Dead in the Water, a Highschool of the Dead Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411
Standard Disclaimer: Highschool of the Dead and its characters are not my property. I do not own, nor am I affiliated with the series in any way, shape or form. The following work is derivative, non-commercial fiction. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. Lemons to follow in later chapters; rating will be updated accordingly once 18+ material is added.
Author's Note: Unfortunately I haven't gotten to the lemon scene yet, so it will be featured in the next chapter. To think, story content prioritized over sex scenes?! What's the world coming to?
Chapter 4
It was well past full dark by the time Takashi left Rei's room and descended the stairs to the first floor of the house. Exhausted as they both had felt, it hadn't taken much convincing to get her to change clothes and curl up in the bed around Alice and Zeke. Keeping his eyes shut, though, proved to be much more difficult, at least where his willpower was concerned; he had held the flashlight for her while she stripped off her uniform and skirt, then slipped into a set of sheer pajamas. Each soft rustle of clothing over her skin, followed by the quiet sigh of fabric falling to the carpeted floor, had pricked his ears to strained attention, giving rise to the naggingly persistent thought that, standing behind the light source as he was, she wouldn't be able to tell if he peeked anyway. But he had managed to preserve her modesty, keeping his impulses at bay until she had finished getting dressed, and after tucking her into bed and waiting the few minutes needed for sleep to take her, he had crept out of her bedroom and down the stairs.
Takashi found Saya and Kohta in the living room, standing close together amidst the flickering light of a half dozen small candles. He paused, leaning against one side of the entryway, remaining unnoticed in the darkness as he watched them. It might have been mistaken for a romantic scene, what with the two within arms reach of one another, but for the suppressed submachine gun in Saya's hands, held in an at rest position in front of her as she examined it critically. Strangely, she was barefoot and looked freshly scrubbed, her pink hair pulled in a damp tail over one shoulder, and she had donned her night clothes as well – a clinging, light green tank top and a pair of lavender pajama shorts. Like Takashi, Kohta had taken off the coat of his uniform, but still wore its black slacks and a T-shirt.
"Better now?" Kohta asked from beside her. An expectant smile flickered along his face as he looked at Saya, apparently quite pleased. There was a set of hex wrenches in his right hand and something black in his left, which Takashi couldn't quite make out in the dim light.
"Yeah, much better." It was then that Takashi picked up on what was different about the gun; the red dot sight that had been mounted on top had been removed, and was presumably now in Kohta's hand. "We should've done this at the police station, since electronic sights won't work anyway."
"Sorry," he said, stowing the wrenches and the red dot sight in his pack on the floor. "I've been meaning to, but with all that's happened I never got the chance."
"Don't worry about it," she replied absently, bringing the weapon to her shoulder and swiveling her line of fire in a narrow arc, as if tracking an imaginary target. "So I'll be able to hit what I aim at, like this? On the first shot, I mean."
"In theory, yes. Your posture could use a little work, though."
"Hmph." She eyed Kohta narrowly, then lowered the weapon. "Teach me."
"Gladly," Kohta said, beaming. "First, give me the magazine and make sure the chamber's empty." She did so, drawing the curved magazine from the bottom of the weapon and handing it to him, then pulling back on the cocking handle – all done a bit more competently than Takashi would've managed under similar circumstances. Perhaps they had been practicing before he had showed up. "Stand like this," Kohta continued, and Saya did as he instructed, "feet shoulder-width apart, with your left foot a little forward, your center of gravity low, knees over toes, and balanced on the balls of your feet. Square your upper body toward your target. Shoulder the gun, drop your cheek down onto the stock, and keep your elbow in tight to your side. Your offhand should be comfortable, but try to keep that arm close to your body – hold the weapon here, in front of the magazine well. Line up the target through the sights, and squeeze the trigger."
After a moment, the gun clacked loudly in the quiet of the room. "How was that?" She lifted her head.
"Better, but not there yet. You need to tweak your stance a bit." His complexion reddened and opened and closed his mouth three times before mustering the courage to ask, "May I, Saya-san?"
Saya began to scowl, changed the expression it into a pensive frown, and abruptly gave an impatient nod. "Fine, but if you do something perverted..." She hefted the gun in punctuation.
Kohta let out a low, weak laugh, but was nonetheless somewhat wary as he paced around her, studying her form. He made any number of small adjustments to the way she stood – bending her knees a bit more, widening her stance by a few centimeters, touching her right elbow to tuck it in further. Then he stepped back, looking at her critically.
"What is it?"
"You're too tensed up." He moved into position behind her, lightly touching her upper part of her left arm. "You don't need to hold it in that tightly. Relax your arms a little. Your support hand should push the stock firmly into your shoulder, but the grip in your shooting hand can be loose. All you need to do with that hand is pull the trigger."
Her pink brows furrowed and her upper body stiffened, then relaxed. A little. She hadn't lowered the gun by the time she commanded curtly, "Show me. I don't know how you mean."
Kohta blinked rapidly, then swallowed, blood infusing his face as he realized what she was asking. "You're sure?"
"Yeah, just do it already. It's not like I can practice using real ammo, so if I'm going to get any better at shooting, you need to show me whatever you can. Just hearing about it only does so much."
"Okay." Kohta swallowed audibly, hesitating a moment longer, then let out in a rush, "Please excuse me, Saya-san!" as he stepped closely behind her, his arms circling around her own, hands overlapping hers where she held onto gun. "See?" he asked in a quavering murmur along her left cheek, "Hold it like this. Steady and firm, but not so tight that your arm gets tired." He wet his lips. "Did you even notice the recoil when you shot it before? Probably not, right? It's only a nine millimeter, so it isn't going to jump out of your hands or anything." His breathing quickened, and a moment passed in nervous silence, until he eventually asked, "Do you have a feel for it now?"
"Yeah."
"Great." Taking a deep breath, and with it, a bit more confidence, Kohta stayed where he was, pulling back the charging handle to cock the weapon's internal hammer. "Now, this is how you squeeze off a shot." His words were calmer, quieter, more sure of himself. "It's got a kind of heavy trigger weight, so use the crease behind your first knuckle. Gently squeeze it, don't pull it." The same sharp clack from before resounded in the room. "Now you give it a try." He racked the gun again, and a few seconds later, the quiet was cut by the snap of metal striking metal.
"Kohta?" Saya asked, her voice tight, as the echo of the dry-firing faded away.
"Yes, Saya-san?" he replied, somewhat dreamily.
"There's something pushing against my butt."
"It's the magazine. I put it in my pocket."
"Oh." A moment passed, and she said again, "...Kohta?"
"Yes, Saya-san?"
"If it's not, I'm going to turn around and smack you."
"It is. I promise."
Saya remained still for a long moment, then asked, "Is that all you wanted to show me?"
"Yes, Saya-san."
"Can you let go of me then?"
Snapping out of his daze, Kohta blurted, "Sorry! Right away!" He backed away rapidly, the blissful, contented smile he'd worn while embracing her now replaced by stark horror as he floated down back to earth.
Her back still to him, Saya quivered, seeming to radiate waves of anger and indignation, then spun around to face Kohta, the gun raised above her, held like a club. It was then that she spotted Takashi leaning against one wall of the entryway, and her face turned completely white with mortification. "Takashi!" she gasped in horror, "How long have you been standing there?!" Saya nearly dropped the weapon altogether, but Kohta managed to catch it on the way down.
Takashi grinned. "If I smoked, I'd probably want a cigarette right about now."
That made Saya blush a deep, deep red in sheer embarrassment, coloring her face all the way to the pink roots of her hair. Takashi couldn't help but laugh to see her so out of sorts, and though Kohta wisely didn't join in, he did share a conspiratorial smile with him.
"It –it was nothing like that!" she stammered, flinging out a hand to point at the MP5 now clutched to Kohta's. "He was just showing me how to shoot better! That's all!"
"Oh, don't worry, I know," Takashi conceded, showing open palms, before adding in a tone that barely held back his laughter, "Hirano, I might ask you to show me a thing or two about my shotgun later, but if you don't mind, I think I'll skip the full body course."
Kohta reddened further, but he was but a candle to Saya's bonfire. "Uhh, sure. No problem, Komuro." He shifted his weight nervously, giving Saya a sidelong glance, perhaps to assure himself that her former ire would no longer be channeled in his direction. "Right. The Benelli. You'll need some practice before you get everything down. Though it's semiautomatic, it'll be a little tricky at first, compared to the Ithaca. I can take your sight off too, if you like."
"Fine with me. It's useless, right? Might as well do Rei's too."
"Sure. When she decides to learn to use it as a rifle and not just as a spear, I can teach her, too."
"Anyway!" Saya interjected unsteadily, having finally gotten a hold over her emotions, "Takashi. Good that you're finally down. We should talk before dinner."
"Dinner?" Takashi ducked his head back through the entryway, smelling the air; a pleasant, savory scent filled his nostrils, and he wet his lips involuntarily. "Soon...?" he asked with a hopeful look, turning back to the Kohta and Saya and joining them as they sat down on the floor, within the ring of candlelight.
"Yeah," Kohta replied, wiping a bit of drool away with the back of his hand. "There was some food in the fridge that wasn't spoiled. Saeko's cooking."
He blinked. "The stove works? I thought the EMP would have shut down the gas lines or something."
"It did," Saya allowed. "We got lucky. The kitchen stove doesn't work, but Fatty here noticed a few propane tanks by the storage shed outside. Turns out there was a double burner squirreled away in there."
"Mmmm. Hot food..." Takashi reminisced, and Kohta joined him in his nostalgia, their stomachs rumbling in chorus at the shared memory.
Saya brought them out of their reverie with a sharp flick of her middle finger at Takashi's forehead and a hard yank on Kohta's ear; the latter looked quite painful, but Kohta seemed to enjoy it despite the pain. "Would you focus, please? There are things we should discuss."
"Yes," Takashi agreed, "like the fact that you've showered."
"I don't see how that's important," she said, her cheeks flushing a slight pink, though it was nothing compared to her former shade of crimson. "But if you must know, there's a balcony out from the master bedroom. The rain's heavy enough, if nowhere near warm enough. Saeko and I have already gone; Shizuka-sensei's taking her turn now."
"A hot meal and a shower? It's like we're halfway back to civilization." That made Kohta grin, but Saya only rolled her eyes.
"Don't get sidetracked by creature comforts. There are important matters we should talk about." She looked at Takashi, waiting expectantly for him to begin.
"Right. Sorry." He rubbed his chin, feeling a faint bit of stubble, as he thought the situation through. "Okay. How secure is this place? I didn't get a chance to look around outside yet."
Kohta grimaced. "Honestly, Komuro? Not very. There could be a hundred of 'them' out there, congregated on the other side of the walls, and this place doesn't offer much protection."
Saya nodded. "I checked for myself. The walls are strong enough I suppose, but the gates were meant to be decorative, not durable. Particularly the driveway gate. Even if we chained it shut, I wouldn't bet on the hinges lasting long if a dozen of 'them' start pushing from the other side."
"Right," Kohta agreed. "It might be a different story if we could put some weight behind it, maybe a parked car or something, but we don't have one."
"All right. So what you're saying is, if they get in past the gate, we're screwed?"
"That's it in a nutshell," Saya said, pursing her lips. "Oh, I forgot the kicker. The front door was forced open, so it won't lock from this side anymore. We had to barricade it with the furniture we found in here, but it would barely slow 'them' down if they came in force. The windows won't hold up either. I think we should leave the bridge out and ready, just in case."
Takashi sighed audibly, crossing his arms. "Yeah, okay. But it's not like we'd try fighting 'them' off from here anyway, so I don't think it'll matter too much. Not being noticed will be our main defense, at least for tonight. And we'll be gone in the morning."
Saya and Kohta both relaxed visibly, sharing a quick glance. "Good," Kohta said. "Sorry to force the point, Komuro, but trying to fort up here would be a pretty terrible idea."
"Definitely. But Miyamoto's okay with leaving tomorrow?" Saya asked, tilting her head. "She doesn't want to stay here, waiting for her parents or something?"
"Well, I'm sure she'd want to, but she understands that we can't. I talked it over with her. We leave after sunrise. And before I forget, don't be shy about taking anything you can use. She's fine with it."
Kohta perked up at the notion. "Great. I could do with a change of clothes, if her dad has some that might fit. A belt, too." Saya seemed skeptical about that, arching an eyebrow dubiously, but she left the remark alone.
"So, Hirano. Did you find any weapons? Guns, ammunition, anything?" Takashi asked.
He shook his head sadly in reply as he stroked the MP5 in his lap, as if it were a pet kitten. "Nothing. I mean, I didn't expect to hit the jackpot like at the mansionette, but I thought we might get a few speed loaders of .38, or a shotgun shell or two – something we could use, but this place is completely dry, aside from your run of the mill household stuff."
"Does that surprise you?" Saya asked with a flat look. "You know how tightly guns are controlled in Japan. It's not uncommon for police officers to never handle a firearm other than their duty weapon, and even that's strictly regulated, down to keeping track of ammunition."
"Right, I know. I guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Anyway, we did find a display stand that probably held a pole arm, but it's gone."
"Yeah, a spear. Rei's dad practices soujutsu, so it's not surprising he had one around." Takashi glanced at the magazine of the MP5 poking out of Kohta's front pocket. "How are we on ammo? I left my pouch rig in Rei's room, but I had around thirty shells in it. And whatever we got at the station."
"Let's take inventory, then. Komuro, would you mind grabbing the Benelli and the M1A1 from upstairs? Bring your gun belt down, too." Takashi nodded in assent, rising and leaving the room while Kohta began emptying his backpack. He returned a few minutes later with the shoulder straps of his belt rig looped around his neck and a long gun in either hand, but slowed in the entryway as he took in everything that Kohta arranged on the floor.
In addition to the AR-10 and MP5 with their associated magazines, he had laid out the Luger P-08 that Saya's mother had given her, with its removable wooden stock and drum magazine, along with Saeko's Beretta and its two spare magazines. Takashi recognized one other handgun - a Smith and Wesson Model 37 Air Weight revolver, like the one that Rei had picked up off of the dead police officer – but there were a dozen others that he didn't recognize, all of which were semiautomatic, most being of slightly different size or design. Spare magazines were stacked next to a number of them, presumably compatible with the handgun they accompanied.
In stark contrast, the colored cardboard boxes containing ammunition were few and far between. There were several larger boxes, for rifle ammunition and shotgun shells, but the smaller boxes – the handgun rounds – were sparse, at least when compared to the impressive array of weapons.
"That is a lot of firepower," Takashi confessed with no small amount of awe as he knelt before the display, adding his two guns and the belt harness into the mix. "Where did you put it all?"
Kohta gave a bashful half smile, scratching at his cheek as he answered with a simple, "In the backpack."
Saya seemed stunned by this revelation. "You're kidding. You've been carrying all of this on your back? Plus the gear we found at the mansionette, and what we took from the mall? All while holding that cannon you call a rifle?"
"Um, yes?"
"Fatty," she sighed, shaking her head, "sometimes I don't know if you're amazing, or amazingly stupid. Do we even have all of the types of ammunition that these use? Why are you even carrying so many? You're the only one who can use them competently, and any of us did need to use them, they won't do us any good stuck in your backpack."
"I want to bring them with me," he insisted stubbornly, growing irritable. "I'm the one carrying them, so what's the big deal?"
She sighed, shaking her head as her eyes took in the spread of iron. "Look," she said, in a surprisingly gentle, patient tone. "Altogether, that backpack of yours probably weighs over thirty kilos. And that rifle is heavy, too. It's what, six or seven kilos? You're not exactly in the best shape, Kohta. How long do you think you'll last, lugging around that much weight, especially if you're going to add whatever else you find that's worth taking? If we had to run, would you even be able to keep up?"
Kohta scrunched up his face at that question, but said nothing. Takashi spoke into the silence. "Maybe it'd be a good idea to trim it down a bit, Hirano. Why bother carrying a gun around if we don't have the ammo for it? If it can't shoot, it's just a hunk of metal."
"We might end up finding some ammunition," Kohta protested weakly.
Saya sniffed at that, her voice sardonic. "For a handgun? Please. Handguns are banned to civilians, so chances are our only sources of handgun ammunition are the police and the military. We should leave any guns that don't use ammunition we could realistically find."
"But that just leaves NATO calibers! For handguns, we'd be limited to 9mm Luger, and maybe .38 Special or .357 Magnum, since the police use it..."
"Deal with it, you hoarder," Saya declared ruthlessly as she began to rummage through the boxes of ammunition, opening each one to view the number of cartridges remaining. "Give me a hand here, Fatty. We're doing this so you don't get left behind. Much good your gun collection will do you if you get eaten."
Takashi watched as a somewhat sadistic Saya, and an increasingly forlorn Kohta, sorted and segregated the ammunition, obtaining a final round count for each caliber. Then they matched up every firearm to its corresponding caliber, making neat rows of weapons beneath the stacks of cartridges.
For his part, Takashi only picked out the shotgun shells – four additional boxes of five shells each, bringing his count to around fifty shells, plus five in the shotgun's magazine tube. He was surprised to learn that Kohta's AR-10 'cannon', as Saya called it, was chambered in the same 7.62 NATO caliber as Rei's M1A1 Springfield, and that the Beretta, the Luger, and the MP5 all shared the same round – 9mm Luger. In addition, there were two more pistols in that column – an older looking model with wooden grips, and one of a more modern design that had two spare magazines, styled like the Beretta but without the Beretta's exposed barrel and with a smaller slide, scalloped at the end.
Not surprisingly, there were a few columns of weapons for which they had no ammunition, and the only two others that did – the M37 Air Weight revolver, and a shorter, compact weapon that Kohta called a Colt Officer's Model – had only a box and a half of rounds between them.
"Seriously?" Saya asked with a cocked eyebrow as she looked at the nine pistols that lacked any associated ammunition.
Kohta looked glum. "I really wanted to hang onto those."
"You'll thank me later." He made a noncommittal sound in reply.
"We can stash them here," Takashi offered. "If need be, we can come back for them." Kohta seemed to brighten at the prospect, gathering up the nine firearms they had chosen to leave behind.
"Stash this one, too." Saya's voice was restrained as she gently touched her mother's Luger P-08. "It's bulky, and we only have the one drum magazine. We're better off saving the ammo for the MP5, since that's quieter anyway."
"I don't mind carrying that one," Kohta said nonchalantly.
"But–" he interrupted her.
"It's fine. That one isn't heavy at all. It just looks like it because of the stock. Leaving the nine makes me light enough. I can keep up with the rest of you guys, no sweat."
"Okay." She bit her lip, then added in a small voice, "Thanks, Kohta."
"Don't mention it."
Takashi rose, dusting off his hands as he did. "All right. I think we're all set for now. We'll talk about our plan for tomorrow over dinner."
"Yeah, sounds good. Let us know when it's ready, Takashi." Saya turned her attention back to Kohta, looking him up and down with a critical eye. "Now, as for you. You're going to show me how to use that." She pointed at Kohta's AR-10.
He blinked, startled. "What? Why?"
"I've decided. We're switching again. You're our gun expert, so it makes more sense to give you the gun with the suppressor. We could get away with using it more often than that heavy cannon of yours. Now start teaching me."
Takashi left before Kohta could muster any protest, which would have invariably ended with Saya walking all over his arguments regardless of what he might say. He was glad that they seemed to be getting closer, in their own, slightly dysfunctional way; for a little while, Takashi had begun to think that Saya was interested in him, and that would've ended up horrendously complicated, as his hands were already quite full with Rei and Saeko. Thoughts of the latter led to thoughts of dinner, and convinced by the increasingly insistent growling from his stomach, he followed his nose to the source of the delicious smells in the air.
The kitchen was small, with a refrigerator in one corner and a stove in the other, divided by counter space and a metal sink. Saeko was barefoot and stood in front of the counter, her figure illuminated by pure white light from a fluorescent emergency lantern. She held a ladle contemplatively in one hand as she tended a pair of metal pots arranged atop a portable gas burner. As Saya had mentioned, she had recently bathed, and her indigo black hair was collected in a single ponytail high on her head that fell straight down her back to tickle the middle of her thighs. Takashi noticed that this time she wore a loose, black tank top beneath her light green apron – long enough that it fell past her hips. It was silly for him to hope for another 'naked apron' from Saeko, yet he couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment, albeit a small one – she was still a very attractive young woman who was presently wearing very little, and the way stood displayed the toned lines of her legs to great advantage.
"Good evening, Takashi," Saeko said, inclining her head in greeting and curving her lips in a small, knowing smile, as if she had been reading his thoughts. "I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed one of your shirts."
"Not a problem." He looked away as he added, heat rising in his face, "It looks better on you, anyway."
"Ah. Thank you."
Takashi chanced a glance at her, and found her own cheeks tinged with pink. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to let you know – if you need spare clothes, Rei said that we can take whatever we like."
"A gracious offer. Is she well?" she asked tentatively.
Takashi nodded. "It's been an exhausting day for her. She's resting now, but I'll wake her when we're ready to eat. I think she should be okay after some food and a good night's sleep."
"I'm glad." Using a quilted square potholder to protect her hand, she lifted the lid that had resided inside one of the pots, stirring the contents. "It's just about ready. I hope you like nikujaga." At the rumbling reply of his stomach, she laughed – a soft, rich sound that, together with the wonderful aromas drifting from the pot, drew him steadily closer. She regarded him for a moment, eyes gleaming, a fine dark eyebrow arching speculatively. "Would you care for a taste?"
"God, yes." He licked his lips in anticipation.
Wearing that same, curved half-smile, Saeko reduced the heat on the burners and took a sampling dish from the counter, ladling out a bit of potato, along with some of the broth from the stew. She lifted the dish to her pink lips, blowing gently to cool it before stepping closer and offering it up to him; he accepted with a smile of thanks. As he tasted it, his eyes drifted closed in contented bliss, savoring the subtle yet satisfying flavors of the stew.
"Is it to your liking?" It was a simple, straightforward question, but nevertheless it caught him offguard, coming as a low, warm murmur from very, very near. Takashi was startled to find that she had crossed the distance between them, her entrancing blue eyes staring up at him from only a hand span away. Taken aback as he was, he nearly fumbled the dish, but her warm fingers closed over his own before it could fall free of his hands.
Takashi swallowed, if not without difficulty, his throat suddenly parched. "It's... delicious," he managed in an unsteady breath, and her half smile widened into one of pure pleasure, those dark eyes gleaming in the reflected light from the lantern.
"There's something I've been wondering," she mused, shifting her attention to their joined hands, relieving him of the dish and replacing it on the counter. She remained close, and though Takashi had allowed his hands to fall to his sides, she apparently had a different notion, beginning to lightly trace her fingertips over the front of his chest. "Which do you prefer?" she asked quietly, still not meeting his eyes, "Girls who are forward, or girls who are demure?"
Takashi considered his response for a long moment, trying to read her features despite her lowered gaze and the obscuring shadows cast by the lantern. Made bolder by her directness, he gathered his courage and gently cupped her chin with his right hand, tilting her face upward; he was surprised to find traces of hesitation and uncertainty lingering in her expression as she apprehensively awaited his reply.
"I think that both can be appealing," Takashi said at last, "but I think it's more exciting when forward girl acts demure, or when a demure girl is unusually forward."
The answer seemed to please her, the anxiety in her eyes fading away as that small, mysterious smile appeared again, softening her features. From so close, Takashi couldn't help but stare in fascination at her full, lovely mouth, and before he realized what he was doing, he was stroking her lower lip with the edge of his thumb, finding that it was every bit as soft and silken as he had imagined.
"Takashi?" she asked in a warm, lingering breath along the back of his hand.
"Yes...?"
The tip of her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips and just barely brushing the skin of his fingertip. "Would you care for a taste?" The invitation was not at all innocent, and the smoldering look of promise behind her eyes set Takashi's blood to a low boil.
"I shouldn't," he breathed, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have led you on." But his attention kept returning to her perfect, waiting mouth.
Her fingers slid up his chest and behind his neck, interlacing familiarly. His response was instinctive, moving his hands to hold her waist – to make sure that she didn't move suddenly closer, naturally. It certainly wasn't because the warmth of her body felt incredibly good beneath his palms, separated only by a thin layer of cotton. "You can lead me wherever you like," she purred with a shiver, apparently enjoying the touch as much as he did. "Don't you want to?"
"It isn't that. Rei–"
"–had you for nearly two hours," she interjected curtly, a predatory smile flickering across her countenance. "It's my turn now."
Takashi's cheeks heated, a deep blush infusing his face as he stammered, "It – it wasn't like that. Nothing happened. We... didn't do anything."
"Do something with me."
"Saeko..."
A fingertip rested lightly on his lips, silencing him as she stared up through a curtain of dark hair and darker lashes. "You've seen the real me, Takashi. You said that you'd take responsibility, and accept me as I am. I'm relying on you to help me with my... appetites. Even if that means sharing you with Miyamoto."
"Something tells me she won't be so... accommodating."
Saeko chuckled richly. "That's for you two to work out." Her head tilted and she favored him with a small, sly smile. "It's only a kiss, Takashi. I know you've kissed her before."
He wet his lips. "All right. One kiss."
Takashi tasted her, and she was... exquisite.
End Chapter 4
