond eyes that she can't quite tell if its blue or green begins to pull her hair into place. She's singing to herself in English, a love song. Aoko hears words she understands here and there but overall, most of the song is twisted into incomprehension with her thick British accent. Aoko sticks with closing her eyes, patiently waiting for the pain against her scalp to loosen. She smells of lavender, or perhaps, it's simply only of the dryer sheets waiting patiently on one of the higher shelves.
Her mother comes into the broom closet to inspect her hair when the maid finishes and after a distasteful glance, she releases an exasperated sigh and dramatically declares that her daughter is fit to evaluate the suitors at the party. Aoko doesn't especially want to leave the comfort of the small room and meet the guests but she forces herself to step out into the shark tank. Saguru, who was waiting for her, lights up and walks to her and her mother.
"Madame Nakamori," he acknowledges with a charming smile and a quick bow. He kisses her hand, to which she gives a look of approval to. The stiff demeanor of the older woman suddenly grows to become softer, sweeter. "Good evening Saguru-kun. You're party is as gorgeous as ever ," she voices with utmost favor "and I've told you, there's no need for calling me 'Madame', we've known each other far too long for such formalities," she charms. "Hime-san, then," he corrects himself with a bow in apology. She leads the conversation into small talk, to which Saguru excels at, skillfully asking about her dress. Aoko retains the desire to roll her eyes and represses her boredom as she hears her mother explain in great details the handiwork of her lace wrap from Diane Von Furstenberg. After a few more minutes of conversation, Saguru politely excuses himself when the mother spoke. She gives a sweet look toward Hakuba and loudly suggests him to be a fitting candidate for her search towards Aoko's gentleman caller. "Thank you for the suggestion Hime-san, I'll be sure to take it into account," he says unfazed.
He offers Aoko an extended arm, to which she graciously takes, thankful to be away from the suffocating woman and walks back toward the patio; the rosewood flooring releasing the subtle sweet scent of the summer evening. The two grab another bout of alcohol and laugh lightly. "Marry me," she teases pulling on his tie to bring his face closer, keeping her voice quiet so those around them don't hear. "I'm too afraid to spend every Christmas with your mother to," he replies with the same quiet tone, swatting her hand away in a playful manner after confirming no one was watching. The two friends take another drink to their youth.
"I need to introduce you to someone," he remembers, his voice rising back to his norm. "I'll go fetch him." He leaves Aoko out on the patio before she can manage words, alone, and it's like magic how his disappearance had conjured the appearance of other men. The petite brunette's surprised Saguru left her so willingly among the pack of wolves, but she doesn't voice her fear of being left on the patio. Had her mother been near, Hime would have badgered her daughter to use the opportunity to appear as the single maiden she is to associate with other men without her childhood friend's protection.
One walks up to her in a confident swagger, dark hair, dark eyes, and glasses for a look of intelligence. Undoubtedly, he's handsome but Aoko wants nothing to do with the possessive stare that he reaches towards her with. He greets her, introducing himself to be Akagi Kyo. He traces his hand along her side before grasping her hand and leaving a kiss upon it, to which she stiffens and forces herself not to shiver. "Entertain me, Mademoiselle," he murmurs, hand still clasped onto hers.
"I'm waiting for someone," she says coldly, her head held high. Aoko refuses to give the man the satisfaction of her obvious discomfort. She wants to throw the remaining champagne in her glass at the man's face or at least slap his clammy hand away from hers. She settles for neither, and too afraid to cause a scene to ask for help, she twists her wrist away from his reach and emits an air of dignified self worth. He grabs her again, this time both of her wrists; Aoko begins to call out for help, but stops before the voice reaches through her throat in fear of word getting to her mother.
Her mother would scold her with intense ferocity if she had even been notified that her lone daughter at the age suitable to be looking for a male caller had denied the request of the company of a gentleman. Aoko notices her hands shaking against the tight pressure of his rough hands. Panic consumes her as she levels the fear of her mother above the man her own age towering over her.
She sees the scene unfold in the tall windows. She notices in the reflection, herself. The girl, only a year before twenty, thinks that she sees less of her than there used to be. Her thin frame appearing to appeared to look even smaller. She seemed to be disappearing, wilting into nothingness. She lost weight; her entire persona seemed to be only a fraction of what it was at the last party, a moon ago. Aoko realizes that she seems to be melting away into oblivion, where only a puddle of her memory will remain as, that too, will eventually evaporate into the blank stare of nihility. It scares her.
Everything else however, the background, seemed to be intolerably large. Grotesque and obesely so. Kyo and his frighteningly sturdy build refusing to lighten his hold onto her arms. If his face wasn't contorted into one of agitation and arrogance, Aoko believes her mother would try to set the two together, had she met the man. He's dressed with divine taste, obviously coming from a family with money. His suit, freshly pressed, makes a fine crease on where his elbow bends. His cuff link gleams in the window, as does the reflection of the rim of his glasses.
No one helps her. Rather, the few that do seem to take note of the agitation of the young lady's demeanor, simply take a feigned interest in the opulent glass centerpiece on the mixer's bar. Unmistakably, it's slightly, the shape of a stallion on its hind legs ready to run his way to freedom. The opaque, milky coloring of the statue, displaying itself at over two feet in a prideful stance, takea away from Aoko's fear to cry for help. The guests of the party dissolve themselves into the thick layers of hand woven silk and lace of their formal garments and the foamy folds of fine champagne. Among the alluring audience, Aoko was alone.
The bystander effect, the British detective called it once. Where no one helps the victim in a crowd, expecting others to do so instead. Kyo refuses to release her wrists, only taunting her further, fully aware of Aoko's reluctance to call for help. "Let go of me," she asks indignantly but quietly. Before Kyo says anything with his crooked and distastefully cocky smile, Saguru places a hand on his shoulder, and looks at him coldly. "I don't suppose you're using your brother's name to excuse this ridiculous behavior," Saguru asks him calmly with an underlying tone of venom.
Kyo glares at him with equal venom but drops Aoko's hands to which she reacts immediately, swiftly walking to be beside her childhood friend. "Don't associate me with that soccer playing bastard, Hideo," he nearly yells. An older couple gives a distasteful glance toward him; Kyo's face rushes color upon realization of the scene he had caused. "Please excuse yourself, Akagi-san, I'll be sure to inform the staff you are no longer welcome," Saguru states, bitterness falling into his words at last. Kyo, clearly, outraged by the act of authority asserted onto him, spits on the rosewood flooring of the patio, shrugging his shoulders in feigned indifference. More of the surrounding audience turns towards the act of disrespect, mentally taking note of the famous Tokyo Spirits soccer player's less known brother. One of the more youthful workers of the party, perhaps one of the entertainers, guides him around the house, towards the magnificent, black baroque styled fence. He walks out, defeated, giving a final glance of angry desire towards the girl swelling with contained furosity.
"I'm sorry for this inexcusable behavior," the blond sighs, his vexation slowly waning, replacing itself with concern toward his childhood friend. He gently takes a hold of Aoko's wrists, inspecting them for the slightest flaws. "I'm fine," she assures him, shaking her hands away from him, offering a gentle smile. The number of couples watching the course of events begin to lose interest, and when the elderly couple finally walk back inside to the center of the party, Aoko lets out a heavy sigh and rests her head on Saguru's chest. "I wanted to hit him," she whispers guiltily. Saguru lets out a sigh of relief of his own, reassurance of Aoko's safety.
"Let's go inside," he recommends after giving her time to recover. She nods, giving him a forced smile he sees straight through. One of the maids, the one that fixed her hair, takes notice as she offers to take up glasses with various alcohols dabbling the rim and small plates of leftover European cuisine amongst the guests on the patio. Upon setting the dirty dishes aside, she fills a clean glass with orange juice and takes it to Aoko, her faint lavender scent following her. The girl accepts gratefully, holding the milky antique glass and taking quick sips of the refreshing beverage. "Thank you Koshimizu-san," Saguru offers cautiously to which she gives a small smile and nods before coolly walking off.
He leads Aoko inside the house, in the second living room. It's significantly smaller than the main room but holds a more lived in feeling. A pale milk chocolate wall contained a man dressed in formal navy blue, reading one of the books from the large bookshelf. "Kudo," Saguru calls out. He closes the book, one of the first editions of Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, and looks up. His sharp blue eyes catch sight of Aoko and holds a pocket of silence, his eyes never leaving her face. She holds the gaze, wondering what's causing him to make such a lonely face towards her.
AN: Probably the longest thing I've ever written so far and it's only getting longer. Another attempt at a story that'll last longer than a single chapter. We'll see how it turns out. I promise you'll see Kaito soon. Anyway, review?