Miyu woke up just after sunset, around seven thirty in the evening. The sky had not yet lost its reddish orange hue, but the sun had already disappeared. She stood at her window for several long minutes watching the color drain from the sky. When the sky turned black, the street lamps began coming to life one by one, painting yellow circles of light on the sidewalk.
Miyu moved away from the window drawing the shade behind her to keep out the prying eyes of the people on the sidewalk below. Opting for a cup of tea instead coffee, she turned on the electric kettle and chose her favorite rose tea blend.
A knock on the door of her private living quarters made her heart skip a beat. Then she remembered that Arima was going to bring the files by. She groaned. Her life had become predictable and boring. And she liked it that way. Now that he had found her, he was going to make life difficult, complicated for her.
He knocked again beating out a rhythm that echoed up the stairs to her apartment. He knew she was home and would not go away. Dammit. Pulling on a thin cotton robe to cover her form fitting pink t-shirt and grey pajama shorts, she slowly made her way down the steep stairs to the door.
She should have known he would not waste any time in his efforts to continue to reign her back in, drawing her to his side once again. Her heart sank with the revelation that her quiet, uncomplicated life was over. She already knew she would eventually return, but she would not make life easy for him either. Besides, there were many factors she needed to consider. Kuki Urie being one of them.
Miyu undid the locks, inhaling a deep, steadying breath before opening the door.
"You're looking lovely this evening," Arima greeted her, smiling so broadly he appeared to be struggling to hold back laughter.
Miyu had no doubt her appearance must be quite amusing. She had not bothered to brush her hair which surely was a disaster after her fitful, exhausted sleep. There were probably dark circles under her eyes as well. She didn't care how funny she looked to him. It was his fault she had not gotten any sleep the day before.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked when she stood directly in front of him, glaring in reticent anger.
"No," she returned flatly, not amused in the least by his unannounced visit. "I assume you brought the files?"
"I need to talk to you about Haise. Please, can I come up?' Somehow he managed to pull off the puppy dog eyes quite convincingly.
Just looking at him with that pleading, pitiful face stirred up her ire.
"There's nothing to talk about. All I need are the files."
"There's a lot. I can bring them upstairs for you."
He glanced down at the two full boxes he held in his hands, one stacked on top of the other. She had no doubt they were heavy, but she could handle them.
"Just for a minute," he pressed, shifting the boxes as if the burden was becoming too much. She doubted he was actually struggling with their weight. Despite being tall and thin, gangly like a scarecrow, he was incredibly strong.
"Damn," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Come on."
I'm such a sap, she thought. Miyu held the door for him to enter, plastering her back against the wood as if to sink into it in her efforts to make sure his body did not brush hers as he passed. Once he was clear, she closed and locked it then proceeded to stomp up the stairs behind him.
Arima entered the apartment because the door had been left open. Since she had allowed him inside the first door, his invitation into her living quarters was assumed.
Miyu folded her arms under her breasts, holding the robe tightly around her body. Although this man was no stranger to her, she felt apprehensive, bothered by his presence. She had not been this jumpy when alone with Kuki Urie who actually was a stranger to her on a personal level. Perhaps her nervousness was due to knowing Arima so well.
"Would you like an iced coffee?" She walked around him into the kitchen. He followed.
"No hot coffee?" Arima set the boxes down on the kitchen table.
"Would you like an iced coffee?" she repeated, reaching into the refrigerator for the cold brew she had started before going bed. She liked iced coffee in the summer, but she had an unusual desire for hot tea tonight. More than ever, she needed the comfort it brought to her.
"Yes, that's fine," he acquiesced, taking off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. He began pulling file folders out of the top box and stacking them on the table.
"Why are you so concerned about Haise?" she inquired, bringing their drinks to the table.
"I told you. Kaneki is trying to assert himself, to become the dominant personality. I don't want him to destroy Haise," he said, sitting down in the chair after she took a seat.
"There's more," Miyu insisted, inhaling the delicate, verdant rose aroma of the tea.
She gazed into his mercury colored eyes, seeing the worry, the fear. At least he was being sincere about his concerns. However, she sensed he wasn't telling her everything that gave him reason to be upset. As usual, there was an underlying factor motivated by pure selfishness. His hidden self-serving nature was one of the things she had always detested about him.
Suddenly a smiled lifted the corners of his mouth from his deep frown, confusing her. Why did he suddenly look so damned happy?
"I've missed seeing those beautiful eyes of yours. The color of yellow topaz. Pure pristine jewels," he murmured. "How did you learn to change the color of the them?"
"I would say it's equivalent to how your kakugan works," she explained, the green and brown seeping back into her irises.
"Have you experienced a..." He visibly struggled to find the words.
"Transformation?" she offered, tracing the tiny pink roses circling the rim of her cup. "No. Not since I left the CCG. I've been keeping it suppressed like my true eye color. It's funny how easy it is since I'm not chasing ghouls around the city. Or trying to avoid being killed by them. I like being like this. Being...me."
"But that's a part of you too. It's half of you. Like being a ghoul is half of me. I always thought you were beautiful, no matter how you looked, teeth to tail," he said, smiling broadly at her. He looked down, opening the file folder on top of the stack in front of him.
"That sounds exceedingly dirty, Mr. Arima. We were never like that," she snapped, draining the contents of her teacup. Standing up to refill her teacup, she steered the conversation back to its original course. "You said you wanted to talk about Haise. I'll tell you what I think. I believe what you're really afraid of is losing control of your chosen apprentice. If Kaneki becomes the dominant personality, you've lost your legacy, your chance at continuing what you've become. Plus, you'll likely gain an enemy. I doubt Kaneki will take it lightly that you attempted to erase his existence."
"Wow," he muttered, taking a long sip of his iced coffee. "Don't spare my feelings. Tell me how you really feel."
"When have you ever known me to sugar coat things for you, Kishou?" She sat back down at the table, taking the file out of his hand.
"Never," he replied, chuckling lightly. "It's one of the things I've always liked about you. I've missed working with you. I want to you to return to the CCG. More specifically, come back to me."
"What are you saying?" Her full attention was on him, her eyes locked with his.
"I want you to be a therapist for the members of the Quinx Squad. You know as well as I do the Rc levels not only affect their bodies but their minds. Plus what they see every day, what they they have to do. They are subjected to unbelievable levels of stress and constantly endure traumatic occurrences." He cleared his throat, his eyes drifting away from hers before slowly coming back to meet them. "I must confess I have ulterior motives above Haise and the others for coming to you."
Surprise, surprise, her inner voice grumbled wryly. Of course you do.
"I want you to be my partner again. I need you to be my partner again." He stressed the word need. He had been using the term often, almost loosely, somewhat degrading the meaning for her.
"You're awfully needy these days, Kishou." She sighed in exasperation. He was wearing on her last nerve. She could feel the last thread of her resolve to refuse him unraveling.
Although never romantically interested in him, she did bear a deep seated weakness for him. Once when experimenting with aiding him through a violent psychotic episode, she had felt his pain, absorbed some of his memories along with his rampaging emotions. Reliving parts his past in her mind, experiencing his out of control emotions as if they were her own, had affected her in a way she did not expect.
The same thing had happened with Ken Kaneki. They had both become a part of her, and both men were an Achilles' heel for her. Would Kuki Urie become just another chink in her armor? Seemed so after her strong reaction to him.
"I don't know if I can do that," she murmured, staring at her tea cup as if it were the most interesting relic in the world. "I believe it would be in everyone's best interests if I stayed away."
"Are you sure? I believe you would be a great asset to the team. You have your own special skill set. You're not a ghoul but you are a powerful - "
"Arima, I can't!" she yelled, cutting him off.
There was a knock at the door that startled them causing both of them to jump.
"Expecting company?" Arima asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"No," she answered truthfully, her eyebrows drawing together in bewilderment.
Now what?, she wondered. This evening had already had enough unwanted surprises and stress. This is not how she wanted to spend her night off.
"I should be going anyway," Arima proclaimed when there was another rap on the door. Standing up, he pulled his coat back on.
There was yet another knock; louder, more insistent, demanding to be answered.
"I'm coming!" Miyu bellowed impatiently as she walked down the stairs with Arima close behind her.
"Think about it," Arima requested when she turned to him at the bottom of the stairs in front of the door.
"Even if I say no, you won't take that for an answer will you?" The question was purely rhetorical. It should have been spoken as a statement. She hugged her arms around her, shivering as if she were freezing.
"Take all the time you need to decide," he said, acting as if she had a choice. He opened the door to leave. "Oh, Urie."
Oh, shit, Miyu thought without speaking the words. This is absolutely fabulous. Just when I thought my evening could not get any worse.
"Arima, what are you doing here?" Urie boldly asked, his voice perfectly measured and tightly controlled as if the man's unexpected presence did not bother him one bit.
"I was just leaving," Arima assured him. He waited for the other man to step aside before walking out into the back alley. "Good night to the both of you."
"Mr. Urie, good evening," Miyu greeted him once Arima disappeared from sight.
"Are you all right?" he questioned her, looking her over from head to toe as if searching for evidence of an assault - or other foul deed. "Did you look like that before or after he got here?"
"I don't think you're in a position to be asking that kind of question," she snapped in return.
"I want to be. At least I thought I wanted to be," he muttered.
"We were discussing work actually. As in me coming back to the CCG," she added when he appeared dubious with one black eyebrow shooting up toward his hairline. "You're etremely judgmental. Is that a habit of yours? Or do you expect everyone to be as perfect as you?"
"You're not quite as nice away from work are you?"
"You're not a customer at the moment. You're a man I barely know. A man I thought I would like to know better. But now I'm not sure either. How dare you think you're the only who has a right to choose whether they want to pursue this relationship or not?"
"Hmmm," he hummed, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "I suppose that's fair."
"Nothing is fair in life or love," Miyu returned in a scathing tone.
"You're right about that," he agreed. He raised the bag in his hand. "I brought dinner. Beef noodle bowls from Oshiba's."
"Oh," she gasped, blushing hotly. She did adore the beef noodle bowls. Stepping to the side, she invited him in with a flourish of her hand like a game show hostess showing off a prize.
"Mr. Oshiba also gave me this," Urie said, holding out a book to her.
"What is - " She stopped when she saw the almost pornographic cover of the romance novel she had checked out from the library. "Oh, my god."
"You left it at the restaurant last night. He asked me to return it to you. Looks like a fascinating read," he murmured, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards.
If grins could be sarcastic, they would look like that. Miyu snatched the book out of his hand. Holding it to her chest to hide the cover, she ran up the stairs ahead of him. Although she felt like she would melt from the heat of the humiliation covering her from head to toe, she remembered something more important she needed to hide.
Grabbing the folders from the table, she crammed them back into the box. Easily lifting both boxes at once, she pushed them into the cabinet under the sink to get them out of sight. The last thing she wanted was for Kuki Urie to know she would be plundering through the psychological history of the Quinx Squad, including his.
"I guess I should have called. Tonight doesn't seem to be a good night for you," he said, standing in the middle of her apartment holding the bag of food.
How very observant, she thought to herself, leaving the caustic statement unspoken.
"I wanted to surprise you."
"Mission accomplished," she muttered, setting the glassware from the table in the sink.
"I take it you don't like surprises." He put the bag in the middle of the table.
"Not so many at one time, no."
"If you want me to leave - "
"No!" she cried out, sounding a little more desperate than she had meant to. She cleared her throat as if to rid herself of the panic stricken tone. "No, I don't want you to leave."
"So we've established you worked at the CCG," he began, prompting her to speak.
"I was the department psychologist," she said, waiting for a reaction. When he had none, simply continued setting out the food containers and chopsticks, she spoke again. "I was Arima's partner."
This time he ceased moving, nearly dropping the small cup of pickled radishes he held in his hand. He carefully put it down on the table between the containers of beef and noodles.
"Are you a ghoul? A one eyed ghoul?" he asked, sitting down in the chair.
"Neither. I'm - "
"By partner," he interrupted her,"do you mean it was strictly a work partnership? Or something more?"
"Work only," she answered succinctly. "Listen, there's something you need to know about me."
"It can wait. Let's eat," he said, breaking apart his chopsticks. "Tell me about your relationship with Haise."
"I can't. That would be violating confidentiality." Miyu poured them both an iced coffee.
"I see. You were a therapist. Doctor/patient privilege."
"I'm not a doctor," she corrected him. "I stopped short of getting my doctorate."
"Are you planning on coming back to work for the CCG? You can answer that, can't you?" he inquired pointedly.
Who does this man think he is?, she asked herself, seriously beginning to rethink her interest in him. Then she remembered how he had made her feel, the intense yearning, the burning curiosity, the heated desire. Her belly tightened. She pulled the robe more tightly around her as if the eighth of an inch thickness of the material would protect her from her own feelings like a child believes a sheet wards off monsters.
"I've been made an offer. That's all I can say at this point."
"How will that affect us?"
"Us?" She cocked her head like a puzzled dog. "Is there an us?"
"I don't know," he responded coldly.
Miyu had lost her appetite. She was angry, confused, and tired. Looking down at her sleeping attire, she realized a change in clothing was required.
"I'm going to take a shower and change. If you're still here when I return, we can take a walk in the park if you'd like. Perhaps continue to try figure out whatever this is," she muttered, waving her hand around in the air to encompass everything that had transpired between them.
Her patience with him, and herself, all of the conflicting emotions, was growing thin. As much as she would like to spend time with him, these were not ideal circumstances for either of them.
Tonight was supposed to be her night off; her night to relax and regroup. There truly is no rest for the weary.