A/N: Thanks again for all the wonderful sweet reviews!
xJasmin3x: Hahahh I'm not a published writer! But thank you all the same!
VioTanequil: Thank you! I'll reveal Byakuya's side of things in a matter of time!
CrimsonBttrfly: Yay! Thank you! Characterizations are really important to me!
sunev.31: Hoshi is gross, I agree. And actually I'm writing some of the Odalisque, Is She chapter 7 already. I just need to work further on it. Thanks for caring as much as I do! You rock! And I want to publish a novel one day too, maybe that dream might come true in the future!
unohanagisa: Thank you for your beautiful review!
Sweet Dumplings: Haha i loved the toilet bit, too! Hahaha!
Sky1011: Haha, Byakuya is a gentleman, indeed. Sorry for late update, and thank you!
ayingchan: Thank you for your review!
Linor Ayyas: I loved that I'm going to make it M-rated too! /slaps myself/
ditchmydismay: Aww I'm glad you loved that line! It is rather true in some ways, isn't it? At least, I hope it applies to Byakuya.
Angelic Reprobate: Thank you! God bless you!
Hylla: I love Ichigo and Renji's conversations too! Thank you for your review! And yes... Byakuya and Hisana~
And that wraps it up, thanks once again for reviewing, everyone!
Sorry for late update!
PS: I will repeat my warning that this fic is going to be turned M-rated. Reader discretion is advised.
The dressing room was quiet. Velvet curtains hung untidily over the shut windows, and within the enclosed space sat a motionless woman by her vanity, a small hand absently touching the finger-sized, white pendant hanging from her neck. The table before her was empty save for a wooden jewellery box, its contents unimportant to her except for the one lying around her slender neck.
Lips pursed, she lowered the tube of her lipstick in her hand, feeling suddenly dissatisfied with the striking shade of dark scarlet that was the customary colour she always used. Beautiful things, she realized, did not necessarily have to be flamboyant and bold. Her mind unconsciously drifted back to a certain memory as she lifted her clutch from her lap and pulled out her pink lip gloss instead.
Simplicity could be so very, very regal indeed.
The soft sound of the door opening drew her unexpectedly out of her reverie and she looked up, her large lavender eyes blinking at the newcomer.
''Daffodil,'' Naruki called warmly, one hand clasping a small stack of files while the other shut the timber door behind her. She approached the seated songstress, her grey hair looking slightly dishevelled and her round glasses somewhat lopsided.
The singer pulled a nearby chair towards herself, prompting the older woman to sit. Naruki accepted it gratefully, and dropped the files onto the dressing table with a small sigh. ''I got what you wanted.''
''Thank you, Naruki-san,'' Daffodil smiled, her pale features even paler than usual under the harsh tint of the ceiling lighting. With the curtains drawn, there was no way for the sunlight to penetrate into the room - just the way she liked it. ''I owe you a lot.''
''Not that much,'' Naruki said, slapping a hand over the innocent plastic files before Daffodil could reach them. ''But an explanation would be nice.''
There was a short pause, and the songstress finally gave another small, resigned smile before turning and reaching for a large, black suitcase resting beside her chair. She unfastened it slowly, and with a careful flourish of her thin hand abruptly pulled out a beautiful flowing length of soft silk, its sky blue colour glowing elegantly in the dimness of the room. It took a stunned Naruki several seconds to realise that her companion had pulled out a haori from the suitcase.
"Someone passed it to me a few days ago," Daffodil spoke quietly. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It is," Naruki breathed, staring entranced at the piece of gorgeous silk. "May I-?"
Daffodil nodded. She watched as the hotel's vice-manager took the material from her. Naruki inhaled sharply as she held it in her hands gingerly, before tracing a trained thumb over the shimmering, smooth material of the cloth. A few wordless seconds passed in the room as she continued her revering scrutiny, while Daffodil sat beside her, not saying anything.
"My goodness, Daffodil," Naruki said at last. "Where on earth did you get this? Who gave it to you?"
Daffodil smiled gently. "A kind person. What's wrong? Is it worth a lot?"
A stupid question, she reflected inwardly.
"Worth a lot?" Naruki repeated disbelievingly. "Daffodil, this thing is worth-" She took a breath, shaking her head. "This haori is made partially of windflower silk. This is so expensive, it's nearly priceless. It's possibly even worth the entire hotel. Trust me, whoever gave this to you-" She narrowed her eyes. "You can be honest. It's Hoshi, isn't it?"
Daffodil shook her head at once, horror plastering over her soft features. "Oh, no!"
"Then who?" Naruki pressed. Reluctantly she passed the haori back to Daffodil.
"The answer lies in the file," Daffodil said, reaching out for the items. She flipped them open with small hands. "I'm just as clueless as you are, Naruki-san. But I guessed as much as you, regarding that-" She nodded at the silk on her lap. "-whoever owns this happens to be a figure of high standing. Someone whom I suspect is living in one of the Emperor suites right now."
She pressed a finger along the list of names on a printed page within the file. "These are the names of the occupants in the Emperor Suite, yes?"
"That's right," Naruki agreed, looking at the paper as well. "You asked for the patrons. So far there are only six people staying in the Emperor suites. There's Lord Hoshi, for starters."
"It's not Lord Hoshi I'm looking for," Daffodil said, trying to squash the feeling of repulsed discomfort the name always brought to her. She attempted to distract herself by looking back down at the list. "It's not Princess Sora either. Or the other woman named here, Rin Tatsuya." She pondered inquisitively at the remaining three names, trying to hold back the excitement at finding the identity of the mysterious stranger yesterday.
"Takeshi Aoi, Abarai Renji, and Kuchiki Byakuya," Naruki read out loud. "I know Takeshi Aoi. He's a wealthy businessman. The other two came together just a day ago." She grinned suddenly. "Both rather attractive men. I remember them strikingly."
"Really?" Daffodil said eagerly, her heart leaping. "How did they look like?"
"One of them had red hair," Naruki said, and Daffodil bit her lip in disappointment. "The other though…" Naruki trailed off, then spoke again, softer this time. "He was, well, extraordinary, I have to say."
Daffodil clenched her hands over the haori, skimming her palms across the surface of rain and silk and unspoken whispers. "Tell me about him."
"Dark hair," Naruki replied, her eyes distant. "He seemed the silent type. He didn't talk much, if not at all. There was something about him-" She appeared to struggle to find the words.
"Let me guess," Daffodil said quietly. "He was very aristocratic, wasn't he?"
Naruki smiled. "We've found the owner of your haori, haven't we?"
In a dark room, a redhead was speaking in low tones to a woman. She was dressed in a maid's uniform, with cleaning supplies clipped to her pockets. She looked eager, and her hands were perched together as she addressed the man near her. They sat opposite the other on dusty cushions on the timber floor, and the air between them was hushed and covert.
"I don't want to be disparaging, sir, especially about the dead," she was saying, "but she was never really a nice girl. Always had her head in her clouds. And when Lord Hoshi came-"
"She was having an affair with this man?" The redheaded man asked.
The maid nodded excitedly. "That's the thing, sir. It's so very strange that it baffles me. All the girls that, well, met with tragic accidents here were his mistresses. You'd think it's a curse, or something."
The man looked interested. "Tell me more about this girl."
"Ah, sir, she was a fool, she was," the maid said again. "She was always bragging to the rest of us about all the gifts he gave her, and all the attention he was showering her. I know I've said this a lot, sir, but she was really an idiot. Didn't she know what kind of man he was? He doesn't know a single thing about fidelity. She was a maid! What would he want from her, other than the obvious? She was just his fuck toy, to put it bluntly. He wanted pleasures of the flesh, and well, that girl had exactly what he wanted. I suppose you could call her pretty-" She said the last line rather annoyedly.
"Is he married?" The man said awkwardly, his face going pink with discomfort.
The maid nodded. "Yeah, but they're separated. Nobody talks of the wife, really. People haven't seen her in years, and most have forgotten about her. She goes her own way, and he goes his way-"
"Does she know about his…" The man trailed off uncomfortably.
The maid said, "I don't know, sir."
"How many women have ended up tragically in these… accidents?" The redhead asked.
"There's been quite a few so far," she said. "Three, I think. I knew them all, and they were all fools. They were all infatuated with him, you know, or should I say, the promises of money and wealth that came with being his. But did he care about them? Hah! Of course not! He pretended he never knew them after they passed-"
"What happened exactly to the last girl?" He wanted to know. "She was… burnt?"
"We don't know, sir," the maid said, shuddering. "We found her body in one of the suites she was cleaning. She looked like she was sleeping when you found her, at least, until you looked at her neck- it was all burnt, sir, and nobody really knows what caused it, or what happened to her. Nobu-san, who's the manager, hushed everything up. The hotel's reputation is really important, after all."
The redhead stood up at last, wiping his tattooed forehead with a hand.
"Thank you for your information," he said. Silently he passed her a few notes of money from his robes, of which she pocketed greedily. "One last thing. This man, Hoshi. Is he still around?"
The maid laughed. "Is he still around? Sir, Lord Hoshi is one of the most important men to the Sakura Resort. He's staying in one of the suites here right now at the very moment."
The man nodded. "I understand. Thank you for sharing what you have with me. Please keep this arrangement confidential."
"Of course sir, of course," the maid said eagerly, and he saw that she was already playing excitedly with the money tucked securely in her pocket. "In fact, if you would like more information just come to me, sir. I know everything there is to know in the hotel, gossip, and all."
The man nodded one final time, before stepping out of the room, and closing the door behind him. The crimson spikes of his hair waved as he shook his head in contemplation from where he stood in the corridor.
He had quite some things to report to Kuchiki-Taicho.
Hoshi had requested for her company tonight.
Daffodil didn't like it. She was tired from a long day of performing at various shows in the hotel, and her throat felt scratchy and the bones of her body ached. All she wanted to do was to slink into her bed and under her blankets, and drop off to sleep. She craved slumber. Yet here she was, near eight in the evening, walking into the hotel's grand restaurant named The Sakura and preparing to serve a wealthy man who was at the second floor of the restaurant, waiting for her.
This wasn't the first time he had asked for her. He did that often. And usually when that happened she would spend the entire evening serving him, accompanying him throughout dinner, and basically being his own personal little waitress.
It was out of her job scope, and everyone knew it, including Naruki, who had been sympathetic but resigned. But what could she do? Argue? Refuse? It would be foolish to do that. He could have her fired in less than a day, and then where could she go? Daffodil had long affirmed to herself that there was nowhere for her to go, and she was determined, just determined, to hang onto her life, even if it was a miserable one.
Straightening her pink kimono with a free hand, she inhaled, walked past the occupied tables within the lavish restaurant while carrying a tray laden with desserts. The sounds of chattering and laughter filled the place, but she was unable to concentrate on it, and she could feel dread coil in her chest as she took the stairs up to the second floor.
Before long she had arrived at where Hoshi sat alone, waiting for her. He beamed, mouth widening to reveal yellow teeth. She could tell he was slightly inebriated already, judging by the huge bottle of sake in his gold-ringed hand and the reddened flabby cheeks of his face.
"My darling Daffodil," Lord Hoshi called out, tiny beady eyes glinting at her. He gestured enthusiastically at the empty seat beside him and she sank into it rather apprehensively, putting down the tray onto the luxurious bamboo table before them. Quietly, Daffodil lifted the porcelain plates of desserts out, and placed it in front of him.
"Delicious, delicious," he said, smiling, though she wasn't sure if he was talking about the delicacies laid out for his consumption or… herself. Judging by how he was openly eyeing her body, she had an idea. Grateful that she had changed into a conservative albeit pretty kimono before coming here, she took out a pair of wooden chopsticks from the holder and laid it respectfully before him.
She felt very uncomfortable and prayed that today would end quickly.
"Feed me, my dear," Hoshi said, waving his pudgy fingers. The gold rings gleamed. Daffodil tried not to shudder, and she faltered instead at his request.
"Sir…"
"What's wrong?" He demanded then at her open hesitation, his voice slurring slightly. Despite that there was no missing the offense in his tone.
"Nothing, sir," Daffodil said quickly.
Live with it. Once this is over, you're free. At least, for tonight.
With that thought in mind, she picked up the chopsticks with fingers that wobbled slightly, and scooped up a juicy, soft slice of mochi.
Hoshi laughed, and it was nastiest laugh she had ever heard. "No, my beautiful girl. Not with the chopsticks. Your hands, my dear."
She felt nausea hit her throat, and she swallowed hard. She had to do this. The earlier she complied with him, the sooner she would be free from this nightmarish dinner. Putting down the chopsticks, she gave her hands a quick wipe with the napkin, and then with her bare fingers took the mochi. It was powdery and soft at touch, and her wrist shook as she brought it towards Hoshi.
She hesitated again when she saw the fat, slack mouth and the yellow rows of teeth. Horror was dawning in her throat, and the nausea deepened within her.
"What are you waiting for, foolish girl?" He said impatiently. Forcefully his own hand shot out, big and beefy, to grip her skinny wrist and he violently tugged at her delicate appendage, with the mochi along with it, to his mouth. She cringed slightly as she felt the wetness and sliminess skim her fingers, and then, it was over.
Breathing hard, the woman quickly snatched back her bruised hand now that he was eating the mochi. It took everything she had within her not to grab the napkin and rub fiercely at her fingers with it until she was sure all the residue of the saliva was gone. Instead, all Daffodil could do was to sit there calmly next to the man, feeling the foul stickiness cling to her like acid.
"That was good," he leered, still chewing slowly on the mochi. She smiled forcedly at him, and busied herself with pouring some sake from the bottle into a small sake cup, and presented it to him. He took the cup, but didn't drink it. Instead, he was still staring at her lecherously, and abruptly his plump hand shot out and prodded at her flowery obi.
She jumped as violently as if he had stabbed her.
"Relax, my dear," he leered, withdrawing his touch. "Now, I want to make a request to you, Daffodil, my love."
"Yes…?" Daffodil asked, averting her large violet eyes. She inched a little away, hoping her small movement wasn't obvious.
"Won't you become mine?"
She nearly choked, and she clenched her hands tightly over the silk of her kimono. Suddenly she wished that she had the blue haori with her, so that she could clutch the gorgeous windflower silk and seek comfort from its rainy scent. But no, it was lying back in her own suite, and she could only sit and pray for the courage to survive this. What was she to do with this suddenly demanding request?
It was not a request. It was an order.
She had to answer carefully. He was one of the biggest investors and shareholders in Sakura Resort, and if she offended him it was all over.
"Sir," Daffodil said softly, forcing herself to meet the revolting beady eyes. "I am afraid I cannot accept, as kind and tempting as your offer is. I am privileged, but currently I… am not looking for a relationship. I do apologize."
Anger fleeted across the man's bloated face.
"What don't I have that you want?" He demanded, baring his yellow molars at her. He waved at himself with gold-ringed hands, emphasizing at the expensive silk blazer and trousers he was wearing. "I can give you anything, my dear. Anything. Diamonds, jewellery, dresses, a life with a silver spoon, and-"
She smiled gently, pitying him in that instant. "There are things more important than that, sir."
He folded his stout arms. "I have everything you want, my dear. Just name it."
She shook her head, her stomach constricting. "I really am sorry, sir. I-"
"Alright, alright, I get it," Hoshi said suddenly. She blinked up at him in surprise, but he had looked away, and was now pouring the large bottle sake into another cups. She stared, and she wondered if he was still furious. Or had he… come to terms with her rejection?
"Sir?"
"Drink with me, my dear," he said. "Since you won't accept me, at least accept my toast, won't you, Daffodil?"
Daffodil looked at him, and thought that perhaps it was the only thing she could genuinely do for him. Quietly, she accepted the cup from his meaty hand, and nodded slightly at the transparent liquid inside. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
She sipped, and he sipped from his own, the one she had filled for him.
Swallowing, she put down the cup carefully onto the table.
"Tell me, my dear," Hoshi said. "What kind of man do you look for?"
Startled, she crossed her hands demurely over her knees and mulled over the question. She had never been asked this before, and it took her off guard.
"I- I don't know," she said. Her voice came out slightly incoherent, and she quickly repeated herself. "I don't know, sir."
It still sounded odd, however. What was wrong with her voice?
"You don't know?" He insisted, breath heavy with the stench of alcohol. "But my love, every woman in the world knows it. It's just how much they're willing to admit it."
Admit it? No, there was nothing for her to admit. She had never thought about men in general. Her whole life had been spent trying to survive in this harsh, unforgiving world, and that was all she knew and remembered. She had never any time to think about other things. Not men. Not love. Just survival.
Not to mention she was beginning to feel light-headed. The restaurant seemed warmer somehow, and she panted slightly as she felt a strange heat begin to well up within her.
"You don't look for the wealthy, then?" Hoshi smirked. "You look for the poor? Those who live on the streets? Is that the kind of man you want?"
The kimono was suffocating. Why hadn't she noticed earlier how thick the layers of the kimono were? Certainly it was pretty, but it was so very warm. Sweat was beginning to break out across the creamy white skin of her cheeks, and she shuddered when she felt heat throb in a certain area of her anatomy.
She knew that heat. She recognised that heat.
"What did you put in that drink?" She forced out, concentrating with all her willpower at the man before her.
His smirk widened, and she looked as yellow flashed at her from his delighted mouth. "Something that would make you desire me."
Daffodil stared at him through a dazed haze. The heat, which had been dull just a few seconds ago, was starting to throb at an intensity within her womb that was intolerable. It was insane. She needed relief. She needed-
Someone.
"A wonderful aphrodisiac," Hoshi commented with approval. He was reaching out to her, she realised with disgusted horror. His pudgy, gluttony hands were nearing her. "It only affects women, you know. It elicits in women the most terribly overwhelming desire for sexual relief. A powerful substance. Brings out your base, carnal instincts."
The ringed hands were gracelessly fumbling at the back of her obi. "What do you say, my dear? I can give you what you want. Does your pussy call for me? There's no need to hide, or to refuse. Come now. Won't you come with me to my suite, my dear-"
His crude wording snapped her to her senses, and roughly she shoved him away from her without thinking, her small hands shaking. His round body fell back against his seat at her desperate strength, stunned, and his beady eyes glared at her as he gripped the side of the table for balance.
"How dare you-" He snarled. A loosened lock of his slicked, oiled hair fell across his bulging forehead. "Who do you think you are-"
Daffodil didn't stay to listen. She had ran, and was running frantically along the corridors with as much speed as her kimono would allow her. She didn't care what she had just done. She didn't care that she had just mishandled Lord Hoshi, who had the power to fire her and to destroy her career. Destroy her life.
No, she was beyond caring now. What she needed was relief. Her boiling arousal was searing her nether regions like a burning dagger beneath the silk of her kimono, and she breathed raggedly as she stumbled down the stairs. She didn't bother to look up. People were probably staring at her. She must look very dishevelled and flushed, and drunk. Her silky dark bangs drifted messily along her face.
But she wasn't drunk at all. She was all too aware when she suddenly stumbled over her step, and cried out, her sandaled foot jerking. She was all too aware when a robed arm swiftly shot out from seemingly nowhere, and gracefully caught her waist, easily steadying her. She was all too aware of the sensation of hard, toned muscles meeting her body, and she was all too aware of the masculine scent of fresh rain brushing her nose, sending thrills rushing all over her veins.
She looked up, and stared into calm, aristocratic slate grey eyes.