As Izaya stepped out from the cab, he could feel the weight of the note in his pocket, heavy as though it were crafted from steel. The reminder of Hinamei's antics made his patience wear thin but he was sure this time, he would find her. Just the thought brought a smirk to his lips as he strolled up to the entrance of the nightclub, Bed. He didn't know why he hadn't thought to go there first; after all, she had proven to be quite a lush in their youth, having sneaked the two of them into bars she knew wouldn't ask for IDs. The perks of having long legs, she had said with a wink, as they buzzed over dirty martinis. If Hinamei now was anything like the Hinamei back then, she would undoubtedly be found in a private booth with expensive bottles and a variety of mixers.
Izaya imagined the rage that would take over her as she beheld his own smug face. He pictured her holding the neck of a bottle, shattering it to use the sharp end as a weapon. She would swipe at him scornfully and curse him to the deepest realm of hell. Izaya grinned as he eagerly fingered the hungry blade in his coat's pocket. The anticipation of destroying her had effectively overpowered any unease.
As he crossed the lively dancefloor, he caught sight of a particular woman making her way to the VIP section. A familiar corsage hung from her thin wrist perched on her swaying hips. He took this as an invitation to follow, and with a sneer, he obliged with a quick stride. The woman slid into the booth, pouring herself another glass as she conversed with her companions though Izaya's attention was no longer on her. Instead, it had been claimed by the woman with her back to him, long white fingers running luxuriously through her tousled hair. Her wrists were barren of the lavender and white corsage, he noticed, as one hand easily wound about the stem of a champagne flute. He could feel his heart race though his intuition told him that clearly, something wasn't right. Could Hinamei truly be so easily found? He pushed the doubt aside.
It seemed that the woman he had followed had noticed his being there as she smiled seductively at him before bidding the others to acknowledge his presence as well. His thumb pressed down on the button of his flickblade, the knife eagerly springing free from its prison much like his own excitement. This would be the moment Hinamei would realize her mistake in returning to Ikebukuro. This would be the moment she would regret having ever crossed his path. As the woman turned around, he couldn't help but grin like a mad man as he felt as though his heart would explode with the thrill of it all. He would relish in the horrified look on her face, laugh at her surprise at having been cornered, yet to his own disbelief, the woman wore an expression not of revulsion but instead, of perplextion by the way she arched a perfectly sculpted brow in question.
Izaya swore his heart had skipped a beat as his whole body went rigid. The woman before him was not Mori Hinamei, just a rather imperfect replica. At first glance, she could have easily been (and was) mistaken for the bane of his existence. Yet under Izaya's expert eye, he could see every failed attempt on the model's part to embody Hinamei's unwordly beauty. The original had eyes of the palest blue with a small, straight nose set between; her flesh was a soft creamy beige that contrasted her cool ash brown locks; her pout was well sculpted with a heavier upper lip often drawn up in one corner as though to tempt one to bite. While the decoy had gotten the basics down, her legs as long and lean as Hinamei's own, her shortcomings, to the informant, were inexcusably innumerable. Her eyes were of an owlish hazel and her hair had too much warmth. Her face, while lovely, was sculpted too sharply, and her lips were wide and a bit thin. The way she looked at him was condescending, not sultry like Hinamei's renowned smolder. This, for some reason, unnerved the informant to no end though his expression mirrored the woman's, challenging and mischievous.
"Well," the impersonator said as she turned to him fully, smiling quite toothily. "What do you know? Hinamei does have good taste in men." The woman's companions chorused their agreements, watching Izaya like predators with hooded lids and licked rouge lips.
He managed to force a crooked grin as he restrained himself from cutting the leering women's tongues clean from their mouths. Hinamei had surely put them up to this and for being accomplices, he saw no qualms in making them pay dearly. He had opened his mouth to begin his verbal onslaught when the lookalike withdrew a key from her purse. "She knew you would come," she explained with a chuckle. "Though she assumed you would be smart enough to go to her apartment directly. Guess she also figured the opposite." She tittered lightly as she shook the key between her fingers teasingly.
Thoroughly annoyed by her interruption (instructed by Hinamei, no doubt), Izaya took the key from the imposter's clutches, though his hold lingered about her hand. At the woman's questioning look, he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes in a way most women found alluring and men, quite threatening. The expression had the intended effect, noted by the way the replica gingerly bit her bottom lip. "Thank you," Izaya purred as he closed the distance between himself and the copy. She gasped in mild surprise by his proximity but managed to give a breathy, "My pleasure." He leaned closer as though to kiss her on the cheek, though his lips hovered close to her ear instead. He could sense her growing lust by the way her hand trembled in his and the heat her body expelled as though to beg for him to come closer. He smirked, satisfied by her reaction and only wishing to taunt her more with his breath teasing the sensitive skin along the side of her neck. "You should stop trying so hard to look like Hinamei," he whispered, squeezing her hand tightly.
She watched him from the corner of her eye and slowly began to smirk back. "Oh?" she said softly, hoping that he could do more with his mouth than just speak.
"She's no goddess, contrary to her own beliefs," he said tantalizingly, his fingers slowly grazing the bottom of her palm before resting on her own fingertips that held Hinamei's key.
The woman cocked her head closer though she lifted her chin invitingly, eagerly awaiting for the moment the informant would devour her. "Is that what you think?" she breathed as she pressed her hip against his.
Izaya could do nothing to fend off the oncoming grin though the woman found it reassuring to her unsubtle advances. "You want to know what I think?" Izaya offered, forgoing his seductive tone. The woman arched a brow again though she still glowed with shameless desire. "I think Hinamei is repulsive yet you're doing her an injustice.~"
The woman stepped aside and cast Izaya a confused and mildly offended look. "What did you say?" she demanded as she placed a hand on her hip.
Izaya laughed lightly and gave as shrug as he easily snatched the key from her hold. "Hinamei is not worthy of admiration," he explained simply. "And your attempt to emulate her is terrible and unflattering. You make me sick to my stomach, like she does, except for a very different reason.~" Izaya's brutality had the desired effect as the woman could only gape at him in sheer mortification. He closed her mouth shut with a tap under her chin before he smiled childishly and laughed to himself. "Ciao, ladies! Stay out of trouble!~" His laughter haunted the group of women long after the informant had skipped on his merry way.
The cool night air swept her hair off her neck and carried away a sigh. Hinamei had always found comfort in watching the city lights shining up to her perch yet not even the bubbling champagne in her glass could manage to lift her spirits. The benefit she had attended had gone along swimmingly though a gala was not something she dread. Instead, it was her friends' insistence to explore the city that had quite nearly thrown her over the edge.
The night had gone by without incident and she had managed to cross only one familiar face. She had smiled at Simon's excited greeting and took up his offer to dine in. She waited by his side at the doorway as he had ushered the women in. He had always been quite intuitive, Hinamei remembered, as he saw the trouble unspoken in her forced smile. He spoke to her in Russian as he asked what was on her mind. She had opened her mouth to elaborate when her friends impatiently called to her, ready to order their meals. She smiled up at the towering man apologetically and made one simple request. "Let me know if he comes looking," she had said softly and by the way Simon nodded, she assumed he had understood.
Though she felt some relief in knowing Simon would bid her warning, her sushi had gone mostly untouched with the fear the fish would only further unsettle her clenched gut. Her friends were on a different page with Anya, the fiery Ukrainian, insisting the night take them to some party at Bed. Hinamei had denied the invitation, wanting nothing more her city had to offer; she only longed for the comfort of a familiar bed and some wine to ease her into a thoughtless slumber.
Anya however wasn't going down without a fight. "You should be having fun," the Ukrainian argued, "instead of being hung up on some unrequited love!" Hinamei had shaken her head furiously, explaining that that was hardly the case but the way her face lit up at the accusation was fuel enough for Anya. The woman grabbed at Hinamei's wrist and made to scribble on the note attached to her corsage. "You have this weight holding you back, Hinamei," she said with a smirk as she relinquished her hold on the protesting girl's hand. "And if I remember correctly, its name is Izaya!"
The women laughed on Hinamei's behalf as she tore the corsage off her wrist in frustration. "That's hardly the case," she protested, "And I'd advise you to stop going through my phone lest you find yourself in a box on the back of a carrier plane." The threat fell on deaf ears as the ladies made to leave, their laughter leaving behind a silence that hung around her. Dennis had already cleared their table, leaving Hinamei quite alone with just herself and the corsage flung before her on the table. She fiddled with the thing, dubbing it absolutely ruined due to Anya's modification.
Forgiveness was not something all wished to seek and Hinamei was confident Izaya was one of these people. Not that he would think there was ever a case in which he needed forgiveness, she knew. All things he orchestrated came at a cost, he understood this clearly and paid causally. As Hinamei fingered at the note attached to the corsage, she thought of how ungrateful Izaya would be if he was ever to be forgiven. She thought of those wracked with guilt who yearned for redemption and frowned. The note was certainly more fitting for the survivors and their families the benefit had honored. The horrors they had suffered through and instilled upon their families warranted forgiveness and understanding for both parties. A ruthless unfeeling informant hardly qualified for even mercy.
Hinamei had abandoned her spot at the table as she made her way to pay. It was no surprise to her really that the others had skipped on the bill. They were models, not actresses, and while they were paid heavily, the women were still quite cheap. It was when she had scooted out of the booth that Hinamei had realized her bag had gone missing, and with it, effectively her phone, wallet, and keys. She cursed under her breath, knowing full and well it was no coincidence what with Anya's reputation. The Ukrainian had a knack for picking up things that were quite obviously not hers, and most notably, taking up Hinamei's own belongings. It was in this way she had learned of Izaya's identity, after all, as Hinamei had no interest in divulging in her past much less about Izaya of all people.
As she had approached the counter, she explained herself to Dennis with a promise to pay double what her group owed. He waved the trouble off easily, trusting in Hinamei's word. She may have come from a sketchy background but Hinamei wasn't known for diverging from the truth. With all things settled, she made her way out the door and in the direction of her home. Luckily, the front desk had kept a spare key though they were evidently shocked by the tenant's return. They had presumed the penthouse occupants had long been vacated though they had no paperwork to support their assumptions. Hinamei had merely smiled and made the request of a champagne bottle to be sent up to her room promptly. Her legs seemed to automatically direct her where to go when she found herself standing in her dark kitchen. Had the penthouse not been regularly cleaned, it surely would have looked quite deserted. It was modernly furnished with billowy white curtains slung over the floor to ceiling windows. It was beautiful but to Hinamei, quite obviously abandoned.
She eased out of her cocktail dress and drew a silk robe from her luggage before she kicked off her heels. As the room service attendant arrived, she directed him to set up the bottle and glasses outside on the patio. Perhaps with the French doors left open, the city would breathe life back into the place she had once called home. The attendant popped the cork and proceeded to pour Hinamei a glass that she took rather gratefully. As she was left alone once more, she moved to the banister and took in the view of the city below.
It was here that she shivered at the chill as she sipped from her glass. There was something about the top floor that had always been unsettling. To Hinamei, she felt that her home was a constant reminder of how out of reach humanity truly was for her; conversely, to Izaya, it was the reaffirmation of his superiority to all others. Izaya was always meant to be poised atop of a pedestal whereas Hinamei simply wanted off. She found relief in being freed from the memory of Izaya at the sound of the front door opening and closing. It was hard enough to return to Ikebukuro let alone be constantly haunted by the remembrance of its uncanny inhabitants. As annoying as she was, Hinamei was grateful for Anya's arrival though she was surprised the woman had returned when the night was still quite young. It was unlike the Ukrainian to turn in early on a night promising debauchery. Hinamei was mildly worried something had gone wrong though she figured whatever frustrated the woman was surely warranted.
It was at the sound of the footsteps against the patio floor that sent her whole body rigid; the sound was not one of stilettos but of men's dress shoes. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder and while the sight had certainly caught her by surprise (evident by the way her heart began to thud painfully within her chest) her frown curled into a slow, easy smile as she made to turn to him fully. Her mouth had parted slightly around the curve of his name though the breath caught in her throat as her back was pressed harshly against the balcony railing. Her glass shattered on the ground as it slipped from her hold. After so many years, she imagined his face to be no other way: dangerously handsome in spite of the ever-present condescending sneer. He seemed rather proud to have her pinned against the ledge with his knife poised at the tender skin of her neck. She figured she should have feared for her life, had it been any other person; had she been any other person, perhaps she would have. But Hinamei had always been quite unordinary and Izaya, quite the same though in a vastly different way. So instead of cowering beneath the tip of his hungry blade, she took her hand and cupped his cheek. He immediately froze under her touch and she smiled at this, slowly before fully blossoming with a little chuckle. If he hadn't drawn his knife, one could confuse the sight of Izaya and Hinamei as one of normality, of romance. But knowing the two, the picture could only be painted in some twisted way. "You haven't changed," she breathed softly as she eased under his blade. He didn't respond, not even when her fingers rounded against his flesh, pinching it tightly as she tugged. "You're annoying as ever, Iza-kun!~" Hinamei hadn't felt as alive as she had in that moment in quite some time and she had only Izaya to thank.
Author's Note: Sorry about the delayed update! Finals are around the corner and are to blame. I should be updating weekly to biweekly after next week! Thank you for reading!