Miyu resisted the rage induced urge to throw the phone across the room. Instead she dropped it on the bed beside her. Rolling over onto her belly, she screamed into her pillow to alleviate the rising tide of anger building inside of her.
Four years had passed since her involvement with Kishou Arima and the CCG. She thought that part of her life was behind her. Done and over. But the past had a cruel way of reasserting itself when one least expects it.
Well, sleep would not be happening today. Her insides felt like gelatin, wobbly and unstable, shaking like crazy as she pulled herself out of the bed. Resigning herself to being sleepless and irritable, Miyu pulled on a baby blue tank top and cut off denim shorts. She snatched a white button down shirt from its hanger to wear for propriety sake despite it being hot as Hell outside.
After putting on her sandals, Miyu was out the door. She lived in a one room apartment above the coffee shop which put her in the middle of the busy downtown flow. With no definitive destination in mind, she wandered aimlessly along the sidewalk. She greeted fellow shop owners, receiving gifts of smiles, friendly conversation, and food. All of the shop owners had formed their own little family, and she loved being a part of it.
What had begun as an unpleasant day soon appeared to be getting much better. Except for the heat. Oh, god the oppressive heat and humidity were simultaneously roasting and boiling her.
The library would be a good place to go to escape the heat. Not only would there be air conditioning but peace and quiet. Miyu could find a good book, sit in one of the big leather chairs, and read to heart's content.
~\..'../~
Around six Miyu decided to leave her sanctuary of blessed cool and tranquility. Since she had only half way finished the romance novel she was reading, she checked it out to take with her. The ridiculously thick book was perfectly awful yet entertaining in spite, or perhaps because of, its highly cheesy quality.
Taking the route home through the park, she leisurely strolled along the winding brick path. Tired, yet content, she smiled as she passed a young couple still dressed in their school uniforms, holding hands. How cute and innocent. Romance must be nice. She wouldn't know.
A woman walked toward her holding the hand of her little boy of about four years old. The child licked a white ball of ice cream nested in a golden brown waffle cone almost too big for his little hands. Ice cream coated his lips and all around them, dripping from his chin. Before they passed, he smiled at her. She returned his sweet, sticky grin. Adorable.
The scent of delicious food from the nearby restaurants gearing up for dinner service met her nose as she emerged from the park onto her street. Her tummy growled reminding her it was dinner time for her too.
She would begin her work 'day' in a little more than five hours. She sighed. For the first time in a long time, she did not feel like opening tonight. But she would. Her customers needed her more than she needed sleep. Or maybe it was her who needed them so much.
As she approached her coffee shop and home, Miyu saw a man standing beside the lamp post. White jacket, black hair, ramrod straight back, a soldier. How can he bear to wear that jacket in this stifling summer heat?
"Mr. Urie?" she called when she came closer.
"Miss Nakashima," he greeted her as formal as ever.
"I'm not open yet but you can come in and I'll fix you a cup of coffee," she offered.
"No. I'm not here for that." He cleared his throat. "I'm actually here to ask if you would to have dinner with me?"
"Dinner?"
Like a date?, she wanted to ask to clarify things in her own mind.
Miyu glanced down at her super casual summer attire of shorts, tank top, white overshirt, and sandals. This would never do. Her short shorts alone would be incredibly inappropriate. She also held the silly romance novel in her hand. Quickly she placed her hands behind her back to hide the guilty pleasure.
"I should change into something else," she said, turning toward the alley.
"No, you're fine," he said, his cheeks turning pink. "I mean it's fine. What you're wearing is fine."
"But where are we going?"
So it couldn't be a date if her current outfit would be appropriate.
"There's a great noodle shop - "
"Oh, Mr. Oshiba's place!" she exclaimed excitedly. She loved his place. "The beef noodle bowls are the best in the city!"
Urie shoved his hands in his pockets as they started off toward the restaurant. As usual, he did not talk much. She already knew he was not a man given to frivolous and banal chatter so his reticence did not unnerve her. Most people talked too much, engaging in pointless, useless conversation more often than not to hear themselves talk.
Miyu found it surprising the fastidious man walking beside her would eat such simple, common food. She assumed he would prefer something more along the lines of the upper scale sushi place next door. By his appearance and demeanor, she figured he would be finicky, having decadent and refined tastes, a sensitive palate requiring the best of the best no matter the expense. She was wrong. And she was glad she was wrong in her assumption.
The place could barely be called a restaurant. The hole in the wall joint was crammed between a gift shop and a much bigger, much fancier restaurant. The tiny building must have been a storage place for one of the other business at one time.
Urie pulled aside the white Noren curtain emblazoned with the Kanji symbol for noodles for her to pass through. A U shaped counter offered seating for no more than eight people. A minuscule open kitchen offered customers an obstructed view of Mr. Oshiba as he prepared their food. The delicious bowls of noodles offered comfort to the belly and soul.
After Miyu chose one of the two seats on the right side of the small counter, he sat down on the other backless, round topped stool. She placed the book against the wall in hopes he would not notice. Surely he would not approve her taste in bad literature.
"Miyu, my dear!" Mr. Oshiba exclaimed upon seeing her.
"Hello, Mr. Oshiba. How have you been?" she inquired, standing up to greet the very tall, very broad shouldered man.
The man could be classified as her mentor. He had taken her under his wing, giving her advice and introducing her to all of the other shop owners after she moved in and opened up her coffee shop. Closing in on fifty, he still looked like the rugby player he had been in his university days. His big dark eyes fastened onto Urie. He examined Kuki Urie carefully like a father determining a man's intentions toward his daughter.
"Is this your boyfriend?" he asked, gazing suspiciously at the man sitting beside her.
"Well, I...uh..." she floundered for words. Yes? No? I hope so?
"Not yet, sir," Urie filled in the blank for her. "This is only our second date."
Second date? When had the first one occurred? Breakfast? So it had been a date! Two dates in one day?! Oh, my! Miyu's thoughts were moving so fast they made her brain ache. She pressed her fingers to her forehead, rubbing her temple with her thumb.
"Here," Mr. Oshiba said, sitting a glass in front of her and filling it with sake. "You look like you could use this."
"Thank you." She could definitely use a drink right about now.
"What about you boy? You want a drink?" he asked gruffly.
"Beer, please."
"Beef noodle bowl as usual, Missy?" Mr. Oshiba inquired, already beginning preparations.
"Of course!" she exclaimed, reaching for the sake bottle.
Before she could touch the bottle, Urie picked it up and refilled her glass. He paid close attention to social graces and proper etiquette.
"Beef bowl for you too? It's the best in this city."
"So I've heard. Yes, I'll have the same."
So polite and proper. Holy fuck. This guy is something close to perfect, she thought, swallowing the slightly heated liquid that spread a delightful warmth throughout her body.
Miyu watched him as he lifted the glass full of straw colored fluid capped with a foamy white head. Her eyes skirted over his chin, down his neck, following his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down with each swallow.
"So how was work today?" she asked.
"It was work," he muttered taking a pause between sips.
"Were you in trouble for being late?"
"Not really. What are you reading?" He nodded toward the book.
Dammit. How could he not notice? He was an investigator for god's sake. It was his job to notice things, she thought to herself.
"Here ya go! Eat up while its hot!" Mr. Oshiba encouraged them in his naturally loud, booming voice.
Thank goodness. The man saved her from having to tell Urie she was reading Stolen Heart, the scintillating tale of a female police officer who falls in love with a handsome cat burglar she arrests. But she adored reading that almost comical romantic crap.
"How are things going down at the Midnight?" Mr. Oshiba inquired, pouring Urie another beer and himself one as well.
"Really good. I've developed a good customer base," she said, slurping up a particularly long noodle. "I've gotten to know some of my regulars really well."
"Is this how you met this guy?" He swung his glass toward Urie.
"Yes," she replied.
"Hmph," he snorted like a grumpy old man. His eyes once again surveyed the man carefully. "He looks okay. He's one of those Doves, isn't he?"
"I am," Urie piped up, answering for himself. "What of it?"
"Nothin' kid. Don't be so defensive. Not everybody in this world has something against you. But you got a grudge against this whole damn world, don't ya?" Mr. Okishabi pointed out.
Miyu stopped eating, carefully observing the two men and their interaction instead. The restaurant owner had struck a chord in Urie. It showed on his face by the way his eyes narrowed, and he glared with open hatred at the man.
She concluded he struggled with a severe inferiority complex which he covered up with a superiority complex. His overreaction led her to believe Urie harbored a deep hurt that he had nursed into an all consuming hatred of everyone. He blamed everyone equally for the pain he had endured. She had not been prepared to gain so much insight about him in a matter of less than thirty minutes. Once again, her initial assessment of him was wrong.
"Listen, boy. Take care of my Miyu here. She's like my daughter. If you hurt her, I'll hurt you," the man warned.
The heat of embarrassment flooded into Miyu's face. She would have words with this man later. Although she appreciated his sentiment, she did not like that he decided to take it upon himself to have a fatherly moment and threaten the man with whom she had no idea where she stood relationship wise because it was too soon to do so.
"Open your mouth," she commanded Urie. When he obediently responded, she shoved in the pickled daikon radish she held with her chopsticks. "It's good huh?"
"It's good," he agreed.
"Mr. Okishiba makes those himself."
"I see," Urie mumbled, shoveling noodles into his mouth.
Thankfully, the rest of the meal was eaten without another word passing between the men. After Urie paid and they left the restaurant, Miyu felt the need to apologize.
"I'm sorry about that. I had no idea he would say something like that," she murmured, looking straight ahead of her.
"You have a way of drawing people to you. It's as if you envelope them a magic spell of some sort," he remarked offhandedly.
"It's not so mysterious. I just genuinely care about people. That's all."
"How do you do that? How do you find it so easy to show concern, to have actual emotions for people who might not give a damn about you? Or what if they hurt you later?"
"Well, that's a risk you run in any relationship. No one is immune to getting hurt no matter what their relationship. Acquaintances. Friends. Boyfriends and girlfriends. A husband and wife. Siblings. Parents inadvertently hurt their children sometimes with things they do or say."
Miyu noted that he visibly flinched when she mentioned parents hurting their children. She had a clue that his greatest hurt involved one or both of his parents. He harbored a deep seated pain that he had nursed into a festering, gaping wound. Purposely shutting off his feelings enabled him to avoid emotional vulnerability. On a certain level, she could understand his decision to distance himself from people and his emotions to keep from getting hurt again.
"Hey, would you like to come up for coffee?"
"Come up? You live here?" he inquired, staring up at the second floor of the building.
"Well, it's not the Taj Mahal I'll admit. But it's home."
"Do you always get so close so fast?" he asked, his voice strained, betraying his indignation.
"It's just coffee." Miyu did not understand why he seemed offended all of a sudden.
"You don't find it the least bit inappropriate to invite me to your apartment?"
"If you don't want to come up, that's okay. God," she muttered, turning away from him to go through the narrow passage between the buildings.
"I never said I didn't want to come up," he argued, following her. "It's just...I've never done anything like this before."
"Oh, yeah?" She emerged from between the buildings in the back alley. Spinning around to face him, she snapped, "Well, neither have I. If you think I'm that kind of woman, I'm not."
~..'..~
I don't know what kind of woman you are, but I'd like to find out, he thought but decided to keep the words to himself.
Why did interacting with people have to be so damn difficult? She made it look so easy yet he seemed to be saying all the wrong things, doing all the wrong things.
"Are you coming?" she asked, holding the door open behind her for him to come inside if he wished.
Urie nodded, afraid of saying anything else because it might be the wrong thing again. He trailed behind her up the stairs where she unlocked another door.
A large, open, one room apartment encompassed the entire second floor of the building. Only the bathroom had been enclosed behind walls. A small kitchen complete with a round table for two took up half of the space. A queen sized brass bed, a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser, and a rack of hanging clothes comprised the bedroom area. A massive leather chair big enough for two people to sit in, a four tiered bookshelf packed with books, and a floor lamp made up what could be called the living room.
"Have a seat," she said, indicating one of the straight backed wooden chairs positioned by the table in the kitchen nook.
Urie took off his jacket and his gloves, folding the gloves and placing them in the pocket before hanging the jacket on the back of the chair. He sat down, glancing around the small, tidy kitchen.
Everything was exceptionally clean and well ordered. Straight lines and exact rows. Labels covered the front of every canister or container on the shelves of door-less kitchen cabinets.
Urie could not take his eyes off her as she removed her white over-shirt, carelessly tossing it over the back of the other chair. The thin strapped tank top she wore revealed a lot of skin. How immodest! Positively scandalous. Her impropriety knew no bounds.
Yet he could not take his eyes off of her. Her skin, flawless and pristine white like porcelain, provided a feast for the eyes - if he were that kind of pervert.
However, he was a curious man. So he looked. He had never seen that much of her before. Usually drab monotone colored or hideous plaid patterned long sleeved shirts covered her arms, back, and chest, shielding them from view.
His eyes studied her toned, almost bulky, muscular upper arms. He watched the muscles across her back bunch and release with her every little movement as she prepared the coffee using the same method she did in the cafe.
His curiosity piqued, he wondered if her glorious lily white skin felt as soft as it looked. Urie stood up from his chair, coming to stand close to her. He extended his hand toward her. His fingers shook as he reached out.
When the pads of his fingertips contacted her bare shoulder, he felt her jump. Everything inside of him urged him to retract his hand and pretend it had never happened. However, he resisted the instinct to recoil because he wanted to touch her, to feel her skin.
His fingers bent and extended over her shoulder. His palm pressed to the roundness of the curve where her shoulder turned downward into her arm. His eyes followed the path of his hand as it drifted down her arm. Flawless, silky skin. So soft. Absolutely perfect.
Urie stepped closer, his chest lightly pressing along the straight line of her back. His fingers turned to glide across the back of her wrist, before laying over her hand. His hand fitted itself over hers while he soaked in her body heat, the nearness of her.
"Is this okay?" he whispered in her ear.
A shiver rushed through her body, causing her to vibrate against him. He bit his lower lip when her behind brushed across the front of his trousers which instantly became uncomfortably tight.
"Yes," she responded breathlessly, staying as still as possible. "Are you okay with this?"
"I like this...touching you," he murmured, his lips grazing the outer edge of her light pink ear which darkened to a shade of crimson.
His other hand rested on her hip briefly before sliding around to rest on her flat belly. His lips grazed her neck.
"Kuki," she gasped.
The intense throbbing under his belt took him by surprise. The way she said his name pleased him more than he imagined it would. He slowly turned the woman around so he could see her face.
Her eyes were half closed. Sexy and beautiful. Her hazel orbs mirrored the desire rising inside of him. His gaze was drawn downward to her lips. Her lips were parted, moist, glistening with saliva from where she had recently licked them. Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his palms to her wonderfully soft skin.
"Touch me," he requested, his lips hovering above hers.
Miyu cautiously reached up as if he were a timid animal she did not want to spook. Her hands cupped his angular jaw, holding his face in the same manner he held hers. Their eyes locked, their attention completely on one another.
"Are you okay?" she asked in a low, breathy voice.
Urie nodded in response. Although nervous, unsure of pushing of his limits, he wanted more.
Her fingers explored his face; tracing his brow line, his cheekbones, his jawline, before roaming down the sides of his neck. Her fingertips curled over the edge of the collar of his dark gray-green shirt button down dress shirt. She nervously chewed her lower lip as she unfastened the top button at his collar.
Knowing that she was as nervous as him eased his apprehension verging on fear. Her eyes met his again, holding them briefly before her eyelids lowered to shield her stunning irises. His eyes fluttered closed when her head dipped, her lips pressing the hollow of his throat.
Her fingers loosed another button, opening his collar further. She placed another gentle kiss just below the location of the first.
Oh,god. Her touch was so tender, exuding kindness and love. He needed to feel more of her hands and fingers on his flesh, exciting his body and his mind, stimulating his emotions. But he had to be patient. The anticipation itself raised his arousal, his yearning for more of her delicate touch.
Another button on his shirt was freed. Her fingers played along the edges of the deep V created by his half open shirt. Pleasure derived from the feathery contact of her fingertips pulled a sigh from his lips. His fingers stole across her face to push into her hair. Everything about her was so soft, so gentle even the way her thick hair slid between his fingers.
"Is it too much, too soon?" she asked, tentatively freeing another button.
"No," he replied quickly.
Her boldness had offended him earlier. Now he was thankful for it.
His belly lurched, flopping like a fish out of water which is exactly what he had become. She was pushing him into intimate territory where he had never ventured. Yet he wasn't afraid. Not with her. She made him feel safe, protected. Her softness and sweetness comforted him. Her touch felt right and good. She felt right.
"Oh, my god," he gasped when her palm moved over his abdomen. Her touch was so light it actually tickled.
"Kuki," she called his name. "How far do you want to go?"
Her lips were so close to his he could feel an electrical energy like a tiny charge hopping from her mouth to his.
"Don't you think we're going too fast. Getting intimate way too soon?" he asked, his belly quivering. He wanted her, but he did know if he should take her like that yet.
"You're right. I do have a bad habit of getting way too close too fast. I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just...I don't know. There's something about you. I want to see what we can do together. Feel together. I shouldn't have..."
When he felt her pulling away, he encompassed her shoulders with his arms to keep her close to him.
"I've lost so much. I've lost those dear to me in the blink of an eye so I swore I'd never get close to anyone again. I put aside emotions and resigned myself to being alone. But you..." He squeezed her, pressing his cheek to hers. She was so warm and soothing in his arms. "Damn you. You came along. You've made me want to try. I want to care. I want to love. I want to be loved by you."
"Kuki," she murmured, leaning back from him. Turning her face up to his, she silently invited him to kiss her.
Then his phone rang.
"Fuck," he growled, letting her go to answer the phone.
Only one person would be calling his phone at a time like this. And it meant something bad, really bad, was going on.
Goddammit, Sasaki. Your timing is fucking terrible.