c h a p t e r t h i r t e e n

whose WOODS these are, I wish I knew.

x

"How dare she – how dare she –"

Tora raised the fork to his mouth, bit into one of the pieces of chicken on the drumstick, and swallowed. "I have no idea," he said, his voice all smooth silk.

"Bite her." Genkei's face was still red with rage. It was a rare sight, one of the rarest of his life, and Tora checked a grin. She was... something else altogether. Then again, he wouldn't have invested time in turning her life upside-down, if he had ever doubted that. "How could a commoner –"

"Your soup is getting cold, darling." Mina Igarashi said. She threw Tora something of a dirty look, as if she knew he had known beforehand what would happen when Genkei and Sarakshi met - which he more or less had - and placed a hand on her husband's forearm.

"Of course." Genkei muttered. His voice was still dark with rage. "Of course, darling. You." His gaze snapped on to Tora. "I had better see you at that dance."

Tora set down the fork. "We had a deal."

Genkei's eyes flashed fire. "If you think -" he hissed. "That I'm going to talk to that cheeky little chit again –"

Cheeky little chit didn't even begin to describe her, Tora thought with half a smirk. "If she's there, I'm there," he said, tone cool. Manipulating people was an art. Manipulating his father, a vicious sort of pleasure. It was like turning what you had been taught, on to the teacher.

Genkei slammed a wallet on the table. "How much do you need to convince her?"

Tora's eyes narrowed. "Don't," his voice was soft. "Talk about her as if she were an object."

It wasn't the fact that Genkei's jaw dropped open, but the fact that Mina's soft eyes snapped on to him as if he had started speaking Greek, that made Tora realize he might have said something that neither of them had expected of him.

-;-

"I can't believe you didn't come, yesterday." Linda's hair hung down, a curtain of sleek golden sheen, as she curved backwards to look up at the rain-washed skies. "You missed the kiss of the week, woman. It was a sight."

"I can't believe." Sarakshi - who was sitting next to the blonde on the wall of one of Miyabigoka's gigantic playgrounds, as the latter waited for Sora - said drily. "That I ever thought you might want to know why I didn't come."

"Neither can I." Linda's grin did not... deserve to be called a grin. It was far too beautiful and far too wicked. "One would have thought you'd have gotten to know me at least that much, in the past few weeks."

"Why do I have a feeling that the fact that I don't, says more about you than it does about me?" Sarakshi asked. On some fundamental emotional level, she was glad that Linda didn't want to know: the last thing she wanted, was to have to think of Igarashi. Having skipped school the previous day meant she hadn't had to face him since she had resigned from Daiki's production; but she was aware that, sooner or later, she would have to.

Tora Igarashi was enough of a jerk to make sure of that.

Linda's response to what she had said, was cut short by Sora's arrival. Which, in true Sora Kiyoshi fashion, was the breathless kind.

"Hi Linda-chan! Hi Sarakshi-chan!" Sora's flyaway hair was, as usual, battling with the clip that held it up.. and winning. "Sarakshi-chan! Is it true?"

Sarakshi blinked. "It might be?" she offered.

Sora made a face. "Is it true you resigned from the play?" she asked. "Didn't President Igarashi cast you himself? You remember I helped write the play? I was so glad you were going to be the lead, and now people are telling me that you stepped down, and -"

"I did step down." One of the most important things Sarakshi had learned in the past few weeks, was that in nine cases out of ten, Sora continued to speak until she was interrupted. "It's just that..." She paused, not quite sure what the reason she could give, was. That she didn't take kindly to the infamous student council president infiltrating her personal space? It was true, but her battle with Igarashi was like a private battle of wills. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of ever getting to know that she had complained about it. "I'm not the best actress out there, Sora." She gave Sora a wry smile. "Have you ever seen me act?"

"Of course I have!" Sora's voice was indignant. "You were all stiff in the beginning but that was ages ago - and you've gotten so much better at it - and President Igarashi selected you."

The last clause was spoken with a kind of awe; as if it were some sort of honour. Sarakshi realized that, hard as it was to believe, there were people who... looked up to Igarashi. She supposed that, from a safe distance - there had to be a safe distance from Tora Igarashi, even if the concept didn't seem to exist in her life - he did appear to be someone worth looking up to. The grades and looks and riches and that badge. She had never even thought of begrudging him any of that. What she did had thought of begrudging him, was that he got to keep all of it, despite his insufferable attitude.

Linda was good enough to save her the trouble of a response. "Prez Igarashi also selected Kagura for the female lead, last year," the blonde pointed out with a grin. "Ya know what they say about where men's brains really lie."

Sarakshi's cheeks turned an embarrassed pink. "That's a sexist generalization," she muttered.

"It applies to Prez Igarashi at times, doesn't it?" Linda gave a shrug of her fair shoulders. "Mind you, he's a damn beautiful sight for sore eyes, as far as looks go. If I'd gotten that position opposite him? Babe, I'd have kept it." She glanced at her cellphone, realized it was almost time for her and Sora's class, and lowered herself from the wall. Unlike Sarakshi, Linda didn't have to jump to reach the ground - her height ensured that - and she stepped down in a movement that was all sensual laziness. Sarakshi was glad she had no idea how Linda did that - make even her simplest movements, scream "Look at me!" with total ease. Especially considering that the last thing she needed in her life at the moment, was further attention. "You two haven't forgotten about the concert, have you?"

"I'm going to dress up as one of the magical maids." Sora brightened up. "Do you think I should go for a pink outfit? I want to. But I think it's going to look horrible on me. Perhaps I could -"

"Wear pink," Linda said, her voice decisive. Sarakshi had a feeling she would have told Sora to wear blue, if Sora had let on she wanted to wear blue. "It'll look good. You have any plans, Sarakshi?"

Sarakshi frowned. "What sort?"

"What are ya going to wear, woman?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt?"

Linda and Sora stared at her as if she had grown an extra head.

Sarakshi frowned. "What? Is there a dress code?"

Linda sighed. "I should have given up on you a long time ago." She picked up her handbag as the bell rang. "See you in English."

"See you, Sarakshi-chan!" Sora said, attempting one last time to stuff her hair back into its clip... to no avail.

"See you." Sarakshi sat there for a few minutes after Linda and Sora had left. The playground wasn't deserted, but her side of it was emptier than it could have been, because most people had classes. Sarakshi was glad for the peace and quiet. That is, she was glad until she jumped down from the wall, pushed her hair out of her eyes, turned to her right... and met Tora Igarashi's gaze.

He was leaning against a tree, the sole of one shoe resting against the treetrunk, both of his hands in the pockets of his slacks. His tie was undone and a couple of his shirt buttons, open; it couldn't have been cleared that he had been snogging someone, until a while ago.

"You're like a vulture, Igarashi," Sarakshi said, voice cool. She had a feeling he had been watching her for a while, a feeling she did not appreciate. "Sneaking up on people."

"You're like a man, Ishin." His voice was lazy. "Wearing jeans to a cosplaying concert."

That... was new. Sarakshi was sure Linda must have mentioned the concert had something to do with cosplaying, at some point or the other. She had more pressing matters to think of at the moment, however. Such as the last time she had been within two feet's radius of Tora Igarashi. That one time he had decided to push her into a wall and kiss her. Her eyes narrowed. "I suppose eavesdropping on people who want to have no business with you is just another of your admirable qualities?"

"You know what I think you should wear?" Tora said softly, as if she had never spoken. He took a step forward, caught her chin and tilted it upwards. "Your… uwagi."

She'd told herself that incident had never happened. The look in his eyes, though, was pure proof that it had - and that he remembered. Every single moment. Cheeks flaming, she jerked out of his reach and looked down... right at his open buttons and the sculpture-like chest that was visible, because of them being open. Which caused her to take a step backwards.

"Is something wrong, Ishin?" Slowly, lazily, he closed the third button.

It was not her fault that her cheeks were a bright shade of red, Sarakshi reminded herself. "It amazes me that there's always a new level of evilness you can reach," she muttered.

"You should attend," he said lazily.

"Excuse me?"

"The dance." He reached into his pocket, took out an envelope, raised it... and let it go. Instinctively, Sarakshi reached out a hand and caught it before it could fall to the ground. The moment she did, she felt like kicking herself. Damn, that was what he had wanted her to do, wasn't it? Catch the envelope? "I'm inviting you. And I don't think it would be wise..." His eyes locked with her gaze. Their was nothing in them but total sinfulness. Wicked sinfulness. "To turn down an invitation from me."

She looked down at the envelope with a small frown. It was a sophisticated cream in colour; a gorgeous emblem etched in a corner, and the words Tora Igarashi written across one side. "You're almost nice," she said, quite to herself. "When you laugh."

His eyes widened, though she didn't see them. When she looked up, there was a smirk playing around his mouth. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing." His voice was smooth. "Will I see you there?"

Sarakshi looked up at him. He looked different from the person she had seen in the limo, last night. That had been someone else together. Someone, she realized, who hadn't been wearing a mask. His eyes had been alight; the curve of his mouth, so right. When he laughed, he was someone else altogether. When he laughed, it hit her, he looked beautiful.

"Why did your father invite me, last night?"

"He must believe our association would be beneficial." His voice was silk. "Wouldn't you agree, Sarakshi-chan?"

"I don't get you, Igarashi." She wanted to know, she realized. She wanted to know it with a passion, almost; because it wasn't often - it wasn't ever - that someone could walk into her and turn it into the aftermath of some mind-boggling, nerve-wrecking earthquake. She wanted to know who he was. Where his principles began. Where his principles ended. If he had principles at all - though, somewhere in her heart, she knew that wasn't a question; not a real one. She hitched the bag slung over her shoulders and turned away from him. "I don't get you at all."

-;-

Marjani stepped out of the Kasukage dojo, and halted in his tracks, his eyes sharp. Genkei Igarashi was standing in front of his car, his lips pursed as if he would rather have been at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, than in his present location.

"Marjani." Genkei's voice was cold, as if the name was some disgusting, festering wound.

"Mr. Igarashi." Marjani voice was polite as he met the man's eyes.

"My wife and I are throwing a dance in honour of Kurumi's acceptance to Tokyou University, tonight." Genkei's voice was uneven; rough. "Since she's your fiancée, we understand you will come."

"I don't think," Marjani's voice betrayed no emotion, positive or negative, whatsoever. "That I can make it."

Genkei Igarashi liked to believe he was a rational man, who did not act without a genuine, valid, free-of-emotions reason... which was why there were certain things in his life, that he refused to think about, much less confront. One of them was his need to mess up Marjani Suoh's life. "I came all the way here," he said, his voice dangerous. "To tell you you are invited, you ungrateful son of a bi –"

"I'm afraid, sir," Marjani's voice was still perfectly polite. "That I don't allow anyone to take that tone when speaking of my mother. My father, however, might be a different matter."

Genkei's eyes widened. "You little..."

"If you'll excuse me."

"Wait."

Marjani turned around. There was a vein throbbing in Genkei's temple. "Would you come if Tora asked?" The man's voice was fierce.

"Tora has no reason to ask me," Marjani said.

"Answer my question," Genkei spat. "Would you come if Tora asked?"

"No." Marjani met Genkei's gaze. There was something in it that made Genkei want to take a step back. "I don't believe I would."

-;-

"Will you come?"

There were no hello's, no how-do-you-do's, no I-am-fine's. Tora strode right into the Suoh's dining room, and asked the question.

"Tora?" Mrs. Suoh set down her spoon and rose to her feet. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Mrs. Suoh." Tora raised her hands to his lip and brushed his lips over the top of it. She was a beautiful woman, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, and she moved with an oriental elegance that was hard, if not impossible, to define. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Marjani and I just have some... business together."

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" Mrs. Suoh asked, her eyes unsure. She had never been able to decide if Marjani and Tora got along, or not. Placing the two of them in the same room was like attempting to get fire and ice to co-exist in the same space, at the same time. It just didn't work. "You and Marjani can talk after that –"

"It's fine." Marjani rose to his feet. "I'm sure this won't take more than a minute, mother." He strode out of the room and, the moment the two of them were in the lounge, turned to face Tora. "When did you become your father's pet?" He asked, his deep voice dangerous.

"Around the same time you started saying things that could land you into a hospital bed." Tora's voice was sharp as steel; it was clear Marjani's question had hit a nerve.

"Why do you want me there?" Marjani's face was deadpan.

"She's your fiancée." Tora pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat down. His voice was colder than usual but then, it tended to drop to subzero temperatures each time he faced Marjani. "Shouldn't you be... concerned?"

"Of what?" Marjani raised an eyebrow. "Of you having designs on her? Kurumi can take care of herself." He met Tora's gaze. "What do you want, Tora? You aren't here just because your father asked you to be."

Tora leaned against the chair. There was a pause, a long one.

"How much does this have to do with Sarakshi?" Marjani asked, his voice a drawl.

Tora looked up at him, a smirk lurking about his mouth. "I want the girl there," he said lazily. "Does that piss you off?"

"No," Marjani said. "It doesn't – as you so eloquently put it – piss me off. It amuses me."

Tora's eyes flashed.

Marjani straightened up. "Why do you want her there?"

"Why do I want any girl within a mile's radius of me?" Tora's voice was harsh.

That would, Marjani thought, have been a good response if Tora Igarashi had been treating her like one of the girls he "liked" to have within a mile's radius of him. He didn't. Like hell he didn't. "I'll ask her to come." Marjani's face and voice were both impassive. "If she turns me down, that's your problem."

Tora rose to his feet. He stood there, in front of the door, for several moments. "I didn't think you would agree." His voice was soft.

"I didn't think I would, either." It was hard to tell what Marjani was thinking, when he adopted that tone of voice, but Tora had the feeling that Marjani had reasons of his own to do this. Reasons he was in no mood to share. "Now get out of my house."

-;-

Sarakshi's eyes were alight, when she stepped into the staff area at Crème Maid. The evening had been nice. Full of laughs and music. Fun.

"You make such an adorable Kenshin, Sarakshi-chan~" Manilla squealed.

Sarakshi glanced down at her clothes. She hadn't worn a yukata in a while, so she had enjoyed wearing the purple one that was part of her costume. "I don't think I managed to sound like a man," she grinned, as she took off the hair tier that had been holding her hair up.

"You were perfect~" Manilla squeed. "Have a good~ evening!"

"You too, Manilla-san." Sarakshi gave the manager a smile as she headed off to change. She washed off the fake scar that criss-crossed her cheek; threw on an oversized T-shirt; stepped out of the backdoor... and blinked.

"Marjani?" He was standing against the wall, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, and the other resting against his leg. That she was surprised, would have been an understatement. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

The statement was uttered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, for him to wait for her outside the backdoor of a café where she worked. Sarakshi gave him a look. "Right," she said. "You know what? I'll start to be suspicious, right about now."

"I had no idea you trusted me so much," He said drily.

Sarakshi punched him in the arm. Except that punching Marjani Suoh in the arm was like punching a wall: it didn't do much good. "Spill, Suoh. You wouldn't be here without a reason."

The last time someone had attempted to lay a finger on him, outside of a karate match, had been a long, long time ago. The fact that someone over a foot shorter than him had just punched him... was new. He had the urge to pull her to him and kiss her mouth. "The Igarashis' dance." His voice was neutral. "Will you attend?"

"No." Sarakshi said, without any preamble whatsoever.

"Ah?" He raised an eyebrow.

Sarakshi checked a frown. It was getting colder, and she had forgotten to grab a jacket when she had left home. She moved away from him and towards her bike. "Being within five miles of Tora Igarashi is not my cup of tea. I'd rather bang my head repeatedly in some sort of wall." She came to a stop next to the bike and raised her chin to look up at him. "Why don't you ask Kurumi?"

"She chose not to tell me that she's invited." Something like a screen seemed to fall between the two of them; Sarakshi knew she wouldn't be able to read him, even if she tried. "I'm choosing not to tell her."

"What do they say about an eye for an eye making the whole world blind," Sarakshi muttered.

"This isn't about Kurumi." Marjani's tones held no emotions whatsoever. Which was a sign, Sarakshi knew, that he was not in the nicest mood ever. "I'm asking you if you want to come to the dance."

Sarakshi frowned. "Friends don't do balls, Marjani."

"I see. You wouldn't want me to - how do you put it? Ah, yes - get the wrong idea."

Sarakshi resisted the urge to sigh. He was the old Marjani again, dark and deep-voiced and dangerous-looking. It felt wrong. She felt wrong. It was as if she had forced him to open up; to take a step towards her; and then taken several steps backwards herself. He deserved better from her. "I know you wouldn't," she said, voice quiet. "I just don't want to be there. I wouldn't do it for anyone."

"I see."

"But I would do it for you."

"Woman." His voice was a shade amused. "You can't say things like that and expect me to behave."

Sarakshi grinned as she swung a leg over her bike. "You're not expecting me to wear a dress, are you? Because the last time I wore one, I was Magical Maid Lily."

"You'll shock all the ladies into comas if you turn up in something like that."

Sarakshi followed his gaze to her shirt. Considering it was old, a size too large for her, and had the words Live. Love. Judo. woven into the bottom left corner.. perhaps he had a point. Which did not mean that she was going to look for an alternative. "I'll take that as a no," she grinned.

Which, she thought as she swung her bike into the street, might be the only good thing to come out of the whole affair.

-;-

There were several things Sarakshi had learned, in the past few weeks.

One of the most important was that if an expensive-looking vehicle had been parked in a place that she frequented and said place was known for being a commoners' hangout... then the vehicle was part of an attempt to further mess up her life.

It was for this reason that the feeling of quiet dread that attacked her stomach on seeing a gleaming Infiniti parked right in front of Utsukushii Creek, did not surprise her.

She climbed off her bike, headed out into the darkness and, right hand clutched around her apartment keys, waited at the foot of the staircase that led up to her apartment for a whole five minutes. With the exception of one of the little kids next to door shouting "Rakshi nee-chaaaaan~" as he ran past, nothing happened. No one approached her. Frowning, Sarakshi climbed the stairs, stepped up to her door... and realized someone was standing there.

He was of average height and had neat, dark hair. There was a reluctant, even uncertain air about him, as if he would rather be eating a live fish, than standing at her door. She frowned, looked up at him... and froze.

He had dark violet eyes.

She would have liked to tell herself that it was a coincidence. Would have, but couldn't. The statistics were against it. It was such a rare eye colour that it would have to be a miracle, to be a coincidence. She knew of just one other person, who had that eye-colour. "Can you please move aside?" She raised her chin and gave the man a look that betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "You're in my way."

The man cleared his throat. "Sarakshi Ishin?" he ventured. "Daughter of Jiro Zentaro?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Mr. Hiroto?"

Hiroto took a surprised step backwards. "How do you know who I am?" He demanded.

She half-turned to face him. She had the same large blue eyes as her mother, Hiroto noticed... and, unlike her mother, there was nothing gentle about them, at least not at the moment. Her gaze was cool. "I hope you can understand that I'm not in the mood to be conversational with you." Voice quiet, she inserted a key into the door-lock. "If you have something legitimate to say, please do. If you don't, please leave."

Hiroto had been furious at worst and uncertain at best about this plan, from the start. He had been sure he would come out of it unscathed, however. He'd been wrong, he realized. For the second time in one week, he had been wrong to the point of the whole thing being ridiculous. Jiro's girl didn't even reach his shoulder... and she was not one someone who would allow anyone to mess with her.

"I apologize," he said. "I realize we just got off on a wrong start -"

"Sixteen years after my birth. How charming." There was no anger in her voice. Just dryness. "I don't like repeating, Mr. Hiroto, but I will if I have to: if you have something legitimate to say, please do. If you don't, please leave."

Hiroto frowned. "I know I should have contacted you when your father... when Jiro died. I didn't. It was wrong of me, but I can't take it back. I would like to make amends."

Sarakshi locked her eyes with his gaze; not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't help it. She'd known her father's brother had the same eye colour; dad had told her that, several times. But she had never thought she would those eyes again. It was more than just stunning: it was overwhelming. "I don't mean to sound unwelcome but..." But what? But his sudden appearance had exhausted her? On an emotional level she didn't want to think about? She let the sentence die. "Please. Go on."

"I understand I should have introduced myself earlier but what's in the past, is in the past. I'd like to support you now. In a discreet fashion, of course. You have to understand that while that isn't something I like, it's something that is vital to the business that I run. If word that I didn't come to you earlier gets out, my reputation as a philanthropist will suffer. My business could be ruined."

"Support." She repeated the word, a frown in her voice. "What kind of support? Emotional? Familial? Monetary?"

Hades, she was blunt. Hiroto looked as taken aback as he felt. "You wouldn't have to be concerned about expenses, anymore. Rent. Food. Clothes. School fees. I'll make sure all of that is looked to. That gives you a chance to be a regular teenager. You won't have to take on disgraceful jobs -"

"Excuse me?"

"The maid café." His voice was dispassionate. "If you're under my care, you wouldn't have to take up such frivolous jobs. You wouldn't have to work in undignified places. I've heard that the place you work at - Clean Maid, is it? - is well-known; but even so, it's still a place where insecure people act out fantasies -"

"It serves themed food and arranges cosplaying events." Sarakshi's voice was cold.

"It all amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?" Hiroto said. "I understand Jiro raised you to be strong. Independent. But I'm sure that even he - I understand he was a bit different. He didn't consider a lot of frivolous things beneath him. Undignified, one could call it -"

"Don't you dare." Her voice was colder than ice. Far colder. "Speak of my father in those terms, again."

Hiroto's eyes widened. She could not be serious. "I don't believe you've been listening." His voice was cool. "I'm offering you an excellent deal. Who else would offer you such a generous part of their rich -"

"You have a lot to learn about me." Sarakshi's voice was cold enough to freeze over several people. "If you think I give a damn about anyone's riches."

Hiroto's eyes narrowed. It was aggravating enough that that Igarashi kid had had no interest in materialistic gain. But that at least, had been understandable: he was an Igarashi, for heaven's sake. The little redhead? She could do with some extra dough. "I swear, I've had enough -" The coldness in his voice more than matched the coldness in hers. "Of people who don't give a damn about anyone's riches."

"Glad to know you've met a couple." The words were dry. "Because I sure could do with meeting a few more."

She pushed open the door of her apartment as she said that; and Hiroto realized that she was walking off. "Wait!" He was aware his voice sounded hoarse - pleading, even - but he couldn't bring himself to care. What he knew was that he needed her cooperation. Because if she walked off... so much for all that he had spent years building. "You don't have to give up your job! I know I said I would prefer that but it isn't -"

"Mr. Hiroto." She turned around. In the semi-dark, the expression on her face was both calm and - he realized with the sort of surprise that leaves one startled - calming. "If you're here because you feel a sense of guilt, please don't. I was never one of your responsibilities. And if you can't convince yourself of that? I set you free of any financial obligations you may feel you have towards me."

The door closed behind her with a soft thud. Hiroto heard an automatic lock click into place and, for a long, long while, he didn't know whether he was stunned, thrown off balance or relieved.

Then he bent down, slid a business card underneath her door, turned around and walked off.

See? I wuz good and haz updated. :3

The title of the chapter comes from the line 'Whose woods these are I think I know' in Robert Frost's BEAUTIFUL poem "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening." If you haven't read it, you should definitely google it. The Magical Maids come from... episode 24 of the Maid-sama anime. (Which I suppose everyone already knew, but I still wanted to mention it. 'Cause I love that episode.)

Thank you to everyone who took out the time to review. You people awesome. *_* MARSBARYUM, Wildfly, echizenochi, NerdPop, gamma-rae-star, ulqui x, HMOrange216, fateMoon, schnook, MaidSamaFanGirl, QueenieIzzy. Thunk you. and *WAAAAVE* to everyone who has favourited and/ or subscribed - you guys make me happy. *_*

Lucky kick: Aww. I have a crush on Tora, too! xD Yay us! *high five*

ShewillbeUM: Thunk you. iGlad you think so. *_*

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome/ appreciated/ will get you virtual cupcakes.