"Miss Auyzawa!", gasped a chic elderly woman with silver-streaked hair, holding out her hand, "A big admirer. So pleased to meet you and to have ended up at the same table as you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Yokoyama." Misaki smiled graciously and shook hands with the famous veteran journalist, who had made her name with her professional integrity and courage.
The event of the 100 Most Influential People of the Year was held at a distinguished theater hall of Tokyo. The magazine that hosted the occasion had evidently not spared a dime in making it memorable: the lasciviously, yet tastefully decorated interior screamed money and caprice.
The room was filled with round dinner tables, where the groups of honoree guests - constituted of famous activists, scientists, athletes, artists as well as Tokyo's elite figures - exchanged pleasantries under the dimmed lights. All tables were illuminated with silver-rimmed glass candle holders, intentionally casting golden light onto the occupants' faces, as if to confirm their importance.
Misaki was delighted at the selection of her table-companions. Besides the gushing journalist, across her a famous athlete and his striking wife were just taking their seats, waiting for their turn to make the introductions.
"I read on the news that since your return you are going to settle in Japan for a while. Our country needs more brilliant youth like you. I'm delighted!", the journalist beamed benevolently.
Misaki smiled back, suddenly thinking of her mother, who always complained that she spent too much time working overseas.
"That makes two of us, Miss Yokoyama", chipped in Hinata, grinning good-humouredly. Discreetly, he brushed her thigh with his fingers under the table.
Misaki laughed along with her, but cringed internally, a pang of guilt stabbing her heart. She wished his hand to be off her skin. Deliberately, she coughed, shooting him a meaningful glare. Right on cue, he cleared his hand off her thigh, perceiving her reluctance to his touch to be propriety-based.
"Indeed, some opportunities are simply too hard to turn down", Misaki resumed the conversation smoothly, simulating a rueful, conversational tone to cover the awkward pause, "Only yesterday I refused a fascinating case, but had I taken it, I would have to fly to Berlin, for god knows how long."
As the table occupants nodded emphatically, the conversation was cut short when the stage was taken by the editor of the magazine. He cleared his throat into the microphone, attracting the crowd's attention, followed by a short welcoming speech, thanking everyone for coming. His informal speech elicited small chuckles, as he joked about the occasion being a time capsule that would commemorate the best specimen of the country for the future generations to remember.
As the clapping accompanying the presenter's departure from the stage subdued, Misaki used the opportunity to casually scan through the crowds. In the sea of satin, gelled hair and sparkling jewelry, he was nowhere to be seen. Unsurprisingly, she thought, chances that she would be seated close to him in such a huge space were slim to none.
Good.
She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling hopeful.
She would have loved to bail out of the whole affair, but as an honoree of the event, she absolutely could not. Her position was public enough to make her absence matter and Misaki was hardly going to risk a chip to her social reputation – so closely linked to her professional career - for the sake of avoiding an awkward encounter between Hinata and Usui. Furthermore, she thought grimly, in a strange cosmic logic, such a risk would do no justice to the sacrifice Usui had made to ensure her successful career.
As she surveyed the crowd, her eyes landed on the table not far away from hers. A familiar laughing face caught her attention. Strangely, whenever she thought of Tora – once in a blue moon – she always envisaged his face exactly the way she was seeing it now: careless, mirthful and arrogant. Wearing a black tuxedo, he looked sharp and slithery, reminding her of a reptile. She should have known he would be here, his empire having thrived aggressively to bombastic proportions.
As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned his attention to her, his laugh transforming into an overt smirk. His eyebrows shooting up in a greeting, he raised his glass at her.
Irritated, she looked away. She had come across him on various occasions at formal events in the past. Their relationship had died out despite his attempts to reach her in various ways. Few times, following some of her most successful legal cases that had saturated the media, he had sent her a bucket of roses accompanied by a card, congratulating her. She never dignified him with an answer and his flowers always ended up wilting away in her paper-basket.
The ceremony proceeded smoothly, with various people making toasts in which they celebrated other present honorees who happened to be in their acquaintance.
Misaki relaxed, chatting with her table companions. Occasionally she felt Hinata's hand squeeze her knee. She smiled at him and did her best to act normal, yet the sick feeling of alienation and discomfort ate at her heart.
After the athlete at her table wrapped up his toast honoring his Olympic golden medalist friend, the microphone was passed to Tora. Misaki rolled her eyes when, as soon as he erected to his feet, the room quieted down instantly. The usual effect. She gulped down her wine, trying to zone out of his speech. His voice resounding around the room smoothly as molten gold, he worked his magic on the audience.
However, when she heard him utter her name, she almost spewed out her drink. Coughing softly against her hand, she felt the bitter taste up in her nose. In disbelief, she stared at the man who was now gesturing in her direction, holding his drink at his head-level.
".. I feel especially privileged to be in the same room as Miss Ayuzawa – whom we can all agree - is our treasured national pride."
She fought back a frown from forming on her forehead.
"Our" treasured national pride?
"..at the shockingly young age of twenty-eight, with her work in human rights' law, she has created a map and put her name on it."He went on addressing the audience, whose curious eyes skipped between them. "Having known her for a decade, I am fully confident when I state that her success will be unrelenting."
As the loud applause erupted, Misaki forced to put on a more natural smile, nodding gratefully at people clapping and smiling at her in admiration. As Hinata, smiling proudly, pulled her to him in a side-hug and kissed her cheek, she heard a soft ripple of murmur pass through the nearby tables.
"Do they know each other?", she heard somebody exclaim at her back. She turned her head, following everyone's gaze behind her and realized the reason for the agitation. Few tables away from her, a tall blond figure was standing upright, facing in her direction, clapping deliberately. Misaki's heart lurched. Everybody else, except Tora, was seated, making Usui and his standing ovation look conspicuous.
His head held high, from the distance he looked at her with a slight smile. Her jaw slackening in shock, she felt a strong blush rise up her face. No wonder all eyes were on him: clad in a perfectly tailored grey tuxedo, his hair gelled back, Usui looked like something out of an expensive watch commercial.
She had a sudden flashback of brushing his fringe away from his forehead, the urgent, desperate eyes penetrating through her hesitation as he pressed her back against the window in the hotel suite. She could still feel the soft texture of the sweat-dampened tendrils against her fingertips.
She pressed her thighs together and flinched, trying to ignore the quizzical murmurs around her. Quickly, she looked down at her plate.
What was he doing attracting attention to himself like that?
"Are you OK?", she heard Hinata's worried whisper.
She nodded, smiling reassuringly at him. He looked grim, an obvious reaction to having noticed Usui.
"Do you want to leave?", he asked, his eyes pleading her to say yes.
"It's fine." She muttered under her breath.
Following the dinner, the reception room vibrated with the tittering guests.
Misaki caught her reflection in the mirror hanging across the wall. Her strapless cream-coloured column dress was only accentuating the blush resulting from the wine she had consumed to calm herself down during the ceremony.
Finally it was over, after two hours, five courses and innumerable tedious toasts. She shut her eyes and sighed. She would stay long enough to mingle with some groups, say some thank-you's and then she would excuse herself.
Examining her reflection, she tried to pull up the bust-line of the dress, which had slightly shifted down during the ceremony, revealing a soft but noticeable bluish spot above her breast. At home she had managed to hide the bite-marks and bruises by wearing her pajamas and then changing in the bathroom for the luncheon.
Hinata.
When she returned home the night before, he was not in. It had given her a leeway to freshen up, to shower Usui's smell off her skin and above all – calm her wits down. Upon returning, he had leaned in to kiss her hello, but unable to meet it, she had awkwardly turned her head, causing his lips to collide with her cheek. She desperately, urgently needed to talk to him about what had happened and more importantly - what was going to happen; but as he had busied himself brewing tea for them before bedtime, telling her candid stories from work, she had been unable to interrupt him. Yet, every minute passed, every simulated smile returned, she imploded piece by piece. The longer she withheld the information increased her sense of betrayal, magnified her sin.
I'm going to leave you for another man. How did one say those words? How did one embellish them to minimize the destructive, soul-crashing effect?
Now he was standing few feet away, talking and laughing with a friend whom he had spied out in the crowd. He had been silent after Usui's appearance at the dinner, but Misaki had noticed the anxious glances, could sense his disquietude in his stiff posture.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed a tall figure appearing behind her. Green eyes grazed her form, stopping to rest on the distracted amber orbs on the slightly flushed oval face. He saw her chest rise slightly at the sharp intake of breath when her gaze finally focused on him. He walked forward slowly, approaching her.
From the corner of her eye Misaki saw Hinata terminating his conversation, stepping in to stand by her. Squaring his shoulders, he stood by her in a slightly hovering, possessive stance, his fingers gripping his champagne flute. She turned, bracing herself for the meeting.
"Auyzawa." He nodded his formal greeting after halting in front of her. As his eyes moved to Hinata, his features turned into a mask of disinterested politeness. "Shintani."
Returning his greeting with a quiet "hello", suddenly Misaki noticed a tall redhead woman standing next to him, gazing at the trio expectantly. Her hair pulled up in a tall chignon, her steely blue eyes surveyed her momentarily before turning to rest on Usui.
Meanwhile Usui's gaze had not wavered from her. Smiling slightly, yet maintaining a publicly acceptable expression of casualness, he looked like he was enjoying a private joke to himself.
"This is my assistant, Miss Kate Vidal." He suddenly said in English, gesturing towards the redhead in reverence.
The woman in question grinned, holding out her hand to Hinata and then - her.
"Pleased to meet you. Congratulations, Miss Ayuzawa."
Misaki shuffled on her feet uncomfortably, but did not break the steely eye-contact, shaking her hand in a firm grip.
She realized she knew nothing of Usui's romantic attachments, past or present. The evening before, she had not bothered asking him, not that it had even crossed her mind. Surely though, she thought grimly, it was only natural his romantic life would be rich and passionate. After all, from last night it was evident to her that he had the experience in the matter.
Suddenly she felt the walls closing in on her.
"Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the lavatory", she heard herself speak. Her eyes flickered at her partner's worried face for a second.
"I'll come with you.", Kate chirped and casually handed her glass to Usui with a confidential smile. Misaki looked away, biting the inside of her cheek in irritation.
The two women marched off together, leaving Hinata standing facing Usui.
"So, I see you and the doctor have been acquainted previously?", their eyes met in the bathroom mirror. Misaki could not help but feel slightly intimidated by the woman's dazzling appearance. In her low-cut glittery form-fitting blue dress, she made the activity of washing hands look regal and elegant.
"Yes", she answered curtly, not caring about cordiality.
Screw all this, she thought, she just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The woman had been giving her pointed looks all the way to the bathroom. Whatever her relationship with Usui, Misaki decided she did not care for the mysterious foreigner.
"Mm", the redhead murmured, holding her gaze in the mirror. Misaki could detect an odd glint in her eyes.
"You know", her voice was oddly melodious, "You are exactly his type."
Misaki shut off the faucet, a sense of dread crawling up her spine. Suddenly not trusting her fluency in English, she looked quizzically at the redhead.
"Excuse me?"
"I've known him for a long time." Slowly, Usui's assistant turned to face her with her full body. She leaned against the counter, her other hand hoisted loosely on her hip. Her posture made her look simultaneously relaxed and hostile. "He always goes for your type."
She casually surveyed her up and down, a ghost of a smirk pulling at her lips nonchalantly.
Misaki felt at loss of words.
"Strong, sharp-featured, dominatrix-type brunettes," she drawled, cocking her head to one side, assessing her. She chuckled under her breath, as if amused by her own description. "He goes out of his way to court them and then ends up leaving them all."
Her smile widened at Misaki's expression, yet her eyes remained cold and calculating.
"Call it commitment issues, if you like. But the point is, I've had a lot of messes to clean up. A lot of hysterical women to calm down."
Her eyes boring into Misaki's, her expression turned serious.
"I can tell there's something between you. Or used to be. Or is beginning to be." She paused to glance at her reflection, smoothing over tendrils of hair that had escaped at the nape of her neck.
"So just take it as a warning, if you will. You wouldn't want to have your reputation...", she paused in deliberate suspense, cocking an elegant eyebrow up as she breathed out, "..damaged."
Misaki felt her hands starting to quiver. Red, burning anger crept up her throat, forming a thick bile she found hard to swallow. She felt slightly nauseous from the alcohol.
She took a paper-towel from the counter, before taking a step forward. Drying her hands, she sealed the distance between them, their faces close.
"You're wrong, Miss Vidal. You see, I'm hardly the type", her voice a low, soft whisper. She pulled a corner of her lips in a one-sided smile.
"I'm the original." She breathed out, emphasizing the last word.
She waited for her words to sink in. She felt foolish delivering the dramatic one-liner, but her words seemed to be having the intended effect: the redhead's icy blue eyes turned a shade darker, her mouth tightening in a thin line.
Suddenly the door behind them banged open loudly.
"Ah, there you are, darling!", Misaki's table-companion, the journalist exclaimed. She stopped short, looking quizzically at the two women, whose bodies were still positioned in a subtly combative stance, still staring at each other unblinkingly.
Stepping forward, she placed a palm on Misaki's shoulder in a careful, yet maternal fashion. "I was wondering where you'd gone. You are missing a wonderful performance by that cellist from Kobe."
"Actually, Miss Yokoyama", Misaki turned, her smile turning more sincere as she faced the elderly woman. She leaned down to pull her in an embrace, "I am about to leave. It's been a long day."
She picked up her clutch from the counter.
"Miss Vidal, it's been a pleasure", she nodded at the redhead frozen on her spot and turned towards the door without looking back.