Sakura Kakei is so very proper.
Kagami initially misreads the fine print of her apologetic smiles, and it takes him several visits to realize that she hates him. While Makubex seethes and schemes, Sakura waits, ever maternal, ever fanatical.
Kagami likes the sleek untamed, things that gleam hot and cold at the same time. Sakura's mild face and indifferent dress are none of those things. There's no glass, no steel in her gaze.
There are other textures, though, that Kagami wouldn't mind exploring.
He sidles up to her in the lair. Her face is enmeshed in code — Makubex gone, resting. He lays a hand against her straight, straight back, and out of deference, she doesn't flinch.
"Sakura, I have a question."
"Yes, Kagami-kun?" Such proud gentleness.
He grasps her chin, tilts her face to him. "Is it true that Kakei blood runs lukewarm?"
Even in the dimness, Kagami can see Sakura's eyes changing texture. She lifts her left hand —the dominant one, he notes — and offers him her white, taut wrist.
"See for yourself, Kagami-kun," she says, so very politely.
Kagami smiles, and bites down.