Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
An Azureshipping FanFic
Lockdown
Chapter Fourteen.
When school rolled around, Anzu found herself missing the absentee Kaiba. The I'm-so-over-it attitude she developed seemed to go to waste.
No skin off her butt, she decided, taking her seat. She had beginners boxing after school — her form of therapy — and a fresh outlook on past impulses.
So when she was told Mr. Takanori, aka the insensible teacher who locked herself and Kaiba in high school purgatory was fired, Anzu went straight to the source.
Kaiba's downtown office was modernly decorated with sleek furniture and pricey accessories. She was awed by the efficiency of his staff, the older man who was his PA.
"Mr. Kaiba is currently in a meeting," he told her. "He'll be a moment, but if you are willing to wait, he'll see you."
"Thank you." Anzu sat in the comfortable lounge, an interesting painting of an African tribal dance catching her eye.
The way the artist seemed to capture the rhythm, the vibrancy of movement, made her appreciate it more as a dancer.
There was another at her back, this one of a different theme, a more dark, inspiringly gothic masterpiece of angry red and somber blues.
She was half in love with it already when Kaiba's PA tapped her shoulder. And his tone was purely professional when he said, "The meeting has concluded. You may go in now."
"Thank you," Anzu said again, looked forlornly at her love. If only, she thought, grabbing her school bag. She reached for Kaiba's door, took a bracing breath — she imagined many a business associates doing this — and opened.
Partly surprised, partly intrigued, Seto Kaiba kept his gaze pinned on a determined and perfectly annoying Anzu Mazaki.
She was wearing her uniform, the mismatch of pink and blue that told him she came directly from school. In her hands held her bag, her grip tight on the straps.
And though it was small of him, he enjoyed her discomfort, the nervous energy she seemed to give off.
"You'd better have a good reason for coming all this way and interrupting my work," he told her.
She rolled her eyes and without invitation took one of the two seats in front of his desk. "You had Mr. Takanori fired. Is that a good enough reason?"
"No. And before you explode," he added, watching her cheeks turn ruby. "I'll tell you he wasn't fired but suspended."
"The word used by the teachers was fired, Kaiba, and it was by your influence. How could you? He didn't intentionally leave us at school. He thought we'd left!"
Kaiba kept his tone disinterested. "I am not to blame for what the principal did. I merely suggested Mr. Takanori have some time off."
Anzu lifted a brow, the perfect imitation of him. "Time off," she repeated. "Maybe you've forgotten but the principal is a sycophantic idiot. So yeah, it's your fault. But I forget, you fire people everyday. Their lives are as meaningless to you as a stray piece of lint on your designer coat."
"You couldn't be more right."
Her expression slipped, showed true shock for a moment before she recovered. "I don't know why the hell I came over here. I thought maybe you'd changed, that you weren't so bad. Boy, was I wrong."
"Again, you're right." Kaiba stood, avoided bumping his arm. It was hell wearing a sling. "Mr. Takanori has been fired, accept it. And," he continued, his voice turning piercingly cold. "while you're at it, I want you to forget what happened between us."
"You mean when we kissed?" she asked tightly, then dismissed it with a laugh. "It's already forgotten. Really, Kaiba, you think too much of yourself. It wasn't that good of a kiss." Vacating the chair, she slung the bag over her shoulder. "I'd stay and discuss your failing appeal, but I'm late for an appointment."
She slammed the door behind her with admirable force, and Kaiba leaning against the desk, noticed something shiny on the floor.
Spitting mad Anzu stormed into the gym, couldn't wait to get going and ram her fist into the bag. She met a woman holding a clipboard, her face instantly recognizable.
"Mrs. Itou," she began roughly, then cleared it when the woman lifted a brow. "Sorry. I've had a bad day. Can you tell me where I'm supposed to meet Chiharu?"
Sanae Itou tapped her pen against the board, regarded the girl with contempt. "You're late," she told her. "and on your first day. Luckily," she continued, halting Anzu's excuses. "Chiharu is out with the flu. You've got a replacement." Itou jerked her thumb in the other direction. "He's over there, by the ring. Go on. You've wasted enough time."
Hustling now, Anzu streaked across to the ring, stopped short when a man moved forward. He was dreamy with his long dark hair tied back, striking green eyes, and leanly muscled body. If she was a Hanna-Babera cartoon character, her eyes would be popping and her tongue unfurling.
"Are you Chiharu's replacement?" Her voice was breathy, and she blamed it on the short sprint.
He smiled. "Ichiren Hayashi. You can call me Ren. Nice to meet you, Anzu." He offered his hand, waited until she accepted. "I'm told you're starting beginner's boxing."
Anzu nodded. "That's right. How long do you think Chiharu's going to be out?"
"Probably a week at the most. But she's strong, she'll bounce back quick." He cocked his head. "Okay. You need to strip."
"Excuse me?"
Ren observed her reddened cheeks with another friendly smile. "I meant get changed. You're still wearing your uniform."
Looking down, Anzu fingered the blue bow. "Right. Where is the locker room?"
He pointed to where, told her to meet him over by the exercise equipment, and eager to begin, Anzu quickly exchanged skirt and blouse for a comfortable tank and loose pants.
Walking back she thought her day had gone from bad to worse to terrifically good. Thank God Chiharu got sick.
She met Ren on the small cleared space, in his hands two bright yellow rolls of herringbone wraps. She held out her arms when he gestured for them, held her breath as he wound the cloth around hands and wrists.
Pleased with his work, Ren grabbed the strewn jump rope and offered it to her. "Let's begin. Thirty seconds," he counted. "Then we'll get started on pushups for another thirty. You're body's disciplined, years of dancing, right? That's good, very good."
After the pushups Anzu switched to abdominal crunches, and feeling the aches beginning, she glared at Ren.
"Second set," he called out, ignoring her stony stare. "Keep your upper body flat. Raise your knees, Anzu. Come on."
"I'd like to see you do this," she grunted, barely getting enough air.
Accepting the challenge, Ren dropped down beside her, showed her how it was done. "Let's go. Third set."
Her groans were smothered by his laughter.
Weights came next, and doing full range bicep curls, Anzu wondered if her arms would fall off at the end of the session. She glanced over at Ren who switched to military presses.
Following his example, Anzu puffed out air and lifted the weight, lowered, and repeated for another thirty seconds.
"You're doing good." Ren praised. "Another twenty and you're done."
"Shut up," she hissed at him, then sat back when she was finished. "A minute," she panted. "Give me a minute."
"The speed bag's up next," he guzzled water, offered her a bottle. "Then I think we're done for the day."
"What about the heavy bag?"
"We'll save that for tomorrow. You look like you're going to drop. You ready?"
Tossing the empty bottle aside, she forced herself to her feet. "I'm ready."
Soaking the aches away in a frothy bath, Anzu realized she hadn't thought of Kaiba since beginning her work out. Even after she coerced Ren into letting her go at the heavy bag, her punches lacked aggression. She was having fun.
Sighing, she turned her thoughts to her substitute trainer. She learned he was a champion kick boxer, attended Domino university, and had a very nice girlfriend. The girlfriend part didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. Maybe it was because she'd finally accepted her feelings for a permanently bad-tempered C.E.O.
Apparently she'd come to care for him. And that was okay, because despite the icy shell, she'd glimpsed a kinder, nicer Kaiba.
Too bad he kept that side locked up behind a titanium door with triple security.
She was pulled out of her musings when the doorbell rang, her contemplative mood shifting to heavily annoyed.
Thinking it was a friend, she hopped out of the tub sending aches into a frenzy, grabbed a towel, and winced down the stairs. By the time she'd reached the door, her body felt battered and used.
Wrenching it open, Anzu glared at her intruder. "What is so damn important?"
Arching a single brow, Kaiba ran his eyes over her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a superior smirk. "Nice outfit," he commented, watched the color rise to her cheeks. "Invite me in, Mazaki."
She started to close the door, and on impulse, he blocked it with his foot. Her eyes were thoroughly pissed, and since pissing her off had such interesting results, he pushed his way past her.
She made a small noise that could be translated as pain, but he wasn't one to care. Instead, he leaned against the couch, waited until the door closed behind her, and she whirled to face him.
"What —?" Anzu started forward, and the burst of angry movement loosened the knot on her towel. It came tumbling down in a flash of mint green.
Kaiba's smirk went from taunting to devlish. "Now this is a really nice outfit."
A word from ladydolce.
Okay. The last move was a bit clichéd, but I have an unexpected twist for it. Expect some 'relationship' development in the next chapter.