chapter twenty five
martini KISSES
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Tora was well-aware that he did not have to cause any more damage to his opponent, for said opponent to concede; his rival judoka was already hitting his hand against the mat to signal defeat. But as he tightened his grip on the young man, the Igarashi heir felt a brutal kind of satisfaction. How dare the young man challenge him, after Tora had defeated five judoka back-to-back?
"Enough! Tora!" Ukahara Sensei's voice was sharp and that – the realization that Ukahara Sensei wanted him to let go of the guy, Ukahara Sensei who encouraged them to be ruthless to the point where dislocated shoulders and snapped joints were not greatly frowned upon – made Tora realize that he had perhaps gone too far. He let go of the other judoka and rose to his feet, his face devoid of emotions as he was declared victorious.
"Who's next, then?" He drawled, looking round the circle of judoka – all of whom were known for their ruthless style of fighting, and none of whom dared to step forward now. "Or does no one think they're a match for me?"
"I think we've had quite enough of a show for today, Tora." Ukahara Sensei smirked, his voice betraying only the slightest amount of uncertainty for Tora's newfound bloodlust. Tora had always been one of his top-ranked students but – unlike quite a few of his batchmates, who enjoyed proving their mettle in the loudest, most conspicuous manner – he, Ukahara knew, had never actively sought fights.
"I'll take him," a quiet voice said.
Tora and Ukahara looked up at the same time to see the dark figure that had stepped into the circle around the line of tamati. Tall, powerful and muscular, the figure's left arm sported a white armband – a sensei's mark.
"You're not a judoka." Tora's drawl was cold. "Now, if none of the judoka feel capable of giving me a match –"
"Scared to fight me?" The dark figure asked.
Tora's eyes snapped to Marjani's face. Scared to fight me? It was too apparent a bait for him to fall for, and Tora knew that Marjani himself would be well aware of that. "I understand it must be frustrating to not have had a worthy opponent since you took up a sensei's mantle, Suoh," he said, his voice polite to a fault. "But it would be irreverent to the rules of this dojo for us to fight, only to satisfy your need to have a rival who can kick your ass." He smiled a smile that was all sharp teeth. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
The circle of judoka parted uncertainly to give him way to pass – and Marjani laid a powerful hand on his shoulder.
"Gentlemen." Ukahara Sensei's sharp voice interceded before Tora could react - Marjani let his hand fall from Tora's shoulder at once. "I understand the two of you have something you need to sort out. But the Kasukage dojo is not the place to settle your quarrels." His eyes locked on to Marjani's, a silent reminder that the dark-skinned young man was no longer a student, but an instructor.
"My apologies." Marjani said; Tora could almost sense the effort it must be taking Marjani to keep his tone that calm. "I was looking forward to a match. Perhaps another time. Tora. Ukahara-san." He bowed low, then turned around and walked off.
There were several moments of silence in the wake of Marjani's disappearance. Then –
"What are you all looking at?" Ukahara snapped at the judoka still circled around the line of mats. "You're dismissed for today. And if tomorrow none of you can give Igarashi a fight, I'm downgrading all of you by a belt. Go on! You too." He punctuated the last two words with a bursque nod at Tora. "Out."
"Sensei." A hand behind his back, Tora bowed his head to Ukahara. Under normal circumstances, he would have headed to the shower room after that. Right now, however, his head was abuzz with the rush of blood and the sound of flesh against mat; without wasting another glance around the dojo, he headed outside, where his limo would be waiting for him.
Marjani's lean figure blocked his path.
"What is it, Suoh?" Tora met Marjani's eyes with freezing calm. "Haven't had your fill of being insulted by me, for today?"
"I want to talk." Marjani spoke with a flatness that did not surprise Tora, a flatness that held no sign that he had taken even the least amount of offense at what Tora had said.
"That's your problem." Tora's smile was silken. "If you'd done less talking and more doing these past few months, it could have been the little redheaded maid in your bed, not that tall blonde you can't even bring yourself to touch –"
"If you'd done less talking and more doing, you wouldn't have been dating Kaon Umekouji," Marjani said coldly. When Tora stilled, too taken aback by the unexpected comment to respond at once, Marjani wasted no time in stopping to gloat. "What the hell are you doing, Tora? You broke that boy's ankle." And that was only the third opponent Tora had fought today; he'd taken down two more after that, neither with any more kindness than he had shown the fourteen-year old.
"You're one to talk, Suoh. Or do you think you became a sensei at this place -" Tora met Marjani's eyes with a challenge - "Because of your infinite love and tenderness?"
Marjani's eyes darkened. "I have never attempted to hurt anyone, for the sake of hurting," he said, voice very, very soft.
"That is your defense for every karateka you've sent whimpering off in pain?" Tora arched an eyebrow at Marjani. "I suppose that's where your little maid has been getting all her bright ideas for a defense from. Though come to think of it, even her pathetic defense at Miyabigaoka was better than -"
"That boy you injured." Marjani's voice was dark. "Was hardly fourteen."
"That boy has broken his fair share of ankles," Tora said coldly. "Now, if you're done with lecturing me on the morality of judo –" He brushed past Marjani.
"I am," Marjani said.
Tora was aware of Marjani's gaze on his back; of the finality in Marjani's words. He felt a curious kind of numbing, the kind one feels before an implosion of pain. Marjani, he thought. Of all the people he knew, Marjani was the sole person he had thought – had known – would never give up on him. He ought to be glad that he had driven Marjani Suoh to the point where even he had given up. You wanted this, he reminded himself. Yes, he had wanted this. For them to give up on trying to mould him into an anti-hero he would never be.
For them to move on.
"I knew you'd see it, sooner or later." His voice sounded cold to his own ears; Tora supposed that was an achievement in itself. When he spoke, he did not turn around to face Marjani. "Though I must admit, it's been quite entertaining, watching you grapple with the idea that I might have no redeeming qualities, after all. Naïve thing, aren't you Suoh, despite that rough exterior?"
"Do you even understand what you've done?" Marjani's voice held a dark sort of rage. He caught Tora's arm and jerked the Igarashi heir around to face him; Tora let him do so with a calm that he had never thought he would be able to muster. "Do you think she can just walk up to another good school and get enrolled, considering you had her expelled? Goddamn it, Tora, you're ruining her entire future."
"Why don't you pull a few strings and save her then?" Tora said coldly. "Get her into some top-notch school that'll close its eyes and take her because you want her in your bed -"
Marjani threw a punch at him.
"Don't you ever." Tora's voice was ragged as he blocked the throw - he could feel the pure, unadulterated fury in Marjani's punch course through him in waves, as he caught Marjani's fist. "Try to hit me again."
"You were never this." Marjani jerked his hand free from Tora's grip, his eyes dark and full of rage. "You were manipulative and womanizing and unfair, but you were never cruel without cause. I don't know what you've become."
"I realize how infuriating it must be for you to have to accept that I was whom I claimed to be all along. I understand you've been labouring under some delusion of my greatness, all this time." Flashing Marjani a sweet smile, Tora glanced at his watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."
"I give up on you," Marjani said.
In mid-step, Tora stilled.
"I'm glad," he said, forcing his voice into the coldest tone he knew himself capable of. "Your need to act like we understood each other was beginning to seem ridiculous, even for you."
-;-
"How about this one?" Fenshani held up his laptop, his web browser open to the home page of a school with a rather long name. "Seems like a decent place. Look, the application doesn't even ask why you want to transfer."
"That is the best you can come up with?" Linda – one leg stretched out on to the table in front of her, the point of a bright yellow high heel grazing against the table's glass top – snapped. "I'd rather stay expelled then go to a place called Sakura BonBon, you know."
"Well, let's hear your bright ideas, then," Fenshani huffed. "Which place are you getting her into? Hibiya High?"
"Guys, cut it out." Sarakshi glared daggers at them from underneath the pile of high school admission forms and applications she was buried under. The two of them had been bickering since they had arrived at her apartment, half an hour ago. "The bickering isn't helping. Takihara, can you please download that school's form and history, and show it to me?"
"But it's called Sakura BonBon," Linda pouted.
"That place you dragged me to this morning to buy your high heels from was called Loo Buttons, but that didn't stop you from purchasing a lifetime's worth of shoes, did it?" Fenshani said drily.
"It's Louboutin, not Loo Buttons!" Linda said, aghast.
Sarakshi grinned. There was no way on earth that she could get the two of them to stop conversing like an old, married couple. Pushing back hair from her forehead, she dove back into the pile of forms Linda and Fenshani had collected for her. She couldn't deny the duo been an immense help in the search for a decent school. It was still two months before the new term started, but Sarakshi knew the sooner she started looking, the better – it would be hard to find a good school that would take her, despite the fact she had been expelled from Miyabigaoka Academy.. The doorbell rang, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"I'll get it." Linda said. She crossed the distance between the hall and the main door in a few quick strides, and unlocked the apartment door; it swung open to reveal Marjani, dressed in old jeans and a collared shirt.
"Linda." There was a quizzical expression on his face. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Fenshani and I dropped in on the way home," Linda grinned. "Come on in. We were just leaving."
"Please don't leave on my account." He bent his head to pass through the door, then paused in the doorway. "How is she?"
That, thought Linda, was quite the question. She wasn't sure if she knew the answer herself. "Fine." She frowned after a moment, glancing at the far end of the hallway, through which she could see Sarakshi seated on the floor, hair tied into a high ponytail and legs crossed. "I'm not sure if I hate or love that about her. Her ability to be fine, in any given situation."
"Marjani?" Sarakshi looked up from the pile of paperwork, and her face broke into a smile. She rose to wrap her arms around him, and the world seemed to still and collapse into all the right nooks and crannies. She would never, she realized, get used to this feeling: the way the world tilted on its axis and slid back into place the moment he was there. "I wasn't expecting to see you."
"I wasn't expecting to see him either, so I guess we've all been duly surprised." Dropping an A4-size envelope on the glass table, Marjani glanced dryly at Fenshani.
"Nice to see you too, Suoh." Fenshani grinned as he rose to his feet. "Linda and I were just on our way out." He glanced at Linda. "Let's go?"
"Didn't take my surprise to heart, did you? I just dropped in to check in on Sarakshi. I'll take half a minute."
"Your half minute is the equivalent of several dinner dates," Linda teased. "We were actually going to leave in a few more minutes, though. I have to get home and he –" She pointed a thumb at Fenshani – "Is supposed to drive me back. Come on, Chauffeur Boy."
"I am not your chauffeur!" Fenshani said with a roll of his eyes, though he snapped his laptop shut and followed her out. "Red, I downloaded and printed the webpages you asked me to. See you around, alright?"
"Thank you for coming." Sarakshi gave Lind a half-hug and beamed at Fenshani as she accompanied them to the door to wave them goodbye. Pressing down the automatic lock into place, she turned around to face Marjani. "You too. Though I'm beginning to feel like an invalid, what with all the number of people who keep showing up."
"And here I thought you'd feel special." He smiled and held up one of the forms on the table. "What's this?"
"School applications." Rubbing her temples, Sarakshi retraced her steps to join him in the lounge. "I've been trying to find a decent place that'll at least be willing to listen to why I got expelled from Miyabigaoka."
"Any luck so far?"
"I've sent in a couple of applications. Somewhat hopeful as well, about a few places." Sitting down next to him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "He knew, you know," she said softly.
He raised her face to his, the gentleness in his voice belying the raw strength of his hand. "Knew what?"
"Both my parents graduated from Miyabigaoka." Sarakshi half-smiled up at him. "Igarashi must have known that." She leaned her chin into the dark palm that cupped it, her heart no longer aflutter with restlessness – it always stilled into a sure sort of peace when Marjani was there. "I suppose that added to it. His desire to make a point. He always did like making a point."
"He sent me this." Voice wry, Marjani picked up the A4-sized envelope he had placed on the table earlier. Sarakshi turned it over; it held the Igarashi seal, though the seal was now broken. With nimble fingers, she flipped it open, took out the booklet inside… and narrowed her eyes.
It was a copy of the script for the annual play.
How much more of a mockery was he going to make of her? "He can't think I'd still consent to it," she said, one eyebrow arched.
"I'm quite sure he does." Marjani's voice was devoid of emotion. "Sarakshi. Look at me." When she refused to, her eyes stubbornly locked on to the envelope, he touched her chin and lightly lifted her face to his. "Let it be. You don't want him to make any more trouble for you."
"He can't make any more trouble for me." Her tone was incredulous. "He's had me expelled, Marjani, what more could he possibly do?"
"Make sure his side of the tale reaches whichever school you get accepted at," Marjani said, voice deadpan.
Her eyes widened. "He wouldn't." But why wouldn't he? She had thought he wasn't capable of hurting her in this manner. Without cause. Without reason. For no real purpose. But he had had her expelled. She thought of how he had risen to his feet in the hearing, of what he had said, the picture he had flashed across the monitor, and a lump rose in her throat. Nothing was beyond him, she realized. Why haven't I given up on him? Why am I still looking for a reason to his madness.. "I can't live like this," she said softly. "This way, there'd always be something he can hold against me."
"I met him today," Marjani said. There was a frown in his voice, an almost puzzled one. "He…" Tried too hard to drive me away. "He didn't seem very interested in either of us." He slipped the script back into envelope and let it rest there. "Go with what he wants for now, Sarakshi."
She wanted to ask him why, but she knew if he had been willing to share his reasons, he would have already done so. So instead of questioning him, she curled up against his side and looked at the envelope resting on her table for a long, long while. Then she looked up at him and nodded. In the end, she realized, there would never be any two opinions for her. If she were at the edge of a black hole and Marjani told her to jump in, she would always jump in.
"I trust you," she said simply.
"I know," he said. He needed her to keep trusting him on this.
-;-
There were two tasks Linda had never found very difficult - finding the perfect high heels, and finding President Igarashi.
Being able to find just the right high heels was a function of years of having visited all sorts of small, medium and large malls and shops to dig out the most gorgeous and expensive shoes. Being able to find the President during school hours?
Much easier. If he wasn't in class or the Student Council block, or accompanying Kanade Maki, he was without doubt in the company of several (often more) well-toned, curvaceous females. Wherever the hottest group of females around was, there you would find Tora Igarashi without fail.
"President Igarashi." Coming to a stop in front of the bench where Tora Igarashi was stretched out, his head in the lap of a dark-skinned brunette, Linda locked her hazel gaze with that of Miyabigaoka's Student Council President. "We need to talk."
Tora sat up in a movement that was as lazy as it was fluid. "Linda." He flashed her a sharp smile. "I'm quite sure you can see that I'm not free."
"I think you'd want to make time to hear what I have to say, President." Linda's own smile was a tad too sweet to be genuine. "I believe it affects Miyabigaoka's arrangements to impress the Suohs."
She had not expected to get a reaction out of him, and the utter lack of change in his expression did not disappoint her. He was too skilled at hiding his emotions to let something this small cloud over his features. He did, however, lean in to whisper something into the dark-skinned girl's ear, before rising to his feet and following her to a quieter corner.
"Now, if you could get to the point." His voice was cool.
Linda had not planned to waste any time. "I step down as the play's lead," she said, holding out her copies of the play's script.
"I see." He did not take the copies from her hand, leaving her standing there with the booklets held out in an awkward gesture. She hated awkwardness - and it occurred to her that he must know that about her. "If that's all, then."
She should have let him go without a word. But when he turned his back to her to leave, she couldn't. "You were expecting this," she said.
"Yes." The one-word response was crisp and flat. "Yes, I was, Williams."
"Why?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice. It was her the two of them were talking about - Linda Williams, the blonde fashionista who never picked fights. The diplomat who refused to take sides when the stakes were this high. It was as unlike her to get into the middle of two persons' tussle, as it was for a starved cat to leave fresh milk untouched - it made no sense on any level whatsoever.
He half-turned to face her; the sunlight streamed through his hair and splashed on to his face, turning the golden eyes a deeper, darker colour. When he smiled, it drove her mad that his smile was pitying. "Because you're too scared to be selfish, Williams." He met her gaze for gaze, the curve of his mouth amused. Entertained. "Because, unlike me, you care."
She wanted to hold him by the shoulders and shake him hard. He had an understudy who could replace her at a moment's notice, she knew, but even then, how dare he pretend none of it affected him? Or was he telling the truth, after all? "You really don't care," she said, the surprise in her voice like a taste in her mouth. He'd wanted this to happen, she realized. Had been expecting this all along, perhaps from the moment he had signed her up - that at some point, he would do something that would force her to take a stand. Force her, who never took sides, to pick a side. "You bastard," she said. "You just wanted to show me what it feels like to have to choose. You don't care. You don't care at all."
"When was the last time you made a real choice, Williams?" His drawl was cold. "You're too scared to make choices. You don't even want Marjani Suoh. You just want whatever you have an excuse to not pursue. Whatever everyone else holds you back from. It makes you feel like you're a risk-taker. It makes you feel like your reason for not giving anything all you have, isn't fear. You disgust me."
Her eyes widened; but he had already walked off.
-;-
She was furious. Furious that her role as Igarashi's personal maid in the play had been expanded. Just two more hours, Sarakshi reminded herself as she swerved her bike a little too fast. Two more hours, and she would be done with this play - and Tora Igarashi - for good.
She rammed her brake just in time to avoid an oncoming vehicle she had not seen in her anger - her bike swerved, narrowly avoided a wall, and screeched to a halt that almost sent her flying into the air.
"You alright?!" Someone shouted.
"Yes, I'm so sorry! Thank you for asking!" Her smile fading the moment the worried drivers had scattered, Sarakshi resisted the urge to swear. How could she have been so careless? She was in no condition to be driving. Ignoring the stinging pain in her left knee, she eased her bike into Miyabigaoka Academy's Student Parking Lot. Then she removed her helmet, tucked it under one arm, and squinted down at her aching leg. She'd ripped her jeans open at both knees, and one of said knees was now bruised. Just her luck.
If she had to choose one word to describe the Miyabigaoka Academy's Open House, Sarakshi thought as she stepped into the school's vast lawn at long last, it would be grand. The Open House was a sight to see each year, but this year, the management seemed to have spared no expenses whatsoever: the decorations were a study in expensive beauty. Old and prospective students milled about with their families; though in another half-hour, Sarakshi knew, the place would be vacant as the crowd streamed into the school's largest auditorium for the annual play.
Ignoring the sting in her knee, Sarakshi made her way past the gigantic Haunted House - an extravagant set-up by the Arts Club, that boasted its association with several world-recognized interior and costume designers on every board and advertisement - and into the auditorium.
Only to be met by the sound of Daiki Hiroshi's shouts.
"You are late! You are late!" The five-foot-tall director shouted at her. "There is only half an hour before we start! Quick! Quick! Everyone else is ready!"
"More than enough time to change into a maid costume," Sarakshi muttered as she weeded through prop boys and extras to find the door to the by-now-vacant ladies' changing rooms - and stopped.
Propped against the main door to the Changing Rooms was Tora Igarashi.
Unlike her, he was dressed for the play: the expensive cut of his dress shirt stood in sharp contrast with her ripped jeans and blue t-shirt. His hair was brushed back in a manner that snapped one's attention to his perfect jawline, hard and angled against the crisp fabric of his collar. He'd been waiting for her, she realized the moment she saw his mouth curve into a lazy smile.
"Ishin." He said her name like a secret - slowly, lazily, suggestively. "You're half an hour late."
"Clearly you have a lot of time to waste, President Igarashi." She smiled sweetly at him. "If you've spent the past one hour standing next to the girls' changing rooms, waiting for me to arrive."
"I'm organizing this play," he said, his smile all sharp teeth. "In case you've forgotten, that makes you answerable to me."
Her eyes flashed. "What are you going to do, President? Take my case to the Disciplinary Committee? My late arrival is obviously threatening your entire production. Oh wait. There's nothing the Disciplinary Committee can do - they've already expelled me."
"Obviously." Ignoring her last comment altogether, he took a step towards her - she scrambled backwards, despite herself. What was he thinking? "How do you propose we fix that, Ishin?"
"The only thing that needs fixing is your head," Sarakshi said sweetly. "And unless you want your face to need fixing, too -" She made to move past him, and into the girls' changing rooms.
"Endearing as your threats are, Ishin -" He caught her wrist and pulled her back to himself with the most casual show of strength. "You don't genuinely think I'd let you go without a punishment, do you?"
"If you don't let go of me this instant -"
"You will what? Scream? Shout? Cause a ruckus?" He lowered his lips to her ear. "You never were very ladylike," he murmured against her heated skin.
She felt shivers run up her spine as his breath grazed her neck. She hated it, how her body betrayed her when she least expected it. "What do you want from me?" She asked, refusing to jump at or leap back from his touch, and instead matching his gaze with a glare.
"I'm not sure you can last long enough for me to show you everything I want from you, Ishin, but for now, I suppose.." He drew a rough circle on the back of her wrist; when she jumped back at the sensation, he smiled lazily. "We can start with the basics."
"Get away from me -" She kicked him.
"You never learn, do you?" He made no move to block her leg; the kick landed hard on his chest. Then, as her eyes widened in concern, he smiled. "Look at you, all worried. Does it bother you that you still wish I were different?"
She placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his face to hers. "Does it bother you that the most interesting thing in your messed-up life is a girl who doesn't even want you close?" She asked, voice cold.
She was too close for comfort. That she had chosen to be this close - that she had leaned against him to force his gaze to meet hers - made him want to close the distance between them and capture her lower lip between his teeth. If she had so much as an iota of the things he wanted to do to her.."Does it bother you that your body can't back that claim for so much as a single second?" He drawled.
A lump formed in her throat. "What do you want, President Igarashi?" She asked softly.
"I realize you're incapable of thinking I wouldn't want you, Ishin." His smile was all sharp teeth. "But I was here to ensure you show up on time. Not fair that the rest of the world shouldn't have a chance to see you in that maid costume of yours, is it?"
"You're vile," she said, eyes widening, hand frozen against his cheek.
"I know." He removed her hand from his face with freezing calm. Then he had stepped back from her, leaving her standing there, her eyes wide, her hands limp at her side, the rise and fall of her chest furious. "About time you start acting like you know it too, Ishin."
-;-
Kaon Umekouji had had a horrible evening. It had taken her ages of effort to find that secret summerhouse Igarashi owned. She'd had to rope in two other people's help to get past the backtracking and double-tracking and creative slips he gave her. But in the end, when she had stumbled across the small summerhouse, she had thought it would be worth it. The place hadn't disappointed her either: the documents and invoices she had found in the safe had enough dirt amongst them to kill a few potential careers.
But nothing had worked out after that.
First there been Marjani Suoh, who had scared the living daylights out of her. If Tora hadn't had the redheaded girl expelled when she had threatened to reveal Marjani's past, she would have thought there was no iota of truth in what she had figured out - Marjani Suoh himself had seemed so completely unbothered by her knowledge. But the expulsion was small satisfaction, nothing but a means to an end. She wanted to one-up Tora until he agreed she was better than him, not see the back of some redhead!
Then there had been that disastrous encounter with the famous doctor. When she had confronted him with the knowledge that she knew about his illegal deals, he had gotten enraged and had somebody show her out of his house. She'd threatened to tell the media on her way out, but he had looked absolutely nonplussed. She wanted to tell the papers just to get back at him for having her shown out, but Kaon knew she couldn't.
She wanted these people on her side against Tora, not pissed at her. But why were none of them bothered that she knew?!
"Kaoru Maki-sama will see you, now," the footman ushered her inside a large, sparsely-furnished but still beautifully decorated room.
"Kaon-san. Please sit," Kaoru Maki, the mother of Tora's friend Kanade Maki said with a smile, waving towards a mat as she herself sat down. The footman bowed to both the women, and retreated from the room. "Any friend of Kanade's is always welcome to our home. How can I help you?"
"Kaoru-san, I have recently found something out." Kaon hesitated. She didn't want this meeting to be a disaster like all the others. Tact wasn't Kaon's strong suit, but she knew she had to act with a little more care than she had in the past. "I think it would be in everyone's best interests if I told no one and we could.. help each other out. Do you understand?"
Even as the wife of the rich Director Maki, Kaoru Maki had always been a very simple woman. Not for her were the trappings of drama or the allure of plots and schemes. She blinked an uncertain blink at the child in front of her now. "No, I don't, Kaon-san," she said, setting down the teapot from which she had been pouring tea for her guest.
"About.. Tora Igarashi," Kaon said, cheeks flushing a little.
"Kanade's friend?" Kaoru asked, surprised. Tora and Kanade were very close, she knew from the number of times Tora came over to see her son. "Is he in some sort of trouble? Is Kanade in trouble?"
Kaon's ears were now an angry pink. Did the woman have so little dignity, she wanted Kaon to spell it out for her? "About you and Tora," Kaon said. "Don't pretend with me, Kaoru-san, I went to Tora's summerhouse so I know."
Kaoru stared blankly at her. "Excuse me?"
Damn it. If the woman wasn't going to admit it herself, then Kaon had no choice. "I know you two have been sleeping together!" She said, arms crossed against her chest. She'd seen the invoices for all those lavish things Tora had picked up for Kaoru Maki - not regular lavish things either! Kaon highly doubted any married woman would send a friend's son to pick up exotic perfumes and expensive lingerie for her, unless there was a relationship involved. Then there had been those packages of lingerie Tora had had delivered to Kaoru's office. "Now don't panic, I'm not going to tell anyone. I know he's lecherous, he must have had something on you that made you agree. I just want you to cooperate -"
Kaoru rose to her feet so fast, the teapot fell over, splashing hot tea all over the table between them; Kaon sprang to her feet to avoid getting tea stains on her dress. "How dare you!" The black-haired woman said, both shocked and furious. "To accuse me of being with - a friend to my son - Kanade's age - How dare you -"
"Don't you try to pretend with me!" Kaon snapped. "I'm not threatening you, alright? I just want us to bring Tora down together!"
"You're raving mad." Kaoru said, aghast. "I'm calling your parents! Get of my house this instant."
Calling her parents? Kaon thought she might have a mini heart attack. No.. The woman could not call her parents. The woman wouldn't call her parents, Kaon decided, her eyes narrowing to slits. Not if she didn't want the world to know that she was sharing the bed of a man half her age. Her son's best friend to boot!
"You wouldn't dare," she said loudly. "You know you wouldn't. When I tell my parents the truth, you'll be ruined! You think Maki-san would want to stay with you, after he finds out?"
Kaoru's mouth was a thin line of icy anger. "Young lady, when I talk to your parents, you won't get to step out of your house for the next few years," The woman said, her hands trembling in cold rage.
Then she took Kaon by the collar and dragged her to the door of the room.
Slammed the door shut in Kaon's face.
-;-
Fashioned out of old pallets and reclaimed glass, the small summerhouse tucked away in a corner of the city was minimalist and beautiful. Even though it was the first time Marjani had seen it, he would have known it for something Tora had designed at first sight.
He looked down at the newspaper his hand was still curled around. Miyabigaoka Academy expels student over part-time job. Pretty much the same headline that every other influential newspaper was carrying today, though no local or minor paper had printed any word on the matter. His dark eyes scanned the contents of the article once more - a well-constructed piece against Miyabigaoka Academy's discriminatory policies, which had expelled a student over a waitressing job. There was no mention of who the student was, no indicator that could in any way have helped to identify the pupil - not even the pupil's gender. The piece was coherent, logical, anti-discrimination, certain to cause outrage in the philantrophic rich.. and too good to be just another cover article.
Standing at the door of summerhouse, Marjani took a deep breath. Snooping had never been his strong suit. Digging through people's secrets is your job, dammit Tora, not mine, he thought with a sigh as he stepped in.
As he had known, Marjani found nothing inside. Not out in the open. So he walked up to the safe and punched in a code. Then another.
The third code he punched in resulted in the sound of a click as the safe swung open.
Inside, was a plethora of documents. Birth certificates. Invoices. Letters. Marjani saw a contract that embroiled a well-known doctor in a deal with a pharmaceutical company, to prescribe only a certain product for a skin condition. A forged contract, he was pretty sure. An invoice for a list of expensive feminine care products and lingerie - attached to it, documentation for packages of lingerie that had been sent to Kaoru Maki. His mouth thinned into a straight line.
Then he picked up his cell and called Kanade.
"Marjani-san." Kanade Maki's voice was a smile on the other end of the line. "How may I help you today?"
"Kanade. Did you by any chance ever ask Tora to pick up an order you placed for your girlfriend?"
When anybody asked him about anything Tora had or hadn't been involved in, Maki smiled and did not ever give a straight response. But the person asking him wasn't anybody; it was Marjani. And Maki had known Tora long enough to be aware that when Marjani Suoh asked about Tora, you let Marjani Suoh have his answer.
All of it.
"Yes," he said. "Less than ten days ago, in fact. It was placed on the family tab."
The family tab, which Marjani knew without asking would be titled for Kanade's mother.
He looked down at the documentation for all those packages that had been sent to Kaoru's office.. and knew without a doubt that none of those packages had ever reached Maki-san's wife.
Damn you, Tora, Marjani thought, as understanding rushed through him. Damn you to hell and back.
-;-
Done. She was done for the night. Climbing down the stairs that led backstage, Sarakshi swept past the plethora of makeup artists, prop boys and extras milling around and - the moment she was out of sight of the crowd swarming right behind the gigantic stage - peeled off her elbow-length maid's gloves to toss them on to a table.
"This is your costume?" A deep voice said.
"Marjani!" She looked up in surprise at the towering hulk of dark-skinned young man that could be no other than Marjani Suoh. "Shouldn't you be at the other side of the stage?"
"I wanted to inspect what goes on behind-the-scenes in a Tora Igarashi production." Smiling wryly, he held out a hand for her gloves. She handed them to him; he flipped them over, and a frown crossed his features. "Would it surprise you if I said he spent a small fortune on these gloves?"
"Proof that money doesn't determine class, if we still needed any," Sarakshi said drily. "You dropped in to see how I'm doing, didn't you?"
"Your powers of deduction are second to none." Marjani's voice was laced with sarcasm. When she grinned in response and swept past him, he caught her hand and whirled her around.
"Sarakshi," he said, voice flat.
How could she have thought he wouldn't notice? That he wouldn't see the well-suppressed chaos in her eyes, recognize her need to avoid anyone and everyone who might possess the capability of noticing it? He knew. He always knew. Sighing, she allowed herself to fold into the circle of his arms, to breathe in the scent of soap and spice-tinted cologne that defined his presence.
"I hurt myself on the way here," she said, pulling up a fishnet stocking to reveal a hastily-bandaged wound over her left knee. "It isn't deep. But I was so furious, I wasn't even looking where I was driving." She might be reckless where every other thing was concerned, but she had never been a reckless driver; the realization that she could have hurt someone other than herself in those two minutes in which she had not been paying attention to where she had been going, left her stunned. "I can't believe I -"
"He let you go on-stage despite that injury?" It took her a second to realize that Marjani had stopped listening to her the moment she had mentioned the wound; his voice when he spoke, was dark. 'He'.. it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out that the 'he' did not mean Daiki or anyone else on the team - the he meant Tora.
"He didn't know. And it isn't anything serious." Voice soft, she touched his cheek with a hand. Even now, the darkness in his eyes sometimes made her want to take a step back from him. There was something raw and dangerous and powerful about it, about the way his eyes darkened and his voice deepened, something that made you realize from several miles off what a horrible idea it would be to piss Marjani Suoh off. "Come on, the play's ending." Behind her, she could hear the swoosh of gigantic curtains falling to the ground in a grand finish, only to be drowned out by the sound of a thousand people rising to their feet and bringing their hands together in a wave of applause that swept away every other noise. "I have to go get dressed. I'm required at the dance."
"He doesn't deserve you there,' Marjani said flatly.
Hand on the doorknob of the Changing Room, she turned around. "I don't think of the world in terms of President Igarashi," she said softly. "I'm going to the dance because I want to see the set-up Sora's team designed. Because I want to be there for the fireworks. Because I want to remember Miyabigaoka the way my parents spoke of it. What about you, Marjani?" She raised her eyes and locked them with this. "Do you think of the world in terms of Tora?"
He placed a hand under her chin and raised her face to his. "What are you trying to say?" He asked sfotly.
"That I wish I wish I knew why he's so important to you, you still can't let him go."
"He's family." Marjani's voice was flat.
She knew she was on shaky ground, but when had that ever stopped her? "Is that all there is to it?" She challenged. "Being cousins?" Or is there something more to it? Because he sure as hell doesn't deserve me there. But what he deserves even less is your faith in him."
There was a challenge in her voice; it would be so easy, Marjani thought, to rise to the bait, to tell her. But he had never been as naive as she was. Naïveté and beauty and unchecked emotions - she was the stuff predators' dreams were made of.
"And what about you?" He asked, smile sharp. "What makes you think you deserve me?"
Her eyes widened. How could he turn this on her, just to avoid having to deal with his own unshakable faith in Tora? "You think I wanted this?" She said bitterly. How dare he think she liked, let alone wanted, any of this? "You think I wanted for you to fall in love with me, you think I wanted to not be able to return your feelings? "
"I'm not used to hoping, Sarakshi." His voice was curt; the tone felt like a physical blow to her. If he was going to do what he planned to do, he had to make sure she knew she had made the choice. "You clench my shirt like it's the thing you most want to do in the entire world, and you think I can stand there and not feel a thing? What do you think I feel? That I could have you, if I tried. How off-bounds do you have to be to be off-bounds?"
"Don't," she whispered.
"Is the truth too much for you to handle? Does it shock you to know what your selfishness puts me through?"
"You'd spring this on me to avoid confronting your faith in Igarashi?" Hands on her hips, she stared at him, disbelief etched across every feature.
"I'm springing it on you so that you know you do the exact same thing as I do," he said, voice dark. "Avoid confronting your faith in him."
"This has nothing to do with Tora Igarashi." She felt a vague sense of shock that he could forge that connection here. Now. "How can you stand there, and say it like I do it on purpose? Like I.. Like I pretend to be off-bounds for you?"
"Because." His voice was dark. "You won't admit that you love him."
Her eyes widened. She thought of Tora's cheek beneath her hand, the way his breath had smelled of lemon and sake - Sake. Sake. He'd been drinking - and then she thought of the expression in his eyes when he had stood in front of an entire room of journalists and lied to them about what she did.
"The world may be binary for you, Marjani, but it isn't for me," she said. "Just because I'm not in love with you, does not mean I'm in love with him."
Later, she would go again and again over the harshness in her voice when she had said 'Just because I'm not in love with you,' and wish there was a way - any way - to take the harshness back. But there wouldn't be. Not right then. For now, though, all she felt was the crack in her heart where Marjani had held it together since the first time she had talked to him. Marjani, who could make anything and everything alright without even words.
Marjani, who shouldn't have to.
"I don't think we should see each other again for a while," she said softly, but he had already left.
-;-
The changing room with 'Ishin S.' marked across it was small but well-lit. As she opened the door with her name on it, Sarakshi could hear the noise level around her rise as actresses and extra swarmed into changing rooms, talking, laughing, undressing. By all accounts, it seemed that the play had been a resounding success.
"It was better than last year's!" Someone raved. "Can you believe that?"
"Did you see Kayoi's dress for the final act? What a gorgeous white gown that was!"
White? But she had thought the gown for the final act had been light blue.. "Sarakshi!" The knock at her door swept Sarakshi out of her thoughts. Linda's voice boomed over the babble of other voices, right into her dressing room. "Dressed yet? I'm waiting out here, woman."
"Just give me a second." Having redone the bandage on her knee, Sarakshi rose to her feet and reached for the dress she had left hanging on the peg in her dressing room.. and paused. It was gone. The plain white gown she had picked out for the dance was no longer there. Where on earth.. she turned around, scanning the room with a quizzical expression on her face.. and her eyes fell on the large, white box lying on the shelf, an expensive-looking label attached to it.
"Sarakshi?" Linda called.
"Just a second." Not quite sure what to expect, Sarakshi closed the distance between where she stood and the shelf. The box opened to reveal a layer of tissue and blotting paper.. and underneath it, the most beautiful evening gown she had ever laid her eyes on.
It was strapless, the lightest blue chiffon fabric that would track your outline as if it were made to cling to it. There were gems sewn into the bodice, large coloured ones that must have cost a small fortune, and huge crystal-clear ones that must have cost even more. Down the waist, the fabric uncurled in frothing, gleaming waves meant to swish around one's feet and legs. A lump rose in her throat as she let the gown unfurl to the floor; it opened like a stunning turquoise sea, an artful slit running up from its hemline up to its waist.
There was no name on the card, but she knew who it was from.
"You're taking too long, woman." Linda's voice boomed in from outside. "My date has called me five times by now. I'll catch you at the dance, alright?"
"I - yes. Sorry. Go on ahead." Shaking gravel out of her voice, Sarakshi ran a hand over the soft fabric. Why, Igarashi, she thought, a lump in her throat. She'd thought what had happened earlier this evening would kill his need to play with her. But it hadn't, had it? What was he thinking? What was he planning? Was it not enough that he had dug up her past, turned her present upside-down, soured her future?
When she stepped into the dress, it clung to her as if it had been tailor-made for her.
And it occurred to her that it must have been.
-;-
The fountain was twelve feet of snow-white stone and silver-tinted foam. He could hear it - the fall of water crashing on painstakingly-carved rocks - over the music that floated out from inside the ballroom. In half an hour or less, the garden would be dotted with couples and friends who wanted a breath of fresh air or each other's closeness. Right now, however, it was vacant.. except for the occasional kitten, and the slender figure standing next to the fountain's rim.
"President." Her voice broke the silence around them. She did not turn to him; one of her hands was stretched out towards the fountain, and droplets of water touched it on their way down to the rocks at the base of the structure. Her hair was swept up, off her neck, and the wind blew a strand of it on to her cheek.
"It's a little disturbing that you recognize the sound of my footsteps, Ishin," he drawled in response.
She turned to him, and Tora was glad he had had years to master concealing his emotions, because the sight of her - the blue chiffon that clung to her waist and swelled over the curve of her breasts; the slit that ran up the side of her gown; the quiet peace that surrounded her in that moment, in every moment - took his breath away. "Not as disturbing as the level of your predictability, I'm sure." She smiled sweetly at him. "Where else would the rich, perverted President Igarashi be, except where he isn't wanted?"
"One would think." He placed a thumb beneath her chin; the touch that steered her face to his was so light, it caused her eyes to widen in surprise. "That you make no effort to not be left alone with me."
"Don't you have a dance to open?" She did not rise to the bait. "Won't the female population of Miyabigaoka go insane, without the famous Student Council President to open the ball for them?"
"I understand you've never been to a ball before, Ishin, but it takes all of ten minutes to open a dance. Not that I'd expect you to be able to finish a dance in ten minutes. Or finish one at all." His smile was all sharp teeth, the implication that she was uncultured clear as daylight.
"With a partner like you?" She smiled right back at him, ignoring the fact that he had just implied she was too clumsy to dance well. "I'd say ten minutes would be a little too much for me to handle."
"I'm talking about a dance, Ishin, not -" His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering over her lips and then dipping to the swell of her chest beneath the fitted blue bodice; she felt her cheeks turn red but she stood her ground - "Whatever fantasies of unadulterated ecstasy your imagination cannot stop conjuring."
"Given that you don't star in any of them," she glared up at him. "They do involve unadulterated ecstasy." When his gaze dipped lower, from her mouth to her shoulder, she punched him in the chest; he blocked it with his free hand, without even looking. "Igarashi.." Her mouth turned into a frown.
"Ishin?" He grazed a thumb over her lower lip.
Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know what size would fit me?" She asked, looking down at the gown with a touch of uncertainty to her voice. She almost never bought clothes that fit.. had he gone to someone at Crème Maid?
She was genuinely curious, he realized. How could she feel so many different things at the same time, and that too for one person? Her capacity to feel so much at the same time would never fail to surprise him. He ran a finger down the strap of her gown. "I measured," he said lazily.
"What do you mean you measured?" She said, eyes narrowed.
He cupped both hands around her waist and pulled her body to his with a casual strength that caused her to gasp. "Like this," he said, spanning her waist with one rough hand. He felt her sharp intake of breath, and let his hand rest there, against the spot she was so sensitive at. Then his hand trailed up in the slowest possible manner, until he could feel her trembling underneath his touch. "And this," he said, his eyes never leaving her face as his hands came to span the base of her chest.
"You perverted little -" She was so surprised at the revelation - at the fact that he had actually measured her size with his hands - that she forgot she hated him with such a passion, she could leave him to starve, should such an occason arrive. "You can't be serious!"
"Now that you mention it, the tailor did seem a little scandalized by the measuring scale I'd used." He grinned a slow, predator-like grin at her. "And here I thought it was your utter lack of size over here -"
"Pervert!" She snapped, slapping his hand away from her chest. "Why the hell are you here, President Igarashi?"
"Why the hell are you here, is the question." He raised his gaze from her lips to her eyes, meeting her gaze. "One would've thought you would want to support Linda Williams on her first date with Fenshani."
Linda's date was Fenshani? Linda hadn't told her that. Sarakshi couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming, but even so, that it had happened so soon, surprised her. Then her eyes narrowed as she realized that had been Igarashi's plan all along: to surprise and sidetrack her, away from her original line of thought. "Why are you here, President Igarashi?" She said, sticking to her original question. "What on earth do you want from me?"
"The usual." His hand trailed downwards, from her waist to where the slit in her dress opened to reveal her leg. "Entertainment," he said lazily.
That he could use that word for her after everything that had happened - that he could refer to what he had done to her as 'entertainment' - sent a spark of anger coursing through her. "Tell me, President." She caught a fistful of his shirt and lowered his face to hers, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Does all your entertainment bother you so much, you have to ruin it to prove to yourself that it doesn't matter? Or was I the only bothersome person in your life that your influence could let you get rid of? I suppose no matter how much you hate them, it isn't like you can't get rid of Marjani or your own damn father, after all."
Eyes wide, he jerked himself free of her grip on his shirt - and she caught his wrist from behind before he could leave. How dare he think he could talk to her, after everything he had done? How dare he think she would let him, just so that he could satisfy his own vanity?
"I didn't." He did not turn to face her; when he spoke, his voice was like steel. "Give you permission to touch me."
"I wonder what you're going to do once I leave, President Igarashi?" She did not flinch or back down from the tone of his voice. This close, she could smell each element on the cologne he was wearing - musk and lemons and a tinge of wood. It made her head swim with a scorching sort of dizziness. She was aware that the position she was standing in put all her weight on her left knee, but she would not think about that now. "Isn't it a little sad you'll never find anyone half as interesting as me again?"
"I could say the same to you, commoner." He turned around, and his smile was cold. What on earth was wrong with him? He should never have come outside to see her, in the first place. But he had wanted to. He had thought she would never come to the dance. Even after he'd ensured she had nothing to wear except what he had left her, he had been certain she would do something - anything - other than showing up in a gown he had chosen for her. But she had showed up. "You aren't here because you wanted to dance. Or are you like every other woman I know, after all? Was a fairytale gown and a box of diamonds -" He traced his thumb over the diamond-studded strap of her gown - "All you needed to sell yourself to me?"
"You have no idea what drives me." She matched his gaze with one of her own. "If you think you can break me because you can't bend me, if you think getting me expelled can put a dent in any of my plans for myself -"
"I think you're too scared to be of any real good to anyone," He said flatly. When her eyes widened in shock at the harshness in his tone, he refused to relent. "You can go around being nice to every living and non-living thing that you see, you can go around facing every problem as if it can't rankle you at all, but that doesn't cover up the fact that you're so scared of things going wrong, you refuse to even consider doing something bigger than yourself -"
She pushed him. Taken by surprise, Tora stumbled back. The action was so ungraceful on her part - so unexpected - that for a few seconds, all he could was stare. "You don't know me at all," she said, voice fierce.
"Oh?" He grabbed her wrist with no gentleness whatsoever and jerked her to himself. "Then why haven't you started your own restaraunt yet?"
Her eyes widened. She did not ask how he knew - she no longer cared. That was the difference between him and Marjani, she realized, though perhaps she had seen it long ago. Had just not wanted to admit it. Marjani could see what she felt in any given moment - no matter how sudden, no matter how unexpected, no matter how secret her feelings - without her having to say it. Tora Igarashi could see that and everything else.
"Because I'm not ready!" She said, refusing to back down from or flinch at his touch.
"Half the time you pretend to be studying, you're making plans," he cut across, tones freezing. "There is nothing you haven't planned for, Ishin, from the size of the tiles to the number of lights. Don't tell me you can't raise venture capital. Don't tell me you couldn't at least have attempted to take your plans to someone to look at. You've had so much go wrong in life that when it comes right down to it, you're too scared to even think of going after what you want. You're so scared it might fall apart, you can't even admit to yourself that you don't want to wait to do it. That you're ready to do it right now."
"What about you, then?" Hands on hips, breathing furious, she glared up at him. How dare he, how dare he know any of this about her, when all he had done was take away every single thing she had ever wanted? "When are you going to tell Genkei-san that you think you can do a better job than him, right now? You think I can't see through your arrogance?"
"It's adorable that you think your assumptions about me could hold any truth whatsoever." His tone was like steel.
"You think denying it makes it any less real?" She snapped. "You're so scared that you might not be able to handle all of that power, you can't even admit to yourself that you want it! You're terrified that it might turn you into someone you don't want to be - that it might turn you into your father - so you can't even muster the guts to ask him to let you take the reins, when you know he's spent the past one year waiting for you to ask! You have some nerve to lecture me on being scared -"
He pulled her to himself and kissed her.
She resisted for two seconds; then she had raised herself and kissed him back.
He smelled of French cologne and tasted of wine. Underneath the flutter of her closed lashes, she was acutely aware of the scent, the dizzying, scorching, maddening taste as his lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, brushed across her jawline with a feather-light touch that caused her to gasp, found the corner of her mouth with a pressure that almost drove her mad, and finally descended on her lips.
She slid her hands over the hard planes of his face, her thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks, her fingers disappearing into the fine gold of his hair, as she lowered his head for their lips to meet. He was too tall for her. She was aware that she was stepping on his feet, the tips of her light blue heels driving into his shoes as she raised herself to him. Then - never breaking the kiss - he had raised her to himself as if she weighed nothing, one rough hand rising from her side to her face, to unfasten her hair and curl around her cheek.
Through the fabric of his shirt, she was very, very aware of the outline of hard muscles underneath her fingers, of the raw male strength that seemed to radiate off him in waves. His lips were urgent and dizzying and dominating on hers, sending waves of electricity coursing through her body; when he broke away from her less than five seconds, she gasped and clutched at the front of his shirt, certain she would go mad at the lack of contact. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the back of her wrists. She felt herself tremble at the unexpected, breathtaking tenderness of the action. Gently, he kissed the backs of her hands. Her palms. The sensitive spot on the inside of her left wrist. He trailed gentle kisses from the inside of her wrists to her elbow and back, again and again and again, until she had given herself up completely to the rhythm of his lips and the infinite, breathtaking, maddening gentleness of his touch.
Then he raised his head and tasted her dusk-tinted skin all the way to the hollow of her throat.
She gasped and arched up against him as the hard touch of his mouth sent ripples of wildfire cruising through her. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, urgent and full of desire. Then one rose to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing gently over a closed eye, the straight line of his nose, the curve of his mouth. She tilted her face to his and pressed her swollen lips to his chin, moulding her heated skin against his sculpted chest as she kissed her way up his jawline – and he groaned, a pained, primal sound made deep in the back of his throat. Her world seemed to tilt into a landslide as it hit her - the realization sending electric surprise to the very tips of her toes - that he was holding back. Forcing himself to stay in a control he could barely muster. Forcing himself not to do anything that she wouldn't want, even if her touch made him desire it so badly, it left his whole body ablaze with need.
"President Igarashi?" An uncertain voice said.
Sarakshi's eyes flew open. She had a second's view of him - he looked like a fallen angel, beautiful beyond a shadow of doubt with his tousled hair and unbuttoned shit (Had she unbuttoned it? She couldn't remember having done so), dark shadows smudged under wide eyes, his expression a mixture of insane control on himself and insane need for her - before his features smoothed over into an expression that no one could have read. No one but her. The tips of her heels met the grass with a soft thud as he gently lowered her to the ground, and reality seemed to rush in, in a stream of shock and sheer disbelief. What had she been thinking? He had you expelled. He has never, not once, missed a chance to play with your life, antognize your friends, ruin your plans -
The gentleness with which he removed his arm from around her waist left her eyes wide.
"Kaiyo." When he addressed the girl who had interrupted them - the dark-skinned girl she had often seen him with, in Miyabigaoka; the one who had played the lead in the play, tonight - his voice was so calm, it should not have been possible. "Something I can help you with?"
"I -" The girl looked from him to Sarakshi, then hesitated. "I'd been hoping to talk to you at the dance. I didn't realize I -"
"Interrupted something?" Sarakshi swept her hair up and twisted it back into its bun. "You didn't. The President and I were just clearing some matters up. President." She bowed to him, then swept past him.
He caught her wrist and turned her towards himself.
"You're leaving," he said, voice soft.
It was as much of a question as he would ever ask her, she realized. You dragged my reputation in front of half a dozen journalists, and fifty-odd old men I could have gone to for venture capital, she wanted to say. If you knew me better than everyone else, how could you not know that staying in Miyabigaoka mattered more than anything else? But of course he had known. Of course he had. He simply couldn't help using what he knew, against the people who dared to care for him. She couldn't fix him. Perhaps at some point in the past, she could have tried. But that had been before he had had her expelled. Before she had realized was beyond being fixed.
"Yes," she said.
"Don't," he said softly.
She hadn't expected him to say that. She hadn't expected him to say anything at all to her. She wasn't certain what hurt more, the fact that he had let go of all of his pride and control to not just utter that one word, but to utter it in front of someone else - or the fact that it was too late for any utterance.
"I can't," she said.
And when she gathered the folds of her dress and left, she was quite aware that he had put all of his pride at stake when he had attempted to stop her, and that he would never do it again.
-;-
She seemed to burn with the taste of spice and wine where his mouth had claimed hers. Sarakshi thought of his lips against her shoulder, his leg pressed against hers through the slit in her gown, the sound he had made in his throat when she had touched his cheek, and something seemed to snap inside of her.
How much of a fool could she be, to let him kiss her after everything he had done?
To kiss him back after everything he had done?
She hated her body for its betrayal.
She smelled of his cologne. Sarakshi picked up her overcoat from the coat room - the piece of clothing fell around her in a comforting swish of warm, soft fabric and she breathed in its scent in an effort to rid herself of his perfume - and headed out of Miyabigaoka. The place was still swarming with men and women, boys and girls; a few she recognized waved to her as she headed out, no one other than her ready to leave yet. And she? She wasn't just ready to leave for the night. She had no intentions of returning to this school, ever again.
Steps brisk, she walked up to her bike.. and paused. A man she did not recognize was standing there, clearly waiting for someone. He straightened when she arrived.
"Ishin-san," he said, his voice polite.
"I'm not quite sure I know you." Sarakshi's voice betrayed the wariness she felt.
The man smiled: it was a perfectly polite smile. "I apologize for catching you unawares. I'm Kin Kamenashi. I work for the Igarashis. For Genkei-sama, to be precise." He held out an Employee ID card.
"Executive Assistant?" Sarakshi's eyes narrowed. What did any man who had to do with Genkei Igarashi, want with her? Having one manipulative Igarashi in her life was more than enough trouble. "Why are you here?" She asked bluntly. "If you're with Genkei-san, shouldn't you be inside the auditorium?"
Kin smiled. "Genkei-sama wishes to see you," he said politely. "His limo is waiting for us -" He motioned to a distant corner and, looking up, Sarakshi's saw the silver limousine she had seen once before, when Genkei Igarashi had come in person to invite her to some ball Tora had manipulated him into inviting her to. "There's something he would like to discuss with you, Ishin-san."
Sarakshi did not like the sound of this. "I'm not sure I understand," she said softly.
"Perhaps you would care to ask Genkei-sama yourself?" Kin motioned towards the limousine that stood behind him, all gleaming metal.
Sarakshi arched an eyebrow. She was not in the mood for games - Her head buzzed with the scent of Tora's cologne, and she could still taste him in her mouth. "He can't have seriously thought I would agree," she said. "He knows me better than that."
"I don't think you understand." Kin smiled again; this time, however, it was not a nice smile. "You see, you don't have a choice. If Genkei Igarashi-sama wants to talk to you, Ishin-san, he will talk to you."
"He's welcome to step out of his silver-plated limousine and do just that," Sarakshi said. Giving Kin a sweet smile, she swung a leg over her bike. "If not, I have a home to get back to."
Kin took a step towards her. It was a calm step but the threat in it was clear: Sarakshi turned her bike to face him and held her ground. "You're blocking my way," she said, voice undaunted.
"I see why you intrigue Tora," a soft voice said.
Her eyes snapped up to see Genkei Igarashi standing there. He was an older version of Tora - he had the same air of supreme self-confidence, the same arrogant smile, the same elegant manner of holding himself. When had he climbed out of the limo and closed the distance between their vehicles? She had never noticed. "Igarashi-san," she said, voice flat. "How nice of you to come yourself. To think I'd almost been convinced that you'd let your minion do all the dirty work for yourself."
"I do apologize if you've felt threatened, Ishin-san." Genkei's voice was all culture and sophistication. "That was never the intention. Kin merely wanted to extend an invitation. Would you care to join me? There is something I would like to discuss with you."
She crossed her arms against her chest. "What is with you Igarashis and your need to turn everything into a manipulative drama?" She asked. "You can say whatever you have to say, right here!"
"Yes, I can definitely see why you intrigue Tora," Genkei said softly. "Tora's ever-changing female interests aside, however, I will ask you one last time. There is something I would like to discuss with you. You have nothing to fear from me. Will you accompany me?"
It was a mark of how insane the past few weeks seem to have driven her, Sarakshi thought quietly, that the thing that most offended her about his statement, was that he had lumped her in with his son's ever-changing female interests. "I am not one of your son's ever-changing female interests," she snapped. "Now if you'll step out of my path -"
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Ishin-san." Genkei's voice had turned cold. "I do not enjoy having people, least of all women, manhandled. That does not, however –" His tone was brisk and businesslike and Sarakshi knew, at once, that he was serious now. "- mean that I am above it."
She was aware that almost everybody she knew at Miyabigaoka - and certainly everybody she didn't - was packed inside the gates of the school: should Genkei attempt to execute his threat, she was on her own. Was it even possible for so much happen in one night? "Is that a threat, Mr. Igarashi?" She asked, voice soft.
"That depends upon you." Genkei's face was deadpan. "As I said, Ishin-san, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I would prefer the former over the latter but, if you force my hand, I will have to resort to more… extreme methods."
"No." Sarakshi folded her arms across her chest. "I have no idea what you're playing at, Igarashi-san, but no, I'm not talking to you any longer. I am going to ask you to step aside one last time."
"I see." Genkei said softly. "I apologize for this in advance, Ishin-san."
-;-
He hated it. The anger, the distance, the indecision, all of it. How could he, after all those years of keeping his emotions in check, have fallen for a girl he should have known was off-bounds? Unclenching his hand, Marjani swung a leg over his bike.
His cellphone rang.
He reached for it to switch it off... and paused. The caller ID was not just familiar; it was trouble. He flipped open the cover and when he spoke, his voice was calm.
"Igarashi-san," he said.
"It might interest you to know." Genkei Igarashi sounded quite, quite affable. "That I have your little redheaded girlfriend with me. Perhaps you'd like to speak to her? Oh, my bad. She isn't in a room with cellphone reception."
His grip on the cellphone was so tight, it was a wonder it hadn't snapped. Marjani took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was cold, "What do you want, Genkei?"
The name – the first time Marjani had used it – was said with such an utter sense of distaste, Genkei's eyes narrowed. "You have half an hour, boy," he said, tone cold. "You know where to find me. Unless, of course." He smiled. "You would rather I let someone have my way with the little chit of a girl."
"I do believe you've called the wrong person, Igarashi-san."
He hung up.
Genkei's eyes widened in pure disbelief.
-;-
There had been times when it had seemed to Marjani, that the main purpose of Genkei Igarashi's life was to make his a living hell. He had never thought, however, that the man would go this far.
Was he furious? Yes, he was. Panicked? Without doubt. Mad enough to wring Genkei's neck? Of course.
Was he going after her?
No.
He flipped open his cellphone, and did the one thing he knew he would later regret.
He punched in Tora's number.
"Calling to check up on your girlfriend?" Tora's voice on the other end of the line, was a drawl. "You needn't have worried. She resigned from the play. Not that I'd have taken advantage of her, even if she hadn't. Even I'd feel a little guilty, if I kept taking everything you wanted."
Linda was seeing Takihara, but Marjani knew Tora would be well-aware of that. "You're losing your touch, if you think it's possible to take advantage of Linda Williams, unless she wants to be taken advantage of," He drawled.
"And you, of course, would know," Tora said, sweetly.
Marjani's eyes narrowed. "Your father seems to have decided it would be convenient to borrow Sarakshi for a while," he said, voice cold. "She has half an hour. Good luck fixing that mess, Tora."
He cut the call and switched off his phone. Swore. Swerved.
Never saw the truck coming his way.
-;-
The call disconnected. Tora felt it like an iron line tearing up his stomach: the kind of out-of-control panic he had not experienced in a long, long time.
"Damn you, Marjani."
He punched in Marjani's number, but there was no response. He knew at once that Marjani had switched off his cellphone and would not – not on pain of death – switch it on within the next half hour. He knew and yet he tried again. And again. And again.
Then he hurled his cellphone at the wall.
It collided with the wall and broke. Not broke. Shattered. Parts and pieces flew all over the place. He stood there, aware that he had done something that was not just uncharacteristic of him; but not him altogether. If someone had told him several months ago, that he could and would lose control over a girl, he would have laughed.
"I'd ask, ya know," a voice said. "If I thought you'd tell."
He turned around. Linda Williams stood there. She was wearing a lilac evening dress that glinted in the light. There was a drink in her hand. She dropped it lightly on a tall lampshade as she stepped towards him. "Let me guess," she said. "Sarakshi?"
"That is." Tora's voice was cold. "None of your business."
"Why are you still here?" She raised an eyebrow. "It must be pretty terrible, for Marjani to choose to stay out of it. Or are you too worried about not being here while everybody celebrates your success with the Open House? Too scared they won't credit it to you, if you aren't here?"
Tora's eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice was like ice. "You're dumber than you look if you think anything else matters, where she's concerned," he said, his face unreadable.
There was a moment of silence in which both of them chose to ignore the fact that he might have made the first real admission of his life.
"Go on, then," she said, voice quiet. "I'm sure I can cover up for you for one night."
He picked up his coat and turned around. At the door, he paused.
"Marjani means more to me than he does to you," he said.
"You're wasting time, Prez."
"But." He continued, as if she had never spoken. "He needs you more than he needs me. Don't give up on him."
Then he was gone.
Linda straightened up and looked down at her wristwatch.
If he wasn't back within the hour, she had better inform someone something was up.
x
It took me three days to write this chapter, and a week to edit it. However, it has taken me a whole year to be able to find the emotional and physical space and time to get it all down. In the past year, a lot has changed, including the way I write, and what I write about. To the best of my ability, I have tried to keep this fanfic 'Seduction-like,' and retain the structural/ plot/ etc. elements that made this story what it was. Wherever I have slipped, I apologize.
If I follow the outline I've created for Seduction, there should be two more chapters before the story ends. In the last few chapters, I tried to make Seduction a more inclusive story that focused on more than just romance and drama - I wanted it to be about friendship as well. As Seduction ends, though, I realize that I need to wrap up all the plot points and different elements, which means things will simultaneously get faster, more intense and more dramatic. And yes, focus more on romance/ drama, which is always what this fic was meant to be about. This story is not ending as I imagined it would, when I first began to write it three years ago. However, quite a few of the parts were taken verbatim from my first draft of Seduction (written back in 2011), so I suppose not everything has changed. ^_^
The title for this chapter comes from the line 'Martini kisses land' in the stunningly-written Martini Kiss, by Senses Fail.
For returning readers (if any are still left ._.) thank you for your infinite patience for sticking with this fanfic. For new readers, welcome aboard.
Thank you to everyone who took out the time to praise, criticize, favourite and subscribe. I am humbled by the continued love and support.
(And yes, special thanks for all the virtual cookies. Imagine how much longer this chapter would've taken without them. :'D)
EDIT: I am just now going through the reviews. Two things:
1. A lot of people asked about my health/ eyes. I'm doing fairly well, though my eye condition hasn't gone away, and probably never will. Thank you for asking. Right now, it's more real life (university, exams, jobs, relationships) that has been keeping me busy, rather than any sickness.
2. There are some reviews that've been left by guests/ unregistered users, who I can't PM. So I will reply here? Obviously, I can't reply to each individually (there are a LOT), so I'll try to answer any important points or questions.
Lilli: I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. ^_^ And Tora's 'badassaery' (?) I liked both reviews. :D
To the guest who told me to read Daniel Silva's Remambramdt Affair: On it!
To the person who said 'i have given you the fucking cookies 7 times'... thank you for all seven times? :'D Dear God. You made me laugh out loud.
To everybody who hates me for not updating: Sorry, real life. (I understand it sucks to wait. Trust me, I do. But real life kind of kept happening, and I didn't want to take this down.)