I'm not that kind of woman. Her own words replayed in her head, taunting her. She had made a liar out of herself. What must he think of her?
Miyu flopped onto her bed. Flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, she tried not to think about the negative opinion he might have formed due her lack of self-control.
But when he touched her...
A stab of pain like a knife entering her gut made her groan. Rolling onto her side, she hugged her aching belly.
Kuki Urie's touch did something unexpected to her. She had experienced a shock to her entire system, a literal jolt of electricity, sizzling across every nerve ending. Her body had flinched in response, but he did not. His inquisitiveness to know, his desire to feel, his fear of the closeness and the unknown had flooded into her when his skin contacted hers.
Every place his skin met hers had been like a fire igniting and dying in an instant, leaving behind a tingling sensation that lingered long after his fingers had moved on. Her blood boiled. Every muscle contracted. She had wanted to run but couldn't.
Then when he turned her around, to see him, to look into his eyes, she was hypnotized. Her hands seemed to move on their own. Her mouth wanted to taste him so it did. So greedy. So self-indulgent.
Longing. Need. The craving for more. A crushing loneliness had invaded her mind and body, weighing her down and making her sad. She wanted to take it away from him.
Was he the one she had been searching for? Her father had warned her when she found the man meant for her, there would be a knowing: an unmistakable, innate sense of recognition. There had been other emotions, physical sensations, she had not been prepared for. Miyu had always believed her father to be a romantic fool. Now she knew without a doubt he was a sentimental idiot.
Physical contact with Kuki Urie, particularly skin to skin contact, must be avoided. She did not want to act like an overstimulated dog in heat again. Hopefully there would be a next time.
The alarm clock on her cell phone sitting on her bedside table started going off. Ten o' clock. Time to get ready for work.
~\..'../~
"Welcome to - oh, it's you," Miyu grumbled upon looking up to see Kishou Arima standing in front of her. "What are you doing here?"
"I came for a cup of coffee obviously," he stated jovially, sitting down in the bar-stool positioned across the counter in front of her.
"Yeah, right," she muttered skeptically. "I knew it wouldn't be long before you showed up, but it's no less upsetting."
"Is that any way to talk to an old friend?" he chided her mockingly. "May I have that cup of coffee? I've heard it's quite good."
Miyu spun on her heel, going to the coffee pot to pour him a cup of the plain brewed coffee. She saw no point in wasting her time and effort to make him a personally brewed cup.
"I like the new hair color. Milk chocolate. Gives you a warmth and sweetness you never had before. You were always so cold and dark," he said.
The few other customers in the shop stared warily at the infamous Dove, the white reaper. A couple seated close to the door abandoned their half full coffee cups and walked out.
Dammit. He's bad for business, Miyu thought to herself irritably. Her anger rose inside of her like a river downstream from a mountain after the winter thaw. Her hands started to tremble, sloshing the coffee out of the cup. And for my nerves.
Setting the coffee cup in front of him, she did not care that the contents dribbled over the side a bit and created a small spill on her pristinely polished wooden bar.
"Drink this and get out," she ordered him brusquely.
"Your eyes," he murmured, holding her irate gaze stubbornly. "Contacts? Nice touch. I like the color. I do miss the - "
"Shut up," she snapped, rage seething inside of her. "Insulting me and encroaching on my place of business is no way to sway me to get what you want. I've changed Arima. I'm hoping to god you have too. Since you're here, I'm guessing that boy has become more than a pet project to you. More than a mere predecessor to be groomed into...into another you."
The words were bitter in her mouth. The man had handpicked Ken Kaneki with the deliberate intention of being a replacement for him when he was gone. But that meant breaking Kaneki, molding him, make him exactly who Arima wanted him to be. Regrettably, she had been the chief architect of the process that suppressed Kaneki.
In the beginning, Arima convinced her to assist him by stroking her overblown ego, appealing to her desire to glorify her own knowledge. Her self-seeking ambition worked against her. Fresh out of university with a new Master's degree in psychology, she wanted to begin work on an earth shattering thesis, breaking boundaries and making a discovery that would revolutionize psychology for the first time in many decades.
Arima came along with a challenge, an idea so unorthodox it crossed into being unethical: to purposely invoke the condition of Dissociative Identity Disorder to create a new personality for a person whose psyche was so horribly mangled and depraved there was no hope of change much less recovery. How many trips had Ken Kaneki already made through mental Hell only to be taken on a guided tour of insanity with her as the guide?
She would not allow it to happen again. Not to Kaneki or Haise or god forbid, any other personality he might have formed in the meantime as a way to protect his fragile, splintered psyche.
Miyu attempted to keep the sneer of disgust from her face but failed miserably. She could not believe the man's tenacity or his undaunted stupidity when he continued to shamelessly beseech her for her help.
"I need you. He needs you," he said, picking up a napkin from the coffee pot shaped holder in front of him.
"No. I won't hurt him anymore," she hissed at him, glaring at the man as he gingerly mopping up the spilled coffee.
"I'm asking you to heal him," he corrected her, irritation seeping into his usually tranquil monotone voice. "Will you at least discuss the matter with me before you refuse?"
"I would have thought blocking your calls would have been a hint that I had no desire to talk to you," she rejoined in a low menacing voice. "Besides, I can't heal him. Our great big ridiculous and dangerous experiment failed."
Arima did not seem to notice her threatening tone. He picked up the cup, raising it to his lips, but did not drink before setting it back down.
"Miyu, that's not what it was about. You know that. Kaneki was already severely damaged and broken, beyond help, due to the torture Jason put him through. "
"Yes, it was meant to protect that boy from himself. But to save him from madness, not drive him further into it, shattering his personality again. God almighty, Arima, what we did..." She paused, her words hanging heavily in the air. She corrected herself by saying, "What I did was so wrong."
"You did it by my request. To save him from himself before he self-destructed. I'm just as guilty as you."
She snorted derisively, her top lip peeling back from her teeth. She looked like an angry, snarling dog.
"I should have told you no then like I am now. No, Arima," she repeated flatly, attempting to leave no room for argument.
"Please help me," he begged, unfazed by her vicious expression and immediate rejection.
"No," she growled through her gritted teeth, straining to control herself. She leaned across the counter so only he could hear her when she whispered, "I gave you my help once. I've regretted it ever since. I gave up my career and my goal to be a doctor because I couldn't live with the guilt. Part of the Hippocratic Oath, a doctor's solemn promise, is not to cause intentional harm. How could I ever be a doctor after blatantly violating that principle?"
"I'm afraid he's headed for another psychotic break."
"I warned you. The method was experimental and most likely would not work much less be permanent. Did you really think another mental breakdown would never happen?"
"Kaneki is re-emerging."
"Ken is as terrified as Haise in this situation, maybe more so. He's the one who was imprisoned, meant to be forgotten. Dammit, Arima, we had no right," she growled through her clenched teeth when she really wanted to scream at him instead. "It was never up to us to decide who that boy should be. We committed a terrible sin against that child, and he should never ever forgive either one of us," she said, her voice breaking.
"Miyu, please," he begged, his eyes locking onto hers.
He took her by the arms but quickly released her when a flash of gold lit up her irises for a split second. He folded his hands together on the counter in front of him as if to keep himself from touching her again.
Miyu had never been attracted to the man. They might have been friends and coworkers once, but him touching her now only made her ten times more pissed off. Of all people to touch her, she definitely did not want one of them to be him. Her own anger had stonewalled her ability to feel what he was feeling. She really did not care what emotions he may be experiencing at this moment.
"I don't know what will happen to him this time. Maybe you could somehow find a way to meld his personalities. Neither one of them needs to go away. To cease to exist. I can't...I can't bear it. I don't want to lose Haise."
"Kishou," she murmured, narrowing her eyes into a stinging glare. "This is something you have never understood from the beginning. The mind cannot be reprogrammed like a computer. You can't pick and choose who you want a person to be by adding or deleting mental files. The psyche, the soul, the very essence of who a person is, finds a way to decide for itself, choose it's own path. For Ken and Haise to become one entity, they have to find their own way. They will have to determine who takes control or who disappears or if they can form a single cohesive personality."
"But you can direct him. Lead him. Help him through the confusion and fear," he proceeded to plead with her. "There's others besides Haise I want you to attend to. The need a light, a beacon, a way to make peace with the two sides of themselves."
"I understand that," she sighed, immediately thinking of Kuki Urie and the other two Quinx Squad members who frequent the cafe.
Miyu had never seen the fifth member because according to her fellow team members she was a bit of a recluse. Did she suffer from Agoraphobia? Anti-social personality? Or simply crippling shyness? She would only know if she talked to the girl, but should she put any of them risk by attempting to be a therapist again?
"I just don't know if I can be...if I deserve to be that light for them."
"You, of all people, know how difficult it is to come to terms with two sides of yourself. But it can be done. That's why I picked you to begin with to help Kaneki."
"Arima - "
"I need you to come back. Help me protect these kids. My kids. Haise's kids," he added, his eyes meeting hers when he believed he had her full attention. "I can train their bodies, teach them to protect themselves physically. But they need you to learn to protect their hearts and minds."
Miyu sighed in exasperation. She knew he would say the right thing at some point to pull on her heartstrings and coerce her to agree. His kids. Haise's kids? Haise was still a lost little boy himself. Damn you, Kishou Arima, you silver eyed, silver tongued devil.
"Bring me their files. I'm sure they have recently been tested for Rc levels and given at least a cursory psychological exam," she muttered, averting her eyes to avoid seeing the happiness of victory in his eyes. "Don't get too cocky. I haven't said yes." Her eyes moved back to his so he could see her resolve. "I will decide if I will come back as a therapist after I've looked over their files."
"Thank you."
The bell above the door jingled. Kuki Urie walked past them, casting an uninterested glimpse at them on his way to seat himself at his usual table.
"Get out," Miyu hissed at Arima.
"Answer these questions before I leave," he said, placing his hand over hers that lay on the counter.
"Is touching me wise?" she asked, gold streaks appearing in her irises.
"Oh, those aren't contacts. Very interesting," he murmured, examining her eyes closely despite her scathing glare.
"Let go of me," she insisted, trying to pull her hand away. His grip tightened to encompass her hand with crushing force. "I'm one of the few people on earth who can kill you. Or have you forgotten that?"
"Don't threaten me with a good time and a good fight." He had the overconfident audacity to smile at her. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He always had delighted in antagonizing her. "Why didn't you change your name? Why didn't you leave?"
"Miss?" Urie called.
Miyu glanced over at him, shaking her head. She did not want to him get involved, to risk insubordination, because she knew without question Arima outranked him.
"I'll be right with you, Mr. Urie."
She turned her attention to Arima who smiled at her in a deceptively benign manner while holding her captive with an iron-hard grasp on her hand. She could make him let go, but she refused to make a scene in her own shop. He knew she would not struggle with him here.
"I didn't change my name or leave just in case Kaneki remembered me. If he needed me, I wanted him to be able to find me."
"Ken Kaneki was always your favored child, wasn't he?"
"I have customers, Arima. Let me go," she insisted, risking a quick peek in Urie's direction.
He was still quietly observing, attempting to make sense of the obviously tense scene unfolding in front of him. Arima noticed Urie's watchfulness and released her hand.
"Will working with him present a conflict of interest for you?" Arima asked her in a conspiratorial whisper as he stood to leave.
"I don't see how that's any of your business." She could feel the hot blush spreading across her face and down her neck. She absentmindedly rubbed her sore fingers.
"Be careful with him. Don't hurt him," he warned her before dropping money on the counter despite not having drank a single drop of his coffee.
"Do you have any idea how ironic that threat is coming out of your mouth?"
"I'll bring you the files tomorrow."
"Get out," she ordered him, jerking her head toward the door.
Miyu's hands shook uncontrollably as she poured hot water into the cup to begin preparing her favorite customer's order. Rather than attempting to grind fresh beans, she reached for the can containing the ones she had ground only an hour earlier in preparation for Urie's arrival. Thank goodness she had not waited until later. He was early. It was only two.
She inhaled long, deep breaths as she poured the water from the cup into the sink. Her hands gradually steadied themselves as she continued the familiar and calming process of brewing his coffee. Her legs still felt a bit quavery as she approached his table.
"Are you all right?" Urie inquired as she set the steaming cup down in front of him.
"I'm fine. What are you doing here so early? I wasn't expecting you so soon," she gushed breathlessly.
"Are you disappointed to see me?" he asked, stirring his coffee, the spoon clanking as it hit the sides of the cup.
"No, of course not. Do you need anything else?"
"Would you be able to sit down with me? Just for a moment," he added when she backed away. His eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion as he studied her. "Why are you so nervous? Is it because of Arima?" he questioned her, tapping the spoon on cup noisily. "How do you know him?"
"I used to work with him."
"You worked for the CCG?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow as his wariness grew.
"It's a long story," she murmured, staring at the floor to avoid eye contact with him. "Look, if you never want to see me again, or come here for coffee, I'll under - "
"I'd like to hear your story some time," he interrupted her, sipping his coffee.
"Not tonight," she sighed heavily, feeling more exhausted than she already did.
Although she did not want to divulge the terrible truth about her involvement with Arima, Kuki Urie saying he wanted to talk about it meant all was not lost on the relationship front. Sliding into the booth seat across from him, she asked a personal question as tactfully as possible without appearing too nosy.
"So was there an emergency earlier when you had to leave? Is everyone okay?"
"Everyone is fine. There was no real emergency. Haise was acting like an overprotective father and wanted me to come home," he muttered, setting down his coffee cup. "About earlier..."
"Oh," she gasped, growing dizzy when her face heated up swiftly. She could not take much more humiliation. If things kept going like this, she feared she might be the first person in history to die of embarrassment. "I'm really sorry about that. About how I acted. I don't...I don't know what came over me."
Miyu was thankful he was gazing out of the window instead of at her.
"I think we should slow things down. Not let that happen again," he said, toying with the handle of his coffee cup. His head turned and his eyes met hers. "Not yet anyway."
Jesus, God in Heaven above, save me!, she wanted to cry out. Her insides felt like they were melting as his black eyes delved into hers, taking hold of her as if his hands were on her.
"I agree. We should take things slow. Great idea."
The bell above the door rang heralding the arrival of a new customer.
"I-I h-have to g-go," she stuttered, sliding out of the booth seat.
"I'll be here for a while. Don't forget, I still want to hear that story about your involvement with Arima."
I bet you do. I wish I knew how I'm going to explain it to you.