1 Chapter Three – Cracks
"You want the fish or the chicken? I think I'll take the fish."
"I'll have the chicken, then, so we can split."
They smiled at each other, closing the menus. Raiha sometimes felt they behaved a little too much like children. But it was a nice feeling, for once in his life, and he was content. Meeting Fuuko had really been a blessing. It was as if the cosmic force that had dealt him such a cruel hand in life needed to balance it out somehow, and so gave him this wonderful woman. He prayed that nothing would happen to ruin this life.
"How about dessert?" she asked.
"The usual," he said, then –
His phone rang.
Both their faces dropped. "Kurei," he answered.
There was a short conversation, then he hung up, slipping his handphone into a pocket. "I'm sorry, Fuuko, but – "
"I understand," she said softly. "You have a job to do. I'll go choose the present myself."
"Thanks. Love you. See you later." A quick peck on the forehead and he was gone, disappearing in the way only he knew how to.
Fuuko slumped onto the table, waving away the waiter who had come to take their order. She sighed heavily. It had become a common occurrence – when was the last time they had had an uninterrupted day out together? It had been too long. He was forever running off to do Kurei's dirty business in the middle of their dates, in the middle of their meals, in the middle of their walks, in the middle of their nights. There was no time that he was not on call.
Not for the first time, she felt like strangling Kurei. Not that she could, of course. Sometimes she thought that Raiha spent more time with him than with her. But there was nothing she could do, for her hands were tied in this. Raiha was Uruha, he was not just some faceless salaryman. His job demanded total loyalty, responsibility and devotion. In fact she had been surprised Kurei had allowed his trusted right-hand man to marry her. She later realised it had been on the condition that he put his work over his wife.
She supposed she should be grateful, but at times like these, she couldn't help but resent that. She was his wife, dammit!
By the time she got home, she was really upset. She loved Raiha, yes, but that was it. She couldn't do anything for him. Even if she wanted to, Kurei would indubitably get in the way somehow. Bitterly she suspected that he had spies watching them to make sure he only called for Raiha in the most inappropriate of moments.
They wouldn't even have to worry about whether they would have children or not – Kurei would take care of that, and not give them the chance to even make the damn kids. When was the last time they had made the magic? Not anywhere in recent memory.
She ground her teeth. It was past eleven at night. What the hell.
Finally Raiha came home, tired and, for once, blood-stained.
"So Kurei's finally decided to let you come home to your little wife, has he?" she snapped immediately, not even giving him the chance to open his mouth. "What happened to our lovely afternoon together? You spent it with him I suppose! Getting yourself all dirty too!"
He tried to get a word in edgewise, but she wouldn't let him. "Who are you married to? Me? Or Kurei? Do you know how I feel, waiting for you all the time? I'm sorry for yelling at you, but, damn it, I'm worried! What do you think I go through, every day, wondering if you will come home at night? Every minute you are out there you could be killed. I'm so stressed-out!
"Do you know what I think, when I go to sleep at night?" She demanded. "I wonder whether this will be the last night I will feel your arms around me. I can never be sure about the next. All I can ever give you is that one night. What sort of marriage is this? Am I yours? Are you mine? I don't think so!"
Normally Raiha would have had the strength to placate his riled-up wife, but that day it was different.
He looked tiredly at her, wiping a blood-flecked hand over his haggard face.
"And you didn't even bother to clean up this – this mess before you came home," her voice was shrill.
"Fuuko."
She harrumphed and turned away. And that was the last straw. He snapped.
"Do you know whose blood this is?" His voice grew low and cold, like Kurei's. Fuuko's hairs stood on end. She looked back to him, shaking her head mutely, scared. His eyes were narrowed into slits.
"You want the fish or the chicken? I think I'll take the fish."
"I'll have the chicken, then, so we can split."
They smiled at each other, closing the menus. Raiha sometimes felt they behaved a little too much like children. But it was a nice feeling, for once in his life, and he was content. Meeting Fuuko had really been a blessing. It was as if the cosmic force that had dealt him such a cruel hand in life needed to balance it out somehow, and so gave him this wonderful woman. He prayed that nothing would happen to ruin this life.
"How about dessert?" she asked.
"The usual," he said, then –
His phone rang.
Both their faces dropped. "Kurei," he answered.
There was a short conversation, then he hung up, slipping his handphone into a pocket. "I'm sorry, Fuuko, but – "
"I understand," she said softly. "You have a job to do. I'll go choose the present myself."
"Thanks. Love you. See you later." A quick peck on the forehead and he was gone, disappearing in the way only he knew how to.
Fuuko slumped onto the table, waving away the waiter who had come to take their order. She sighed heavily. It had become a common occurrence – when was the last time they had had an uninterrupted day out together? It had been too long. He was forever running off to do Kurei's dirty business in the middle of their dates, in the middle of their meals, in the middle of their walks, in the middle of their nights. There was no time that he was not on call.
Not for the first time, she felt like strangling Kurei. Not that she could, of course. Sometimes she thought that Raiha spent more time with him than with her. But there was nothing she could do, for her hands were tied in this. Raiha was Uruha, he was not just some faceless salaryman. His job demanded total loyalty, responsibility and devotion. In fact she had been surprised Kurei had allowed his trusted right-hand man to marry her. She later realised it had been on the condition that he put his work over his wife.
She supposed she should be grateful, but at times like these, she couldn't help but resent that. She was his wife, dammit!
By the time she got home, she was really upset. She loved Raiha, yes, but that was it. She couldn't do anything for him. Even if she wanted to, Kurei would indubitably get in the way somehow. Bitterly she suspected that he had spies watching them to make sure he only called for Raiha in the most inappropriate of moments.
They wouldn't even have to worry about whether they would have children or not – Kurei would take care of that, and not give them the chance to even make the damn kids. When was the last time they had made the magic? Not anywhere in recent memory.
She ground her teeth. It was past eleven at night. What the hell.
Finally Raiha came home, tired and, for once, blood-stained.
"So Kurei's finally decided to let you come home to your little wife, has he?" she snapped immediately, not even giving him the chance to open his mouth. "What happened to our lovely afternoon together? You spent it with him I suppose! Getting yourself all dirty too!"
He tried to get a word in edgewise, but she wouldn't let him. "Who are you married to? Me? Or Kurei? Do you know how I feel, waiting for you all the time? I'm sorry for yelling at you, but, damn it, I'm worried! What do you think I go through, every day, wondering if you will come home at night? Every minute you are out there you could be killed. I'm so stressed-out!
"Do you know what I think, when I go to sleep at night?" She demanded. "I wonder whether this will be the last night I will feel your arms around me. I can never be sure about the next. All I can ever give you is that one night. What sort of marriage is this? Am I yours? Are you mine? I don't think so!"
Normally Raiha would have had the strength to placate his riled-up wife, but that day it was different.
He looked tiredly at her, wiping a blood-flecked hand over his haggard face.
"And you didn't even bother to clean up this – this mess before you came home," her voice was shrill.
"Fuuko."
She harrumphed and turned away. And that was the last straw. He snapped.
"Do you know whose blood this is?" His voice grew low and cold, like Kurei's. Fuuko's hairs stood on end. She looked back to him, shaking her head mutely, scared. His eyes were narrowed into slits.