Title: Kirishima Miyama Must Die
Summary: What do you get when you combine three broken-hearted ex-girlfriends, an enigmatic two-timing playboy, and a supposed femme fatale (read: virgin) hired to take some sweet, sweet revenge?
Pairings: Yoshiono Somei/Kirishino Miyama
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Author's Notes: Man, I haven't done this in a loooong time. But I'm back until the muse runs out! I haven't been able to get Raise wa Tanin Ga li out of my head so here we are: a spin on John Tucker Must Die but make it Kirishino, inspired by OsakaPrincess's suggestion on the Raise wa Tanin Ga li discord channel
Chapter 1
Have Your Cake and Eat It Too
"Wha-at?" Damn, her Osaka accent almost slipped out.
"Please help us!" It was creepy how all three girls said it unison, hands clasped together in earnest.
Yoshino could feel a headache coming on, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, half hoping that the girls were just some sleep deprived hallucination. "You want me to help you with what?"
"We want you to f-fuck someone up," one of the girls chirped, stuttering over the unfamiliar obscenity. "He cheated on all of us and we want to make him pay."
Goddammit, so she didn't hear that incorrectly. And from the determined look in their eyes, it didn't look like they were going to let go of it either.
"Why me?"
The girls all shared a look before one of them, same one again with long dark hair and soft eyes— must be their designated spokesperson— leaned forward, cupping her palm around her whisper. "W-we heard you destroy boys!"
Yoshino sighed loudly, internally cursing her schoolmates' tendencies for gossip. Maybe it was her own fault for having such a bad temper. Or maybe she shouldn't have let the rumors go unchecked for so long. It was unexpected to say the least, when after the incident, she started getting little gifts (a chocolate milk carton on her desk, a highly coveted bread snack in her locker) which at first, she thought was either poisoned or some sort of strange prank. Highly preferable to getting her belongings trashed though. But that's when she started hearing all sorts of ridiculous stories, like her being some sort of femme fatale (nope) or her secret (more like non-existent) ties to the yakuza. Trying to refute them when she heard the whispers only seemed to fuel the fire. Either way, she gave up trying to reign in the narrative months ago, but how did a public verbal smackdown with a school bully, who just happened to be the school wide chauvinistic pig, result in something like this?
"So you want me to— what? Threaten this guy?"
The girls shook their heads, again in unison. Did they practice this beforehand?
"We want you to break his heart."
Another girl spoke up this time, not as timid but sounded twice as angry. Her words weren't making any sense though.
"Break his heart?" Yoshino echoed.
"Date him, get him to fall for you, and then dump him in the most humiliating way possible," the second girl said fervently.
Okay, this was starting to sound way above her pay grade. However, the girls seemed to sense her hesitation because before she could say anything, they whipped out a paper bag, presenting it with more aplomb than the unassuming thing would normally warrant.
"We will pay you," the third girl chimed in now.
"Look," Yoshino started to push the paper bag away from her, "I'm not interested in money-"
"It's not money," the first girl insisted, reaching inside the paper bag. "It's cake."
Cake? Yonshino took a double take at the box that her schoolmate had taken out of the bag, glancing over the textured cardboard and glossy gold letters embossed on the lid. Is that-?
"This chocolate cake is from Ken's Cafe," the black haired girl opened the lid, revealing a meticulously lined interior with a dark brown pound cake. "People have to-"
"Wait months for it," Yoshino breathed, inhaling the essence of cacao and sweetness emanating from the opened box, fingers twitching. "How did you-"
"We'll give you a cake for every month you commit to help us," the angry girl said. "This cake, or any other cake you want."
How the hell did they know about her affinity for cake? But more importantly, how the hell are these girls managing to get a monthly supply of this divine dessert when people like her were on the waitlist for over half a year just to get a piece of it?
"Please," the first girl spoke again, sounding almost drained. Yoshino's resolve was honestly already weakening with every second that she was breathing in the chocolatey aroma, but the defeated note in the girl's voice cemented her fate.
Fuck.
"I'll do it," Yoshino declared, a hand wrapping around the embossed cardboard box and her chocolatey prize. She held up two fingers. "But make cake delivery every two weeks, got it?"
So that's how she ended up waiting in a car, slouched down on the seat as she stared moodily at her phone. Or to be more precise, a picture of said target on her phone.
Kirishima Miyama.
He was handsome, she'll give him that. The few pictures the ex-girlfriends had of him were mostly him in his school uniform. There was also a slightly blurry picture of him in a suit; he seemed to be turning away to greet someone. Kirishima looked smart, well groomed. He was also smiling in every single one of them, somehow the exact same sunny smile.
How creepy.
Despite the girls dating Kirishima for several months, a year and a half between all of them combined, they actually didn't have a lot of background information on him. The only thing they really knew about him was that he was a senior in high school and that he was seventeen years old. Apparently, he was always kind and doting, even up until the point when the girls dumped him. The epitome of the perfect and caring boyfriend, he gave no indication that he was cheating. In fact, the only reason the ex-girlfriends, all three from vastly different social circles and in different grades, came to know about his playboy dalliances was because they were all coincidentally talking together at a school festival. Even when confronted with the infidelity accusations, he just took it in stride, immediately apologizing while not bothering to deny them and taking the angry slaps without so much as a word of protest. Apparently, after being slapped, he offered to give all of his exes money for a cab home.
"He's not actually sorry at all!" one of the ex-girlfriends had told Yoshino crossly.
Kirishima was definitely a strange guy. This definitely wasn't going to be a path to straightforward revenge by any means; she could already feel the incoming headaches. To be honest, she was starting to regret agreeing to this half hatched plan already. Yoshino had never been too interested in getting a boyfriend to begin with (never had one), but now she was setting out to make some playboy fall in love with her?
Why did she have a feeling she was completely out of her depth?
A ping from her phone pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.
R u at the location?
She sent a quick response to the group chat.
Yup.
Yoshino stretched to peel off her jacket, tousling her hair to give it some volume. A club really wasn't her scene but all the girls had determined that it was the easiest venue to cozy up to Kirishima. It was a club that he had been seen by one of his ex-girlfriend frequenting once or twice, so it had become the prime stakeout location for the past three weeks. The car was courtesy of one the girls, who had generously offered her older sister's car as a stalking vehicle, which Yoshino was eternally grateful for, because she didn't see how she would've survived these dreadfully long stakeouts otherwise. The previous two weekends had resulted in no Kirishima, but the ex-girlfriend trio were determined that this club was the key place to initiate Operation Kirishima Miyama Must Die.
Yoshino sighed, tugging her already skimpy dress down as much as she could. At least it was easy for her to look the part of a clubgoer. Her striking looks were something more of a curse than it was a blessing, alienating her from girls and boys alike, even if they were for very different reasons.
The high schooler looked dejectedly outside at the club's neon lights. Was she doomed to stare at this dinky sign for the godforsaken foreseeable future?
For once, the gods seemed to heed her prayer. As Yoshino perused the crowd for the umpteenth time that night, her body shot straight up as her eyes came to rest on a familiar face.
Kirishima Miyama!
Seeing him in motion was different from a picture. For one, he wasn't smiling, and because of that, for a second, she wasn't sure that it was him. But the haircut and the yellow eyes confirmed it. He was clad in a black button up and slacks, but from this distance and in the comfort of the car, it was difficult to tell much else. Her eyes stayed glued to him as he made his way to the entrance of the establishment, cutting to the front of the line to talk to the bouncer. She blindly grabbed her things in preparation to sprint across the cement. Where was her phone? She looked down for a second, finding the darn thing nestled next to her thigh. Now-
Kirishima was looking straight at her.
Her heart leapt to her throat. No way. The car windows were tinted. It was dark out. Was he looking at something else? What the hell was he looking at then-?
And then he looked away, talking again to the bouncer. Yoshino's breath stuttered in her lungs, ears hot and heart thudding loudly in her head.
There was no way he would be able to see her in the car from that far away. But it was uncanny, the way he stared, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for. By the time she looked back to see what he was doing, she thought she saw Kirishima's back melt into the shadows of the club's entrance.
Shit, time to move.
It was dark and noisy in the club. More humid than she expected too. Good thing she left her jacket in the car. Yoshino coughed as some punk blew tropical fruit flavored smoke in her face, quickly stepping aside just as a drunkard jostled into her, sloshing some of his drink down her arm.
What exactly did people enjoy about this place anyway?
Yoshino found a pocket of peace at the bar, looking over the precipice of the dance floor, one finger in her ear in an effort to hear herself think. It was hard to see past a few feet in the darkness of the club, and she had already lost track of where Kirishima went. The only clue she had was the way he cut to the front of the line and breezed past the bouncer, implying that he was more than just a regular. She had glossed over the layout of the club on its website before heading in, so she vaguely remembered that the VIP section would be upstairs, to the left of the main stage. She peered into the distance near the live band onstage, trying to see past the moving bodies and lasers.
Aha! Yoshino spotted a flight of stairs illuminated by the flashing lights of the stage. Steeling herself and her grip on her purse, she slowly made her way through the crowd, side stepping more than a few enthusiastic dancers and couples heavily making out, half hidden in the shadows and pulsing lights. Halfway to the foot of the stairs, she noticed a bouncer guarding the entrance.
Shit, what now?
She retreated closer to the stage, biding her time as she wracked her brain for a solution. Should she just go for it? Maybe she could pretend she was a hostess? Yoshino looked down briefly at her dress, the skimpy thing purposefully low cut and hugging her curves. Her outfit had to count for something right? Refusing to let herself talk her out of it, she walked right up to the bored looking guard. He barely gave her a once over.
"Badge?"
"Oh, my gosh," she held a hand over her mouth, mind racing. "I forgot mine at home. I'll bring it next time!" She feigned taking a step forward, but the guard didn't move out of her way.
"Badge," the guard insisted again, pulling out a flashlight to illuminate her face. Goddammit, this was more trouble than she thought it would be.
"Ah, you know me, super forgetful right?" Yoshino said, waving her hands in placation. "Can't let it go this one time?"
"No badge," the guard growled, "no entry. What's your name again?"
Ah, shit, should she make a run for it? She opened her mouth, not really sure what she was going to say when a warm touch gripped her firmly by the waist, pulling her body to the right to be pressed snugly against a solid frame.
"She's with me."
A sharp rush of awareness shot down her spine, causing the fine hairs along the nape of her neck to stand at attention. She's never heard this voice before but a sense of impending doom told her that she already knew who it belonged to.
Yoshino craned her neck to her right, looking up into a pair of half moon golden eyes.
"Hello there," Kirishima said with a smile, "I've been looking for you."
End Note: Not sure how often I see updates going forward, but hoping to get something up every two or three weeks. No promises though! Reviews, follows, or faves are much love