The whip bit into her back, scoring across the tender marks already there. Its target let out a hiss of breath through gritted teeth, tears welling from her eyes. Her hands, against the wall, curled into fists.
"That's pain. Know it. Embrace it."
"Yes…"
Another stroke, another line of blood, like the stem of a perfect flower, etched into her skin. She bit her lip from crying out, but couldn't resist a soft, low whimper.
"Are you alive?"
"Yes… Ritsu-sensei."
"How do you know?" Again the whip lashed out.
A hoarse reply. "The pain, sensei."
He stepped back with one foot, assessing his work, an art critic reviewing a new piece. Then he deftly folded the whip around its sleek handle. "All right. We're done."
Her shoulders slumped in relief, and, as though the supports holding her up had been removed, dropped to her knees. Her fingers sought the smooth, comforting material of her discarded shirt and gathered it to herself in a semblance of concealment.
"Of course, Soubi-kun never made a sound."
She refused to take the bait, remaining silent and not looking at him. He was trying to goad her, to make her hate Soubi, and as much as she tried to deny the fact, it was working. She hated his guts with a passion she'd never felt for anything. Agatsuma Soubi… so damn perfect. Ritsu's favorite, his pet. She couldn't compare. But she showed no reaction, and was rewarded with the soft exhalation that was as close as he would get to a sigh.
"All right, Tsuki-chan. Go ahead and clean up."
Tsukiko rose and bowed, still facing away from him, and left for the bathroom attached to his apartment. He must have been getting frustrated, she thought, concealing a slight smile.
Ritsu watched her go, a faint smile playing about at the corners of his mouth. He removed his glasses with one hand, and brushed his hair out of his face. Exactly like he'd thought she would behave. She was learning.