AU. Mitsuru Kirijo, future heir and ice princess of the Kirijo Group. Makoto Yuki, future heir and pimp playboy of the Yuki Group. At the beginning it was already decided that a marriage would be the ideal partnership between the two groups, but a certain incident severed whatever bond the two had, and both are constantly at each other's necks. The solution to end this nonsense? "I will not/won't marry him/her!"
Lol Imma explore as much as possible before I crawl back to my hiatus hole. Jk.
Iwatodai, 22 years ago.
"Are you ready?"
"No, not yet!"
The snow blanketed the whole of Iwatodai, projecting an image of pure white scenery. It was so white and gray, that the only colors dotted in this peaceful scenery are of red and blue hues.
"Are you ready?"
"No, not yet!"
The one in red, a child with brilliant red hair, giggled ever so quietly to herself. She was crouched behind a bush, intending to perfect this game called 'hide and seek'. She wondered if her friend is clever enough to find her in such a place. In fact, she deemed that he wouldn't even look here, given how she was raised.
"Are you ready?"
"...Yes, I'm ready!"
As silence ensued, the girl could only hear boots crushing the snow beneath them, as her friend seemed to be walking away from her direction. She allowed herself to smirk; she's won this round.
"GOTCHA!" At this even the girl screamed as she felt a pair of gloved hands wrap around her shoulders. Laughter followed soon after, coming from another child, this time in blue. "M-!" The girl's gasp was muffled by the bitter cold wind, but the other didn't mind it. He threw his head back, shaking in laughter, as said wind blew the beanie off, showing his thick blue fringe.
It seemed so unusual for a hair color to be blue, but then again, she's not one to talk. "H-how?! How were you able to find me?" The redhead questioned accusingly as the bluette in front of her stopped laughing and coyly smiled at her.
"You forgot to sweep your footprints from the snow."
Oh, so that was it. The girl instantly flamed up in embarrassment, mentally scolding herself for not thinking about that. As she sat there, pouting, the boy reached out and patted her head. The heaviness of his hand and the warmth it's sending somehow tingled something inside her.
"You shouldn't beat yourself up so much about it, Mitsu-chan," He still has that playful grin, but the kindness radiating from his eyes was enough. "The moment I don't see you, I'll always look for you."
Present time – December 31st, 2016
It was a cold New Year's Eve. The snow, unlike last time due to climate change, had thinned out more so than last year, and every year before that. While it's still as thin as a sheet, the snowfall didn't stop once December rolled by, and the area continues to be blanketed with white.
To celebrate the Kirijo Group's thirtieth anniversary, Takeharu Kirijo, the current head, decided to hold a party, inviting various guests, friends, and family. To be invited especially by Kirijo himself is truly an honor, and no foolish soul dared reject the invitation. It was a ripe moment for all companies, both big and small, who'd like to extend a partnership with a growing and successful corporation such as the Kirijo Group. Why, with Takeharu leading the group after succeeding Koetsu, it's no doubt that the company would become one of the most powerful corporations in Japan in the near future.
The party's to be held in a lavish hotel in Tokyo, some ways away from Iwatodai. It's a formal event, as Takeharu seemed to enjoy the theme. Takeharu is still a young man in his late forties, although the death of his wife seemed to freeze some parts of his heart, he is a resolute and bold businessman who always thought of the welfare of his company. His daughter, Mitsuru, just turned 25 last May, and although another party was held in her honor, he wasn't able to attend due to some pressing matters at work. He hoped that this time, the New Year's party, will be enough of a peace offering to his one and only daughter.
There was a knock on the door, interrupting the man's train of thought. Straightening his tie, he grunted and bid them enter. The door opened and a young woman with dark red hair entered, wearing a marvelous black gown with a slit at either side of her thighs. She wore a lovely down white shawl around her elbows and jewelry that accented her entire outfit. "We're already late for the party, father." She said with poise and grace, truly reflecting the years of what's it like to be under the Kirijo name. Takeharu, after checking his tie for the umpteenth time, turned to the redhead and waved a gloved hand.
"It'll be all right, Mitsuru. Everyone is just simply, early." The redhead, Mitsuru, rolled her eyes and privately smiled. Her father, although strict in some areas, can still crack a joke even in these circumstances.
Learning that he's still not done preparing, Mitsuru excused herself to make sure that everything's been set at the ballroom. While not the master of the ceremonies, she still tries to make sure that everything is perfect. No napkin must be upturned, plates and cutlery should be precise and orderly, lighting should be top-notched; she's a busy-body, but a good busy-body at that. The staff and personnel welcomed her suggestions and orders, although a bit peeved at her bossy attitude. This did not change anything, as she is a Kirijo after all. She is the next in line to the company and she proves to be a capable one too.
At around six o'clock, the guests started arriving. Posh limousines and other expensive looking cars drove up to the hotel; Company CEOs and their respective wives or husbands were attended to by the stewards while reporters and cameramen stood by the sidelines, snapping and flashing their devices at every chance they could get.
Takeharu (finally satisfied with his attire) and his daughter stood by the entrance hall of the ballroom, greeting and shaking hands with the guests. The men would bow and vigorously shake Takeharu's extended hand, while kissing the wrist of Mitsuru's somewhat forced arm. Women would have their own wrist kissed by the CEO of Kirijo himself, while gushing how the redhead looked beautiful and all grown-up. The father would smirk at one point when he caught the young lady blush at their words.
"She looks exactly like her mother, doesn't she, Kirijo-san?" A woman in her late-sixties proclaimed, Mitsuru recognized her as one of the retired employees. Takeharu allowed himself to privately smile at that, Mitsuru catching it barely. "She certainly has, Kuroda-san." He said with a proud tone in his words.
"Yeah, she has, huh?" A lackluster voice sounded right behind the old lady. The three's attention spun around to see a figure walking up to them, his form slouched with his hands in his pockets, but head held high.
A head topped with an untidy mess of dark, blue hair.
Immediately, Mitsuru's eyes narrowed. The young man grinned at her sardonically as he stopped to fully stand on his height, topping Mitsuru effortlessly. 'Why is he here?' She thought as she turned to her father with an eyebrow raised, demanding an explanation. But before he could reply, a booming voice interrupted them again. "Takeharu! It's good to see you again, old chap!" Another figure entered the picture, a well-rounded figure to be exact.
Takeharu turned to face the newcomers with a smaller, if not forced, smile. "Kentaro, glad you and your family could make it." He said in a cool voice, but the other man didn't seem to notice it, as his hand already took the other's non-outstretched one and heartily shook it. "Of course, of course! Couldn't turn down an invitation from you, it's the least I could do." His voice is too loud, even though it seems that this is completely normal.
"Yes, it seemed to fitting to show our faces every once in a while." The bluette continued, predatory eyes still locked onto Mitsuru's, who didn't relent and fought back with her infamous cold glare that could match her father's. "Good evening, Makoto-kun." Takeharu said to the lad, oblivious to the little stare down as Makoto turned to him and bowed formally.
"Good evening, Kirijo-san. Thank you very much for inviting us; it's truly an honor." Mitsuru wanted to roll her eyes but she composed herself before doing so.
Kentaro began steering away Takeharu for a conversation into the ballroom. With both fathers out of earshot, the heiress first broke the silent tension, "What are you doing here, Makoto?" She spat out venomously, as the other placed a gloved hand to his mouth and snickered.
"Oh, come on, Mitsy. Your old man invited our Group. Might as well show that we're still alive, right?" He countered, not even attempting to hide his sneer. He's dressed in a charcoal gray tuxedo with a navy blue tie that complimented his strange hair color. Not that the young woman would admit he looked good in anything; The two were locked down into a fierce stare-down that could freeze the entire room, that is, until the old lady from before coughed.
"Ah," The young man broke away first and turned his full attention to the woman. His expression completely changed so quickly; from that mocking stare he gave to the redhead into a mask of a pure gentleman. " Kuroda Hisano-san, correct?" He said, those sneering lips now turned into an angelic smile that can melt any heart, even the old lady's.
But not Mitsuru, no. She would never fell for that trap.
"Would you do me the honor of escorting you to the ball?" He said with such charm, such grace, that the old woman completely swooned and forgot about the scenario she just witnessed. "Oh! Oh, yes. Certainly, young man." She immediately took his arm as he 'escorted' the old lady into the ballroom. But not before glancing back to the redhead with that obvious curl of his lip, telling her, in his most obvious way, that she's way below him.
Mitsuru never felt so insulted in her entire life. No, that's incorrect. Makoto Yuki's very existence insulted every fiber of her being, to the point where she must restrain herself from going down to his level.
He's a demon in disguise, a wolf dressed in sheep's skin. He puts this front of a charismatic, suave young man who can instantly charm (except for her, of course) any woman, hence the old lady. He is the type to have women with his arms wrapped around them, a trail of broken hearts running behind. He is the son of Kentaro and Hamuko Yuki, and he's expected to lead the Group soon, after Kentaro's finally come to his senses.
'Should Kentaro-san follow that decision,' The redhead briefly thought. 'Their Group will soon meet their demise.' She didn't even stop to think about it logically. All she knew is that once Makoto takes charge, things would fall apart.
She hates him that much.
The evening went by without another hitch, as the redhead was so keen to avoid the bluette, who in turn avoided her as well. After the opening speech and the first notes of the orchestra played, the dance floor was instantly filled with eager couples, dancing to their hearts content. Other guests lingered at the sidelines, striking up conversations and business deals with champagne glasses in hand. Mitsuru spotted her father in deep conversation with many of his friends and cohorts, the current Yuki Group's CEO among them. She decided to talk to him about it some other time, maybe during dinner.
"Oh, there she is."
She turned around just in time to see two men around her age come walking towards her. "Akihiko! Shinjiro! It's good to see you here." She said wanly as the silver-haired one reached her first.
"Yeah, well, we had to pick up our tuxes on the way here; Shinji was careful not to let one crease." He lightly chuckled while the other one with the lanky brown hair scowled. His name is Akihiko Sanada, a police officer and an old friend of Mitsuru's. He used to be a boxer and he still somewhat is, training his body at the gym whenever he's off duty. Tonight he wore a black tux with a red tie and black leather gloves on his hands.
"Huh, easy for you to say, Aki," The other scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You were the idiot who insisted to go without showering first." He then looked at Mitsuru and his expression softened, somewhat. "...Sorry, we're late." This one is Shinjiro Aragaki, another one of Mitsuru's old friends. He is a culinary student by day and a sous chef at night. While he seems scary with how he towers people with his scowl, he is actually a big softy towards animals and children. For this event he wore an all back tux with a black tie and a gray vest.
Mitsuru smiled and shrugged off the matter. "I'm just glad you could make it. Father apparently had something to announce tonight." She added as a waiter passed by with a silver platter filled with champagne glasses. Shinjiro took one while Akihiko took two and handed Mitsuru the other.
"Oh?" Akihiko paused between sips to stare at the redhead. "Maybe he's finally announcing that you're taking over. Congrats in advance then." He snickered as Shinjiro smirked. Mitsuru rolled her eyes and sipped some champagne.
"That might not be it. He seemed a bit distracted tonight."
The conversation ebbed away into minor, smaller topics until the orchestra finished the first course and then moved over to a more slow yet uplifting melody, perfect for a ballroom. Mitsuru closed her eyes to listen to it more intently. 'Ah.' She finally recognized it. 'Johann Strauss's Blue Danube.' It's not a complete ballroom party without this piece. The dance floor was completely filled with new couples, and as Mitsuru gazed at them longingly, she felt somebody tap her shoulder. She looked at the source to see Akihiko lend his hand for her to take, "Care to have this dance with me, m'lady?"
Mitsuru chuckled at the corny, yet gentlemanly phrase as she agreed and placed her hand on his. Together with the silver-haired, the two reached the center as Akihiko placed a hesitating hand on her waist.
"Oh? I didn't peg you as the assertive type, Akihiko." Mitsuru teased as the other's face tinged pink. "Shut it. I took dancing lessons for this." With slight laugh, the two started swaying to the beat, the clarinets and the cymbals followed soon after. At the corner of their eye they could spot Shinjiro, smirking with a phone held up, presumably taking pictures. "I'm going to kill him." The silver-head deadpanned as Mitsuru sighed. Even now, they're still acting like children.
Around and around the ballroom, Akihiko, surprisingly showed the redhead a week's worth of lessons as he effortlessly led her, not even stumbling on his feet like last time. She was immensely impressed at how much he improved; she'd better compliment him on that.
"How are you, Mitsuru?" She turned her attention back to him, finding him gaze at her intensely. She pursed her lips to find an answer. She certainly did not expect that. "I'm doing fine. And you, Akihiko?"
"I'm...doing well too."
If she were denser than him, even her father would have a headache at how obvious it is. Fortunately, she's not that dense; she even understands. Even the thought of liking each other crossed her mind too, of course. They were childhood friends, and they attended the same schools. He was there for her when Takeharu fell ill and supported her at times she could not handle herself. 'Yes,' Mitsuru thought sullenly. 'At least somebody stayed with me when I needed someone the most.'
"Mitsuru?"
The redhead focused her attention back to the silverette. He smiled upon her reentry into this world, and suddenly his face seemed younger, thinner and paler than usual. His eyes were slowly turning from a light brown color to a darker shade of gray, and his hair was growing rapidly from silver to blue—
Suddenly, a high pitched scream erupted and Mitsuru froze. Her foot missed the timing and accidentally stepped on her partner's foot. "Youch!" Akihiko yelped, and it was enough to bring the redhead back to reality. She blinked several times before she quickly uttered an apology to him, "I, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" She asked as Akihiko grimaced and half-heartedly smiled at her again, ushering her to pay no mind to it. Thankfully, the piece ended soon and Akihiko escorted her out of the dance floor, albeit wobbling on his good leg than usual.
With Shinjiro nowhere to be found, the silver head excused himself to the washroom as he left the young woman to herself, who didn't notice him leaving. She slowly walked over to a chair and shakily sat down, trying to collect her thoughts. Earlier, somebody screamed, and while nobody seemed to notice it, she began to think that she must've heard it in her head. 'But what was that?' She contemplated when the orchestra suddenly stopped playing their third piece as the sound system began to hover down. "Good evening." A cool voice spoke into the microphone as everyone turned their attention to the center.
"Before I'd invite everyone to their respective dinner tables, I'd like to make an announcement." It was Takeharu, speaking into the microphone. Beside him were the rest of the board members, and surprisingly, Kentaro Yuki's there with him.
"It has been thirty long years since the Kirijo Group began its services, my father leading the group for the first 10 years before his unexpected death." That last part wasn't technically true. Kouetsu Kirijo, apparently, disappeared without a trace, after that embarrassing failure of an experiment-gone wrong, which almost endangered the lives of every human being in the area. "Since then, the Kirijo Group has long withstood the storms that tried to take it down, thanks to its many supporters and friends." At this the whole room burst into applause. Mitsuru swiveled her head left and right, looking for Akihiko and Shinjiro.
"That is why, to continue this prosperous foundation, Kirijo Group is happy to announce that we will be now be partnering with the Yuki Group!" Takeharu said, his voice becoming a bit stern at each tone. More applause resonated from the crowd, as the redhead found herself with wide eyes staring at her father in shock. 'A partnership with a different group would mean—'
"Not only that, I'm also happy to announce the recent engagement of my daughter, Mitsuru, to—"
Before she could hear anything else from her father Mitsuru's already running. It was certainly hard to run in heels, but she could hardly care at all. People turned heads and wondered why the heiress was running in an undignified action. She barely heard her father mention her name and one other person she did not want to hear at all.
I must get away from here—
Her feet led her outside the hotel, to the gardens. She was breathing heavily, panting from the spot. All sorts of questions raced through her mind as she tried to collect her thoughts. Why did I run? What am I doing? Father will be so disappointed, I must turn back—
But for some reason she's walking again, hands perched above her chest to calm her breathing. It was already disrespectful of her to leave the ballroom while she's being called, she first wanted to have some peace of mind before she's flung back into the chaos.
Her heels click-clacked against the cement of the gardens with no particular destination. In all honesty, she knew why she left, she knew what her father meant, she just could not bear to hear those words. 'I'm not...I won't...'
The gardens, lit by small lanterns by the pathways, looked dauntingly beautiful in the winter. The snow covered every inch of the landscape; the moon illuminated what the lanterns could not reach. It fit the situation perfectly; cold and unforgiving. The redhead silently cursed to herself for running away. A Kirijo doesn't run away, a Kirijio stands and fights—
"What do we have here?"
Disrupting her train of thought, she looked up and saw the last person she'd want to see. "So, did you come here to see me?" Makoto sarcastically stated, a lit cigarette on one hand and the other inside his pocket. He was sitting on a stone bench with a figure four posture; cigarette butts and ends cluttered distastefully on the snow. Mitsuru noted the tone in his words; he seemed...angry..?
"What are you doing here?" Ignoring his question, she held her head high and gripped her elbows. The bluette before her blew a puff of smoke to the side (thank goodness he still has manners, Mitsuru crossly thought) and gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, after the old man told me his plan I kinda punched him at the noggin' before I rushed out." He laughed loudly while taking another puff. He closed his eyes as his tilted his head backwards so that the smoke rose a few inches above. The heiress stared at the cloud before it disappeared into the snowfall.
"And you? Did you ran away too?" He opened one eye at her and Mitsuru turned away at once.
"None of your business, Makoto."
"Oh? But you know," He flicked the cigarette to the snow and stomped it completely as he stood up and started walking towards her. "Sooner or later, we're going to get married. You'll be my wife, Mitsy." He stopped just short of her and leaned in; he was so close Mitsuru could see every strand of his bangs, the way his nose was shaped so perfectly, his hot breath that smelled of cigarettes, and his piercing gray eyes that seemed to bore a hole into her skull.
She can't imagine them getting married. She can't picture herself in a wedding dress nor him in a groom's tux. No images of walking down the church, no flowers, no bells. Just a room full of suited men and women, maybe a deacon at the front, and him...
"I refuse." She said as she shoved him away. Perhaps she wasn't strong enough for he only took one step back as he continued to look down at her with that stupid (yet handsome) smile. This marriage isn't going to happen not only because she hates him, but it's because of his relationships. From what she knew, Makoto's the ultimate definition of a playboy, and he most certainly has a lover, if not a lot of them.
The bluette before tilted his head to the side, his smile almost thinning. "Oh, don't worry about them, Mitsy." She flinched at his words. How did he knew? "Besides, once we get married I'm only loyal to you." His remark seemed more of a joke than a serious statement. The redhead was appalled at his words. How could he treat women like that? Like they were just toys to his pleasure? This scum... She clenched a shaking fist and willed herself to not do anything stupid.
Perhaps she looked a bit too distressed to the other, for the next thing she knew she felt fingers sliding from her neck to her chin, sending goosebumps on her skin as he tilted her head to face him. Although she is a year older than him, Makoto sure grew taller than her, tall enough to make her look up to him to actually see his face.
"You're so beautiful tonight, Mitsuru." His voice was smoky and velvety, and it was so unusual yet so fitting for him. His warm eyes looked glazed and ready to get herself lost into it, and she was quickly drawn to them. He moved closer, his thumb gently pushed down her bottom lip as his mouth parted invitingly, and she was quite ready to indulge, only for her to mull over his words once again.
'You're so beautiful tonight, Mitsuru.'
Mitsuru.
Without warning, her hand reached up and immediately slapped him across the face. The sound resonated around the garden, and she seemed to put some strength into it for the other was pushed back some ways away from her. "Your cheap tricks won't work on me." She stated over bathed breath, small tears forming at the ends of her eyes. "You think just because you got it right I'd be foolish enough to fall for that?" Makoto, a pink hand-print welled up on his left cheek, looked back at her with the same, warm facade.
"But, Mitsuru-" He started when the redhead finally had it.
"Stop acting like him! Stop acting like Minato!"
She realized it was too late to retract her words. Makoto finally lost his smile, and his eyes widened slightly. The facade vanished at once; gone were the warm eyes and that ridiculously handsome grin. It was replaced with a face cast in stone; blank and unpredictable.
As neither didn't say anything for a while, Makoto straightened up his tie and dusted off his suit. Reaching into his pants pocket he produced a half-empty box of cigarettes. "...You certainly didn't change." His voice was back to normal as well. As the redhead watched him take a cancer stick and light it, his long bangs hid his eyes from view. "You were the only one who could tell us apart. Not even my parents can."
"It is kinda stupid of me to impersonate my own twin, knowing you. I guess I just wanna mess with you for a bit." He said with a laugh, but there isn't any smile or some sort of curve to him anymore. It was just a plain, thin line, with that stupid cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Makoto..." Mitsuru began, her tone still hard in case he's gonna verbally attack her again.
The latter took a hard draw before he began walking back to the direction of the hotel. He stopped just some ways behind her and glanced back, "Well, better get back to the party, Kirijo-san must be looking for you." He said as he then continued walking, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouching back to his original form. Mitsuru tried to follow him but she was too slow, and he was already out of reach.
I...I must apologize. "Makoto..!" She cried out, but he only gave her a half-wave, not even bothering to look back. She clutched the hem of her dress and looked down. Too her, it seemed that, the bluette not smiling did not suit him at all.
Why does it hurt? She wondered, indicating the small pang on her chest. She shook her head at the thought. Now's not the time to dwell on these confusing emotions, her father must be looking for her. Fixing her snowflaked hair, the heiress walked back to the hotel.
AN: Alo~ Yes, I'm not dead. College is screwing me ugh. Yeah, I shouldn't use that as an excuse haha
I have a question actually, does anybody know when is MC's birthday? A year was only indicated, but still I'd like to know. I might include it in here.
Anyway, thanks for reading this! Got any comments, questions, suggestions, criticisms, or flames? Yup, I'll be willing to read them all! Anything to improve my writing since I found out that my thesis is going to be a novel. Welp.