Chp. 3- Kuroi Tori "A Kunoichi's Last Dance"
Ayane hummed lightly to herself as she looked upon her skin. Soapsuds and water ran rivers against her zest-smelling body. The fragrance emanated from the steam-filled porcelain-decked bathroom and from her. As she ran the bath sponge along her arm, she caught an earful of rummaging within her room just outside her bathroom door. Relieving her body of the soap with the warm water, she carefully slid the shower door aside and stepped out. The running water still apparent. She grasped along the wall for her towel and inched herself against the wall, intently listening.
Warm droplets of water padded against her shoulders as wet tresses hung down against her back and before her eyes. Once dried, she slipped on her robe and tugged on the drawstrings for a secure fit. Drawing in a breath, with much hesitation, she peered out from behind the wall. A familiar blade directed toward her, rushed in her direction and she fell back against the wall, watching as the blade slammed into the mirror, shattering the glass into the sink. Ayane looked to its carrier and scowled.
"Meryl!"
"Bitch." She retorted, pulling Ayane's katana from the broken mirror. Ayane pushed herself from the wall and Meryl clenched the katanas hilt firmly. This time, she held it out in front of her. The blade just inches from Ayane's neck. Although, not cornered in the least, Ayane felt pressured as if backed into a wall. The continued rush of water filled her ears. "He doesn't want you. How blind are you, that you can't see that?"
Ayane scowled. "Why are you still here? You should have been gone."
Meryl pressed the blade against her neck, making Ayane lift her chin. This brought a smirk to the brunette's lips. Their eyes locked on each other. Meryl let her eyes drift along her body. She took notice of the curves clad in a silken robe and the ample breasts that peeked from beneath the lapel. The deep mahogany strands that dangled, soaked in warmth, crowned the woman's head. She scowled and lifted her eyes to the ninja.
"I can see why he'd like someone like you." She started, forgetting all about Ayane's question. "Youthful, busty, independent." She paused, sliding the blade daringly along Ayane's body, and then resting it along her chest. Somewhat outlining her breasts. She scowled, slashing the blade across her top, creating a thin line of blood to appear. "It's disgusting!"
Ayane stepped back, grasping her chest. Instinctively, she pulled the lapel of her robe over her chest and glared upward at Meryl. The quick assault of Meryl's caused the sword to be lowered to her side, so this was her chance. Ayane rushed forward, and Meryl straightened with the sword. As Meryl lunged forward, Ayane swayed beneath her then behind, shoving her into the shower of warm water. Meryl fell against the wall of the shower, being drenched in steamy liquid. Ayane sought her escape through the bathroom's door. Meryl growled, her hair and apparel now wet. Her shirt became transparent, bearing all that she had to offer. She gave an angry yell as she stormed out of the bathroom, katana in her grasp. Hair drenched, looming over darkened eyes. She looked around.
Ayane rummaged through boxes in her closet. Much like the capacity of an ordinary bedroom, Ayane was found deep within its walls. In frenzy, she overturned boxes, looking for a weapon. A specific, unmatched, weapon. Used for short-ranged firepower. Reaching a hand to tuck still-wet tresses behind her ear, she gasped, finding two items. A Walther P-99 handgun and her kaiken short sword. She turned to the doorway upon a distant thud.
** ** **
David sat himself down in the comfort of his living room. The big screen Panasonic Television Set gave him entertainment through a nice game of baseball. He looked around the room. Alone. With no one around to enjoy the game with. Ayane didn't very much like baseball, but her nagging during the game would kill the cold feeling he now had pressed against him. He lowered his eyes, recalling the last thing she said to him. The Bathroom.
Shrugging faintly, he arose with a can of Budweiser. He was sure that she was out of the bathroom by now. It couldn't possibly take a whole two hours to do whatever it was a woman would do in the bathroom. He thought as he passed the foyer and made his way to the stairwell. He ascended the stairs; letting the mere thought of Ayane nagging him, comfort him. He walked down a corridor adjacent to hers; occasionally bringing the gray can to his lips as he looked around. Then he entered the "gray hall", finding it suitable for the person stationed in one of the rooms. Besides, he liked the way it fit her personality. Always Changing. The sunlight that played along this hall changed every few hours like her personality would. It was perfect. He stopped short of her door and rapped against it.
No answer.
"Ayane?" He called. Meryl turned toward the door. Seeing the handle rattling, she braced against a wall. Meanwhile, Ayane came cautiously around each corner of her closet. Her kaiken sheathed against her robe while her hands held the handgun firmly. Meryl heard the approaching footsteps and inched her way toward the closet. David called out once more. Hearing the distant shower, his brows furrowed. How could she still be in the shower after all of this time? Was she trying to wash away her skin tone or something? He shook his head and turned to leave but turned back when he heard Ayane shriek followed by a loud thud. Pushing open the door with his shoulder, he stumbled forward to see Ayane pinning Meryl to the floor. Beside them rested the katana just inches from Meryl's face. Ayane forced the blade of her kaiken against Meryl's neck just as she had done with the katana. Her Walther p-99, banked against Meryl's forehead. Sneering a string of Japanese curses to her prey, her eyes darted over to the man in the doorway. Meryl looked over as well.
Surprised, and as if out of place, David looked around. The room was overturned. Vases lay in pieces against the floor, clothes thrown against the bed and floor. Bladed indents were against the walls as well as smeared blood. This was a momentary war, he concluded, looking over to the two. Both soaked in water, breathless, on top of each other. He knew it was wrong to think of the pleasurable image of this so he cleared his throat and advanced forward. Heavily breathing, Ayane stared at him behind curly bangs, still dripping. Although lush, her lips formed into a scowl, and she watched him. His stride, how calmly he approached them with little to say. Meryl struggled to rise, but Ayane pushed her head back with the handgun, forcing her to lie back down.
"Let her go." Invaded the silence and Ayane slowly turned to him. He nodded, and she shut her eyes in disgust. First, the kaiken was removed and sheathed along her lower back. Then the Walther P-99 was lifted as she pushed herself from the other. Although stepping back, she kept her aim locked. Ayane ran a hand along her chest, her fingertips going over the fresh wound burning by touch and water. David noticed, but refrained from commenting.
"You should let me kill her." Ayane sneered, watching the brunette rise.
"What are you doing back here?" David asked. His eyes narrowed on the young woman. She hesitated with his stare then contorted to a figure of need. Ayane didn't buy it.
"I…I came back to see you hunny." She voiced through a nervous smile as she approached him. Her arms out stretched. Ayane shifted her aim even higher, stepping next to David. Meryl stopped in her tracks and lowered her hands. David lowered her aim, making her grunt, lowering her eyes to the floor.
"Why?" He started, looking around at the mess. "This isn't even my room, Meryl."
She grinned nervously and Ayane shot her a look, waiting to hear an explanation. Meryl pressed her index fingers together as she thought of an answer. Ayane sighed, turning to a drawer for a medical kit. She internally grumbled seeing none. When she left the room, she heard Meryl begin to sob a sappy story about how she loved him too much to let him be taken away from her. Little did the brunette know Ayane loved him too much to see him taken away by her.
She found the medi-kit within the kitchen drawer nearest the medicine cabinet. A mixture of things that could sever the pain and drown it out. She brought it past the foyer and into the living room where she thought it best to retreat. A place to be alone. For a moment, the television caught her attention. A baseball game, she internally voiced. During this time, David would sit in her place and she'd stand beside the couch, begging him to do something fun with her, and like any man would do, he'd ignore her and raise the volume to its max. She returned her gaze to the medi-kit, and opened it. Her fingertips grazed along each item until she came upon a clear bottle of alcohol and cotton balls. That's when David strolled in behind her with her katana in hand. He remained silent, leaning against the door's frame. Watching her slow movements. The gentle texture of movements when dousing the cotton balls with alcohol to apply it to her chest. He blinked, hearing her sharp breath be drawn in as the tingling pain took part against her.
He happened to look back in time as Meryl came downstairs, wiping away at her eyes, and a coat in the other hand. She looked up to him and mouthed silently that 'she was leaving'. He blinked again and caught sight of her as she reached for the door. Although not voicing it loud enough for him to hear, or see, she let a teardrop fall from her eyes and whispered her love for him. Then she exited.
Ayane looked back as David came around the couch and took a seat beside her. He dropped the katana beside her feet and looked upon her as she worked. Uncomfortable with his stare, she lowered her eyes to something other than him. He tilted his head at her, taking notice of the long line of blood against her chest, now smeared. And how her wet hair made her look in need. If not love, then a hug. She looked abandoned, as if she may have crawled her way out of a well, yet, all the same she was, in fact, beautiful. Womanly and Deadly. Her voice broke his stare.
"What do you want?" She asked, dabbing the bruise some more. He kneeled beside her, picking up a cotton ball from the casing and moved to help her. She lifted her gaze to him, just as his hand neared her chest. Her eyes locked on his. He hesitated, not knowing what to do suddenly. If he touched her, how would she react? And if he didn't, then what?
"Uh…May I?" he asked, in a bit of discomfort. His hand still airborne. Ayane took the cotton ball from his hand and dabbed at her chest. He figured that was a "no." Ayane watched as he arose and took the already used cotton balls to the kitchen. She lowered the sleeve of her robe a bit to work on the wound along her shoulder. Then brushed a hand against her face to the darkened bruise along her cheek and eye. She gave a small sound of disbelief.
"She got me good." She mumbled, looking into a pocket-sized mirror. Advancing back to the living room, he watched her. It was then that he realized the dark bruise along her face that was so well hidden beneath mahogany tresses. Ayane removed a hand from her face and her hair fell into place, sheathing what was briefly seen. She adverted her eyes to the medi-kit, placing the compact mirror into it. As if hearing what she just said, he repeated her words. In his hands rested a dampened cloth.
"She got you good, didn't she?" He asked, kneeling to her side. This time, without permission, he swept a hand against her damp hair and tucked it behind her ear. The dampened cloth brushed gently against her face. Ayane pulled away, placing a hand before his.
"What are you doing?" She asked, shocked. He slightly lowered his hand.
"Helping you." He answered. When she made no sudden remark, he tried again with the cloth and again, she stopped him.
"I already told you, I don't need your help." She angrily protested, removing the rag from his hand. "I can take care of my damn self."
He sighed, finding it hard to please her. He was starting to wonder what the hell she wanted from him. He eased back, putting his hands into the air as a sign of surrender then stood. He moved over a few of the couch pillows and found his place on her right. Her back to him. He looked over, noticing the slight disposition of her shoulder. He looked upon her. Her shoulders leveled. He could tell that she was tense.
"Your Shoulder-" he started. Ayane cut in.
" I know. Dislocated."
He figured so with her subtle movements. The way she worked, using little movements—her fingers only. She worked mostly with her left hand. She sighed; packing away the cleansing instruments and finally reached for the gauze. She lowered her eyes in thought. She would need an extra pair of hands for this. To wrap it around her chest. She hesitated, turning to face him. The gauze in hand.
"Would you?" She asked, biting her lower lip. How embarrassing!
As if asked to kill a child, David hesitated, staring at her. And at Ayane's contortion of embarrassment, he nodded. "Sure."
"Don't try anything stupid." Ayane warned as she turned her back to him. She brought her left hand around and pulled her mahogany lot to curl around her left shoulder, then lowered her robe just enough to bare her shoulders and back. She sighed deeply, shutting her eyes. David hesitated. His eyes drifted from her slender shoulders to the gauze in his hands. Then back to her. "What're you waiting for?"
He leaned forward, reaching around her, his warmth comforting her back. She opened an eye, watching his every movement. She noticed his hands working around her, trying to level the gauze with her wound. She couldn't level it with any hand of hers. Her right was out of commission while the left held the robe. He leaned over her shoulder and she drew in a breath. Through the corner of her eye, she watching him work, brushing gently against her. He acknowledged it also. He could smell her scent, the zest amidst the strawberry shampoo. She was clean. Purified by a manufactured product. Sweet essences worthy of a goddess, in which she was, to him. When he found himself too close, he eased back and voiced an apology. She breathed easily now.
"That shoulder." He reminded, indicating how she grasped it gently after pulling her robe over her shoulders. She turned halfway toward him then looked down on her hand. She removed it.
"I'm fine. It'll blow over."
"Blow over? It won't. Let me fix it." He suggested, reaching for her shoulder. She pulled away from his reach as if protecting a child from a killer.
"No. It'll hurt." She choked out, almost child-like.
"I won't hurt you." He assured, looking sympathetic. "Promise."
Ayane had her doubts, but she learned to trust. Looking to her shoulder, she gave a whimper then nodded. Then, she scowled. "If you hurt me, I'll kill you."
David smiled, seeing the humor in that. "Sure."
She turned her back against him and shut her eyes, breathing quit heavily. Quit fearfully. He pressed his hands gently against her shoulders and leaned in against her ear.
"Stop being so tense. Loosen up. Trust me." It was almost as if it had a double meaning. Enthusiastic. She sighed deeply, loosening up in his grasp, her shoulders slumping a bit. Almost as if he supported her. She shut her eyes, putting all trust on him and whispered an 'okay'. He nodded.
"Now. Whatever you do, don't scream. Okay?" Ayane's eyes shot open, but before she could ask what he meant by that, she felt his hand yank at her right shoulder, as if an eager boy tearing away at a birthday present. Her back fell against his chest, right shoulder emitting a CRACK. Her mouth went agape, drawing in every ounce of breath for the most heart-wrenching scream she could muster. He clasped a hand over her mouth and it erupted into a muffled blur. A mixture between a sob and a cry. She shut her eyes and sank into him, sobbing beneath his hand. He pulled her to sit on the couch. "You okay?"
She grasped her shoulder gently, her head lowered. Unbound mahogany-dangling curls overlapped her shoulder and eyes. "You said it wouldn't hurt!"
He watched as she bit her lower lip, trying to hold back the weakened whimpers. "No. I said I wouldn't hurt you."
She scowled, holding her throbbing shoulder. He did it. He fixed it. She acknowledged. She sobbed, drawing in a breath. He didn't know how he'd already hurt her. Or at least that's what she thought. First, there was this Meryl woman who she knew nothing of. Then, there was the notion of him not wanting her to blow her away. She looked up to him finally. "You hate me."
David blinked. He didn't know where this was coming from. "No. I don't."
"Yes, you do. That's why you hurt me."
He blinked, not understanding. "Look, I'm sorry if your shoulder hurts-"
"That's not what I'm talking about."
"Uh…okay." He nodded as if trying to understand. "Well then, what are you talking about?"
"Meryl." Her eyes searched his face for any sign of indifference. Perhaps he would conjure up a lie to tell. He shook his head.
"Meryl? Well she's just a-" He paused, thinking of a suitable word for the woman he's been seeing as of lately. The woman he'd go to in his "Time of Need." He let his eyes drift back over to hers, even though hers were hidden within shadow. "She's just someone I met. A friend."
"She tried to kill me," Were the words that shot back. "While I was in the shower."
At the way it sounded, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he remained serious. "I'm sure it was j-"
"No." Ayane corrected, cutting him off. "She tried to kill me. With my own damn sword."
David fell silent. Briefly.
"Look, forget about her. She's gone now."
"She'll come back. They always do." She watched as his eyes ran along her. He must have been wondering if she was in this type of situation before. At least that's what she thought he was thinking. He shrugged redirecting his gaze to hers.
"I don't hate you. Never did and probably won't."
"Okay, lets recap for a moment." She started, lifting her head a bit. The throbbing of the shoulder reduced to that of a thump on the arm. She started to talk. Talk about the many times when she'd upset him and he'd resolve the matter by walking away, grumbling, or remaining silent. The many times when he'd dismiss her for nagging during the seasonal games. And the rambling would continue. He watched as her lips continued to move, each word now being drowned out against his own thoughts and vivid imagination. He found himself on a journey of thoughts. Most of them were of him wondering what she tasted like. Her kisses. Did she taste like the strawberries that engulfed her hair? He knew her body smelled of spring. What did that feel like? Internally, he cursed himself. He had a chance when gauzing her. How rude and sinister was he. He smirked at the thought and her words trailed off as she looked at him. It was now or never.
"What's so funny? Why the hell are you smiling?" Was apparently the last thing to escape her parted lips as his mouth crushed ruthlessly against hers. She found her breath stripped away as he took the kiss deeper. His tongue made its move, coiling around hers, hot and seeking. She sank beneath him and gasped as his hand grasped her tender shoulder. Even then, she was breathless to protest. His other hand behind her head, fingertips smothered by dampened curls, supported her. Internally, he smirked. Strawberries indeed. He disengaged himself slowly, her flushed lips leaving his. He tilted his head as he gazed upon her. Her eyes were still closed. He waited until they opened and when they did, he distanced himself, turning to walk out the room. "I don't hate you."
When he was gone, she sighed. She drew in a breath; her mind cloudy and heart beat unsteady. Shaking, a hand arose to her mouth as she looked around. Her voice came out small, whisper-like. "…Oh my god."
[Go to Chp. 4]