Author's Note: This one is short because it's not a normal chapter. I'll be posting one or two more this week to compensate. As a warning, this chapter deals with heavy stuff. I hate to use the term, but I guess to be safe "trigger warning" is best suited.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Haruka and Suzumi/Natsumi. All else belongs to Voltage.
Nine.
Two Months Ago
"I see you didn't eat again today. You're being disrespectful to my hospitality, Natsumi."
Ren Souma stared down at the woman in front of him, curled up on the futon he'd provided her weeks ago. Brows furrowed in frustration, he felt a distinct lack of control over both the situation and her and if there was one thing he hated, it was a lack of control. He didn't have it for his own future, but he'd sure as hell be able to be the puppet master for those he considered under him. Especially his own toys. His only satisfaction came from the shudder that he witnessed run through her when he spoke.
"When lunch is brought to you, I expect you to eat it. I'm taking you with me tonight again and I can't bring a skeleton. The maids will bring your outfit after you eat. I'll be asking about the results and if you fail to eat, I will force you to eat."
He left the room, slamming the sliding door with more force than he should have. The wood shuddered under the mistreatment but he ignored it in favor of stomping away. He had a deal to make with a minor gang in Asakusa and he wanted a sensuous woman draped on him and the withering form of Natsumi wouldn't do. It would make him look weak, too poor to feed his mistresses and lacking any kind of power. If this deal fell through, his father would have his hide and if that happened, he would gladly beat the payment out of her. She was slowly becoming nothing but trouble. The moments of relief and pleasure he found in her were fewer and further between as she began to react less and less and, though it stung to admit it, it seemed he was wrong about the spirit she carried. The image he had of her when he first met her was wrong, she was just another weak woman good for one thing.
Six hours later, he went to her locked room and gave himself entry. The maids informed him that she at almost all of her lunch and had eaten the bulk of her dinner, which satisfied him. Two meals in one day was a triumph considering that her average was four in a week and he would gladly take it. And once more, Natsumi had obeyed and was clothed in the party wear he'd ordered the maids to dress her in. She stood near the small window of the room, staring out into the courtyard and bathed in the light of the setting sun. He had to admit, despite her shrinking form, she could wear a kimono with elegance to make any of the other mob wives jealous. For the first time in nearly two weeks, he wanted her. The frustration and anger he'd held towards her was outweighed but he had no time for his own needs.
"Natsumi," he snapped. Now he was frustrated for a different reason.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, making him smirk in gratification. He head turned from the window to look at him and Ren could feel the uncertainty radiate off her.
"Let's go. You'll be my accessory again tonight. Keep your mouth shut and try to give off an ounce of sexiness and I might be happy." He snapped his fingers and she quickly shuffled to his side. "We're going to Asakusa, you remember the group there, correct?" He grabbed her elbow and lead her through the house to the waiting car.
"Yes," she murmured, keeping her eyes downward.
"What do you remember?"
"Small gang, maybe fifty members the last time you spoke of them to me. Leader is Nobuyuki Honda, his wife is Miu. They have several restaurants used as fronts." Natsumi rattled off the information as if speaking to a teacher and her memory of the tidbits he'd taught her pleased him.
"Correct. Tonight, I have a potential deal with them to begin a possible merger into the Brethren. They're an older gang, never big on expanding. They've kept to themselves in Asakusa for more than a hundred years. They could keep their name but be backed and work for the Brethren otherwise. We don't have a hold in that part of town yet, I expect you to behave."
The or else rang in the silence and Natsumi could do nothing but nod and bow her head, keeping her eyes down. This, however, was not what Ren wanted and he could feel the muscles in her neck protest as his hand roughly grabbed her chin and jerked her face towards him. She barely had time to blink before he had his lips roughly on hers, forcing her mouth open. Out of instinct, Natsumi tried to snap her mouth shut and push him away, a cry escaped her lips. Her struggle was met with a slap in the face and a vice like grip on her wrist.
"You don't get to deny me." He twisted his grip, making her grimace. She knew not to make any noise, no matter how much it hurt. "Fix your make up and I'll deal with you later."
As expected of her, Natsumi draped herself on Ren, sat on his lap, and fed him the delicacies offered to him by the Honda gang. She did it all with the pleasant, neutral face she'd been schooled to paste on by the maids of the Souma household and kept her eyes downward. No one bothered to speak to her, no one offered her any refreshments, nor told her not to listen to their plans. In the three hours the drinking meeting lasted, Natsumi was horrified to learn of the business behind the famous restaurants of the town and if she wasn't terrified of the deep repercussions that would result, her face would have gone bone pale and her mouth gaping open. She wanted to run but despite the obvious inability, she didn't think her legs would actually carry her to the door of the room, let alone out into the night and away from these deadly men.
By the time the sun rose in the sky, Natsumi found herself naked and once again black and blue in her small room, alone. Something in Ren after returning to the Souma estate snapped and he'd taken every opportunity in releasing his frustrations on her. Spurred on by her cries, the first he'd heard from her in weeks, it lasted most of the night until he'd once more grown bored of her eventual lack of reaction. After a numbness spread through her battered body, Natsumi had shut down. A defense mechanism she'd developed to make him stop sooner than later. He liked reaction and if he couldn't get it, he stopped after a few minutes. Her newest trophy from the night was a sore, throbbing wrist. One that he continually injured and never allowed to heal. Whether he was doing it intentionally or not, she didn't know and rarely spent time dwelling on it.
Ren was curiously absent for three days following his outburst on Natsumi. She didn't let down her guard, but was thankful for the respite and allowed herself to nibble on the meals brought to her. Her first visitor outside of the maids was more terrifying than Ren; Taichi Souma, his father.
The man was large, imposing, and his face was full of smug cruelty every time she'd ever seen him. She'd been looking through the small window in the room once more when he came to visit. Startled at his presence, she'd forgotten to bow and gaped at the large silhouette he created in the doorway. Too late, she realized why a look of irritation crossed his face as he knocked her down and forced her forehead to the ground.
"All the more reason why I need to throw you away. You lack any kind of manners, bitch."
Taichi snapped his fingers and two men came into the room, surrounding Natsumi. "Dump her in the bay. Ren's too old for toys that don't work properly and I certainly don't need any illegitimate brats under foot. Don't let anyone see you."
"You know, I heard there's a black market auction tonight. I bet we could sell her and get some cash."
Natsumi was blindfolded but could hear the two men talk from the front of the van. She sighed, unsure of how she felt of the current situation. She was about to die, tied to bricks and thrown into Tokyo Bay, which was a terrible thought. But on the other hand, she was out of the Souma household and Ren wouldn't touch her again. It was a toss up on emotion. Judging from the current conversation the two grunts were having, it sounded like there was a potential third option, one that didn't guarantee any kind of relief or safety.
"Taichi will shoot us both if he finds out. Fujioka is attending for the boss."
"We'll just cut her hair, maybe scar her face and he won't recognize her. Besides, Ren rarely let her out of the room, right? I doubt Fujioka will recognize her."
"Don't scar her face, we'll get less for her. I'm sure I've got a blade or something in back. Cut her hair, I'll enter her into the auction. I know a guy."
An hour later, Natsumi found herself standing by the van she'd been transported in underground in a parking garage. Hands and legs bound, she could do nothing but glare as the smaller, squat grunt tugged painfully on her hair as he hacked away at it. Tears threatened to run, but she let the prickling sensation of holding back keep her grounded.
"Don't quit your day job, you suck at this," she muttered, watching as chunks of her hair fell to the cement. He smacked her head and gave another tug with what was left of her hair.
"Keep your opinions to yourself. Your new owner may not like them, whore. When the item manager comes to fetch you, you get a choice. They'll ask if you're willing to be sold. If you say no, we'll just drown you. Either way, you lose. So it's all a matter of perspective. Live or die. Done."
"I'll clean this mess up. Take her to the meeting point."
A bored looking man, reeking of mafia with a rough face and a clipboard met them in a deserted hallway. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. "Are you a willing human, aware that you are to be sold at auction?"
The grunt squeezed her still injured wrist, willing her to hurry and answer.
"Yes."
"And you fully consent to being sold, aware that any person may place a bid for any amount and that your mind and body may or may not be yours any longer?"
Another squeeze. "Yes."
"This way then."
Led to a cage, Natsumi could hear the buzz of talking, that of a large crowd in an auditorium. The sound was deafening in her ears and all around her, people were shuffling priceless works of art, and briefcases handcuffed to protected individuals. On the other side of the curtain, she could hear someone call out to the crowd.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen! Our next item up for bid, a healthy young woman!"
The spotlight was bright against her eyes and the heat was stifling. The only thing she could do was stand up straight and look out into the crowd of masked people and hope for kindness.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm alive. Life is just hectic. I have no plans of abandoning this story. I just wait for what seems to be the right moments. Reviews are lovely. Thanks for reading!
