Chapter 2:

The Game Continues

The game continued.

"Tell me something about yourself," Kari requested, and although it was in reality supposed to be only a trick to get him to trust her, she wondered if she wanted to really know more about him. She was torn apart by the uncertainty of it.

"No, you tell me something about yourself," Yukimura replied with a cheery tone, however, looking at his Iphone instead of her while sitting cross-legged on the chair stationed nearby her. His facial bone structure was so damn perfect, especially when observed from this angle where she sat and where the play of sunlight and shadows complimented him.

"For what? You already know so much about me," She questioned, boring her ruby eyes into him.

"The judgement of oneself is always more important than the judgement of others, Kari."

Kari sighed but played by his rules because she needed to get on his good side. "I'm twenty. I'm a student of media science and currently in the first semester. I like omelet rice and orange juice, but I hate green beans."

Yukimura interrupted her with mock amusement. "Not this stuff, dear. Do you want to bore me to death? Don't act dumb; I want the interesting facts."

She paused and pondered. So this was how he wanted to play, but fine with her. A touch of vulnerability never hurt, and she was so good at it because she didn't have to fake it. She inhaled, then began to spill out the intimidate details of herself, "I've an elder brother. I'm more dependent on him than I should. At the same time, I look for a boyfriend who has the same qualities as my brother: he has to be protective, gentle and honest. This is important, because I cannot imagine to be in a purely physical relationship with someone."

Yukimura stopped playing with his Iphone and was now looking at her with such an attention that it almost burned her skin, but that was exactly what she had aimed for.

"In the past, I often got sick because of my bad immune system, and I used to get panic attacks for no reasons. However, they disappeared when I grew up along with the challenges I had to face in life. I like to have friends and to make friends.

When I was small, I loved attending the birthday parties of my female friends and I still do. I loved watching the anime series that are considered modern classics nowadays and that made my childhood valuable. I used to play soccer with my brother and some other games, but I currently really got into the Wixoss card game. I only got the basics down, though.

However, I'm actually craving some soccer game with my brother right now."

She ended her last sentence with a sense of finality and looked at Yukimura, whose gaze had darkened. With an his expression unreadable, he stood up with his phone and left her room.

Had her plan backfired?

She had actually wanted him to spill out his soul to her in return, so she could learn more about him and understand how he was wired, but now he was gone. He had given her nothing in return and now she felt empty.

He didn't talk to her for the rest of the night when he returned to give her food and release her form her handcuffs, so she could go to the toilet. He didn't bother to meet her eyes at all. Rather than opening himself to her, he had shut himself off.

Her plan had definitely backfired.

One week. She had been here for one week already, held captive by him. When was the last time she had felt so afraid and powerless? The last time she had gotten horribly sick during her childhood, she thought. Her nerves were fraying under the stress as because he was almost always silent whenever he was in her presence.

"Yukimura! Yukimura!" She yelled until he finally appeared at the door.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He mocked, leaning against the doorframe, surprising her with how he looked. It was the first time she saw him wearing glasses: they were thick-rimmed and black, looking stylish on him, especially with his preferred style of fashion, currently wearing a white button down and black chinos. He looked good with them, even if different than usual.

"Why are you yelling so much? You're disturbing me; I need to write my paper," he said as a matter-of-fact just to taunt her, which she would've taken as a good sign considering that he was back to how he was before and that someone talkactive was someone who could be manipulated if she hadn't been at the end of her wits. She never had strong nerves, did she?

"You're a pathetic bastard!" She told him angrily, warily watching him approach.

"That's not very nice, Kari."

He pulled off his glasses and leaned over her, supporting himself on the bedhead. "Hmm…how about I…really start to act like a 'pathetic bastard', Kari?" He questioned her, his voice low and dripping with promises. His eyes lowered to her breasts and she flushed.

"You're totally my type, you know? All big eyes, pouting lips and a slender body." His hand went to her thigh and she flinched. "There's not one ounce of fat of you- " His warm hand wandered to her flat, hard stomach, slipping under her tank-top and making her gasp and coil.

"- and yet you're not all bones. No- you're lean muscles and delicate curves." His hand moved to her hips, gripping gently.

"But I like your neck the most. It begs to be kissed and strangled." His mouth was near her ear now, his breath hot and maddening. She gasped but he neither kissed nor strangled her. He only withdrew and smiled, putting his glasses back on his face.

He patted her cheek derisively, "Just get used to your situation already, Kari."

She flustered, scared yet angry and…enticed. "Fuck you!"

He laughed. "With pleasure." His eyes became hooded. "But...I think you might be the one regretting your offer."

"Just screw you, Yukimura!"

"I know you're bored. Bear with it for a little longer until I'm done with my paper. I promise I will hurry."

"Fuck you!"

"Once I'm done with my paper."

He didn't fuck her when he was done with his paper - of course not.

"Are you done with your fucking paper?" She asked angrily.

"I am. Thanks for asking."

"You are very welcome," she spat sarcastically.

"Kari," he began, his voice low. Then, he climbed over her and straddled her, and gripped her jaw, causing her to stiffen. "Don't be a bitch with me. You should know very well by now that I won't take it nicely. I thought that I already told you that I'm not your fanboy or an admirer of yours."

Upon seeing her so intimidated, he smiled and patted her cheek smugly. "That's what I like to see."

Then, he added, "And, did you really think I can be this easily manipulated, Kari Yagami? That if you were to spill your soul, I would spill mine? I'm sorry but my demons are none of your business, but if you're good, maybe I'll take care of yours."

At some point, he offered her to take a shower. After that one incident, she had been shaken up, but she had attributed it an intimidation tactic, because he had returned to his usual persona and not done it again. However, Kari contemplated her situation; her hands were bound by the handcuffs at the front but she had more freedom, more mobility in this moment than she had before. However, she felt vulnerable, dressed in only a tank-top, bra and panties, and her skin was itching from the lack of washing. She didn't know how long it had been - maybe five days? Should she try to escape now or wait for a better opportunity?

"So I get: you -don't- want to get a shower?" He asked her with a sneer.

Yukimura was looking at her with crossed arms. "Is there a problem? I thought that it would be a good idea to show you some kindness by letting you wash yourself but..." His eyes darkened.

"If you're going to remain so indecisive, how about -I- take that task off your hands for you?"

His threat made her freeze, and she hurried into the bathroom, which could not be locked from the inside without a key - damn that bastard.

She steeled her will, making her decision. She surveyed the bathroom. There was a stand up glass shower located in the corner, a porcelain wash basin with vanity sink next to it, a bathtube opposite the shower, the space between the two of them far enough, so that one wouldn't hit either of them by accident.

The bathroom was basically empty except for the towels that were folded on the vanity sink, probably laid out by Yukimura for her, the shower-gel for men and piece of hard soap in the shower, and the cup with toothbrush, and a hair-brush on the wash-basin. The bathroom was otherwise cold, uncomfortable, and very clean as if it was brandnew or...it hadn't been used for a long time, which Kari assumed was more likely. The assumption made her shudder because it meant that he hadn't been living here for a long time, which in return indicated that he might not be living here at all but had rented this place especially for her abduction.

The careful survey of the bathroom had disappointed her - there was nothing she could really use as a weapon unless she considered shoving his toothbrush through his throat as a possibility, she mused bitterly. She hated herself for entertaining such violent fantasies, which tainted her innocence, but she couldn't stop them. Maybe gauge his eyes with the spikes of the brush? She gagged at the thought, the graphic images too much for her to stomach, blaming it on the horror movies she had watched. Besides, he used to be a tennis-player before a crazy fan had to destroyed his career. His reflexes were probably fast - faster than hers. And, he was also stronger than her as well.

She sighed.

There was only one thing she could do.

She was filthy and in desperate need for a shower, so she decided to compromise. She headed for the stand shower, and took off her tank-top as she stood in front of it, putting it on the nearby shelf. Then, she grabbed a neatly folded wash towel from the shelf and turned on the water as well as she could with her hands cuffed. As she cleaned herself with the towel, avoiding to shower naked because it would make her too vulnerable and a far too easy target. She started with the face first, having longed for a face-wash since the first time he had kidnapped and slapped her, then her arms, upperbody and eventually her legs, occasionally wringing out the wash-towel under the warm water, but avoided using the shower-gel or soap because they had been used by him. The thought disgusted her.

Then, when she was finally clean, she waited for her chance.

"Are you done, yet?" Yukimura asked from outside the bathroom, impatient.

"I know that women need a long time in the bath, but you're pushing it."

No answer.

He frowned.

"Are you done?" He asked again, this time with a knock but again she didn't answer. He repeated his question before he decided to come in and check on her.

"I'm coming in now." He gave her a fair warning before he pushed down the handle and opened the door, finding her collapsed on the cold tile floor.

He was immediately alarmed.

"Hey!" He rushed to her and gathered her in his arms.

Kari stiffened when he took her in his arms while she was only in her bra and panties, praying to god that he didn't take advantage of it. He never took advantage of her half-naked state but usually she wore her tank-top over her underwear.

"Hey, are you okay?! Kari!" He raised his voice at her in frenzied worry.

It was hard to show no reaction and pretend to be unconscious, fighting the urge to flinch as his hand patted her cheek repeatedly while his other spanned her nape, which tingled under his touch. He sounded really, really worried, and she was almost sorry for what she was about to do, almost.

She slammed her elbow into Yukimura's face with force, even though she had never been good at hitting or punching, because she had never been one for violence after all, but it worked well nonetheless and it was still a miracle that his nose was not broken. But then again, miracles tended to favor him. Yukimura cried out in pain, clutching his injured nose. Kari seized the chance, pulling the chain of her handcuffs taught and pressed it against his throat, using her weight to pin him to the ground.

"Promise me to let me go!" She shouted at him as she violently pressured his windpipe with the handcuff-chain.

Yukimura was struggling beneath her, his bruised face reddening from the oxygen-deprivation as he struggled to get his fingers under the chain and kicked out his legs beneath him, but in spite of his disadvantage, he didn't let her have the upper-hand. He grabbed her skinny wrists instead of the chain, and she shuddered at the feeling of his palms and fingers wrapping around her like slithering snake but nevertheless she pressed down on him as if her life depended on it. Despair made her stronger than she would have been because Yukimura couldn't immediately free himself and even continued beneath her.

However, soon she could no longer keep the pressure on his windpipe because he was still stronger than her, pulling her hands and with that the chain back from his throat. With a menacing grin, he buckled his hips underneath her, the harsh jerking motion, throwing her off him and to the floor; in that moment she knew that she was fucked.

"You fucking bitch!" He yelled and kicked her in the ribs.

She jerked with a voiceless gasp on the floor but thanked god that he hadn't broken anything and that he had been wearing sneakers.

She clutched her burning ribs, unable to do anything but focus on the sharp pain but Yukimura yanked her up by the scruff of her neck and barked at her, "I tried to be nice with you and this is how you thank me? By trying to choke me out with my own handcuffs?"

After those days of being kept like a human pet, she had already lost all inhibitions and spit into his face. "Go to hell, bastard."

Her spit landed on right on his face, on the high bridge of his nose and he wiped it off furiously with the back of his hand. In the next second, he grabbed her by her jaw and shoved her back until she hit the protruding tile wall behind her, driving the air out of her and sending a sharp ripple of pain through her. Though, in the back of her mind, she was surprised that he had clamped his hand around her jaw and not her throat instead, because she expected that he wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine - a man with lesser self-control would have -already.

A red imprint of the handcuff's chain had bloomed around his pale, masculine throat, now faded to purple, ugly yet impressive. It was morbidly fascinating - she had done this to him.

"I can be as unkind to you as if you've been just to me - should I?!" He barked into her face; a rhetorical question.

What was he going to do to her now?

Her head was trapped in his death-grip, one strong hand around the back of her neck and the other around her jaw. She gripped his toned wrist and pulled but couldn't break free, forced to admit that his strength was superior.

"Go ahead, hit me," she said through gritted teeth, even as her expression betrayed her fear.

"Oh don't worry, sweetheart. I would never scoop that low," he reassured her with sugary malice.

"Though make no mistake, I would love to strangle that pretty little neck of yours for what you did to me, it's just not my style. "I'll do something much worse to you, however."

She froze.

"Do you know why I was called the 'Child of God' when I still played tennis?" He asked her, and she feared the answer.

"It wasn't because of the fact that I won every match, it was because of how I won every match."

He stared down at her and she had to stare back into his frost blue eyes that implanted horrifying notions into her mind, the seeds growing into a forest of thorns. She started shaking, unable to think clearly anymore, her entire body crawling with insects. Suddenly she couldn't feel the sensation of his grip on her jaw and nape anymore, even though it must've been still bruising like her grip on his wrist. It was like holding onto nothingness and being held by nothingness, and it terrified her to the marrow of her bones.

'I can't feel his grip anymore...I've no feeling in my body anymore.'

So this was what he had been talking about?

His lips curled into a malevolent smile. "Exactly. Your sense of touch was the first to go. Which sense would you like to lose next?"

"Sensory...deprivation," was the last thing she was able to mutter before she lost her grip on his arm and collapsed on the floor because of the neurological and psychological strain.

When Kari woke up, she could still feel the effects of his psychological torture. The chill was deep in her bones, even though she was laying comfortably under a woolen blanket and the heater had been turned up. Belatedly, she realized that her handcuffs were gone; he must've removed them.

A knock at the door disrupted her thoughts, and she shot up like she had been stabbed.

Yukimura came in with a glass of water and some medical items on a tray.

"Looks like you've woken up," he remarked.

She eyed him warily, noticing that he had stripped off his suit-jacket and was only wearing the white dress-shirt underneath. His jacket must've gotten wet during their violent struggle. She clutched the blanket tightly but it didn't stop him from taking a seat on the chair next to the bed and put the tray on the nightstand.

"You uncuffed me," she stated flatly.

He replied dryly. "Yeah, I rather not have you strangulating me with them again."

She flushed hotly.

He didn't comment but ordered her instead, "Now lift your shirt."

Only now she realized that she was wearing her shirt with straps again; he must've put it back on for her.

She didn't move on inch and glared defiantly at him, her lips pressed in a grim line.

He sighed and elaborated, "I just want to put some ointment on your ribs."

She remained stubbornly unmoving.

When he had enough of her stubbornness, he sighed with irritation and grabbed a fistful of her white top, lifting it up himself to reveal the ugly, purple bruise on her right ribs.

"Hey!" She exclaimed in indignation and embarrassment.

He ignored her cry of protest, snatching a tub of ointment from the tray with his other hand and uncapping it with his teeth, thumbing the amount he had squeezed out in his fist.

She hissed when the cold ointment touched her sensitive bruise but quickly got used to it when his palm rubbed the medical substance with gentle circles into her skin.

"Don't touch me!" She protested again but he ignored her, continuing his treatment of her bruise. The pain was eventually substituted with a pleasant numbing sensation, and the tension drained from her body.

"There all done," he said and re-capped the tube, this time with both hands that were now free.

"Don't expect me to thank you," she mumbled. She was holding a grudge against him for the kick to her ribs, even though she was the one who had almost choked him into unconsciousness with the chain of the handcuffs –to escape however!.

"I didn't expect you to," he responded patronizingly as if she was a child.

"You bastard!" She lost her temper in spite of what had just happened before and swung her hand back to slap him hard across the face. However, his lightning fast reflexes honed from years of playing tennis and rigorous training enabled him to catch her wrist easily. With a tilt of his body, he grabbed her other wrist and pressed her down on the bed.

"You're a sadist," she spat at him.

"Oh, yes I am. I admit that I love the beauty of seeing someone writhing in pain, but you're just as much of a sadist as I am, Yagami-san."

"I am not!" she hissed.

He grinned ferally. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the way you were looking at the bruise on my throat? The look of morbid fascination in your eyes as you admired your own handwork. And, what about the moment when you actually tried to choke me out, keeping the chain pressed against my windpipe, even though I was struggling so frantically beneath you? You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"Tha-that was self-defense! You-you didn't tell me that you would let me go! I would've immediately stopped if you had give me your word!"

"Oh would you? Or would you've only stopped when I had gone limp beneath you, no longer conscious?"

She paled horribly.

He grinned madly, having achieve what he wanted and pulled her up in the next moment, gripping her tiny hand to pressed it to his bruise-encircled throat. "Do you feel this? Would you prefer to do it with your own hand this time?"

His throat under her hand was hot and strong; she gasped and pulled her hand away as if it burned, clutching it to her chest. Yukimura had shuddered inwardly when her smooth, warm hand touched his throat, chills of pleasure rushing through his body.

"Don't put me together in the same category as you! I'm not like you! I would never enjoy hurting anyone."

"And, yet you enjoyed hurting me."

"That's not true!"

"Deny it all you want if that makes you happy."

A tense silence stretched between them until he broke it. Grabbing the glass from the tray on the nightstand, he held it out to her, "Here, drink it."

She sighed wordlessly and accepted the glass from him, flinching when her fingers had accidentally brushed his and renewing her rage. She had almost wanted to chug the contents into his face but she was exhausted from what had transpired before and actually needed something to calm her nerves. She drank a bit. Then, she handed the glass back to him, and he put it back.

"You're not going to re-cuff me."

"You know that I don't need to."

She knew that painfully well. All the time when he had chained her to the bedhead, he had been indulging her. He didn't need physical violence to restrain her because he had something far worse.

"You're afraid of me," he stated with a hint of amusement.

'Who wouldn't be?' She thought, and her submissive body language must've triggered something in his mind because in the next minute his expression grew feral.

"Of course, you are, just like them," he said, his eyes becoming entranced when he settled his hands on her shoulders, alarming her.

With a sudden push, he re-pinned her on the bed. Now that she was drained of adrenaline, she felt a hot wave of fear, realizing in the back of her mind how heavy he really was as he had her wrists locked in his hands and she struggled beneath him out of reflex.

"I remember it now - how my opponents on the tennis court used to fear me, looking just like you now," he began to ramble, not even looking at her but through her, his fifty shades blue eyes blank.

She tried to get her wrists out of his grip, to buck him off her but except for chafing her skin against his rough fingers, it did nothing. She realized that while he didn't need physical force to restrain her, he definitely enjoyed it, even if only subconsciously.

"Exactly this expression is what I'm looking for. Oh, how do I miss this expression on the faces of my opponents."

He re-focused his eyes on her, piercing her with them.

"What will you do now?"

"Nothing," she spat. "Since this is what you want."

His lips curled maliciously. "Is it what I really want?"

"Of course. You get turned on by forcing people into submission."

He smirked, suddenly releasing her, in order to embrace her, thankfully without crushing her completely under his weight since he didn't drop himself on her. Nevertheless, she went rigid in his arms, shocked by this sudden act of his. The majority of his weight was still crushing down on her, however, his navy hair tickling her face.

"You don't know anything about me, Kari Yagami," he said, his half-lidded eyes as patronizing as his tone.

He hadn't cooked her anything fancy tonight just brought her a cup of Nissin instant ramen for dinner. She had eaten a 3/4 of the cup's content that tasted delicious nevertheless when Yukimura knocked at the door and she flinched. He entered with an ashtray in his hand, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled down.

She put the cup of instant ramen away when he took a seat on the chair beside her bed.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I sometimes do," he said and smiled but it was a smile where only one side of the lips curled up with effort. Kari flinched inwardly.

"I-I don't think it's a good idea for you to smoke right now...because of your throat..."

"Is that so?" He asked coolly.

"I also don't like the smell of cigarettes...please smoke somewhere else," she requested, sounding a bit afraid, though.

"So, you don't like the smell of cigarettes?" He asked and moved onto the edge of her bed out of sudden. Kari was instantly on edge, but he just stared at her without blinking, the stare of his intense blue eyes on her seemed to last endlessly long. It unnerved her and her temperature raise until she had to avert her gaze. Then, she heard him lighting a cigarette anyway and he immediately had her attention once more. She eyed him warily as he inhaled but she was totally unprepared for the moment when he blew the smoke-right-into -her-face. So rude! She ended up coughing, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and nose.

"That's so rude of you!" She told him.

"Is it? It's still probably less rude than choking someone with the chain of pair of handcuffs," he countered dryly, his gaze accusing.

Kari flushed. "I-I am sorry about that!"

"Are you really?" He asked coolly.

"I am really!"

"Then, prove it."

"Huh?" She blinked, wide-eyed.

"If you let me grind out my cigarette on your hand, I'll forgive you," he said, sounding absolutely serious.

She thought that she would refuse like any rational human being when confronted with such a threat, but she ended up agreeing, not knowing what possessed her mind to do so. Maybe it was the stare of his glass-like blue eyes that forced her to do so. He eyed her contemptuously before gripping her hand and hovering with the lit end of the cigarette over the back of her hand, the distance between the cigarette and her skin decreasing with each second. It hovered over the back of her hand unmovingly but just as Kari imagined the heat of it pressing into her skin, she smacked his cigarette away with a scream of panic.

"No!"

The cigarette flew away and hit the ground.

Kari was breathing hard while Yukimura was merely amused.

"It was just a joke, Kari. I wouldn't have done it anyway."

She somehow believed him. Why else hadn't he pressed the burning tip of the cigarette into her skin and branded her when he had the opportunity to? It had been intended as a psychological intimidation tactic, not a physical assault, she concluded. Now that she thought about it, he always made verbal threats but only acted those out that would not leave physical wounds. In retrospect, he enjoyed psychologically torturing someone more than physically torturing them.

It sent a chill through her.