A/N: I'm not too happy about this chapter, but I'm flying to Taiwan for a business thingy tomorrow, so just thought I'd get this up there.
Also, you might want to reread coffeelatte's IAG chapters 14 and 15 (the bits with Minako at least) because those are plot points I tackle in this chapter.
And the car is not stolen in this chapter. Sorry. Next chapter.
Dedicated to The Jabberer, because there is no sex in this chapter.
~x~
This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it and conjured it down.
That were some spite. My invocation
Is fair and honest. In his mistress' name
I conjure only but to raise up him.
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
~x~
Shigohara Minako had three lists.
The-People-She-Despised List: Her father was the first name on the list. Atobe was the second.
The-People-She-Tolerated List: This list included a few select peers, as well as some girls from the tennis club, and Ootori Choutarou. Oshitari and her mother were occasionally bounced back and forth between the first two lists.
The-People-She-Couldn't-Care-Less-About List: This encompassed the remaining 1,645 students at Hyotei, various business contacts and random members of high society that she had met at some point.
Suzuki Nanao had always been on list number three.
Now however, Minako was strongly considering bumping her to list number one.
~x~
It wasn't as if the dislike was completely unfounded. She knew the short girl had a crush on Oshitari, and while Minako wasn't really together with Oshitari (not really… ) She'd like to think that it made him off limits.
But since he and Atobe were so close, that also meant he spent a great deal of time with Suzuki as well.
And, she couldn't help but notice that as of late, Oshitari would slip her into their conversations and look so terribly fond when he spoke of her—
But she was Shigohara Minako, for crying out loud. Jealousy did not suit her, not at all. So she locked up her feelings, and went about her week normally.
On Monday, she smiled as Oshitari mentioned her, pretending that hearing Suzuki's name didn't cause her fingers to curl up into fists.
On Tuesday, she'd overhead her vice-captain talking about her to Shishido, saying something along the lines of, "But she's so great for him, she's so down to earth..."
By Wednesday, she'd taken to calling Suzuki Nanao ugly words in her head.
But the typical array of degrading female words didn't quite suit Suzuki. So the ugly names consisted of "goody-two-shoes", "linguistically-challenged,", and, one word Atobe seemed particularly fond of, "Commoner."
The last one was admittedly a stretch. In fact, Suzuki Nanao was a bit of an heiress herself. But, as a principle, Minako liked to consider others beneath her.
So, on Thursday, when she saw Suzuki sitting on the bleachers of the boys' tennis courts, supposedly waiting for Atobe but looking so love-sickly at Oshitari…
Well, she'd had just about enough.
~x~
Though, Minako was not planning to confront Suzuki directly. She was not stupid. Suzuki may not be in love with her boyfriend Atobe, but that didn't mean she did not have his favor. And Minako knew, as a golden rule of society – one does not simply cross an Atobe.
She preferred much more subtle means of attack, anyways.
As usual, the short girl was doing schoolwork by the tennis court. Occasionally, she would cast longing glances towards Oshitari, and then clapping for Atobe immediately after, as if she felt guilty. 'Oh,' Minako thought, with a cruel sort of pity. 'You poor, poor girl. You can't survive in this world if you're so easy to read.'
She strode over to his court, her steps languorous and predatory. "Yuushi."
"Minako dear," he said bemusedly. As the girls' team captain, she rarely came to the boys' courts during practice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Even from that distance, she could tell that Suzuki had stopped to stare at them.
She slipped a hand into her tennis bag and pulled out the Shakespeare companion book she'd borrowed during class. "I finished the interpretations, so I thought you might need this back." She handed it to him, taking extra care to brush her hand against his as she did.
"Are you sure that's all you came for?" he questioned, in an I-know-you're-up-to-something tone.
She snuck a quick glance at the bleachers. Suzuki was still watching them, though she couldn't decipher her expression from afar.
Her lips curved up into a cruel smile. She knew that she could just kiss him now, and crush Suzuki's hopes and dreams in one swoop. But really, where was the fun in that?
Instead, she purposefully took a step closer to Oshitari, so that they were almost touching. "Well. Maybe I just wanted to see you."
"A compliment, from you?" He clutched his chest dramatically. "Be still, my beating heart."
Her answering laugh was silvery.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Suzuki's shoulders had slumped dejectedly. A second later, the girl was gone.
'Oh sweetie,' she thought, the light in her eyes hard and unkind. 'Didn't you come to play?'
"Hey," Oshitari was saying, and she directed her attention back to him. "Let's do something tonight."
"Like what?" She already had her plans that evening, but she was curious as to what he was offering.
"Something. Anything. Something you've always wanted to do."
She spread her hands, amused. "Surprise me. I don't really have any preferences."
"Hmm…" he mused thoughtfully. "Let me put it this way. If you had a million dollars—"
"I do," she interrupted with a smirk. The latest tabloid article reported her as one the top twenty wealthiest heiresses in Tokyo. (Shigohara Minako. Net Worth: Roughly 6 billion.)
Oshitari sighed, rephrasing, "If you could do anything right now, what would you do?"
"Besides getting rid of you?"
"Mi-na-ko. Might I remind you that you were the one who came to see me?" he said triumphantly, and she sighed with irritation.
"Off the top of your head," he tried. "What do you want most right now?"
'A sainthood,' said her sarcastic wit, but when she opened her mouth, what came out was: "A Lamborghini."
He raised his eyebrows in amusement.
Even she looked momentarily stumped at her own answer, like she wasn't sure why she'd said it. Then she shrugged. "My father doesn't think women should drive sports cars." 'Or do anything,' she added silently. 'Besides batting their eyelashes and looking pretty.' "Hence, I've always wanted to drive a sports car."
"Well. If that's the case, maybe I could take you to a dealership this evening, and we could test-drive one of them." It wasn't really the romantic date he had in mind, but it would do. There were worse things. She could have wanted to visit the serial killer museum exhibit.
"Unfortunately, I have plans," she responded, feeling a little regretful. It did sound like fun; good, mindless fun. "Father wants me to meet some other business partner of his, and I'm afraid I can't cancel on him. You know how it is."
"That's too bad. Next time."
~x~
Minako got home with enough time to shower and change for the meeting. Her attire for these meetings was always the same: lacy stockings, a tight skirt, a button down that was barely buttoned at all. Her makeup was dark and sultry, and her hair glossy and glamorous. She accessorized with gold and pearls, and checked herself in the mirror. After she made sure every detail was perfect, she descended the stairs to find her father.
Her father was in the living room, sitting down with what appeared to be two men in suits. He was pouring the nice whisky, she noticed. This was no doubt a large and powerful client.
One of the men looked far too young to be in business. He couldn't be much older than she was. Good-looking, she thought. 'Not bad at all.'
It was then that her father caught sight of her, and beckoned with a smile. "Minako, dear, could you come here for a moment?"
Oh, she thought. This could not be good.
Obediently, she stepped forward.
"Minako, this is Monsieur Dumont, and his son, Adrien."
Adrien stood up as he was introduced.
Minako put on one of her most dazzling smiles. "How do you do?"
"Enchanté," Adrien said, leaning over. Her eyes widened when he kissed her delicately on both her cheeks. She'd forgotten that's how the Europeans did it. "Il paraît que vous parlais Francais."
"Seulement un peu, et très mal," Minako managed, her tongue tripping over the words slightly. It'd been years since she lived in France, and she'd only stayed there long enough for her father to wrap up yet another deal.
"Ah. Then it is a good thing I can speak Japanese, yes?" His accent was exotic and strange.
"They're staying at the Crowne Jewel Hotel for a couple days. So while Monsieur Dumont and I discuss business…" Her father waved a hand vaguely in her direction. "You can entertain Adrien."
Minako froze.
The word "entertain" did not carry the same meaning for her as it did for others, not when it came from her father. Usually, as a hostess, "entertain" meant keeping someone company and making sure they were enjoying themselves.
For Minako, it meant more than that.
In fact, her role in her father's business dealings could be likened to that of a geisha, or a courtesan, or even – dare she say it – an escort.
An escort only in the strictest sense of the word, that is. She was their date at business dinners while their fathers talked eight-figure deals, she took them to opera shows, and was their personal tour guide to the Tokyo skyline. On top of that, however – it was her job to make them feel wanted, to use any power of her feminine charm and trap them into a web of business contracts and legal clauses and dotted lines.
She was very, very good at it.
Obviously, she only stepped in when there was someone her age. Her father may be a morally reprehensible person, but he wasn't disgusting – he would never pimp her out to some middle-aged businessmen.
(He had her mother for that, and she was more than willing to help.)
By now, Minako had it down to a sickeningly simple formula. It was the way she smiled, the way she batted her eyelashes, the way she leaned in just-so to give them a hint of cleavage. She flirted shamelessly, filled their heads with distracting thoughts of love, addled their brains with desire.
("Desire is a dangerous thing, Minako," her mother always warned. "It makes people stupid.")
As long as they wanted her, as long as they thought they could have her, she had them wrapped around her finger. The power was all hers. She could make them do anything she wanted. Sell their soul. Sign the dotted line.
But she'd never touched them – oh no – not like that. Whenever they got too close, too expectant… Well, she only needed to quirk her lips downwards and whisper on how strict her father was, on how he'd kill them both if something were to truly happen between them.
They'd give up, agreeably, just like that. Shigohara Noburu was a powerful man. They knew better than to cross him.
And that's how Minako compiled her own list of conquests without even a shred of indecency.
She was her mother's daughter, after all.
But this was a little more than she bargained for. "Father," she said, trying to catch his eye and send him a telepathic message, 'Um, I'm dating Oshitari now, remember? I have a project. I'm off the hook.' "I would love to entertain Adrien-san for the next few days. But I have school and tennis practice."
"You play tennis?" Adrien's eyes lit up with interest.
Monsieur Dumont gave him a fond look. "Adrien loves tennis. He practically lived at the Roland Garros during the French Open."
"Perfect," her father declared. "We can drop you off at Minako's tennis practice in the afternoons, and she'll take it from there." His tone was one of finality.
There was a gleam in Adrien's eyes. "Maybe you could give me a lesson, Minako?"
Her given name sounded foreign and odd and so very wrong on his lips. Minako gave him a frosty smile, before turning back. "Father," she said more meaningfully, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I can't. I have my hands full with Oshitari right now."
Her father finally threw her an annoyed glance, raising a disgusted eyebrow. "You're a woman, Minako," he said. "Multitask."
She drew in a sharp breath. Her hands clenched around her skirt, and she quickly weighed her options – only, there were no options to weigh.
"If you say so, Father."
~x~
"Monsieur Frédéric Dumont, huh?" Shigohara Hana mused later that evening, pouring herself a generous amount of gin into a martini glass. "Quite a big shot, that one is. He practically runs the financial landscape in France by himself."
"He listens a great deal to his son Adrien. Smart boy. Extremely bright." Noboru swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a sip. "I sent Minako after him today."
"If this deal goes through, we'll have enough support to take the Oshitaris to court a thousand times over." Her smirk was sly, like one of a fox. "And we might end up finding ourselves a suitable son-in-law."
"We shall see. Minako was concerned with dealing with both him and Oshitari at the same time." He drained his glass. "Do you think she can handle it?"
Hana's laugh was dark and silky. "If she can't, then I will have taught her nothing."
They clinked glasses.
~x~
"I saw her today."
Oshitari flipped a page in his latest romance novel, Pearl in the Mist. "By your childishly petulant tone, I assume you're talking about Minako."
Atobe made a noise that sounded like a grunt in assent.
"Well," Oshitari said, "You are more fortunate that I am (Atobe scoffed at the word 'fortunate'), because I didn't get to see her at all today." He'd attended his younger sister Erina's fencing tournament, and spent the better part of the afternoon watching her tear into an opponent. Literally.
"She was with someone."
"I would hope so. It hurts me to think that she would be utterly alone in my absence."
"She was with a boy, Yuushi."
At this, Oshitari finally lifted his eyes to Atobe's, for the briefest moment. Then, he went back to the book. "You're being paranoid."
Atobe's gaze turned to steel.
"And it doesn't matter, anyways," Oshitari continued nonchalantly, fixing his eyes on a line in the text. "We never said we were exclusive."
"Do you take me for a fool?"
Oshitari didn't say anything, but he did lower the book to reveal narrowed eyes.
"Stop pretending this isn't bothering you."
"Well then, Keigo. What do you expect me to do?" Oshitari said, closing the novel. "Cry? Weep over my broken heart?"
"I expect you," Atobe said, his voice cutting through the mockery. "To not stand for that kind of behavior. It's not okay, Yuushi, and you know that."
"Your concern is appreciated, Keigo," Oshitari said, his tone dark. His eyes bore into Atobe's gaze and held it, like an equal. "But trust me. It's not necessary."
~x~
However, the next day, Oshitari wandered over to the girls' courts during practice. Much as he didn't want to admit it, Atobe had planted a tiny seed of doubt in his mind.
He had no idea what this supposed boy looked like, but the minute he saw him, he knew. Knew in the pit of his heart that this was the boy Atobe was referring to.
(Granted, he also happened to be the only boy sitting on the bleachers, but Oshitari liked to think that his instinct was unparalleled.)
"Hello."
The blonde boy barely turned his head.
"I haven't seen you around," Oshitari tried again, all smiles and courtesy. "Are you new here?"
This time, blonde boy glanced up, half-baffled and half-affronted, as if he wanted to see who dared to speak at him that way. "I am," he said haughtily in accented Japanese. "A visitor."
"Oh? And where do you happen to be visiting from?"
At this, the boy whirled. "Who are you?"
"Oshitari Yuushi," he said with a little bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Adrien!" Minako called, hurrying back. "I got one of the girls to lend you a racket- Oh." She stopped as soon as she saw Oshitari. There was a pause, and then she offered a hesitant smile. "Hi, you. Have you met Adrien?"
"Hello yourself," he said, leaning back easily. "And yes, we have met."
Adrien turned to Minako suspiciously. "Qui est-il?"
"Un ami".
"Ah." He offered Oshitari a hostile smile, extending a hand. "It is nice to meet any friend of Minako's."
Oshitari shook his hand with measured politeness. "The same goes for you." He turned to her. "Minako," he said mildly, "Could I talk to you for a minute?"
She barely spared him a glance, "Not now, Oshitari. I have company. Adrien?" On him, she bestowed a perfect smile. "Shall we play?"
Adrien tossed a victorious smirk over his shoulder as he followed her onto the court.
Oshitari felt his own lips tighten in response.
~x~
As far as she could tell, Adrien was a nice person. She'd dealt with worse. But that didn't mean she enjoyed him following her like a puppy (or a bodyguard) all weekend long.
Also, while his tennis skills were mostly passable, his forehand was absolutely atrocious. She had first years in her club that could do better.
Not that she could point that out politely.
She'd done her usual routine, showing him around Tokyo, treating him to her favorite high-class restaurants, making mindless small talk for hours. He'd shared with her his views on French literature, and helped her practice some long forgotten phrases.
And, though she could sense his growing attraction for her, he'd been a complete gentleman. Considerate, confident, and capable of somewhat intelligent discourse. Usually that was someone Minako thought that she could be friends with.
But when he and his father left for France the following day, Minako couldn't help breath a sigh of relief.
Now things could go back to normal.
Unfortunately, some people did not share that thought. That morning, Oshitari brushed by her to get into the classroom without acknowledging her.
"Hey," she said, stung. She followed him to his desk. "Yuushi."
"Oh, is it 'Yuushi' now?"
She almost flinched – almost.
"Look, Yuushi," she started again. "About Adrien—"
"It doesn't matter," he said smoothly, cutting her off. He smiled, and she wished he hadn't. "It's fine. We never discussed exclusivity, after all."
"Oh. Okay," she faltered. Part of her wanted to explain, 'No, it's not like that, this is what I do, he was just a business thing…' but the other part of her was oddly dissatisfied and annoyed with his response. "Well… then." Her hands were clasped behind her back; had they hung free, she would've wrung them. "Are we…"
"We," he said with a little laugh, soft and unsettling. "Are fine. Don't worry."
She didn't believe that for an instant, but she wasn't about to contradict him. She had too much pride for that. "If you say so," she said.
'If you say so.' Those were words she said to her father. She swallowed, running her thumb down her jaw, and then back again.
"Minako," he said. His mouth was a smile, but his eyes weren't; they were hard, challenging. "How would you like to go dancing with me on Saturday?"
It was a cleverly masked question. He wasn't actually giving her a choice. Because how could she refuse, at this point?
What exactly was wrong, she wasn't sure, but she had the compelling urge to fix it, to make things normal again. To make things perfect.
She swallowed. "I'd love to."
Game, Oshitari. One game to love.
~x~
Saturday afternoon came by all too soon. He'd brought her to a small dance club, not too far from the beach. During the night, the club was filled with drunken partygoers and loud house music, but during the day it was a bright, airy room dotted with various couples that were waltzing to the live jazz band.
Oshitari took her hand in his, settled the other at the small of her back, and led her onto the floor. "So, how have things been?"
"Fine," she said. Then, "I made some headway in our project." 'Wow,' she thought. 'I actually resorted to talking about our literature project. Do you really need to be so desperate, Minako?.'
"I feel like my contributions have been lacking as of late," he said lightly. "I'll make sure to rectify that."
He spun her twice, and she glided gracefully across the floor, her dance training evident in her smooth movements.
"Did you have fun with your friend?" he mentioned offhandedly. "The one from France?"
Hello, elephant. Welcome to the room.
"I did. Thank you for asking."
He smiled. And she did, back.
The strain between them felt like a violin string, a racket gut that was strung too tight.
Just then, the jazz band strung up the chords of a Viennese waltz, for which she was grateful. This type of waltz was fast-paced and complicated, so for the duration of the song, they could forget about conversation and concentrate on their steps, dancing with each other, spiraling into circles.
"How long are we planning to stay?" she asked as the band slowed the music down once more, to a more traditional waltz.
"I could spend the entire day with you in my arms—" Since when did his charming phrases become so mocking, she wondered— "But we just have to leave by three. I have a date with Suzuki at five."
A beat of silence. "What did you say?" Minako said, disbelief marring her usually neutral expression.
"I have a date with Suzuki at five," he repeated. Her surprise must've shown on her face, because he followed up with an innocent, "Oh, did I not mention this before?"
"No." She had to fight the urge to tighten her hand around his. "No, you didn't."
"Silly me. It must've slipped my mind."
"And," she said, her voice poisonously sweet. "How does Atobe feel about this? You taking his little girlfriend out?"
"Oh, their relationship isn't real," he said, smirking in satisfaction at her bewilderment. "Did I forget to mention that as well? He's only using her to delay an arranged marriage."
She blinked, baffled.
Wait.
What?
So, this whole time… they weren't even actually together?
That meant that Suzuki Nanao and Atobe Keigo were technically single people.
Single, and very much available.
Oshitari smirked as the clarity dawned on her face. "And you did say that she was smitten with me…" he said casually as he waltzed her around. "So who am I to turn such a lovely treasure away?"
It was obvious that he was still angry with her, and intentionally provoking her, but she wasn't going to react. She would not give him that sort of satisfaction.
Besides, she was Shigohara Minako, for god's sake, she would not let herself get jealous over someone as insignificant as Suzuki Nanao.
And the little voice inside her head reminded her that it was a good thing, him thinking of seeing another girl. That way, neither of them would be attached in this relationship and she could break it off when her Father needed her to, without feeling like an awful human being. She should be happy for him.
She forced a smile. "Of course you shouldn't turn her away," she agreed, ignoring the knot that was tightening in her gut. "She's a nice girl."
"I've always thought so," he said, driving the knife in just a little deeper. "She's just so sincere and genuine. It really is a breath of fresh air."
"How lucky for you both."
"Mmhmm," he murmured. "Girls like her are just so rare nowadays."
That's when she snapped.
Not on the outside, no. She maintained damn near-perfect image of classiness and pleasantry.
But on the inside, she was beyond irritated. Not angry, not quite angry, but very, very annoyed. Oshitari had brought her here, had made it his intent to torture her, to punish her, and spent the last hour or so doing just that.
And damn it, if he thought she was going to take that lying down.
She had to retaliate.
That was when she saw the coiled wires on the ground, near the speakers they were waltzing by. Smirking, she hatched a plan.
Minako was aware that she was the vengeful, vindictive type of girl. Why deny it? Malevolence, when used properly, could work to one's advantage. And there were few things more satisfying than successfully executing a plan of revenge.
The jazz band struck up a fox trot, and he adjusted to the new rhythm seamlessly, twirling her perfectly in time. Like many young men in high society, Oshitari was an accomplished social dancer.
She bided her time. Waited, until they had done another circle of the room and ended up back at the speakers. Discreetly, she hooked the heel of her shoe into one of the coils.
She only intended to trip them both, maybe twist her ankle a little, just enough to make him late for his date with Suzuki — but her plan went terribly awry. Oshitari pulled her in for a twirl at that exact moment, and suddenly her leg was tangled in the cords. Something was yanked tight and they both went flying for the ground. The noise from the speaker exploded into static.
Minako landed on the ground, landed on her ankle badly. It gave way with a funny little pop, and her vision went white with pain. In that moment, she knew something was wrong – really wrong.
She was the vindictive sort, but apparently there was someone out there that was even more vindictive than she was.
Karma.
~x~
"Son of a –" Minako bit off. She was not one for swearing, but Jesus Christ it hurt.
Oshitari flagged down a bystander. "Call an ambulance. Now." He moved to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist as he sat next to her. His hand was at the arch of her back, supporting her. "Minako. Minako, Are you all right?" Genuine horror in his voice, genuine concern. She could feel that sort of toxic energy between them evaporating.
Well, at least that was some consolation. She bit her lip, her face contorted in pain.
"Minako," he said again, his eyes changing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. "Are you all right?"
"Do I…" She breathed through the pain shooting down her leg. "Look like I'm all right?"
He gave her ankle a cautious glance, his eyes visibly widening.
"What?" she demanded warily. She tried to sit up, and her leg quivered in effort. "What?"
His hand went for her eyes, intending to cover them. "You might not want to—"
Too late. She saw the way her ankle looked, the way it was twisted grotesquely beneath her, bent like no joint should ever be bent. Her stomach churned. "I think," she said calmly, her face white as a sheet. "That I'm going to throw up."
Oshitari pulled her towards him, cradling her head to his chest. "Don't look, then," he scolded.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she said into his shirt, her breath coming out in short gasps.
"I'd rather you not. This is a very nice shirt."
"Shut up," she mumbled, concealing a weak laugh.
Even though she was shaking, shaking in his arms, he was struck by how tough she was being. She hadn't cried, or screamed, or given any true indication of the pain. (And, god, did that injury look painful.)
When Gakuto had hurt his leg, he'd wailed like a little girl.
He rested his head on top of hers. "You'll be okay. An ambulance is on its way. Just calm down."
Silence, except her breaths as she shivered.
"Mi-na-ko. I can actually feel your heart pounding. Calm down."
More silence. More trembling.
"Shh…" He whispered. He pressed her into his chest, stroking her hair, his lips next to her ear. "Shh…"
His breath whistled past her ear, and she was reminded of before, the way his lips felt there, how hot his tongue was. Her heart started hammering against her ribcage for a different reason entirely. That bastard; he knew exactly what he was doing. "You are not helping."
He laughed lowly. "All right," he conceded, moving his head away. "How about if I read you a story? Would that help?" He had a book or two in his bag.
"As long as it's not some stupid one where the girl suddenly gets leukemia and dies and then the boy commits suicide on a beach in Cancun."
His lips parted slightly, and he swiveled his head to face her. How did she know about the plight of Amari-chan and Ginta-kun?
Seeing the surprise on his face, she said grudgingly, "That romance novel you gave me for White Day? I skimmed it."
For White Day, he'd given her one of his favorite romance novels; only he'd painstakingly crossed out all the names of the protagonist and replaced them with "Oshitari Yuushi" and "Shigohara Minako." "You read it?" he said joyously.
"Skimmed, Yuushi. The word is skimmed."
"Isn't it the most lovely—"
"The first page alone nearly gave me diabetes."
The caustic bite in her words brought a grin to his face, one that was tinged with relief. "Well, unless you've got anything better…"
She smiled faintly. "I've got Anna Karenina."
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "That Russian novel where the woman throws herself under a train in the end?"
"It's a classic, Yuushi."
"It's classically boring is what it is."
"Just because it isn't filled with ridiculous scenarios of leukemia and dying on beaches—"
"What's romantic about getting run over by a train?"
"Romance isn't the point of the story, it's about societal expectations and self-discovery—"
"I'd rather discover the turmoil of Amari-chan and Ginta-kun as they are torn from each other's arms in life and reunited lovingly in death—"
"If you say that again, I really am going to throw up."
"Please don't. I am fond of this shirt."
It went on like that for a while. When the ambulance arrived, she was almost surprised to see it.
~x~
It was at times like these when she truly appreciated the hierarchy of society, Minako thought, as they wheeled her into a private emergency room. Upon her arrival to the hospital, there had been long line of patients ahead of her. However, Oshitari only had to say his name before every single staff member jumped to help them.
(Apparently Oshitari's father had donated every last piece of equipment in the hospital.)
In mere moments, the staff members pushed her to the front of the line and ahead of all other patients in the waiting room. A second later, she was being whisked away by a nurse for treatment.
(She felt bad about the kid who looked like he'd been stabbed. He should've been attended to first.)
"Yuushi," she said, as they were waiting for the X-rays to come back. "When the doctor comes back… Could you leave for a moment?"
His fingers, entwined with hers, tightened. "Is something wrong?"
"Could you just wait outside?" she asked. "Please? Just… please?"
He couldn't recall the last time she asked him for something. "Sure," he said. "Of course."
The doctor came back with the dark sheets of glossy paper, and started to place them on the overhead. Oshitari dropped a kiss on her temple. "I'll see you in a bit."
As the door swung shut behind him, she exhaled. His support was comforting, and she was thankful that he was here, but she didn't want him to hear the verdict with her.
If it meant that she'd ruined her tennis career, ruined her dance career, ruined everything, then she wasn't sure she could hold it together in front of him.
"Hmm…" the doctor said, frowning at the X-Ray.
"What is it?" she asked, her hand tightening around the sheet. God, it's over, isn't it? It's over for me. The tennis season, ballet…
"You're lucky. It's only dislocated." With a snap, she pulled on two white disposable gloves. "I can fix it right here. I don't even need any equipment."
She didn't trust her voice. "R-Really?"
"Yes. This happens to athletes all the time. Hang on." She reached for her ankle, her two hands expertly gripping the muscle. She said, "This will hurt," apologetically, and pulled and twisted.
A sharp cry of pain escaped her, followed by a yelp of surprise as the joint popped back into place.
The doctor smiled, wrinkles crinkling around her mouth. "There you go, honey. All fixed."
She was too stunned to speak. Her ankle, though purple and swollen, was… normal again, not twisted and mangled like gnarled tree root. Relief washed over her in waves.
"Now, you'll have to take it easy for about a week," she informed her as she wrapped the ankle deftly up in a white bandage. "No strenuous activity, and keep it wrapped up at all times."
"Thank you." Minako wanted to hug her, except she wasn't really the type to give out hugs. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," the doctor responded with a pat on her head. "I'll go tell your boyfriend he can take you home."
"Oh, he's not my…" she started automatically, but trailed off as the paramedic gave her a puzzled look. "Okay. Yes, please just let him know."
~x~
The doctor said she had to keep her leg elevated. Oshitari's solution to that was to have her lying down in the backseat of the limousine, her leg propped up on the cup-holder and her head in his lap.
She wasn't sure if it was benefiting her leg or him more.
"Matoko is going to be very upset with you," he commented, stroking her hair absently. "She's going into the Kantou tournaments without her number one seed."
"I can handle Rie. And the team can handle themselves."
The next few minutes were silent, punctuated by the lulls and bumps in the road. He ran his fingers through her hair luxuriously, while she stared ahead at nothing.
Then,
"I did it on purpose, you know."
His eyes widened – at her actions or at her admittance of them, she wasn't sure.
For a moment, she thought he would be angry with her. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. "I know," he said, quietly. "I knew."
"I just wanted to make you late. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm…" She couldn't quite bring herself to say "sorry".
"Minako," he said. She titled her head upwards to look at him. He was giving her one of his trademark crooked smiles, one that made her heart do a weird flutter. "It's fine. I'm extremely honored that you went through all that effort."
She looked away and shrugged against him. "It wasn't that much effort."
"You dislocated an ankle for me. The evidence speaks to the contrary."
"That wasn't my intention."
"Maybe not, but it was certainly the outcome."
"Mmmf," she protested intelligently, and shifted to the side.
He sighed, moving one hand to massage her temple. "Though," he murmured. "You did cause me a bit of trouble. I'll have to formally apologize to Suzuki-san, and Keigo's going to throw a fit now that I've stood her up."
"Why would he care? It's not like he likes her. It's a fake relationship, after all."
"Hmm… we'll see." His tone suggested otherwise. And if Oshitari thought so, he was probably right. Damn geniuses.
"Are you keeping secrets from me, Oshitari Yuushi?" she demanded teasingly. "That's not a sign of a healthy relationship."
After her words, she lifted her head back to look at him. He'd quirked an eyebrow in silent amusement, and she agreed with a bitter smile.
Nothing about this relationship was healthy.
Except maybe, this. These moments.
With a sigh, she nestled her head against his leg.
"Come to think about it, you never told me how your father took the news about us." He moved his head to face her, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "I can't imagine he was very happy about it."
'Happy? He was ecstatic.' "Yeah…" she lied. "He wasn't. But he didn't care as much as I thought he would. I think…" She tried to find some truth to tell. "I think he knows that it can't last."
Oshitari didn't say anything. Didn't deny it.
"What about your father?" She inquired before he could ask her anything else. "How did he react?"
"Oh, that." He chuckled. "He told me to use this relationship to raise my social standing."
Minako stared at him, speechless, stunned at his blatant confession of this. If his father said this, then maybe he—
"Relax," he suddenly said, reaching out to caress her cheek. "That's not why I'm dating you."
"Then why?" she said, her voice threatening to tremble.
"Why?" he echoed.
"Why are you dating me?"
He just looked at her, and she waited. She moved her finger along the edge of her jaw, anxiously, as if following an old, comforting path.
Because if both their parents agreed to this relationship, regardless of their reasons for doing so, then there was no conflict. His dream to live out a real-life Romeo and Juliet was ruined. So he had no reason to continue it.
And if seduction was the only thing he was after… Then he certainly didn't have to go through all the trouble with her. There were a number of leggy Hyotei beauties that would be easier and far more willing.
He titled his head to the side, his hand on his chin, and studied her under an even gaze. As if she was a puzzle. As if he couldn't quite figure her out.
But in all honesty, Oshitari Yuushi already knew what it was in her that drew him to her.
First of all, she was extremely attractive – and he couldn't deny that that was part of it; couldn't deny that the ugly superficiality that was such a part of their world, was also a part of him. The very thought of sliding his palms down her creamy thighs made his blood race.
But it was more than that. It always was, with her.
"Why are you dating me?"
He smiled a layered smile. Layered with secrets, layered with enigma.
Because I want to strip you of every single mask and see who you are when you're bare.
Because I want to see what kind of trick I have to pull to make you believe.
Because – and this was the most vicious thought of all – I want what you swore you would never give, and because of that, I want it from you.
But he only smiled.
Smiled and said, "Don't ask silly questions, Minako."
~x~
End Chapter Four
Usually dislocated ankles are much more serious injury, but let's pretend that they're not that bad for the sake of the story. Cool? Cool.
Guys, why is this fic so much darker than IAG?! Ugh. Hopefully it'll get more lighthearted soon. I have a fun chapter planned for you guys after all this weird toxic angsty-ness.
Adrien may or may not make a reappearance someday.
If you want to read the scene where Oshitari gives Minako the "romance novel" for White Day, go to TCAFS chapter 30.
Guyyyyyys review! Because reviews give me muse and I write faster and stuff. Yeaaaaaah.