ix.

Eri narrowed her eyes at the dress, a satiny flow of teal laid out on the bed. It was nothing spectacular, though beautiful in its way, and lounged against the white of the sheets it seemed a glamorous shadow. A blue-green sheen waiting for a body. One very tall, at that, and Eri – not being small as such but more elfin than average – somehow doubted she'd fill the length of it. Its long, loose sleeves. A neckline disconcertingly plunging.

Tapping her feet anxiously, their pat-pat muted by her socks, she turned her gaze to Chrono.

His eyebrows stood raised in expectant attention, and he cocked his head at her. Here, in the depths of the home, he didn't wear his mask, and so the probing smile upon his lips was bared for Eri to wince against. "It's pretty, isn't it?" he said. Eri, still with a lingering dizziness from the week's sessions, only nodded. Chrono pinched the material between his fingers and rubbed gently. "From a boutique in Kyoto."

"I like the colour." That being the only thing Eri liked. "But don't you think it's too… I don't know… It doesn't look like it'll fit me."

"It's your size."

"Maybe I still have to grow into it," Eri smiled, feeling false.

In a swooping movement, Chrono took the dress and held it up against Eri. It gathered at her feet, soft pools of richness in shimmering hues. A sash was camouflaged in the waist. The neckline swooped even lower than Eri had originally thought. Too dark. Too elegant. Too grown up for the child inside of her.

As a little girl, in both Japan and in Russia, Eri had been given lots of toys. She'd never really played with any of them, instead lining them up on shelves like lambs to the slaughter; but any other girl would have died for such a collection, would probably have gawked and fingered and clutched at Eri's toys with jealous fervor. At some point though, the toys had stopped coming. Replaced with things like jewelry and clothing and shoes until it was no longer a little girl's playground but a woman's, with silk scarves and sapphire hairpins and pretty dresses from boutiques in Kyoto.

Always from Kai. Eri felt filthy whenever she put them on.

"It might be a little long," Chrono conceded with an honest eye on the dress, looking thoughtful. "You have high heels though, don't you?"

Eri did have high heels. But intimidated by the thought of them, she replied only with a shrug.

Chrono set the dress back down in its sprawl across the sheets. "Do you like it?" In Eri's pause, he likely realised she didn't, and so decided to add with negotiating gentleness, "You could always wear a scarf, if you're worried about showing too much of your chest. This bit is very low." He pointed to the neckline.

Eri rocked onto her toes. "I'll play around with it sometime."

"You might want to play around with it this morning. Preferably in the next half hour."

"Does Kai want to see?"

"Something like that. But not now… Later."

Something terrible passed itself in a shudder down Eri's spine. She stared at Chrono, feeling her mouth open and close like a floundering fish with sounds and statements that wouldn't come, and Chrono gasped quietly at whatever expression began to twist itself into Eri's features. On top of not wearing a mask, he also wasn't wearing gloves, and so his hands were cold as he pressed them to Eri's cheeks.

"Come now, Eri-chan, you don't need to look so confused," he said, and drummed his fingers across her skin. "We just have a little surprise for you this evening, is all, and it's important for you to look nice."

"This evening?" The words pressed themselves into the walls of Eri's throat. "This evening?"

"This evening," Chrono smiled again. "Although we'll be leaving for it early in the afternoon."

"But what about Kai's meeting? He has to go, doesn't he?"

It shouldn't have come out with such pleading. Lungs scoffing against oxygen, Eri waited for Chrono's reply. But his smile only wavered disapprovingly, and he looked between the dress and Eri. Hard to read, though Eri knew he saw something of a horrified reluctance in her expression – it was always there, of course, snaking beneath the surface with threatening potency; but it had never seeped out so freely before. Eri looked down against her rearing unease. "He has to go."

But Kai didn't have to do anything.

Dropping his hands, Chrono took Eri's and stroked her knuckles with his thumbs. So soft, like air being blown across her skin. Perhaps with even a trace of the same gentleness as Mirio. Eri's stomach ignited with flutters, and colour rose into her cheeks with springtime warmth. She swallowed. She smiled tightly at Chrono's questioning stare.

It felt strange – having a secret. Not being able to tell Chrono.

"A change in routine will be good," he said. No. Eri felt her eyebrows raise. Just as there'd been the pleading hint in her voice, so too was there in his. Subtle as a wind chime's bell, but definitely there. "Overhaul organised this specially for you, Eri-chan. You're bound to enjoy it."

Disagreement was a new flavour on Eri's tongue. Even if it was quiet and mild. "But what if I don't want to go?"

"Eri-chan," Chrono sounded surprised. "Think about–"

"I don't feel very well," Eri lied. Again. And it was a little too exciting. "And I don't… like… the dress." The truth. "Can't Kai just–"

"No. He can't."

The smile vanished from Chrono's face, and the bubbles of daring in Eri's ego went along with it. Somber in a way she hadn't seen for a long time, Chrono let go of her hands. The wrinkles about his eyes, thin and pale like hairline cracks, seemed to darken. Aging. Staring hard and stone-grey through Eri's brittle sense of overexcited resolve.

She dropped her eyes to the dress. She thought of how to take back what she'd started. "S-Sorry. I'm sorry, Kurono-san."

He sighed, sounding tired. He probably was tired, having worked through the last two nights. "Kai wanted to surprise you," he said.

It was rare for Chrono to use Kai's real name in front of Eri. It was something reserved only for those times when Kai would hurt her (twisting her wrists for not listening, breaking a rib for saying no) or when the threat of it loomed perilously. Chrono would always swoop in, stroking Eri's hair while she cried in darkness and telling her Kai wouldn't hurt her if only she'd be good. If only she'd be good.

She shuddered.

Chrono continued, "There's a theater in Fukuoka where a ballet is being performed. I can't remember the name."

"A ballet," Eri repeated despondently. "Oh."

The expression in Chrono's expression changed somewhat, tinted with the satisfaction of having caught Eri's attention. "That Russian company is performing," he whispered meaningfully. "Anya's company. Perhaps she forgot to mention it to you."

Something prickled to life like a thousand starbursts through her bones. Traitorous fortune! At the sound of Anya-chan's name, Eri gasped. She gawked. She didn't forget for a moment about Mirio – What had he thought when she hadn't phoned him? What would he think when she didn't show up at his door that night? Eri held the thought close to her heart, but also considered for the moment what sort of treasure had just fallen into her lap.

To see Anya-chan after so many years! To see her in that purple cloud of perfume and ballet shoes and dark, devilish beauty of endless fascination.

What would she think of all Eri's flowering secrets? Would Eri dare tell her?

Chrono made a gratified sound like a hum. "Go clean up now," he cooed, and began a quiet trudge to leave Eri and the dress alone together. "And maybe don't wear a scarf with the dress. Overhaul will like it better without."

If there was one thing Eri didn't need to be told, it was what Kai would and wouldn't like. With the sound of the door dragging closed, she took the dress and held it up before the dressing table mirror. Its dark colour made her look whiter than ever, and her whiteness made the colour look even darker. Pretending to be a little girl sampling clothes for dress up, she tilted her head to consider it more fully. She swished it about airily. She pulled off her pajamas and slipped herself into the dress's silky clutches.

All the while, the matryoshka doll watched with its judging, quiet eyes. The business card with Togata Mirio's name still lay like a growing baby in its depths. Eri, unhappy about the contempt with which the little Russian figure considered her, turned its painted gaze away.

Then she curtseyed to her reflection. Her chest was boney and exposed, the only expanse of naked flesh – and rather too much of it, at that. But she did look pretty. Like a woman, even with her bedhead and skinny limbs.

"Why thank you, sir." She paused. "Prince Mirio. Prince Lemillion? Prince Mirio." She grinned shyly at her reflection's blush. "I would most certainly like to dance. To dance with you, Prince Mirio."

Another curtsey, this time more dramatic so that the teal material gathered more deeply about her feet. Then, imagining all the dances Anya-chan had taught her and all the dances she'd read about in books, Eri pranced away from the mirror in silly twirls. She tripped several times over the material. Prince Mirio was always there to catch her, laughing with honey-warmth at her clumsiness.

A/N: I had so much more to add to this chapter, but this just felt like a nice place to end for now... Next time, we'll be meeting a certain Russian ballerina who brings with her some terrible intrigue. In the meantime though, do follow, favourite and review. ;)