Chapter 10 - No Turning Back

There was a stillness that echoed long after the reverberation of heavy breaths and sighs left; that up until two hours ago, the sounds came from on top of her kitchen counter. Two hours later, Yuri laid flat on her back over sheets of her queen-sized bed. The stickiness of the damp night had forced her into a thin tank-top, and still, she sat uncomfortably. Canting her head toward her kitchen, even in the darkest hours after Tsukiyama left, she still could imagine the scene of their tryst replaying in the moonlight. Feeling foolish enough to reminisce, she turned her back to face the wall, stubborn enough to pretend it all meant nothing.

Whatever caused her to allow herself to be swept away by him so easily was beyond her comprehension. How was she not impervious to his debonair, sneakily clever hands? The man was a joke. Most times Tsukiyama was a squawking peacock, so at what point had he managed to ensnare her? How did coffee become… coffee?

An emotion she couldn't name overcame her and pricked the corners of her eyes. Clammy hands ran over her face and up to the roots of her hair. "Shit…" she mumbled begrudgingly, a nagging feeling in her was growing a voice, and she hated that it whispered things she dare not dream for.

"Where did you go, chéri?" The tender timbre of his voice was velvety as only Tsukiyama had, removing himself from inside her in the process, righting himself and meticulously began to redress her as well. "It's rude to leave a lover right after, you know." He said piquantly, his index finger trailed a path from Yuri's collar bone up the dip of her shoulder, sweetly tracing the precious veins beneath the skin of her neck.

"The night before…" She whispered, shedding light on the inner workings of her mind. Shying away to hide the embarrassment, surprising to even herself to have admitted as much, "back to the first night."

After their intense moment taken over by passion, Yuri went into herself, taking leave of the current time and place with the man who just made mad love to her.

...Love.

Could she even use that word for what just took place? Was it not more like wild rutting with nothing else but the baser instincts driving two beings to have a natural reaction to biochemicals? Like causing ripples in the ocean knowing they would be the precursor to tidal waves–– was this to be the beginning of her downfall? Deftly, she lifted the hand that wasn't lying limp on the ceramic marble of the counter and found his just as it reached her primary pulse, her blood racing again.

"Ah… yes. Truth be told I've been quite prone to visiting that time recently myself; I'm very fond of that particular memory." He resonated with her, winking at the same time.

That cheeky…

She didn't know what else to say; she allowed him to soak up her space selfishly as she remained silent while he finished buttoning her blouse.

"Such a pretty color."

"What?"

Pointedly nodding to her shirt, "a very nice choice. The hues complement your dark hair," as if she was getting a consultation for a new wardrobe, and he the fitter. She wasn't rich enough for that kind of luxury.

"You never told me you were a fashion designer, certainly could have fooled me." She retorted with a bit more sass than she intended but found she didn't mind. "It's just purple…" Then she realized something profound.

It was his color.

Tsukiyama shrugged, then folded his arms, "hm, I dabble. Much like other things, I like to have a hand in everything that pertains to me-"

"Including me?"

A second passed, "perhaps…"

That sly smile again. OK, she deserved that, given what just took place.

"I'd like to know, does that night hold anything, particularly, special for you–– other than being spectacularly amazing of course?" He inquired cockily.

Damn peacock!

Yuri arched an eyebrow, "wow~, you don't even need me to stroke your ego. You do it all on your own!" She deadpanned in fake surprise, what a vain man.

"Nevertheless," he urged her on, demanding an answer.

Sighing internally, she fought to roll her eyes, "of course not." She said finally, "tonight wasn't even supposed to happen, much like the previous one. None of this was, now that I think of it. In fact, I think I deserve an explanation as to why you've so prominently inserted yourself into my life as you have!

"And another thing, are you stalking me? No, really. Before might have been a joke, but I seriously question that you're lurking behind every corner, because if so, you are sorely mistaken about what kind of woman I am." Despite her words, she felt heat creep up her neck and to her ears.

Now it was his turn to raise a brow, "dear lord, what are you, a nihilist?" An exasperated sigh blew in her face while pinching the bridge of his nose. "And what kind of woman, pray tell, are you, Ms. Miyoushi?" He moved closer to her suddenly, too close, with both hands planted on the counter next to her hips, their lips mere inches away. The thought of kissing him again was a notion she entertained rather than responding.

"Not naive,"

She set her jaw harshly, a melodious chuckle from Tsukiyama mocked her, and it perturbed Yuri further that it was from a joke she was not privy to. She crossed her arms, mirroring his previous stance.

"And why is that funny?"

He did kiss her then, a chaste taste to tempt an urge, "Nor innocent, I would imagine." He mused, ignoring her numerous questions, sampling her rosy lips a second time. Was he purposely stroking the ember within her? What did he see when he looked at her, a weak wanton woman, or did he catch glimpses of the beast hiding in her darkness? She placed the flat of her hand on his sternum, stopping him from closing the gap.

"I think you'd better go." She said sharply, void of any attachment, a look of indignation reflected back at her, he wanted her to… do what? What did he want from her precisely? "What?"

"And how your cold heart sends my heart aflutter." There was no tenderness this time, and his lips set into a hard line turning the cruelty right back at her. Was… he upset?

"Tsukiyama, what are you expecting of me, what do you want me to expect? You don't care about me, and if you think I'm foolish enough to believe that you do, I think that would be the most insulting thing you've said so far."

His face became increasingly more frustrated and angrier, his brow knitted tight, and amethyst eyes blazed. "I-... I want," Tsukiyama breathed in and exhaled loudly, visibly trying to regain his patience and control his temper. "I would like to take you out to dinner––my way." He added quickly. Tsukiyama placed his large hand over her knee, the one that was idly swinging. Did it bother him? She knew she was difficult, she understood she was not loved and hated by most, that she could comprehend. What she didn't understand was why he still remained. But the warmth of his hand compared to the cold hard surface under her thighs felt so good she wanted his touch even more.

"Just dinner…?" Yuri asked skeptically.

He nodded, "just dinner."

Yuri meandered to the kitchen island and picked up, yet another professionally printed card. The cardstock was clean and simple, black with red lettering. "The Restaurant?" She turned it over, there was no address or number front or back, "please tell me that this isn't his, and he actually named it that." If it was, and he did– wow… just wow.

The word amateur itched in her mind, and she fought to roll her eyes.

Nostrils flaring, she threw the card on the counter and walked away, she knew she needed to sleep, but the energy inside her was buzzing. So deciding to pull a bland book out of one cubbyhole from the shelf that held some books and others housed plants, she read till sleep finally found her, and it all was a peaceful nothingness.

It was late afternoon when she opened her eyes again and blinked the clock back into existence, cursing she stood up and rubbed her face while yawning. "How did I sleep so late?" She muttered, racking her nails through long, tangled strands, jostling them about doing her bedhead no favors.

It was a Saturday, and she was happy to remind herself today was one of her few days off; happy, that is, until her phone rang. The phone in question laid on top of the headboard that doubled as a shelf for her electronics, it vibrated with a standard tune that she let ring until the vibration nearly sent it cascading off the edge. Yuri turned the screen to face her but wasn't thrilled by who she saw was phoning her.

The only relief she found in the name was that at least he hadn't put himself in her contacts as something far more dreadful. A shudder ran through her, imagining honey or sweetie popping up on her phone while at work definitely would have been far worse. It continued to ring while Yuri simply starred and debated if it was worth picking up, but by the time her hand hovered over to swipe the button, she missed the call. A thought to return it crossed her mind, but hesitation won over and stilled her thumb over the green button. It took a full three minutes before the phone sounded again and this time she yanked it off its cord and snapped irritatedly, "hello?!"

"Ah, there you are ma Grandiflora , I hope you are well this morning!" His lilting voice was so stark to how she felt but after last night, or maybe it over the short time he's invaded her life, but it didn't seem such a nuisance as she once thought. "Chéri?"

Yuri took a deep breath before answering, eyes pointed to the ceiling. "What do you want Tsukiyama?"

"You ask that so often love, when are you going to stop pretending you don't know? A terse sound came from the other side, "end the charade chéri , hm?"

"What!?"

She heard a deep inhale through the receiver, and it was satisfying knowing it wasn't only her riding on the last nerve. As it stood, she thought some retribution was well deserved and long overdue; a few seconds of silence passed before Tsukiyama decided to return to the conversation.

"Dinner, Ms. Miyoushi, dinner."

Of course, she knew what he had wanted, but she'd never been one to give in so easily. With this man, it never was just .

"Yuri, dearest, don't be so reluctant. I swear it will be an experience you'll never forget and– I have been dying to wine and dine you, ma chéri. " The sad pout oozed from his voice like a sorry excuse for a begging puppy, but what was worse is that Yuri caved.

"Fine. "

Something that sounded like a kid on a rollercoaster and a crying animal came out of the receiver. "You know when I asked last night, you never gave me a definitive answer. Which is why I'm calling now– you see tonight I planned a special event for you; I promise it will be perfect!"

"You didn't even know I was going to say yes, and you already planned it?

"Always go with one's instincts, as they say."

"No, you're just a pompous ass that expects everyone to go along with your every wish." She retorted vehemently.

"Well… you did agree, non? "

Yuri let out an explosive growl that was very telling of how he was getting to her, and hearing a small chuckle made the situation worse. "I'm going to kill you, Tsukiyama." And that only served the sound to grow into a full fit of laughter that soured her mood even further.

"Aha-, oh please forgive me, chéri , you are such a joy."

"Glad I could be your entertainment…" She said bitterly.

"At any rate," Yuri heard the gears shifting onward in the conversation, "I would be honored if you graced my own establishment with your presence tonight. The attire is formal, so I took the liberty of having an outfit prepared for you, which will arrive at your home at six-thirty sharp. I will be there to pick you up at seven-thirty, I trust that will leave you enough time to preen?"

"...Wait, how-"

"Oh dear Yuri, as I said last night, I like to have a hand in everything I do. It wasn't hard for me to draw up the proper measurements for you, after all." The insinuation wasn't lost on her, and her eyes narrowed at the phone. "Anyways, that is all I wanted to discuss, and I have much to accomplish for our evening. I hope you have a lovely day my sweet, and I will see you tonight; au revoir. "

With a single click, he didn't even wait for her to reply, "Uhg, rude…"

She threw the phone onto the bed after looking at the time. She still had most of the day to deal with the remains within her refrigerator, transport them to the freezer at the Seiren, shower, and do a bit of clean up before her supposed guests. After Tsukiyama left last night, she made sure to put away the cooler holding the remains of her most recent victim. How could she have been so stupid to have it out in plain sight for anyone to see and especially him? What would he have done, she wondered. Would he have instantly reported her–– no, she would have killed him before had the chance; Then, he would have screamed and run but only to drop dead before he reached the door.

An infinite stream of scenarios, all of which none resulting in anything but dismal disappointments. And how could she expect anything more than that? It was that cold truth that washed over her, pushing sensical reality back into her brain that she set out to accomplish the tasks, and finally, she would get rid of the foolish man who pursued her.

Days had passed with nothing but two missing persons reports to show for it, all that followed was failure, and still, he'd only half a week left until his deadline.

"Useless!" Hiro shouted, throwing a file down on top of many others. Friday, a salaryman went missing, called in by his wife; then today, supposedly, a mother's daughter never came home. All in the same night two people with no connections to each other were gone, and with ghoul activity slowly on the rise, knowing just how much he was losing the case against his theory of the perpetrator being human fast. Walls closing in around him and panic corrupting the confidence he once had, doubt sowed its seeds and clouding his thoughts.

With eyes closed, the investigator began to take deep easy breathes in the attempts to ease his building anxiety and shake off the overwhelming disjointed information that was beginning to meld together into a mess of incomprehensible knowledge.

He collapsed on the shoddy couch that catty-cornered the bed in his cheap hotel, he stayed here because it was closer to everything than his equally cheap apartment. He didn't have anyone waiting for him, no one that waited up for or to miss him. He felt a tiny stab that felt like jealously; they were lucky. At least they meant something to someone… coming to the halting realization that that was why this case was so important––

"Because it's all I have." He whispered in defeat.

The sliver of hope he blindly grasped was nothing more than a faded light that disappeared when he reached out for it, and she was just a chef! He thought for sure it would point to something more and yet the woman became just another brick wall. Should he ask the other employees? Did the girl have friends there that they might have an idea of what she did or who she liked to hang with?

"What else do I have left, might as well." Said with a heavy sigh, not expecting much to change.

The Seiren stared back at him, bold and proud, the sign wasn't in Japanese but instead in English lettering in an intricate script, very European. The sign was what made it stand out so much from the rest of the district, aside from how much larger the building was compared to the others around it. Some of the locals felt disdain by its intrusion, and others, of higher pedigree, welcomed it. Hiro felt neither. Only a destination, and a beginning of which he never would have predicted.

Once parked, the CCG investigator circled the perimeter. Not that he was looking for anything per se, but when he arrived, he realized the plan thus far was equivalent to leaving and arriving, falling short soon after. Plans were half-baked at this point, and when he stood outside the doors, Hiro knew walking in and strolling into the kitchens just to start pulling people aside for questioning was not happening. The only conclusion then was to circle the outside, maybe catch someone throwing trash away, or an off chance a worker on a cigarette break.

But what he found was neither. Instead, he turned a corner to catch a gleam of dark flowing hair and chic clothing. Satin and iron disguised as a slender woman. Never in his life had he met a woman such as her; when he interviewed Yuri in her office, it was like walking into a den and feeling eyes watching you within the darkness. The way she spoke, how she carried herself, if Hiro knew any better, the cave he wandered into was that of an Amur tiger.

When he followed behind her, he told himself it was for no other reason than curiosity, that there was nothing left for him but his intuition. And that was true, but also that night when he sat in the room with her, there was an unexplainable feeling inside of him–– a flight-or-fight impulse that he wasn't able to explain nor justify. It didn't make any sense for him to feel threatened, he'd never witnessed her become violent or irate. To a fault though, he favored his gut-feelings. So faced with an opportunity like this, what else could he do but trail behind her, keeping a healthy distance through the back exit and following down a corridor that was suspiciously separate from the other pathways leading to the kitchens.

He couldn't say the floor plans weren't altogether unusual, but… still curious about the gait she portrayed in such secrecy, and he wondered why.

To his luck, she left the door ajar, giving him the perfect window to watch her from as she opened the icebox she carried and placed something inside a singular... deep freeze box? A freezer inside a freezer, what sense did that make? And why did it have fake yellow caution duct tape on it? An inside joke among the workers? For all the help a small crack in the doorway provided, it didn't gift him the sight of what she had been carrying, though in all likelihood, it was nothing more than ingredients, right?

The feeling from the office resurfaced, that cold chill running up his spine wasn't from the frosty room, and something didn't seem right and it unsettled him. His gut was working overtime today.

Before he could assess what it was she had or if it deserved any of the foreboding permutations he felt, she started back towards him, forcing Hiro to quickly retreat and bound to the back door before she saw him.

When he sat in the comfort of his car he turned the ignition key but stalled in contemplation of what he saw with his hand resting on the stick shift, or lack thereof. He had no warrant and yet, he knew he'd be back there–sooner than later. Shifting into gear, the investigator left with one last thought; that this could make or break him, and he sincerely prayed he'd be spared the latter.

"Who am I kidding? I won't find anything... but it'll ease my overactive imagination, at least."

"Red or white, sir?"

"The Château Petrus Bordeaux will do nicely, I think," Tsukiyama commented offhandedly, not looking away from the two ties held up in the air next to an extravagant, plum floor-length dress. Light reflected off the shimmering fabric clear to the bust and that was where it ended, being sleeveless and held together by a bodice. It would look marvelous on her, he decided when the attendants showed him the piece. He'd gone to the only retail he trusted and frequented for short notices such as this, needless to say, they never disappoint.

"What do you think, the paisley with plum accents or the silk Armani?"

"Either would be fitting sir."

That wasn't what he asked, Tsukiyama thought dismissively. "The Armani then," knowing the choice before he even asked, and continued dressing in front of a full-body mirror.

"Very good, sir" the head servant bowed. "Will that be all sir? Shall I pass anything else on to the staff workers for you?"

"Hm… no, I think that will be all–oh! Have our seat reserved with the best view, closer to the edge than my normal spot if you will," he added. He wanted to see her face when she came to the epiphany of where she was and what he was, the sudden dawning that they were made for one another. This would be their turning point, when she'd be his. She would not die, no, something told him he always knew that, neither by his hand nor otherwise. The ghoul felt no ire by the fact though, all that radiated from his eyes and puffed up chest was pride. No one was worthy for them but each other, the same irrevocable truth that he'd come to know, would be revealed to her in time. "Have the car brought around, Matsumae, I must collect my guest of honor."

"Of course, Master Shuu." A devoted, motherly-looking maid bowed alongside the butler, "it will be waiting for you," she said before both of them exited the room.

"Tonight," he said, slipping on his jacket and testing the fit, "will be perfect." He sniffed, the Tsukiyama in the mirror smirked back, nodding. "Nothing could ruin this, you've got this, Shuu." The smirk stretched from ear to ear.

"Perfect, huh?"

Tsukiyama didn't need to look to see who was sitting on his windowsill. "Yes, Little Mouse, perfect. Something you'd like to add, or do you intend to haunt my doorstep, sort to speak, all night?"

"No… not really, just here for the show, is all." How perky was she, grinning like she knew something he didn't.

"Well, the show is about to leave, so you might as well scurry on." He said, straightening his tie

"I wish I could get a picture of her face when she finds out you're the ghoul from before. Something tells me, she will have a lot to say about that." Chie spoke flippantly, still fiddling with her camera. Had she looked up at any point, she would have noted the subtle pause as Tsukiyama's hand stilled around his collar.

"It will be fine, she's… a reasonable woman. The fallout will be manageable if any at all."

"You don't sound sure," Chie parried.

"It will." He forced back, ending the conversation.

"Ah well, I can't wait to hear about it later then. I'm going to go get an ice cream sundae, that sounds good right about now," she hummed. "Hope your date goes well."

"...Thank you, and be safe out there, Chie."

She nodded, despite everything they were friends––they both had their ways, and both were vastly different but for years now they had called themselves friends and their banter never put a strain on that. Tsukiyama didn't look back to see if she walked out after him or merely jumped out the window, it was a marginally large drop from his room, one that definitely would result in some broken bones, but it was Chie, so he didn't concern himself with how she saw herself out. If anything, he'd be surprised not to see her sitting inside his awaited limo before he even got down the grand staircase just to amuse herself.

By five Yuri was walking through the door at her apartment, setting her keys in the porcelain bowl and setting her jacket on the coat rack. She began her rituals, showering and scenting her skin with her favorite body scrubs, even deciding wine and a bubble bath was in order; pre-gaming, if you will. Knowing full well she'd have to loosen up to prepare herself for an entire evening of Tsukiyama; meditation and merlot were just what the doctor ordered.

Another fifteen minutes of soaking and an empty glass later, wrapped in a fluffy, white robe she began framing her eyes with eyeliner and mascara and dusting her cheeks in a faint pink blush. Not knowing what kind of dress to expect to arrive for her, she played it safe by refraining from anything but a natural color pallet.

Time passed faster than she realized, and it surprised her when there was a knock at the door. Still snug in her robe, she cautiously peered through the crack behind the door chain. Not sure what to expect, but seeing a young man wearing what appeared to be a chauffeur suit, about her height maybe an inch shorter, with beautiful lavender hair, wasn't one of them.

"Can I help you?" At the risk of sounding presumptuous, she abstained from asking if the stranger was associated with the man. He did say someone would be here before him, was this them?

"Das ist für Sie."

"...What...–"

"You have one hour before Master Shuu arrives for you."

The rife of blatant rudeness took over her and having a zipped garment bag practically thrust into her arms all but enraged her. "Excuse me, who are you?!" Yuri shouted, demanding some sort of explanation. He wore dark shades shrouding his eyes while still refusing to speak other than the German he callously barked. "Well?" She said after the long silence between them, gripping her robe tighter around her neck.

Even in the perfect Japanese, Yuri could hear the distinct accent that confirmed her suspicions, but it still was remarkable how alike he and Tsukiyama appeared. The man turned and descended the stairwell before she even realized, calling out after him, expecting him to stop and turn back, but wasn't entirely surprised when the obscure messenger didn't even slow down.

"...What the hell…" She huffed after slamming the door shut, was that on purpose? Did Tsukiyama intend to give her whiplash from the most odious person she could have ever met? Turning her attention to what she was holding, she pulled the zipper down halfway, and a shimmering satin dress peaked out. The decorated bodice was intricate with beadwork that was unbelievably beautiful. Yuri couldn't imagine the price tag on the thing, thinking about Tsukiyama bothering with a trivial thing as money though, was hard. Most obnoxiously rich people usually didn't.

She drug her feet to her bedroom, with everything set in motion, not much else to be done. With the time and date already set, dress delivered, and with the rude messenger gone– she set out to finish what she had started.

Thank you for waiting for so long for this chapter, I went through and fixed a few things that I realized didn't get copy and pasted well. Looking through I feel bad that the scenes feel rushed, I thought I had more detail in it than I did, but this was a difficult chapter for me for some reason, I hope you forgive me. I do want to get to the juicy parts of this story but I wanted to give you guys something for the long wait, and I hope to get the next chapter out sooner. Love you guys~!

R&R!