LUCKY THIRTEEN
"Sakaki…"
Miho Karasuma couldn't believe the words coming from her supposed partner's mouth. A sanctuary for witches. The startled hunter before her had knowing led her into a haven of witches. The woman felt sick, violently ill at the thoughts of his deception. How could Haruto know about this place and not tell her, especially with all the attacks? How could he lead her into that den of wolves? She couldn't breath.
"Is she ok?" one of the burly looking bouncers inquired.
Sakaki's face warmed as he put on a casual, but smooth smile. "It's nothing. Just a simple asthma attack."
"Does she need an ambulance?"
The hunter shook his head; his hand rubbed her back reassuringly, feigning trying to stimulate respiration. "It's just a small attack; no big deal. It'll pass in no time."
The bouncer gave a slight shrug before returning to his work at the door, standing there imposingly to create a "presence of authority." The crowd gathered continued along with entering Nocturne, pausing to give the "asthmatic" woman a quick, curious glance and that regard alone. Sakaki let loose a sigh of relief, relaxing for a moment before returning his gaze to the woman seated on the steps beside him.
"C'mon, Miss Karasuma," he said the words slowly, carefully, as if talking to a child. "I'll take you back home."
Bitterly, angrily, Miho swatted back her partner's hand as Sakaki reached to help her up. The woman gritted her teeth, biting her tongue and ignoring the flush of concerned thoughts that jumped alive in her mind from that slight contact. The man stepped back, a mix of hurt and confused by her sudden ferocity and anger. Miho, however, refused to lift her chocolate eyes. Instead, the hunter stared at the concrete before her, following the scraps and scuff marks of sneakers amid blobs of chewed gum. Karasuma couldn't look him in the eyes, couldn't acknowledge his concern. No. She had to be strong. This was Sakaki, her friend, but he had betrayed her. Miho couldn't give in.
"Don't touch me," the woman snarled, her voice but a soft, bass growl.
Haruto blinked, shocked by her anger. "Miss Kara-"
The empath raised a hand, cutting him short. "Don't. Don't you dare." Slowly, Karasuma stood, dusting off her coat and composing herself. "I'm leaving."
"But I-" Sakaki swallowed the lump in his throat. "I have to talk to you…. Please…"
"No."
Karasuma turned on her heel smartly, with an almost cheery clip of her shoe. She cocked her head to one side, forcing on and awkward smile, more of a grimace really. The hunter strode down the stairs, holding her head high and proudly, as if to tell Sakaki off by body language alone. The woman prayed her partner would know from the obvious signs she didn't want to talk.
Sakaki didn't take the hint as well as she'd hoped; only three steps away, Haruto grabbed her elbow fiercely.
'She can't. She's can't leave. She can't tell. It'll ruin us all.'
The empath blinked at the unbidden thought that burst up in her mind, a bubble surfacing the otherwise still pond of her consciousness. It bore the distinctive taste of the man who held her arm so tightly. It caught the woman off guard, to say the least. The woman stood there, staring into his dark eyes searchingly, even as passers-by bumped into her roughly.
"You're hurting me," Karasuma whimpered when Sakaki squeezed too hard.
The woman tore her arm from his hold, but she could not free her eyes from his unsure gaze. The whole world seemed to spin and reel around them, but move incredibly slowly, like through a viscous liquid. Karasuma couldn't do it; she couldn't scry into Haruto. However, the empathy didn't need to. It was written on every single one of his features. In his soft eyes and boyish face, Haruto screamed concern, worry, fear, terror, and paranoia. Paranoia of Miho.
"I have to go…."
'Miss Karasuma…'
Sakaki just gave a slight nod of his head and stepped back. He couldn't keep her there. No one could. All the nineteen-year old could do was wait and watch as Miho Karasuma ran from him, from Nocturne, leaving only the faint echoing of her high-heeled shoes. That too, was quickly swallowed up by the hustle and bustle of Kabukichu.
She ran from him.
And, suddenly, somehow, amid all those people, Haruto Sakaki never felt so utterly and appallingly alone.
He sighed, shrugging his shoulders in dejection before turning back to Nocturne. The club never seemed so welcoming than in that moment. There, in that sanctuary, the man could lose himself in the midst of the swirling dancers and loud music. Sakaki retreated to the darkness of the club and the angry industrial music, but found no solace and comfort. The hunter retired to the bar of Purgatory, to sit under the sign of Hagalaz and stew.
A shot appeared before him, slid across the counter by the tender.
"What's this?" Haruto asked, without looking up.
The bartender smirked slyly. "Doesn't matter. It'll still cure whatever ails you." He laughed to himself. "Or eat the inner lining off your stomach."
Even Sakaki had to chuckle at that one. "Too young to drink. You know that."
"Nah. Never too young." The tender took a rag and started to wipe down the bar. "Just slightly inexperienced with it." The man stood back and tossed the dirty scrap of washcloth aside, raising his own shot to Haruto. "C'mon, drink up, boy. It'll help you feel better or far worse. Trust me."
Sakaki swigged back the shot, obviously a biting vodka, and slammed the glass back down on the wooden counter. "Thanks, Geoff."
He looked over to the man. Geoff. He was a foreigner, like most the people working Nocturne. Geoff had come from the far-flung land of America, from Georgia, specifically, along with the other owners of the club. He stood tall, on a muscular body. Long locks of chocolate hair framed his chiseled face. Softer, blue eyes, sky blue to be exact, seemed to study the entire world almost constantly from his pale face.
"So, who was your lady friend?"
Sakaki sniffed. "My partner. She's a hunter from the STN."
Geoff leaned close over the bar. "Does she know?"
"I don't think so."
xxxx
"Staying awake for a bit?"
Robin finally looked up from her book. Amon stood in the doorway between the living room and the hall to the bedrooms. The former man looked calm but still tense, permanently primed for action and intrusion. His feet were bare, but the man's muddied shoes sat just at the door. He'd just come from checking the perimeter.
"I suppose. Going to sleep?" Robin inquired.
Amon nodded. "Yes."
The teenager smiled. While Amon said he was going to sleep, the hunter would probably sleep less than three hours the whole night. He'd be up every hour on the hour to check the perimeter and the house before returning to sleep. The former hunter's sleep wasn't restful, either. It was fraught with nightmares and terrors. Amon slept so very lightly that a mouse would wake him. Robin supposed it was a good thing.
"Good night, Amon. Sleep well." The man turned to leave, but Robin stopped him. "Amon." He stood in place. "Amon…. Do you ever think of the others? Of Karasuma, and Michael, and Doujima or Sakaki?"
The man froze. "At times. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know," Robin answered honestly. "I just, I have a bad feeling. I'm worried about them."
"I'm sure they're fine."
The girl returned to her book. "You're right."
"Good night, Robin."
xxxx
Hot tears streamed down Miho's cheeks, escaping without her permission.
She wiped the salty drops away harshly, but the questions and lingering doubt remained over her as a skulking shadow. Was it true? Had Haruto betrayed the STN-J in favor of witches? Or was there something deeper at work? It didn't matter. He had lied to her, pulled Karasuma into a witches' den.
The hunter ran despite her high heels until she reached her car, never stopping in a flurry of motion to unlock her doors, jump inside, and lock them behind her.
There, she rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes.
Her tears had subsided, for now. The empath knew they were not hers. No. They came from Sakaki. Only, coupled with her own fears and anxieties, they came spilling out. The emotion was Haruto's. The action remained Karasuma's.
Slowly, deliberately, Karasuma took her phone from a deep coat pocket and dialed.
After an agonizing minute, Michaels' chipper voice responded. "Miss Karasuma? How did the investigation go in Kabukichu?"
"Michael, I need you to put a trace on Sakaki's cell. I need to know where he is at all times and what he's doing." The woman paused, forcing down the bitterness in her throat, becoming precise and businesslike. "If possible, I need taps on all his phone conversations."
"On Sakaki?"
Miho nodded to herself. "Just do it, Michael."
There was a tense moment where neither spoke.
"Alright, Miss Karasuma."
She gazed out her windshield, at the glaring, neon lights of Kabukichu, at Nocturne's faint, blue haze in the distance. "And Michael?"
"Yes?" he replied.
"Don't say a word of this to him," the hunter ordered.
"Gotcha."
xxxx
Miho Karaasuma couldn't have known.
No one would have ever known.
Especially in the state of mind Karasuma had been in while running from Nocturne, no one could have ever noticed.
As the female hunter ran down the streets, darting from place to place to her car, a form detached itself from the crowd. A form in dark clothes. The person followed closely, keeping pace with the hunter, all the way out of Kabukichu and into the rest of Shinjuku. It moved stealthily, shifting this way and that, skulking among what few shadows there were among those blaring, neon lights. It moved silently, smoothly, with all the grace and care of a cat, hunting and stalking its prey.
For the moment, it merely followed, studying and learning.
Miho sped off in her car, back towards the STN-J.
xxxx
Sorry for the short chapters, still. Darn you, Zurizip for pointing out that Sakaki's grown a bit… different since before the Factory. Just sit back and watch. All will be explained, I promise.