Venomously Attractive
C H A P T E R T H I R T Y F I V E
monotone
Ren heard nothing apart her name being called. Again and again until she put a face to that unfamiliar voice and slowly peeled her eyes open. Soft eyelashes brushed against tear-stained skin, sapphire orbs dilated as they refocused on making out the outline of a woman hovering over her body. Dark locks were brushed away from her face and the blankets failing to warm her cold form were pushed from her chest to expose her back to the chilly autumn morning. It took a few seconds to get a clear focus of Mao's large womanly assets near her face to further disconcert her.
She tangled her legs into the sheets as she turned onto her back and drew the coverlet over her naked chest. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and searched her bedside with hinted dismissal.
"You awake now?"
"Partially," she groaned, dropping her arms above her head. "Gimme another hour, Mao."
Mao huffed as she balanced a tray of breakfast which included a platter of fruit salad, a tall glass of water, and pills to sate the horrendous headache she tried hard to ignore. It pounded in her skull, regardless, and even in her sleep deprived state could not manage to fall back into slumber because of it.
Mao placed the wooden tray beside her messy bed and proceeded to nudge the princess out of sleep. "I got rid of Koji, so get outta bed. I'll get the bath running. You can eat in there if you'd like, just stop drinking."
Ren opened her eyes, staring past the buxom woman's pointed hair to the glimmer reflected off the wind chimes hung from the ceiling of her bedroom. "I'm not drinking, only a bit last night."
She could not stand looking at Koji's face anymore and drinking had been her only option to envision him as someone else.
"All you've done these past few weeks is drink." The cook shook her head with disappointment. "I dunno what you did to get a month off work, but I'm glad that's almost over. You could kill yourself will all that liquor or worse you'll end up a pregnant whore."
She barked out a laugh, wincing when she worsened her headache by doing so. "Stop fooling around, Mao."
"Sleeping around doesn't help, does it?"
"Helps plenty," she answered crisply. "You don't have to think when you fuck someone."
Mao stood, tired of sucking up to her majesty, and shook her head once more. "Find a temporary partner so you can stop upsetting the household with all those rumors."
"Not happening," she answered carelessly.
The door slammed shut behind Mao and there was nothing but silence.
These days she did nothing but go about every day not caring what it had in store, alcohol and sex came with the package. She hardly thought of what occurred three weeks ago or Ichimaru Gin's petty decision to give her a month away. It seemed even he could not see her, not without acknowledging what he did was wrong. But she did not believe he considered it wrong or accidental or anything for that matter.
Fusae had been another girl he killed, and he seemed the sort of type to simply dismiss such things.
She did not care what type of person he was. She only watched as he revealed himself to her, bit by bit, and started feeling a sudden change in her emotions. Tumultuous and bothersome—complete and utterly useless, they were—and because she abhorred them as much as she did, she learned how to tune them out. She could filter the bad from the good and always kept the horrible put in a box with as many locks one could bold on it because the bright side of feeling, affections, and emotions was full of wonder and adventure.
Ren sat up and took the medicine from the corner of the tray. She popped the pills into her mouth and gulped down water. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood, taking a few wobbly steps toward door.
She stumbled and stubbed her toe. "Motherfucker," she cursed and kicked the shoji screen hard enough to hear the wood snap beneath her foot. "Fuck!"
She slid the door open noisily and stepped out to a pair of skeptical maidservants giving her disagreeable glances as they passed her corridor to the junction toward her snobby cousin's room. She glowered with a disapproving shake of the head and headed in the opposite direction to find the bathroom.
"Did you actually prepare that bath, Mao?" she called, halting at the end of the corridor and looking around with clouded eyes. "Or I am still hallucinating?"
Nobody answered her call.
It infuriated her.
"Mao!" she practically screamed that time. "Where the fuck are you?"
She heard the sound of skittish steps rushing down a different hall and slumped against the nearest wall after a dizzy spell. She rubbed her temples and tamed her emotions to a rational level. There was no need for her to turn into a fire-breathing dragon so early in the morning or worsen her hangover in the process. She was already feeling the repercussions of having drunk until she blacked out. She remembered taking shot after shot in an untrendy tavern with Koji, a nobleman she had been seeing on and off for the past ten hours yesterday evening and suddenly she snapped out of a delusion during sex.
Ren started feeling nauseous, the vomit rushing up her esophagus, but she fought hard against it. Burping instead, she still felt as though she had regurgitated as the astringent taste filled her mouth.
She continued toward her bathroom to check the bath for herself as Mao probably decided take a detour to torture her.
"Fusae!"
She halted suddenly.
The soft thud of feet behind her came to a stop and the rustling of clothes sounded. "Don't you remember firing her three weeks ago?" called Mao, approaching her. "You're a mess." The voluptuous woman strode in front of her with two hands on her hips and a dismissive aura about her newly acquired duties. She had full charge of the kitchens, as she preferred, but acted as her maidservant since she nearly drove Nyoko crazy with an increase in sexual escapades. "Come on. I'll help you get ready."
Ren nodded dumbly, realizing the slip of her tongue and the sudden clench in her chest, and followed behind the tomboyish cook.
Mao had prepared a warm bath. She helped her scrub the murk out of her raven hair with a sweeter smelling shampoo and washed her back with the generic-smelling soap. Ren stayed inside the warmth of the water until it turned lukewarm. Her new servant pampered her throughout the morning, serving breakfast, helping her bathe, dry off and dress into a plain linen yukata. She even went onto having planned to prepare lunch for her to take in the gazebo outside.
Everyone's actions were starting to feel like pity to her, but what did she care? She wanted sympathy, companionship, and attention.
It kept her spirits lightened, kept her from crying unattractively or remembering all the blood on her hands, and since her bruises and diminutive wounds healed she had every right to narcissistically flaunt her beauty. She enjoyed receiving all the compliments she could get; she welcomed all the good with open arms and adamantly refused the bad.
As Ren returned to her bedroom, Nyoko restlessly turned the sharp corner nearly bumping into her mistress. The older woman bowed apologetically and lifted her gaze.
"You have a visitor."
Nyoko sounded panicky.
Ren tilted her head skeptically. "Oh?" she wondered. "Did Koji-san forget something?"
"It is not Akayama-sama."
Ren folded her arms over her chest. "Then who is it?"
"Captain Ichimaru Gin."
Her eyebrows rose in mild amazement. Asking Nyoko to turn him away exuded dangerous appeal, but she completely disregarded the notion and held onto her newly acquired equanimity for dear life.
"Escort him to my bedroom."
"But mistress—"
The mistress raised a hand, prematurely silencing her worried servant. "He is my child's father. It would be cruel to disregard his presence when he's come so far to pay his formal visit."
Nyoko's wrinkled face paled, eyes bugged out of their sockets, and incoherent babble fell from her lips.
"Please have someone bring…" she tapped her chin pensively "…black tea."
The older woman nodded dumbly and gave a curt bow. "Y-yes, Ren-sama. I'll have him escorted to your bedroom and the tea delivered immediately." She had already turned on her heel when she looked back up to her mistress with the same nervous disposition. "Would it not be better to have tea served elsewhere? I haven't had the chance to tidy up your bedroom, Ren-sama, and it would be unseemly."
Ren changed her mind. "Escort him to my bedroom, regardless. We'll have tea in the gazebo."
Nyoko protested no longer and scurried down the hall she emerged from while Ren ventured down a different direction to where there were open-side walkways for her to feel the brush of winter against her cheeks. She leaned against the wooden railing of the curving verandah and stared off into the opposite direction of the garden.
In the center of the house there was a pond full of lively fish of different sorts. The fairly large pond was decorated with stones and a pair of leafless cedar trees standing side by side on the other end of it. She preferred the garden to the pond as her aunt and uncle called it their private getaway when she first moved into the manor and the thought of it being just that disgusted her for the ten years that followed its honorable mention.
Her eyes followed the shallow ripples along the surface and the sea of colors blur in her field of vision.
"Ren-sama."
She turned to Mao with an amused smile. "If Nyoko asks about my pregnancy, you act outraged that it will be Captain Ichimaru's bastard child, understood?"
Mao sighed grudgingly. "You are going to kill Nyoko-san with these petty jokes of yours."
Ren walked on ahead with a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Sometimes one needs to stir up their own trouble to feel enthusiastic about starting a day."
"Yes, yes, mistress, whatever you say."
Ren and her temporary maidservant arrived to her bedroom before Ichimaru had been escorted inside, but she heard footsteps in the distance and hushed voices spreading gossip through the thin walls.
When her guest arrived, the tomboyish woman had been in the process of unknotting her hair, and Nyoko looked as white as a ghost by the silver-haired man's side. Ren dismissed both women. Mao left the comb she was using in her open palm on her way out and closed the doors as any proper maidservant was meant to do.
Ren stared at her pallid reflection on the oval shaped mirror atop her short dresser and tightened her grip over the comb.
She shot Ichimaru Gin a fleeting, haughty glance.
"Do you not plan to sit?"
He stood in the exact same place he had been when Mao shut the door behind him, a single step inside, and the atmosphere once the doors were shut with a quiet cluck intensified. She tried to avoid taking notice of the terse ambience and acted as she always should, arrogant and biting.
Ichimaru Gin was receiving the shorter end of the stick as she suddenly regretted her decision to let him inside the manor to pay his visit. She was not the least bit curious over the topic of their pending conversation. She only wanted to be alone again.
Ren parted her hair into a section and started running her comb from the bottom to the top, patiently waiting for the knots to undo themselves with every tug she gave them.
"How are ya feeling Ren—?"
"Takudaiji," she corrected crisply.
"Takudaiji," he repeated. The word sounded foreign and distasteful leaving his lips.
She ignored his inquiry and went onto a different section of hair, feigning entertainment with such a tedious task.
"Do you plan on taking a seat?" she asked again.
He strode past her, reaching down to swipe the comb from her hand, and dropped down behind her. She did not protest as she felt his fingers run through her messy hair and the teeth of the comb lightly tugging out the many knots at the bottom.
Her gaze fell and heartbeat quickened. Her frustration started feeling misplaced but she said nothing against his actions as he chose to remain quiet while combing through her long tresses.
Occasionally his long fingers would brush alongside the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps even after she struggled to suppress every shiver, and she felt his hot breath against her naked skin. Her fingers scrunched the thin fabric of her yukata as an unexpected blaze scorched her insides and her face flushed when he ran the comb down to the tips of her hair where his hand would incidentally brush her lower back. It took everything to bite back a need to sigh pleasurably and avoid arching her back though had during various intervals straightened out against his tentative touch.
Ren avoided her mirror to keep her rosy cheeks from his awareness and circumvent (postpone) imminent humiliation.
Gin set the comb on her dresser and once more ran his fingers through her now-silky locks of hair. He leaned forward enough to agitate her heart and felt her shift slightly to the left as he inhaled her scent. She quivered and tightened her grip on her clothes until her knuckles blanched.
"Did ya change anything? Ya smell awfully delicious."
Ren mentally cursed herself for being an idiot and getting bothered by light, unerotic touches.
He was only combing your hair! A voice of reason mentally screamed and reverberated within the concaves of her brain. Someone always does that for you!
But she would not doubt she half-expected this sort of development between them if they were to meet again. Obviously they would after her month-long pity vacation ended, but their meeting was rushed and he was sitting behind her making passes at her she knew she could never resist him.
"Shampoo," she answered breathlessly.
She was drawn to him. The emotions she claimed could be shut into a box full of locks did not work as she hoped it would. She felt these useless sentiments again and she was confused. Too perplexed.
Gin had his legs folded at each side of her body so she automatically felt ensnared though he made no move to touch her. His breath was still brushing against her neck and caressing the cove between her breasts.
"I like it," he whispered huskily into her ear.
Her nipples hardened.
She failed to protest.
"Do ya hate me, Ren-chan?"
His tone grew sly and evocative with dark undertones which reminded her of his crime.
Her eyebrows furrowed as the heat of her body traveled further down.
"Do you need to ask?"
He gave her squirming form a quick onceover as the smile on his face widened with every reaction her body had to him.
"Yes."
"I fucking hate you."
Her voice did not falter and dripped of venom. Her eyes as she turned her head in his direction were hardened and glassy.
Perfect, he thought.
Gin's fingers slid along her jawline to tilt her head upward, keeping her lustful expression to him, and parted her yukata. His hand cupped her breast and fingers tentatively pinched her erected nipple. She bit her lip responsively, but did nothing to stop him because she desired him almost as much as he did her.
He dropped his hold on her face and slid his other hand to the other unattended mound of flesh. She dropped her head and inhaled sharply at the feel of pain, but nevertheless enjoyed his skillful hands pleasing her needy body. The twitch of her body pressed hard against his excited him as he felt her tender breasts and sweet timbre of her panting voice. Her robe slid from her shoulders where his lips were quick to ravish, teeth grazing against flushed pale skin.
She moved her head back emotively and rested it over his left shoulder as she turned her face to his. Silver strands tickled the length of her jaw and his lips drew closer to hers until they met in hungry fervor. His hands traveled along her navel as her fingers tangled into his hair, breathing hitched.
He pulled her onto his lap, held her bareback to his chest tightly. He tugged open her robe and hastily switched their positions. Her back hit the cold floors with a light thud and he straddled her legs. He kissed her deeply so thought abandoned her mind and reason failed to draw her into reality. She only functioned as her body commanded. Her hands struggled to push his haori from his shoulders; promptly followed by the struggle she underwent untying his shihakusho with trembling fingers. Her lips parted against his and allowed his tongue to dance with her, to let his fingers twine in her raven locks, and for her body to arch into him.
She hated his teasing; the feeling of never receiving what she felt deprived of, and turned against him. She snaked her leg over one of his and started pushing his weight from her until he dropped on his back and she mounted him. She hovered over him, hands flat on the wooden surface beneath them, staring directly at his face.
Her breathing evened and his fingers glided along her side caused a bit of a shudder, but that was all. Apart from that she stopped feeling. The raging passion and need dissipated from her body, evaporated from her pours, and she could no longer stand looking at him that she forcibly averted her gaze.
"Somethin' wrong?" he questioned, restin g his hands on her thighs.
Ren carefully lifted her robe to place and tied it messily. "I suddenly find you repulsive."
Gin propped himself up on his elbows and stared her in the face. "Do ya really?"
She nodded as her fingers gingerly touched his chest. "Yes, but someone recommended I take on a temporary partner before I drink myself to death or end up a pregnant whore."
"And?"
She leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I hate you the most."
Again, her voice failed to falter as her words were genuine and littered with harsh undertones. Her grip upon his face, nails digging into his flesh, said it all. He could not read further into her actions, not anymore.
That bothered him.
But he did not question it.
A light rasp disrupted sudden silence. Ren rose from her perch atop him, hair fluttering down her back, and waited for him to fix his clothes before beckoning Nyoko and Mao inside. She turned to him with cold eyes.
"Do you have time on your hands, Captain Ichimaru?"
"Plenty."
"Perfect. We will have tea in the gazebo. Nyoko-san, escort him." She strained to smile and withheld a glare toward the jittery older servant as Ichimaru passed by, his hand gently patting her back as he moved out the door.
Mao waited for their footsteps to disappear down the hall before shutting the door to regard her mistress with a glower.
"She has been annoying me to death about your supposed pregnancy."
"Fancy how a few minutes could bombard you with such responsibility, Mao-san."
Mao crossed her room with a huff and ventured into the crowded closet space that held most of her kimono boxed and cluttered in shelves aligning the wall. The buxom woman looked through every box until she found the one she had in mind and took it down from a high shelf that required her to get onto her toes to grasp it.
Ren's eyes were fixed toward the scenery outside her window and her mind had gone beyond that. Mao went through the process of helping her into an emerald green kimono and complimentary obi uttering profanities beneath her breath. She caught wind of few of her complaints, most concerning Nyoko's constant nagging and disapproval of her recent behavior.
"She is right, you have been acting like a child," she reprimanded.
Ren blinked slowly. "I am still a child."
Mao purposely tightened the obi making her grunt in disapproval. "You're a grown woman with your pockets bulging of responsibility that instead of facing them runs around drinking and sleeping with men."
"You don't understand."
Her servant scoffed. "Don't tell me you're actually pregnant."
"No."
Mao's eyebrows rose. "You sure? Maybe you're too big a coward to have an abortion and decided to drink the problem away."
It irked her.
Ren turned to face the buxom woman as she patted her obi to signal she finished. Her eyebrows knitted. "I'm barren."
The woman's mouth dropped slightly and soon the words registered in her mind. She held a cupped hand over her mouth, knowing when she overstepped her boundaries. "Holy shit. I'm sorry, Takudaiji-sama."
Her apology rang in her ears as she exited her bedroom to meet Ichimaru at the gazebo outside, by then many servants were already gossiping and peeking from every window questioning this strange visit of his. When she appeared in their peripherals and the sound of her clucking geta attracted their attention, all turned to face her with knowing glances, but they waited until she was out of earshot to speak ill of her. She heard their mocking laughs that would have gone unpunished by the familiar shouts of Fusae. Her hushed voice still rang in her ears as she joined Gin on the curving bench within the spacey gazebo. She leaned against the wall and steadied her gaze to focus on the withered bouquet of flowers sitting across from them.
A minute had only gone by before black tea had been served, but several more passed and both realized neither one had a craving for the drink. The silence was not awkward, but it had grown tense as though time knew she would revisit the origins of her horrible demeanor.
"What do you want from me?"
He shot her a fleeting glance, but said nothing.
"How important was this thing you were searching for that you would hurt me?" Her voice lowered progressively in remembrance of all those times he had called her special. The times she refused to believe but were now sprouting in her mind like a film of deception. "She was my best friend."
"You loved her?"
She exhaled deeply. "Of course I loved her."
"She'd be smiling like a damn fool if she heard ya."
He irritated her.
Stop avoiding the point.
"If I killed Matsumoto Rangiku—"
"Ren—" he quickly interrupted.
"—we would be even." Her eyebrows furrowed as her throat parched. "You would kill me, without a doubt."
He said nothing, but she knew it to be truth. Matsumoto Rangiku was his childhood companion and best friend. He cared deeply for her and he might have never imagined reversing the situation he put her in.
Her chest ached.
"What is so important, Gin?"
"There are things even you shouldn't know Ren-chan, stop trying to understand things ya aren't capable of."
She scoffed. "…Don't understand…" She continued playing with a loose string on her robes as she thought through her next approach, but inwardly she knew it would make no sense until he told her what he wanted. "I can give you anything, Gin. Anything, but—"
She stopped.
"What do ya want?"
"Let me be."
"An' if I say no?"
"I am in no mood for games, Ichimaru, so this is my final request."
The smile vanished from his face and in a tone she did not recognize he spoke after a long silence. He left his seat and stopped in front of her, watching her lift her gaze to his.
"Your father wrote fairytales no one believed in."
"My father wrote fiction that caught nobody's fancy."
The mocking smile returned to his face. "He wrote about three worlds in painstaking detail."
Ren tried keeping a straight face as the realization slowly dawned on her. "He only wrote for me."
"Then ya know where they are?"
She did, but she stopped the emotion from showing in her expression. "They burned."
He clucked his tongue. "Liar, liar. Even Central 46 wouldn't allow that ta happen."
"It was inevitable."
He reached his hand to her, grabbing strands of her hair and pulling her head back. "Tell me, Ren-chan, and you won't follow yer servant's footsteps."
"She never did deserve it, Gin," she whispered bitterly. "Fusae never knew of them."
"She knew plenty before I killed her."
Her stomach churned. That fool. "They shouldn't exist."
"But they do."
She shook her head, voice faltering. "Y-you don't want them."
"Why?" he asked sharply, giving her hair a harder tug.
"I-I don't know," she whispered, her hand shot up over his and fingers struggled to pry his hand from her. "He never told me."
She only read them once. Each.
He wrote them for her.
They were the Takudaiji treasure and it was obvious they should never be seen again.
Erased from the future. It was what the higher ups felt would be best, but someone knew about them and it screamed danger.
"Stop lying to me, Ren-chan."
"I'm not lying!" Her tone gave rise to the pitch as she bordered desperation. She started fearing the outcome of this conversation.
Terrified.
Her knuckles blanched and fingers begun sweating, slipping over his with every failed attempt to free herself from his tightening grasp.
"Where are they?"
Her chest started hurting again.
"I-is that all I was good for?" she whispered, struggling to enunciate.
Gin leaned forward, his lips grazing her earlobe and warm breath caressing down her neck. "Yer a wonderful pastime, Ren-chan, but yer time's up."
Ren took a deep, shuddering breath struggling for composure as her hands slid over the wooden surface beneath her and stared unfalteringly at Gin. Disregarding the cruelty of his tone, she pushed past him with a wholly different temperament. She stood before him, drawing her arms to cross over her chest, and locked stares.
"Believe what you wish," she stated strongly. "The arson that destroyed the Takudaiji property had few witnesses. They are now dead. I can only tell you as much as I know if that'll force you to leave and never return."
Gin's smile grew. "It aint gonna be the last time ya see me, Ren—"
"Takudaiji," she corrected stringently.
"Ya still have morning sessions with me," he said with mock kindness. "You're spending more time with me even if ya hate me."
"I refuse."
"You don't have a choice, Takudaiji."
"Paying special attention to a seated officer seems too suspicious. I don't want others to misunderstand."
He moved closer to her until the tip of his nose brushed against her skin as she turned her head; his hands were steadying over her arms. He did so many unnecessary things to her. He spoke to her kindly at one point, playfully at a different interval, and cruelly the next. He mocked her, hated her, yet held her and cared for her all the same. He made it hard for her to step away from his pull and every passing day turned into an aggravating reality.
"But they aren't misunderstanding, everyone knows yer mine, Takudaiji."
She steeled herself, regardless, and stayed stanchly as she reached to remove his hands from her.
"I don't recall agreeing and I have no interest in bolstering lies." She moved backward, hands tucked into the sleeves of her elaborate kimono. "Leave if you no longer have any business here."
She dropped her gaze, face turned away from him so he could only see her profile covered by loose strands of hair. Her eyes stared a hole into the bench, fixed and brooding with eyebrows knitted tightly.
He left without saying another word, without sparing her another glance, he vanished before her brittle heart could ask him to stay, and she remained perfectly still as she scrunched up the fabric inside her sleeve. Clenching her teeth, feeling a whirlwind of emotions halting and dissipating…she slumped back into devastation.
It ached.
Taking a deep breath she whirled around and stomped out of the gazebo and into the household. She found Mao waiting for her at the entrance and the pained expression weathering away her features was replaced by her camouflage.
"Ask Akayama Koji to pay me a visit."
Mao lowered her eyes as she bowed her head. "Immediately."
Thanks to: Raining-skye23, cheesebubble, seireitei reject, The Loyal Newt, and GingaBishounen for reviewing the previous chapter.
Sometimes I wonder what will become of this story and then I realize, oh right, there's an outline. I'm off the map, I'll admit, but I'll be tying loose ends in the next two chapters (hopefully) and we'll see what goes on then. You can expect more time skips, but I'll do my best to execute them properly. :)
Next update: April 5