A/N: Thank you, ncisduckie, for inspiring/prompting me to write this AU! As with all of my fics, reader discretion is advised.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Tsukigomori
The room was deathly silent as she stood over the bundle of dark fabric laid out on the tatami flooring between two of her soldiers. Her gold eyes narrowed as she studied the tiny silvery stars woven into the midnight blue spread of the tapestry, as well as the large insignia emblazoned on the center of it. It was simple yet distinct: a pale crescent moon that stood out starkly against the darkness of the sheet.
It was the insignia of Tsukigomori, the enemy kingdom.
Her men had infiltrated one of the cities in Tsukigomori over the span of three days. And now they were back with more than just news of success; they were back with the spoils of war.
"We found him in the northern garrison, Lady Mogami," General Jouji Morizumi rumbled, bowing his head. The tangerine light from the bamboo floor lanterns glinted harshly off the metallic plates of his helmet. "We believe he was a pleasure slave serving the soldiers of Tsukigomori."
She bent down, and then, with a single quick swipe of her hand, yanked the dark fabric away. The makeshift blanket fell smoothly aside to reveal the young man curled underneath.
Her breath caught, and for a fleeting moment she wondered if she was imagining the sight before her.
The burnished sheen of gold was the first thing she saw. His lovely hair was thick, overlong and mussed, its colour resplendent like that of spun gold. It gave her the distinct impression of a regal aureate crown on his head. The lustrous strands framed a beautifully angular face comprising high chiselled cheekbones, a proud straight nose and stunning emerald eyes hooded by long golden lashes.
But it wasn't just the young man's hair and eye colour that caught her attention—he was also completely naked. His ankles and wrists were shackled, and it was with that knowledge that she dared to linger so close to him and examine his bare frame.
He was lean but wiry, his exposed body a honed work of art. His smooth pale shoulders were broad, the swell of his hard biceps impressive, and they tapered down to a narrow waist with a flat abdomen sculpted with marble-like muscle. He made no movement to obscure the part of him between his sleekly muscled thighs, but she forced herself to look away from that spot. Without the iron shackles she would definitely have pegged him as a threat from the strength his wicked musculature hinted at.
His demeanour, though, was another story. She almost wondered if he was even lucid from how motionless he was, but the calm, penetrating way those stunning green eyes pierced her gold ones told her he was wide-awake and fully cognisant of his surroundings. Despite his capture, he did not appear in the least bit agitated, but was watching the proceedings around him with no emotion on his face. She thought he looked tired, but she couldn't be sure.
"Are you sure he is a citizen of Tsukigomori?" she said then, to the General.
Morizumi bowed his head obsequiously. "We found him in the northern garrison of Tsukigomori. That is all we know, my lady. But with his features, it is not impossible that he might not originate there."
It was true he did not resemble the citizens of the enemy kingdom. Tsukigomori—also known as the Empire of Night—was a dark bleak land caught in a constant state of winter. The people were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and this blond slave here did not fit that bill. She suspected this man had been illegally smuggled from her kingdom into Tsukigomori to serve as an exotic slave for its people. The mere thought made her blood boil.
Directing her stare back at the young man, she spoke this time to him, her amber eyes probing his emerald ones.
"Who are you?" she questioned tersely. "Where do you hail from?"
He gazed back at her soundlessly. She knew what he saw: a svelte, amber-eyed woman dressed in a scarlet kimono, her luminous bronze hair bound in a bun at the back of her proud head. Down to every strand of hair she personified her kingdom—the Empire of Dawn. In contrast to Tsukigomori, her kingdom was in a constant state of summertime. Never once had it seen snow, even when the year drew to a close.
"My lady." General Morizumi bowed his head again. "We have attempted to communicate with him countless times on our way here, but he has never responded. We suspected he might be—"
"Mute?" she said. "Or an actor?"
The General stopped. "Either is possible," he conceded.
She regarded the slave coldly. He didn't seem particularly dangerous from how quiet and tired he appeared, but she knew looks could be deceiving. Picking up the tapestry, she tossed it back over him, watching as the midnight blue fabric descended gently upon him once more like a makeshift blanket. The ivory crescent moon embroidered on it shimmered and gleamed intently in the buttery light.
"Take him and wash him," she ordered. "Have him sent to my bedchambers once you have cleaned him thoroughly."
General Morizumi's sparse brows drew together with concern under his metal-plated helmet. "My lady," he began. "We do not know yet if he is a spy, or—"
"It does not matter," she interrupted. "If he refuses to speak and elucidate us, then he will play the role he appears to play. A pleasure slave must please, and he will continue doing that here."
Without waiting for a response, she turned gracefully on her heel, her proud bronze head raised high, and departed the room, the hem of her long scarlet kimono brushing the tatami floor softly behind her.
She sat in seiza on a cushion, stoic and unmoving as her handmaid combed her bronze hair, which she'd let loose from her bun. The room was furnished simply but tastefully, with dark tangerine bamboo floor lanterns stationed in all four corners and a fiery crimson phoenix embellished on the folding screens on her left. Dressed in a plain white hadajuban, she watched as the shoji doors slid open and her guest emerged, flanked by two of her armoured guards.
She studied him. His luxuriant flaxen hair was damp from his bath, and her servants had draped a ruby-red robe embroidered with the phoenix—the insignia of the Empire of Dawn—over the shoulders of his otherwise nude form. His elegant pale hands were still shackled together at the front of him, as were his ankles. They had also cinched an argent collar over his slender neck, and one of the guards held the leather leash of the collar in his scarred hand. The hush in her quarters was broken only by the light clinking of the shackles' chains as the guards brought the tall blond slave closer. She could see the slave's thickly-lashed green eyes roving his surroundings with a wordless curiosity.
Abruptly, those unblinking eyes flitted towards her, and she had a feeling he was taking his time to appraise her loose bronze hair and modest nightwear.
She jutted out her chin, unfazed. Being scrutinised was nothing new to her. With the aid of her handmaid, she rose imperiously to her feet, then held out her diminutive hand to the guard holding the leash.
He hesitated, and she narrowed her honey eyes icily at him.
"Is there a problem?" she demanded sharply.
"N—No, my lady," the guard said. "I merely fear that he might hurt you with his strength."
So ferocious was her glare at him that the guard visibly quailed, and without any further hesitation he bowed with clear deference and offered her the leash of the slave's collar. She closed her fingers around the smooth leather strap, then smirked and yanked roughly on it.
She'd wanted the taller slave to stumble and trip, but he didn't. He bowed down to her from the force of her tug instead, closing the gap of their height difference in one sudden motion.
The next thing she knew, he was at face level with her, his exotic malachite-green eyes so unapologetically close to her own that she could make out every long gold lash adorning his exquisite eyes. For a moment she couldn't speak—her mouth was dry as those vivid green irises bored straight into her soul.
The pair of guards leapt into action, gripping the golden-haired slave's toned arms and wrenching him violently away from her. In a blink of an eye they had forced him to a submissive kneel on the tatami flooring, each of them restraining him by his shoulders.
Having recovered from her shock, she tightened her grip on the leash and looked down coolly at the subdued slave. His head was slightly bent, but through the strands of his pretty flaxen hair she could see him glancing back up at her.
She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down her unsettlement. She hated how he'd almost made her lose control in that millisecond. His place was beneath hers, and she was determined to drill that fact into him.
"I'm sure," she said, "you've heard the General call my last name. Regardless if you're from Tsukigomori, you must have heard of me, haven't you?"
He kept his unreadable gaze on her, but said nothing.
It was impossible he had not heard of her. She was Mogami Kyoko, matriarch of the Noble Mogami House, the most prestigious and powerful family in the Empire of Dawn. Known to be cruel and autocratic, she had jurisdiction over one of the biggest cities here. Having been at war with Tsukigomori, the Empire of Night, for months now, she was certain that every citizen of either Empire had heard of her at this point.
"I will ask you again," she went on loftily, her amber eyes narrowing at the kneeling slave. "Where do you originate from? If you are pretending to be mute, I will give you one last chance to prove yourself. Speak."
Silence.
It ensued and stretched in limbo, and she began counting slowly to ten in her head, deciding that she would give him until then to prove himself. His angular features remained impassive, his lashes delicately fanning his cheekbones, and once she reached eight, he dropped his gaze from her altogether.
Nine.
Ten.
Her fists clenched as her frustration mounted, and she was about to speak again when he abruptly raised his fair head. Her eyebrows climbed at the sounds of chains clinking as he raised his forearm and held out his long-fingered hand to her. His large palm was held up, and he kept it there, clearly waiting for something.
Kyoko stared at him. It took her a fraction before she realised he wanted her to take his hand.
"My lady," her guard burst out at once, his gravelly voice disconcerted. "I—"
She held up her own smaller hand, silencing him. Her heart was thrumming against her ribs as she considered her options. The slave's wrists were shackled, thus limiting his movements, and if he tried to pull her, her guards would intervene right away. He was already being pinned to a kneel on the ground, so she doubted he could really attempt anything with her.
He didn't appear like a rabid madman about to harm her, but then again, he wouldn't be a very competent spy if he did. He was watching her again, his intense gaze riveted on her face from where he was pinned to the floor. She could sense a quiet beseechment from him that didn't reek of desperation or aggression; instead, he seemed perfectly patient, as if he already knew what her decision was going to be.
Annoyed by her cowardice for not even daring to touch him, she extended her waifish hand, placing it carefully onto his opened palm. His long lean hand was so much bigger than hers that it easily dwarfed her fine fingers and miniature palm. The instant her skin met his surprisingly cool one, his gorgeous lips shifted, and he broke into a gentle but beatific smile at her, his jade-green eyes shining.
She was so taken aback by his smile that she didn't notice the biting cold in her palm right away. It was only seconds later that she registered the sharp coldness digging through her flesh, and she flinched. Stupefied and horrified, she immediately snatched her hand from his to inspect her freezing palm.
"M—My lady?" one guard said diffidently, noticing her dumbfounded expression.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was not something that ever appeared in the hot, tropical Empire of Dawn.
Snow.
There were little pale iridescent flecks of it scattered on her palm. She held out her hand disbelievingly and gaped at it, then directed her astonishment at the slave, who was still smiling at her.
As she watched, he dipped his bright golden head, then gently blew at her fingers. She felt an icy air cascade across her skin, and the flecks of snow stirred in response on her palm. They rose and danced in an enchanting pearly spiral, then interweaved and merged into a tiny spherical white ball atop her hand. She had barely processed the magical view in front of her before the snow disintegrated altogether into sparkling dust.
The answer he was giving her was clear now. He was most definitely a citizen of Tsukigomori. Only the citizens of said winterland could conjure and manipulate snow, though the degree of their magical abilities varied individually. The problem was that it did not explain the unusual colouring of his hair and eyes.
Curling her now empty hand into a fist, Kyoko addressed her servants.
"I wish to be alone with him," she announced offhandedly, tightening her grip on the leash. "You may all retire."
The guards looked uneasy, as did her handmaid. Before any of them could object, she spoke again, her soprano voice curt and acrimonious. "Do not make me repeat myself."
She could see their disquiet etched on their faces, but they bowed obediently. The two armoured guards released their vice-grip on the slave, though they continued watching him warily. To her satisfaction, the collared slave maintained his kneel on the floor.
"My lady, I will leave your drink here," the handmaid put in, gesturing timidly at the steaming china cup on the wooden vanity table to the right of the room. It was a drink Kyoko had every night before going to bed—a cup of hot apple cider. "Your sleep medication is also next to it if you wish to take it."
She nodded brusquely, saying nothing more as they departed the room, the shoji door sliding closed with a faint papery rustle after them.
A laden pause followed.
Kyoko took a step closer to the golden-haired male. She was still leery of him, but there was a part of her that didn't consider him as much of a threat anymore. He seemed gentle and subservient, though whether that was a façade remained to be seen. If it was, he would probably show his true colours now that he was alone with her. Whatever secrets he was hiding, she would pry them from him with time.
She took another step closer, and then another. Soon enough she stood right before the kneeling male, and she looped and coiled more of the leather leash around her thin hand. She knew that he only needed to exert a fraction of his strength to render the leash useless, but she also knew that her guards were just outside the closed door.
She took a fistful of his silken fair hair with her free hand and yanked on it hard, raising his head towards her.
"I don't know what master you served in Tsukigomori," she said, "but that's all in the past. You realise that, don't you?"
She dragged his head further back so that they made eye contact.
"Tonight," she went on, "you're going to make a decision. If you serve me well, you'll be treated like a king here once I make you mine. If you fail—or should you try to hurt me—I'll throw you to the dungeons and have you tortured. Choose wisely."
She waited for a beat, letting her words sink in. It was hard to tell what the young man was thinking from the blankness in his lovely viridian eyes, but she knew she'd find out his answer in no time.
Adjusting her grip on his satiny flaxen hair, she boldly pushed his head down now until it was at the apex of her thighs. Then she stilled and eased her grasp, waiting with bated breath to see what he would do next.
For a fraction of a second he remained utterly motionless in that obscene position. Then—
He lifted his head away from her thighs, and she was instantly met with a rush of disappointment until she saw what he did next.
He used his pretty lips to snag the dangling cord of her hadajuban, then pulled deftly at it.
The knot came promptly loose, and the cotton sides of her white hadajuban unravelled from where they had been tied together. Her breath hitched, but she kept herself expressionless as he leaned closer and ever-so gently, nuzzled the smooth creamy expanse of her exposed belly. Her heart rate escalated as his minty-cool lips skimmed her skin and lightly brushed against the fleshy underside of her left breast.
She felt the surprisingly hot slickness of his tongue lave the swell of the baby-soft flesh there, going tantalisingly close to her pebbled pink nipple, but then his lips trailed back down the slope of her belly, leaving her taut with want. Irked and frustrated, she seized a handful of his glossy hair again and shoved him unceremoniously down to the area between her thighs. Wearing no underwear, she pushed him down harder, ruthlessly burying his face into the triangular thatch of curls there with the intention to suffocate him.
To her disappointment, he didn't struggle or put up any form of resistance, and she wondered hazily how he was coping with the lack of air. Her muscles tensed at the scorching slickness of his tongue gently roving her folds, teasing and exploring the soft dampness there. He pushed his tongue deeper into her, caressing and licking her inner folds with an unrepentant brazenness, and she shivered when he probed the tight slit of her entrance. The tip of his straight nose nudged the engorged bud of her clitoris then, and she stiffened at the abrupt pinprick of pleasure it elicited.
He stopped, then pressed himself deeper into her, bearing his nose deliberately down onto her swollen clitoris. She let out a faint startled moan, her fingers loosening their grasp on his exotic hair. Tilting his blond head lazily back, she saw that his lidded green eyes had darkened, his pupils slitted like a cat's. He dragged his velvety tongue up the strip of her sex at an agonising pace until he reached the swollen sensitive bud of her clit, then kept himself there. Flattening his agile tongue, he fondled it with vigorous, unrelenting strokes, and she doubled over in response, nearly writhing from the acute pleasure.
Wanting to regain some form of control, she grabbed either side of his head with both hands, then thrust her slim hips forcefully into him. A savage sense of satisfaction welled up inside her as she rode and fucked his chiselled face in her pursuit for release. He allowed her to use him like an object, his lips parted obediently as she drove herself repeatedly against his sensuous mouth, his tongue kneading the pressure point of her ecstasy. She grinded into him a final time, her fingers tearing at his hair so brutally it had to hurt, then emitted a hoarse cry as he sucked her clitoris, his cheeks hollowing.
Kyoko climaxed, her hands latched incessantly on his hair to keep him still so she could release into his mouth. Her vision went white as her nether muscles pulsed in a series of wild contractions, and she was dimly aware of her knees buckling. Her hands were limp and sluggish, and she found herself unable to hold onto him tightly anymore.
He lowered his pretty blond head further between her legs, his sleek tongue delving hungrily along the bundle of nerves there, and it took her a moment before she registered him kissing and lapping the sensitive path of her perineum. The shocking sensation of his tongue crudely teasing the entrance of her anus snapped like a lightning bolt through her senses, jolting her right out of her stupor.
She instantly stumbled back, pushing him away, then raised her hand and slapped him violently across his beautiful sculpted face. His head jerked from her blow, and she stood there, breathing heavily.
"You sick son of a…" She couldn't believe it. She could see how painfully aroused he was, his impressive erection jutting out from his supple, leanly muscled body. If anything, it seemed her slap had excited him even more, and her heart drummed as he licked languidly at the glistening wet sheen of her juices coating his lips.
For the first time since she'd met him she wondered if she'd bitten off a bit more than she could chew. He was more perverse than she'd expected—the tiny hint of masochism he'd shown titillated and unnerved her at the same time. He'd proven to be excellent in bed so far, but she would have to break him in further until he was molded perfectly to her tastes. The question was how.
She didn't have the energy to think about it at present. She'd figure out how she wanted to handle him tomorrow. Her fierce orgasm had sapped her strength tonight, leaving her dazed and disoriented. He'd reduced all her muscles to mush, and she couldn't stand up much longer.
Unwinding the long leather leash she had coiled around her hand, Kyoko held the tail-end of it as she sank onto her cushion. With her other hand she tucked the sides of her gaping robe loosely back together, then turned her head to address the collared male. She was pleased that he was still kneeling in silence, awaiting her instruction. Seeing the crimson robe—which bore her insignia on it—draped over his broad shoulders felt even more gratifying, as if she had carved her mark deep into him.
"I'm not giving you any release tonight," she drawled, brushing sweaty locks of bronze hair from her cheeks. "You understand that, don't you? If you hadn't done what you did at the last minute, I would have rewarded you."
He bowed his aureate head wordlessly at her, his delightfully pale lashes splayed across his cheekbones, but she knew she wasn't imagining the subtle way his flawless lips slanted downwards. She had to suppress a sly smile at his visible disappointment.
"Hand me the drink on the table," she said calmly. "After that, you may go. The guards outside will bring you to your room."
The room was cold when she came to. The chilly draught pierced right through her drowsiness like a knife, and her eyes flew open at the sudden alarm bells that went off in her head. She jackknifed up on her futon at once, her pulse going haywire in her veins. Feeble shafts of sunlight straggled through the transom windows above the fusuma panels, and her breathing turned shallow at how unnaturally dim the room was this morning. It was also abnormally cold here—the sweltering tropical weather never allowed the temperature to drop to this degree.
She looked down at herself, and her heart plunged right into the pits of her stomach. She was completely naked, her hadajuban gone, and the blanket of her futon was gone as well. Goosebumps had erupted on her flesh, her nipples hard pink peaks from the cold.
Her blanket had been replaced by a midnight blue sheet. There were tiny silvery stars woven into the midnight blue tapestry with a familiar large insignia emblazoned on the center of it: a pale crescent moon.
It was the same bundle of fabric she had only seen yesterday.
"No," Kyoko breathed, horror clogging up her constricting airways. She had to still be dreaming—how else she was to explain this nightmare? "No. No."
What was going on? What had happened while she'd been asleep? If something had happened, how was it possible she'd slept through it all?
She remembered being served her usual cup of hot apple cider last night. She had sipped it and dismissed the young man, then felt unbearably sleepy some time afterwards. She'd been slightly confused then. She hadn't taken her sleeping tablets, so why was she overcome with lethargy?
An unexpected thought struck her, and she sucked in her breath, her heart pounding faster than ever. Her handmaid had left the medication by the cup, hadn't she? If so, then...
No. It couldn't be. She lurched unsteadily to her feet, clutching the enormous tapestry to her heaving chest. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned herself wearing the enemy's insignia on her person, but her wardrobe was situated in another room within the manor. Her handmaid would usually either bring her a change of clothes or lead her to the room to get changed.
Speaking of which, where was her handmaid? It was part of her routine to appear at Kyoko's room every morning without fail.
In a state of panic now, Kyoko wrapped the humongous midnight blue sheet around her petite shoulders and sprinted out of her quarters, the tatami floor creaking at her feet. The bitter cold continued biting into her skin and creeping along her bare, trembling limbs, its glacial fingers chilling her to the bone until she was shaking all over.
The corridors were empty and as silent as a graveyard. That in itself was a glaring anomaly; the manor was always bustling with servants in the day. Her hysteria intensified like a fist over her heart, and she ripped open the shoji door of the nearest room. It was deserted, and she raced frantically to the second shoji screen on the other side of the room. It led to the engawa of her estate, where it overlooked the extensive gardens outside. Right now, she needed more than anything to get to the outdoors to figure out her situation.
She pulled, but the shoji screen refused to budge. Bewildered, she pulled harder at it to no avail. Something heavy and compact was straining against the screen from the outside, keeping her from opening it, and she furrowed her brows in bafflement. She refused to give up, however, and continued lugging at the door as hard as she could until a miniscule sliver of space between the door and the doorframe emerged. A gust of air howled rambunctiously into the opening, and pure flecks of white fell and landed on her toes, making her jump at how freezing cold it was.
Her jaw slackened as the realisation of what it was sank in.
Snow.
That was what was outside. That was why she could barely open the door, and why the manor was freezing cold.
She was snowed in.
Kyoko staggered back. Her head was spinning. There was snow here, in the tropical Empire of Dawn. And it wasn't just a little snow either. Enough snow had fallen to snow her manor in—she was guessing it was an absolute blizzard outside.
It was impossible.
"No," she said aloud. "No. No—"
"No?"
She whipped around, her skin prickling. The deep male voice was rich and silky, like that of crushed velvet.
It was also decidedly unfamiliar.
Bile climbed her throat, threatening to spew in the form of vomit as she took in the newcomer standing before her.
"You," she choked out. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He smiled at her, his catlike green eyes gleaming. He still had on the long ruby-red robe she'd last seen him in, only he was wearing it properly now and had tied it around his waist with a belt. That wasn't the only change in his attire; the phoenix embroidered on the long sleeves of the garment were now splattered gruesomely with darker streaks of an oozing scarlet, and the implications of that made her dizzy with terror. His shackles remained on his wrists and ankles, but the chains linking them together were broken. The leather leash that had been bound to his collar was gone.
He was examining her as she did him, and she realised that she, too, was utterly bare save for the enemy insignia she wore over her body. A spurt of unadulterated rage came over her, and she tore the damned dark blue sheet off her naked body at once, not caring about the frigid cold or about exposing herself. Flinging it to the floor, she stomped her numb feet onto the crescent moon on the tapestry.
Unruffled by her actions, he continued his casual scrutiny of her, his dark emerald eyes raking the slight curves of her nude body with undisguised interest. She was quivering with fury now, aware of how their dynamics had changed: she, bare, and him, in his robe, the phoenix insignia of her kingdom splattered with her people's blood.
"You…" Kyoko spoke again, fighting the shameful urge to hide her small breasts with her arms. "Who the fuck are you? How is it possible that it's—it's—" Snowing, was what she wanted to say, but she broke off, inhaling harshly as she recalled how he'd manipulated the little snowball on her hand.
No. Conjuring that little snowball was one thing, but to summon a blizzard? It was ridiculous. No citizen in Tsukigomori was this powerful, save for members of royalty.
As if he'd read his mind, he raised both his large hands, the broken chains of his shackles swaying gently, and slicked his overlong, tousled golden hair back from his handsomely sculpted face.
Her throat closed up. A dark raven-black tinge was spreading from where his strong hands had cupped his thick lustrous hair, and she watched as the insidious darkness blossomed and blotted out the blazing golden tint of his hair. His eyelids fanned shut, and she saw the same smoky darkness consume his long pale lashes like rampant black ink.
Then his slanted eyes opened, his now dark lashes lifting, and obsidian irises gleamed intently at her. She took a step back, her mouth falling open in unbridled horror. His glossy raven hair was slicked back from his forehead, the contrast of it steep against his porcelain-white skin tone.
He looked like the quintessential citizen of Tsukigomori now. No, tall and imposing as he was with his aristocratic, chiselled features, he looked indubitably regal. With the gale of the blizzard howling relentlessly behind her, comprehension soon dawned through the stricken fog in her head.
"You're the Emperor," Kyoko managed faintly, her blood roaring in her ears. "The Emperor of Tsukigomori."
The ruler of the Empire of Night—also titled the Emperor of Night.
And now her manor had been besieged. In other words, he'd taken over more than her home; he'd secured one of the biggest cities in the Empire of Dawn under her jurisdiction. She felt sick to the stomach.
The Emperor smiled. It looked so chillingly gentle like the role he'd played last night, and her rage and humiliation multiplied tenfold.
"Today," he said softly, in the deep silky voice she'd heard earlier, "you're going to make a decision. If you serve me well, you'll be treated like a queen once I make you mine. If you fail—I'll throw you to the dungeons and have you tortured." He strode towards her with the graceful, soundless gait of a cat, and it took everything she had to stand her ground and not back away.
His wide-lipped smile broadened, and for the first time she saw what the veneer of gentleness concealed: an eerie cruelty that gleamed in those shark-like obsidian eyes.
"Choose wisely, Mogami Kyoko."