The Jaws of Life
Yuka peeled her Aunt's note off the fridge. The alphabet magnets spelled 'or else' beside it. They haven't been touched in years.
Yuka,
Bread is on the counter. Eat at the kitchen table, not in your room. Wash the dishes in the sink. Clean the bathroom. I found the nail polish you hid under a floorboard in your room. No allowance this week and you can forget about that cell phone I promised.
Do not leave the apartment. I will know.
Much love,
Lal Mirch
Yuka crumpled the note and tossed it into the waste basket. Lal Mirch, what would I do without you?
She reached for a slice of whole wheat toast that lay on the counter. It would taste better with peanut butter, but neither of them had gone grocery shopping in a while. Lal was too busy with work, and Yuka had to hide in the apartment.
Right now, had only one thing on her mind: Lal Mirch was GONE, and the purple switchblade was hidden somewhere in the apartment. Time to search for her mother's switchblade.
Suddenly, Yuka's stomach clenched like an iron fist. It was that feeling you get when you realized you forgot something after it was too late. That weird sickening, floating feeling.
Oh My GOSH! I should have searched the reception room for the ring. Hibari was sedated. It was the perfect opportunity! I'm such an idiot! How could I forget?
She couldn't eat any more of the bread. It had formed an uncomfortably sticky blob in her stomach, taking away her appetite.
And thus, despondently, she began to search the apartment for the purple switchblade.
The members of Varia, excluding Xanxus, were clustered around a massive wall of TV screens recording various areas of Namimori. About half of the cameras focused on Namimori School, on the courtyard, and the hallways. Other areas of town were also under surveillance, including the shrine, the local playgrounds, and the bridge over the Namimori River.
"The record says she lives with her mother," Mammon explained. "I don't know why she's in Japan."
"Shishishi~ old cloud lady is smart to have hidden her outside the country. She must have suspected we would go after her daughter since she retired."
"I MISSS KALI MIRCH SOOOO MUUCCHHH!" announced Lussuria. "SHE TAUGHT ME HOW TO BE FASHIONABLE—!" He twirled, showing off his Varia outfit.
"VVVOOOI! SHUT UP YOU PANSY!" Squalo whacked Lussuria. "PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR CAMERAS!" Lussuria was wearing a very large hat to hide his long pink hair. The dye had faded to a lovely shade of magenta that Yuka would be very jealous of.
"SQUALOoooooOOOOoooOOOOooOOO" Lussuria cooed. "Don't be so MeAn. How about we make a deal! I'll be quiet if you put on this LoVeLy dress I made!" He proudly held up something Pepto-Bismol pink, covered in lacy frills and shiny ribbons. It almost blinded Squalo, worshiper of black manly trench coats.
And he was tempted. Anything to shut Lussuria up, but he knew the moment he touched it, his skin would burn.
"VOOOIII NEVVEERRRR!"
As Lussuria pounced on Squalo, trying to slip the dress over his head, Mammon, unnoticed, floated out of the room. Finally, out of ear-shot, he flipped open his cellphone.
"Reborn?" he whispered, "I have the information you purchased. I only take deposits to my account in Switzerland…"
Believe it or not, Yuka found her treasure at the very back of the spice cabinet, behind a shaker of black pepper. She had searched all over the house for it. Curious, she sat at the kitchen table, rolling the pocket knife in her hands.
She remembered how a man named Verde had made this knife. Verde… Who was Verde?
The handle was smooth and felt like violet polished stone in her hand. It's too light to be made of stone. She flicked her wrist, releasing the blade. She played with it, wondering what other tools it carried. Little scissors, a screw driver, a USB drive, a wrench, night-vision lenses, and… bubble gum? How could so much fit in such a tiny handle? She popped a piece into her mouth. Spearmint.
She opened the knife's blade again. Carefully, she traced her finger along the 10 cm piece of steel. The sharpness satisfied her. But there was a certain roughness to it in some places.
Upon taking a closer look, she realized the knife had been engraved with writing. Yuka squinted to read the graceful cursive.
To my fire, my perfect delight, and my perfect agony.
Yuka's eyes widened. She felt like she was going to choke. Verde? Did he… love her? Lal Mirch had never told her about her father.
Suddenly, she heard the all-too-familiar squeak of the front door opening and Lal Mirch's rare giggle.
"HEY! Yuka!" Came Colonnello's voice from the entrance. "We're back!"
"Oh, be quiet Colonnello. She might be sleeping," whispered Lal, embarrassed. She sounded like a giddy young school girl, not her normal gruff self. Talk about a split personality.
"Hey, nonsense, we have leftover sushi. We can't let it go to waste."
Yuka quickly tucked the switchblade into her skirt waistband, only to shudder in horror. My uniform! Her skirt was still tattered at the hem and her cotton shirt was dotted with holes. Lal is going to kill me. This is my only uniform. On tip-toes, she snuck to the staircase, hoping to get upstairs and pretend to be sleeping.
But Lal was better than that.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" A murderous a murderous intent reflected in her eyes. Yuka tried to calm her down. A scuffle with a guardian. Nothing that would oust her from Namimori.
"Midnight Punishment Training, 7pm tomorrow night, Namimori Bridge. Bring your bathing suit." Yuka let out a moan in her room. She didn't like swimming. She didn't even own a bathing suit.
Soaking wet.
Soaking wet in her see-through white dress. They were all staring at her, swirling the wine in their glasses with disapproval.
With contempt.
Her form collapsed.
Helpless.
Slut.
Early Thursday morning, Yuka slipped out of the apartment, while her Aunt and Colonnello gurgled in their sleep. What? Do you think they were having sex last night?
They're babies!
Yuka was disturbed from the nightmare she dreamed last night. Not that she was scared. She didn't even remember it well, but it had left her feeling empty when she woke. Her Lucky Charms didn't taste the same.
But she had more important stuff to think about. Which direction was Haru's house again? Haru was a wiz with the sewing machine, and Yuka needed her uniform to be repaired before school started. She felt her shirt. So many holes... Was it even possible to repair?
She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she passed the local park. An adorable yellow bird, the same buttercup yellow of Yuka's hair, was pecking at berries on a branch. It was very cute and round, and when she walked by it, it cocked its head to the side and chirped:
"HEE-BUR-EE."
Yuka froze. Did that bird just tweet Hibari? She ogled the bird in amazement, while it returned her gaze cautiously.
"HEE-BUR-EE," it chirped again.
Naaaa. It just must be some weird bird noise. Yuka shrugged it off and continued on her way.
But the strange bird's tweet brought into her mind the prefect.
Hibari Kyoya… I don't know what to think of him anymore….He was a good fight. She smiled to herself at the memory of the duel. She had never been so concentrated in her life. Not even when, last summer, she spent a week camping in the woods and meditating in the forest. Her aunt had thought she ran away, but she had come back glowing, twigs stuck in her unbrushed hair.
It was a nice memory. Empowering. The fight in the reception room had pulled something out of her, some piece of sadness in her heart. She felt more alive as she walked to Haru's house, a spring evident in her step.
Sure, he was a complete jerk, but he fought with class. She had to respect that. And maybe things would be different now that she won in a fair fight. Fair fight. The mosquito tranquilizers popped into her mind. That's right, it wasn't fair…
She stopped walking, her face reddening as she imagined the sleeping face, wet hair, delicate lashes, messy necktie and slightly open mouth of the sedated cloud guardian. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! DON'T! It's stupid to get caught up in his appearance when, deep down, he's just sadistic asshole.
She snorted like an angry rhinoceros, trying to push the memory of 'sleeping beauty' out of her mind.
PLUS, two more afternoons with Officer Jerk-Face. She had two more detentions to make up. Damn him.
But she shivered again, remembering his resting face's softened expression, framed by dark velvet hair.
It's hard to believe he's a bad guy when he looks like that.
Haru was better with the needle than Yuka expected. The lemon-headed Yuka was a bit sour as she silently observed her friend sew her skirt. Haru never noticed, talking a mile a minute about Tsuna and the beach house they would retire in. Finally, Haru's usual inquisitive curiosity revealed itself.
"Yuka, have you found anyone special at Namimori?" Haru asked. Has she heard something? "Love is such a GREAT thing to be in, you know," Haru continued leaning forward.
"Psshhhh~ Haru? You really think I've changed that much in three days?" Yuka blabbed. "Like I told you, I have no interest in having a boyfriend. Guys just disgust me. They just have no respect, you know. No respect and no concept of honor and…"
Haru eye's twinkled as they followed her needle. She may be springy, clueless, and a little hyper sometimes, but she was an expert at being in love. After all, she was always in love. And Yuka's usual passion and ardor for slandering the male gender was missing.
Just something in the tone of voice.
Yuka left Haru's house in her freshly sewn uniform. She had 30 minutes to get to school, and she was still in Midori's school district. As she cut through the park, she came across the fluffy, yellow chick again. It sat on the same old branch.
"HEE-BUR-EE" it tweeted, and to Yuka's amazement, flitted into the air, and landed on her shoulder.
"Now aren't you something," Yuka giggled.
"HEE-BUR-EE" it tweeted again happily. She used her finger to tickle it under the chin, and it seemed to smile. Yuka's heart went to it.
Thus distracted, Yuka jumped out of her regulation cross-knit socks as a little calico cat popped out of the alleyway. Her first instinct was to protect the bird, but she sighed in relief when the feline ran into the street. Wait. The street? That's not safe! Suddenly, a black-haired girl in a green Kokuyo uniform whooshed out of the alleyway following the cat. And into the street.
Both didn't seem to be sticklers for rules. None looked both ways before crossing, as they teach in, what, freakin' kindergarten? Besides inventing eyeballs to check if cars are coming, God had the miraculous idea to introduce to humans the cell phone. Currently, this particular device was being used by a truck driver, who happened to be hurtling down the road. The particular road next to the park in Namimori - the particular lane that this girl was standing in the middle of.
The little bird on her shoulder was paralyzed, fear causing its little talons to prick her shoulder.
And Yuka couldn't live with herself if she did nothing.
Quickly, she flicked open her pocket knife and dashed out into the street. The girl, who had managed to snatch the cat up in her arms, froze like a doe trapped in headlights. Yuka knew she wouldn't get out of the way by herself. The truck was only a few feet away when she grabbed the young woman's green jacket and pulled her down to the rough asphalt. She held the girl and the cat in a tight embrace. The truck careened above them and something on the undercarriage snagged her newly sewn uniform, tearing the back down the middle.
But Yuka had already plotted her revenge. While the truck whooshed overhead, Yuka held her knife, sharp end pointing up, to the trucks thick tires. The knife was strong. They blew out and after the truck had passed over them, it skidded out of control and slammed into a tree trunk in the park. The driver leaped out and cursed at the tree, completely unaware that he had run over two girls.
"Are you ok?" the mysterious girl asked, ghost pale and shaking, while Yuka investigated the damage to her shirt. Both girls were breathing heavily from the shock of being run over.
She hadn't been cut, but a 30 cm gaping slash had been torn into her blouse. The back of her pink, frilly bra peeked through.
Damn. I have no time to go back to Haru's house to get this fixed, too.
Dazed and a little jittery herself, she turned to the Kokuyo student. She studied her outfit with admiration. Her dark hair was cut short and sloppily like Yuka's, but messed up in the back with gel, making it stick out in short spikes. She wore a tough-as-nails eye patch with a silver skull painted on, a matching leather skull belt, and midnight black motorcycle boots.
Poor girl. Kokuyo Middle has some of the worst perverts in town. She recalled the gang that had pounced on her back in her Midori days.
"I'm fine, but my uniform… My Aunt is going to kill me for ruining it again," Yuka replied, now trying to pinch the hole closed. But it would just fall apart miserably. It was a solid slice from her collar to the middle of her back. This is going to be so embarrassing… Yuka didn't like this exposure. She would have preferred the many tiny holes any day.
"Um, well, thank you, I… I don't know what to say."
Yuka turned back to the girl, smiling at her cute speechlessness. She seemed a little helpless, but Yuka's high opinion of her remained unchanged. Her courage for rescuing the calico cat was truly admirable. Or her stupidity. Either way, it was on par with Yuka's courage, or stupidity, or whatever it is that makes people risk their lives.
"You can say you owe me one," Yuka answered, grinning. Favors were always better when repaid. She got up and put her hand down to help the chick up after her. "I'm Hakuchou Yuka, but please, call me by my first name." Something about the girl reminded her of herself. She sympathized with her.
"My name is Chrome Dokuro," she pronounced, smiling shyly. She took Yuka hand, got up, then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you. I owe you one."
Chrome made a short bow, then, still clutching the cat, ran off back down the alley way.
"I'll see you around, Chrome," Yuka shouted, waving as the girl ran off.
Heh. I'm not in as much of a hurry to get where I'm going. Her smile slipped off her face as the little yellow bird alighted on her shoulder. If Lal finds out if I'm late to school—if she finds out I wrecked my uniform again—I'm doomed.
"HEE-BUR-EE" piped the young bird, sensing Yuka's nihilistic demeanor.
"Easy for you to say." She shooed the bird away. She blamed it. Maybe her reflexes would have been faster if it had left her alone.
And so, Yuka trudged glumly to Namimori, praying that Hana or Kyoko might have a spare uniform. The midnight punishment sat stoically on a heavy throne in the back of her mind. The day was getting worse and worse, and the ecstasy she felt from yesterday's duel was slowly fading away.
"It's nice to see you again, but you're late."
He leaned cross armed against a tree. Yuka hadn't seen him. She was hoping to sneak through the school courtyard. Avoid confrontations, and the like. She wheeled around, blocking the prefect's view of her torn uniform—As if she would let him see her lingerie! Her hands clawed behind her back, struggling to clamp the tear together.
"Yeah, thanks. I know I'm late, Captain Obvious. I'm going to the main office."
His mouth turned downwards in a haughty frown. His black jacket was draped loosely over his shoulders, a new prefect armband safety-pinned to his sleeve. The wind came in strong from the east, giving his hair a sort of dancing life. Yuka noticed Hibari was missing his usual dark necktie and his crisp, linen shirt collar, partially unbuttoned, fluttered with pieces of his hair. Even though he was dressed so casually, he could still pass as a stoic aristocrat, a heartless man who lived all alone in a castle in the clouds.
Her sarcastic shout didn't ward him off. The suffocating feeling was returning as he leaned off the tree and approached her. I have no freedom in this school. I can't even breathe without his permission.
"What are you hiding behind your back?" Hibari asked in a bored drawl as he advanced. "If you don't show me, I'll bite you to death."
"Uhh, it's…" She wavered under his cool scrutiny. What could she say? She was hiding spray paint? Honesty would have to be her ticket. She was too distressed to think of a decent lie. "It's something embarrassing," she laughed uneasily. "Believe me, you don't want to see it. Now I'll just be going now…" She side stepped in the direction of the office doors, making sure he couldn't see her back.
"Nnn? Where do you think you're going?" He smirked sardonically. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you left in the middle of detention. We have unfinished business."
It took a moment for his meaning to register in Yuka's mind.
NO! I completely forgot! His amnesia makes him forget that I went to his stupid detention yesterday!
Yuka's eyes widened in anxiety. The same wind that made Hibari's silky hair dance, annoyingly whipped her short buttercup tresses. She couldn't even wipe them away, her hands guardedly clutching the back of her shirt.
If he sees me like this, I will be so embarrassed. Pretty much, dead with embarrassment. Mortified.
And on top of all this calamity, the dread of midnight punishment training clung to her like a sword stuck in her gut. The memory of biting sores and raw blisters from the last one made her fear the future. Fear the unknown future. She didn't want it to come.
Oh, boy, did she not want it to come.
No. She just wanted to escape.
"HIBARI KYOYA, WILL YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS IN MY LIFE!" she cried. Her eyes brimmed with tears of aggravation as she defensively tightened her grip. "I JUST WANT ONE DAY OF PEACE! JUST ONE DAY!"
Silence pervaded the courtyard after her outburst, broken by each of Hibari's unperturbed footsteps on the brown, dusty dirt. She shifted her eyes around the courtyard. It was just them. She returned he gaze cautiously to the prefect. His eyes pried into her own. His proximity made her take a few step back. Was she in range of his tonfas? He still frowned in disapproval, but his eyes glittered, betraying a sort of sympathy.
"What's the matter?"
His voice lowered to a softer tone. Soft like the warm downy feathers of a skylark. Like his sleeping face.
"I don't want to talk about it," Yuka murmured, her voice still shaking with emotion.
Suddenly, his tonfa flashed, and before she knew it, she had caught it with her hands. Thwack! The blow was nothing like his usual strength. A bluff to make her flinch? Her white shirt sagged, falling down her shoulder, unstoppable as the tide pulling from the seashore. It would have fallen to her feet if she weren't squeezing her armpits. Her soft pink bra strap peek out, matching with her pink skin. Pink and soft. Very feminine. She swiftly released his tonfa and pulled her shirt back, blushing angrily, and ignorant, too, that the prefect's mask had also slipped. Although, not to the same degree. A slight rose tint had risen to his cheeks, and for once, he seemed restrained and self-conflicted. More than hesitant.
The cloud guardian was coming to a very large conclusion.
"There. Are you satisfied? My uniform ripped..." Yuka couldn't look him in the face, her own turning very scarlet. Sure, she wore her skirt rolled up, but not for attention. It was just more comfortable. Now, humiliation consumed her. It had never come to this in her street fights. "I was going to take care of it when I got inside."
"You can't walk around like that." Lifting her head, she noticed his eyes flaming with resolution. Hesitancy replaced with assurance.
She followed him woozily to the Reception Room. She was too flustered and embarrassed to break free and run away. Speechless. She was knocked completely out of character. What was happening? Why wasn't she putting up a fight? Why was she following him like some complacent dog?
Inside, he made his way to his desk and searched though the many compartments, his silken hair falling over his eyes.
"Turn around," he instructed, nose still in the drawer.
"No." She was slowly recovering. One hand hovered near her pocketknife, while the other still reached over her shoulder and held her shirt in place.
He lifted his head, then, silently, showed her a needle, a spool of white thread, and a small pair of fabric scissors.
"Shall I ask you again?" He didn't sound like those Midori thugs. More like Mrs. Rushito. Could she trust him? No. Something was wrong. Why would he do her any favors?
"Why are you doing this?"
His eyes fixed on her, piercing her, then shifted back down to the open drawer. "Because I cannot allow a student to so blatantly disobey the dress code," he said matter-of-factly, closing the drawer shut. Yuka eyed him suspiciously. Why did he look so agitated?
But his answer made sense. She turned around, still self-consciously holding the shirt together, her skirt swaying. She had never been so insecure about it before. Something about the cloud guardian... she felt like she was out of control around him. She heard the pap-pat-pat of his footsteps on the floor. Like her heartbeat. He tugged the bottom of her shirt down, she thought, to make it easier to begin the first stitch. Instead she heard the zip of ripping fabric. Cold air hit her back like an arctic wind. He had used the sharp scissors to finish the tear in her shirt.
She yelped, thunderstruck.
I knew he was a pervert!
And she almost shouted it, too. But Hibari quickly placed his jacket neatly over his shoulders and held it there with heavy hands.
"Don't be so surprised," he advised coolly. "It's the only way I can tailor it."
Yuka glowered venomously over her shoulder. She knew he could sew, but she didn't believe he needed to rip it off her back to repair it.
"I can't believe you did that!" she growled, reaching for her skirt waistband. But before she could turn fully around, whip out her switch blade, and start a whole new reception room battle, Hibari pulled her backwards into his chest. The cloud guardian already had a firm hold on her shoulders. It was easy to wrap one arm around her collar bone and the other tightly over her stomach. Yuka caught her breath. She had not expected such a battle move.
"What are you doing!" she cried hysterically, finding air. Her fingers pried at his smooth, creamy skin loosely wound around the base of her neck. She feared it would lift and choke her.
Is he starting a fight?
"Let go, you bastard!" she snarled.
His head nudged the side of hers, hushed laughter tickling her ear. "Oh? Whatever happened to 'sleeping beauty'?" he teased softly.
Yuka's clammy grip on his arm faltered. Who told him? She quieted, her mind racing of ways to deny it. She didn't want him to know she had daydreamed of his soft, pouty lips. His delicate lashes. The way his shirt was casually unbuttoned. He was holding her so close. His belt buckle dug sharply into the small of her back and his lips brushed against her ear. Luscious hot breath.
"I don't like you," she emphasized, finding the room to mule kick him in the shin.
"You have no strength. You know that?"
Yuka's eye twitched at the insult. She would have repeated the move if he hadn't repositioned her butt against his thigh. She lost the angle she had before. How could she push him off now?
"Can't you just give me a girls' uniform shirt?" she said in a low voice, to keep it from cracking. She was completely enveloped by him, their body heat melting together. Her full weight was supported by Hibari's chest. His smell. Like pine trees. Her heart throbbed in her ear. She could even feel him breathing, feel the vibrations of his voice. And as she clung desperately to the smooth skin of his arm, a new sensation rumbled in her gut. A sort of adrenaline rush.
"What do I have to do to make you wear the jacket?"
His jacket? Why? She struggled not to fall beneath the surface of her emotions, clinging to his arm as if it were floating driftwood. She couldn't trust herself. It scared her even more that she couldn't break free of him. He wasn't even wearing Tag and its laboratory pheromones that sent her a-wall. What was this spell?
"Fine. Just let me go. I'll wear your jacket." His body was just so warm, so strong and warm. Why did she like it so much? "Or I'll prove I can pound you into the ground, even when I'm at the disadvantage," she threatened, hiding her true feelings.
The voice hanging on her ear moaned with laughter before answering, as if her threat pleased him greatly. "Mmn? Impress me, then."
And with that, he pulled her closer into him, his head sinking into her neck. "Hibari!" She squirmed, trying to break them apart, but she was caught in the vice-like jaws of a shark.
"Hibari! Why are you being so stubborn?"
His soft raven hair brushed her cheek and his pressing lips testily nipped her neck, making her hair stand on end. She could feel the muscles of his chest, hard as concrete, through his soft jacket. His soft silk jacket. Was that all that separated them?
"Is your shirt really all that's bothering you?" His lips lifted to her jaw line, the laughter partiality gone from his voice.
"You're bothering me." If this information was the only thing she could withhold from him, so be it. But he didn't seem to get the hint. Nope. Instead, he was peeling back the midnight black jacket's collar like the petal from a flower, revealing her baby pink bra strap.
"Hey, isn't this against school rules?" She couldn't prevent her voice from shaking now. She had never relied on rules to save her. Her last ditch effort.
"And you think such logic will restrain me?" she could practically hear his haughty grin. She felt it on her shoulder's skin. His burning lips.
Meanwhile, Yuka's shirt was riding upward from the friction of his arms and her wriggling, exposing her belly button. She stared in shock as one of the prefect's hands slid casually down her side, on its way to her bare, exposed skin. She couldn't let him!
He didn't have permission for that!
It had to end.
Yuka wrapped her fingers around his, capturing and holding his hand, tenaciously interlocking their fingers. She would rather let him choke her. She couldn't lose control of the situation. She couldn't let him get closer.
Slut.
The dream.
"Stop!"
Fucking whore.
Something in her shattered.
"No! Let me go!" she gasped again, jagged with fear, squeezing his hand with every ounce of her strength. Her voice had finally cracked. She truly didn't want this. Her body shot coldness, a quivering stillness, like a frozen anchovy. The kind they feed to captive killer whales. The kind that have no flavor.
Hibari paused, his eyes becoming less cloudy, startled back to himself. It wasn't right. Something about it wasn't what he wanted. Her body grew colder by the second.
And her hand was so tight around his.
"I win this round," he finally whispered in her ear.
His arms slackened and Yuka immediately stepped away, bundling the jacket tightly around her shoulders. Her horn-rimmed glasses hung lopsided on her face. She turned to glare at him, pushing the bridge of her glasses up to straighten them. He wasn't staring at her, but at his desk. The profile of his face, hidden by a protective shadow, tilted downward.
Turning to leave, his stoic bossiness returned. "I'll be outside. Give me your uniform after you're changed."
His footsteps out were nothing like her heartbeat. Her heartbeat was too frantic. The door clicked behind him.
Was this the same person she had danced with on Tuesday? The same guy who had nearly broken her foot? What had happened to him?
And why did she think of that stupid dream? That stupid nightmare?
Dino always blamed himself for her nightmares. He blamed himself for letting her watch that famous shark movie. He was there when she woke up crying, Lal Mirch having left him to babysit.
There's just something horrific about a massive shark rough scales brushing against a naked skinny-dipper. Something about the way it toyed with her, eating bits of her alive, before pulling her under the murky ocean, her carcass wrapped in its layers of teeth.
Wet.
Naked.
Helpless.
She just couldn't throw the image out of her head.
And now, alone in the empty reception room, she felt like she had ruined something. The way he held her… deep inside, all her life, she had wanted to be held like that. To be supported like that. Was this love?
Or was it hell?
She thought of being called a slut. People had always called her one, the Midori clique giggling as she walked by. But she had never, truly, felt like one.
Damn, she hated the word like no other. She hated herself for letting him touch her.
So was she a slut now?
Was this what sluts did?
Let men hold them?
And what did he think? What was going on in his mind? She thought she had won something from him, respect at least, in the duel yesterday. She doubted this was love.
Yeah right, could a monster like Hibari Kyoya love.
He behaves just like any other punk.
Slowly, Yuka peeled her shirt off and pulled her arms through the coat's sleeves. She held the fabric covering her arm to her nose and inhaled deeply. Damn.
It smelled like him.