Chapter 3 of The Bird and the Worm: Abduction

I made a triumphant pose with my arms over my head and my legs spread shoulder width apart after I walked through the doorway -the bell above the entrance made a shrill ding sound as I had passed under it- into the bookstore.

"I am here for work! And I'm on time today!"

My boss, a crotchety looking old man with thinning white hair, thick rimmed glasses, and a slight hunch back, didn't look impressed. "What? You want a treat for coming to your damn job? Get your lazy ass to work, these books aren't going to sort and sell themselves." He also had a bad habit of cursing like a sailor.

I saluted. "Yes, sir!" I had been out of commission for a little less than a week due to my concussion, but now I was at full health again thanks to four days of rest and a few chocolate milkshakes, on Daiki's tab of course.

"What the hell happened to your head?" he barked as I darted past him.

I paused and looked back at my boss over my shoulder. "Didn't you read the news? A bear escaped from the zoo and I wrestled it...with my bare hands." I claimed dramatically as I raised my hands up slowly, curling my fingers inward to imitate claws.

"That sounds like a load of horse shit," he replied dryly.

I shrugged as I made my way to the back room where the office was located. After I clocked in I immediately began the task of taking inventory.

I picked up the clipboard that was on the desk and made my way through the labyrinth of shelves, making sure everything was priced correctly and to count how many books we had in each section. Shoplifting was a probably every once in a while and I was put in charge of checking every few days to make sure the receipts matched up to the books that we had sold during the week.

Working in a bookstore wasn't exactly the most exciting job in the world, but at least it provided me with some source of income. Sometimes I would get to talk and recommend books to customers, but most of my time was spent doing routine tasks such as going over inventory, organizing things -working at a bookstore makes alphabetizing became an obsession, if I see anything out of place in a DVD collection or CD rack I have the overwhelming urge to put everything in a proper order-, cleaning the front windows, dusting off shelves, and ringing up purchases.

Overall, I enjoyed it.

The bookstore was a tiny building that was painted a dull color of creamy white and was tucked away in a busy part of the city, it was easy to miss unless you knew where to find it or happened to stumble into it on accident. The front window of the shop wasn't anything flashy, just a large display window that had the shop's name, Yamamoto Bookstore, written in bright red and gold calligraphy lettering in English with the kanji written under it rather subtly in black. The paint was chipping, but my boss was too lazy and cheap to get it repainted. His logic was that he was going to kick the bucket soon anyway so what did he care if it looked like shit.

We mainly dealt in selling hand-me-down books, books that had been thrown away or donated to the store. Despite the small size of the shop, there were dozens of shelves spaced only three to four feet apart from one another that were crammed with books. Most of the books had torn covers, ripped seams, and pages falling out. We had humidifiers in almost every corner of the store to preserve what was left of the books so their damage wouldn't worsen over time. Most of the books were older than my mother, published decades ago and it was a wonder how they managed to remain somewhat intact over the years.

It smelt like ink and old paper inside. It was oddly comforting.

A lot of the books were foreign too, our largest section was in English. Second largest being French.

I can't even begin to recount how many times my boss had caught me with my nose in a book. Before working here I had never enjoyed reading, but business was usually slower than a snail's pace somedays and I had to pass the time somehow. The cramped spaces within the shop made it easy to hide from him, but he would find me at least once a week sitting on a stool or step ladder with my eyes glued to the pages of book such as The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Great Gatsby.

Usually, it took me at least five to six hours to finish counting our inventory and to make sure we were fully stocked, but my boss interrupted me when I was halfway through the French section and sent me up to the register to help costumers with their purchases.

There was a rather long line in the front, which was unusual. But it was nothing I couldn't handle. After my first part time job at a busy fast food joint, a line of a dozen or so people didn't frighten me anymore.

"Oh, you poor dear! Whatever happened to your head? It looks painful," one woman cooed with her hand hovering over her mouth in concern as she stepped up to the register.

"Saved a baby from a burning building the other day," I began as a rung up her purchase- a copy of the Canterbury Tales, a personal favorite of mine- with enthusiasm. "On my way out, a support beam fell from the ceiling and hit me in the head. There was all this blood and it hurt like hell, but I saved the kid." I bagged the book for her and handed her the receipt.

There were tears welling up in her eyes. "You're such a brave young girl."

"Just doing my civic duty, ma'am." I flashed a winning grin as I handed her the bag. "Have a nice day."

When I finished ringing up the last customer, I spent the next few minutes replacing the receipt paper in the cash register and making sure the counter was neat and tidy.

As Yamamoto-san, my boss, would often say to me, "If you have time to lean you have time to clean."

I drummed my fingers on top of the wooden counter after I made sure everything was in its proper place. Time had certainly come to a standstill. It was such a small, unknown bookstore that it was very rare for us to over have more than a few dozen costumers in a day.

I was the only part time employee here. My coworkers only consisted of my boss and his son who worked here full time, but I rarely saw Yamamoto-san's son.

I could hear the clock on the wall behind me ticking and I began tapping my fingers in beat with it.

After spacing out for a few minutes and seriously considering what odds I had of surviving of a zombie invasion, Yamamoto-san snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention just as I was making a mental note to buy a metal baseball bat if the world ever came to the zombie apocalypse. You could never be too safe, you know.

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to point towards the left side of the shop. "Hey, there's some rich ass prissy looking boy in the foreign literature section who asked for you. Go see what he wants."

My heart sunk down to my feet. You have got to be kidding me. He's here? Right now?

I felt a surge of sickness rush through me. I almost thought I was going to heave up my breakfast and lunch right there in the bookstore. The back of my throat felt acidic as I tried to keep my food down as I navigated my way through the shelves to find him.

He was browsing the German literature section. I could see his eyes behind his lenses scanning the titles. He was holding his chin between his index finger and thumb with his elbow resting on the back of his other hand that was folded against his chest. He looked so pristine and perfect, as per usual, there wasn't even one out of place wrinkle on his t-shirt.

I dragged my feet over to him, absolutely dreading our upcoming interaction.

"May I help you find anything, sir?" I asked while making a displeased face. It was obviously no mere coincidence that he just happened to end up here at this little hole-in-the-wall bookstore where I just so happened to be working.

Stalker.

He turned his head in my direction, diverting his attention away from the shelf full of German literature in front of him. "I believe I just found what I was looking for."

I never saw the point of big, fancy limousines. Who needed so much space to themselves inside a car anyway? They seemed so overly extravagant with their shiny, black leather interior and the glass division that separated the passengers from the driver.

It was cold inside the interior as well. Even the cranberry colored hoodie I was wearing didn't keep me warm enough. I could feel the goosebumps on my arms. Perhaps this was a torture method of his?

Or maybe those goosebumps were a result of my fear?

I tried to keep a straight face, he would only try to use it to his advantage. He already had the upper hand, there was no point supplying him with more fuel to torment me.

I scooted away from Ootori as much as possible in the backseat as if he had a contagious disease. The side of my body was pressed up against the car door and I began violently jerking at the door handle in a vain attempt to force open the door and flee. It was locked. Damn!

I leaned back into the black leather seat, folded my arms across my chest, and pouted. "This is called kidnapping, you know."

His lips twitched as if he were about to chuckle at my comment.

My eyes scanned the window. Maybe I could kick it out?

Ootori seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. "Don't even think about it, it's bulletproof glass."

I sighed and sank back into the seat with a frown. "What do you want from me?"

He didn't even look up from his keyboard. I could his laptop screen reflected in his glasses.

Time to try an easier question. "Where are we going?"

He continued to type away on his keyboard without paying any attention to me.

Geez, this was frustrating! The nerve he had making me miss work! I fought off the urge to take off my shoe and throw it at him, but I didn't want to risk his demonic wrath. I was already in deep shit with him.

I sank further down into the seat and narrowed my eyes at him. I could see the corners of his lips curling up into a smile in reaction to my defeat.

I decided to ask again, I figured it couldn't hurt. I pursed my lips together. "Where are we going?"

I saw his smile finally widen as he closed his laptop with a soft click sound. There was that recognizable glint in his eyes, that glint that spoke for itself and indicated that he had a plan cooking inside his head that was going to make you squirm.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, sat back, and crossed his legs. "You'll see."

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews and support so far! :)

The connection between Michi and Kyoya is still a bit of a mystery, but all will be revealed in due time.

Also, I'm going to be working on this and a True Blood story simultaneously (hurray for finally stepping outside the realm of anime and manga!), I hope I can make this work out without neglecting one or the other for too long. I often get myself into trouble when I try to write more than one fic at a time. Here's to hoping all goes well! :)

Musical Inspiration- Help, I'm Alive by Metric

Peace out.

p.s. Are any of you guys still following the Ouran manga? It's going to end soon. D: