Warning; Mention of pokemon, very rare cussing, and mention of smoking. You have been warned. Thank you for reading this...MOVING ON!
Might be edited in the future, I don't know...Lets have fun! Don't forget to brush up on your book readings before school, college or whatever you do in pursue of education, STARTS BACK UP!
Inside her apartment, Rose leaned against the door, her heart still racing. She had never felt so alive, so seen, as she did in that alley with Mikoto. His power was like nothing she had ever encountered, and yet, she hadn't felt afraid. There was something about him, something that called to her in a way she couldn't explain.
The apartment was small, but it was hers, filled with the comforting clutter of a life lived with passion. Posters of her favorite anime and random spooky pokemon adorned the walls, and a collection of odd trinkets of pokemon from her various adventures around the world sat on shelves and tables. She kicked off her heels and padded over to the kitchen, her thoughts swirling like the butterflies that had been her allies moments ago.
The encounter with Mikoto was still fresh in her mind, his stern yet protective demeanor a stark contrast to the fiery power he wielded. It was intriguing, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have that kind of strength at her side.
The next evening, as the sun painted the city in a warm orange glow, Rose found herself back in the alley where they had first met. She leaned against the cold brick wall, her purple eyes searching the shadows for any sign of the elusive Red King. It was as if she had been drawn there by an invisible thread, one that connected her to the enigma that was Mikoto Suoh.
As if on cue, the alley's silence was shattered by the sound of footsteps, the rhythmic echo that could only belong to one person. She turned to find him walking towards her, his crimson hair a stark contrast to the fading light. "Fancy meeting you here," she quipped, trying to play it cool despite the racing of her heart.
Mikoto stopped a few feet away, his gaze unreadable. "You're looking for trouble again," he said, his voice a low rumble.
She pushed herself off the wall, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Maybe I just missed the company," she said, her voice a purr.
Mikoto's expression remained stoic, but there was a hint of something in his gaze that made her pulse quicken.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned.
Rose took a step closer, the challenge in her eyes clear. "Maybe I like danger," she whispered, her voice a seductive caress.
Mikoto's eyes narrowed, the flames of his aura flickering in response to her proximity. "Danger has a way of finding you," he said, his voice low and serious.
Rose stepped closer, the gap between them closing until she was mere inches away.
"Or maybe," she whispered, "I find a way to it."
Mikoto's gaze dropped to her lips, his eyes darkening with something she hadn't seen before. For a moment, the air was thick with tension, and she thought he might kiss her. But he remained still, his self-control a steel wall that she found both frustrating and fascinating. But it wasn't the reason why she ventured back out and oddly enough the place before last night, walking here had her mind in pure curiosity ever since she arrived here, hearing the stories, and the rumors about the Clans, and their mysterious powers and what they were all about. But as far as she knew, she was still stuck in the dark, questions left unanswered by the one person she trusted most.
"What is it you want from me?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.
She tilted her chin up, her eyes never leaving his. "I want to know you, Mikoto. Who you are beyond the Red King persona."
Mikoto's eyes searched hers, the fire within them dancing with an emotion she couldn't quite place. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his aura on her skin.
"That's not a simple request," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Rose's smile grew bolder. "I've never been one for simple."
Mikoto's eyes searched hers for a beat longer before he stepped back, the moment between them fading like the daylight. "Follow me," he said curtly, turning on his heel.
Rose's heart skipped a beat as she watched him walk away, the flicker of his aura leaving a trail of heat in the air. She quickly composed herself and followed, her curiosity and desire for adventure propelling her forward. They wove through the streets, the neon lights of the city painting a vibrant path for them to tread. The night was alive with the whispers of secrets and the promise of excitement, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the cusp of discovering something incredible.
They arrived at a nondescript building, the kind that blended into the urban landscape like a chameleon. The only hint of its significance was the crimson emblem etched into the door, a symbol that sent a shiver down her spine. This was the heart of HOMRA, and she was about to step into it with the man who was its beating heart.
Mikoto pushed the door open, the sound of laughter and conversation spilling out into the night. The room was bathed in a warm red glow, the walls adorned with paintings and weapons that spoke of the clan's power and history. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint aroma of sizzling food. It was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment she had always imagined the Red King to inhabit.
The clan members fell silent as they entered, their eyes flicking to Mikoto before settling on the purple-haired girl at his side. They stared at her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, whispering to one another in hushed tones. Rose felt a thrill of excitement, her heart racing with the thrill of being somewhere she wasn't supposed to be.
Mikoto led her through the crowd, his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the sea of gangster looking young men. She could feel the power in the room, heat of the burning sun that made the skin she wore glisten almost with sweat. It was intoxicating, and she found herself leaning into his touch more than she cared to admit.
They reached a table at the back of the room, where a man with spiky hair and a piercing gaze sat. He looked up as they approached, his eyes narrowing when they landed on her. "What's this?" he said, his voice a snarl.
Mikoto's grip on her waist tightened almost imperceptibly. "This is Rose," he said, his voice firm. "She's with me."
The man's eyes narrowed further, but he said nothing more. Instead, he gestured to the empty seat beside him. "Sit," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
Rose slid into the chair, her heart racing as she took in the unfriendly stares of the HOMRA members. She could feel the weight of their gazes on her, a mix of curiosity and hostility that made her want to either laugh or run. But she held her ground, her purple eyes meeting each challenge without flinching.
The man with spiky hair, she learned, was Yata Misaki, one of Mikoto's most trusted and loyal clansmen. His sharp eyes studied her with a blend of suspicion and interest that was almost as intense as the Red King's. "So, what's your deal?" he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Rose leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "Just passing through, Yata," she replied, her voice a sweet purr that seemed to disarm him slightly.
Yata grunted, his gaze flicking to Mikoto before returning to her. "You've got guts, I'll give you that," he said, his tone begrudgingly respectful.
Mikoto took the seat opposite her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Rose has a way of making an entrance," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Yata snorted, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That she does," he conceded, his eyes glancing over her again.
Rose felt the weight of their gazes, but she didn't shrink. Instead, she met each one with a confidence that surprised even herself. These men were notorious, feared, and here she was, sitting at their table as if she belonged.
"So, what's on the menu?" she asked, her voice light, attempting to ease the tension.
Yata's smile grew a little wider, revealing a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, we've got a special tonight, courtesy of our newest guest," he said, gesturing to a nearby kitchen where the smell of sizzling meat grew stronger. "But you'll have to tell us a story first."
Rose raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "A story?"
Mikoto's eyes remained fixed on her, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flip. "It's a tradition," he said, his voice a low rumble.
"Whenever someone new enters our space, they must share a piece of themselves."
Rose's smile grew, the challenge accepted.
"Alright, I'll play along," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She leaned forward, her hands clasped around her knees. "Once upon a time, there was a girl with hair as purple as a sunset and eyes that mirrored the night sky," she began, her voice weaving a tale as mesmerizing as the butterflies she had summoned the night before.
The room grew quiet as she spun a story of her journey to the city, leaving behind a past filled with secrets and a destiny she didn't fully understand. She spoke of her love for adventure, the thrill of the unknown, and the strange power that had been with her since birth. The clan members leaned in, their expressions ranging from skepticism to fascination, delight and amusement, more humor of the dark side but she weaved her story well.
Mikoto listened intently, his eyes never leaving her face. He felt a strange pull towards her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Her words painted a picture of a life filled with danger and excitement, one that was vastly different from his own. Yet, he found himself drawn to her, her spirit undaunted by the rumors that surrounded them.
As she spoke, the air in the room grew warmer, the flames of the candles on the tables flickering in time with her words. Her power was subtle, but undeniable. It was a gentle hum that resonated within him, something he hadn't felt in a long time.
When she finished her tale, the room was silent, the only sound the crackling of the candles. The HOMRA members looked at her with a mix of admiration and skepticism, but it was Mikoto's reaction that she cared about. His eyes searched hers, a storm of emotions brewing within their depths.
"Quite the story," he said, his voice low and measured. "But I'm more interested in the truth."
Rose's smile didn't waver. "The truth is often stranger than fiction, Mikoto," she replied, her eyes twinkling with a hint of challenge.
The tension between them grew, the air thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings. Mikoto leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're hiding something," he accused, his voice low and steady.
Rose shrugged, playing with the hem of her shirt. "Aren't we all?" she countered, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Mikoto's gaze didn't waver. "What's your true power?" he pressed, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the silent room.
Rose's eyes searched his, the air between them crackling with the unspoken tension. "My true power?" she repeated, her smile turning mysterious.
"Let's just say it's not the butterflies."
Mikoto leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Then what is it?"
Rose's smile grew enigmatic. "It's a secret," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "One I'll share when the time is right."
The room remained silent, the only sound the steady tick of the clock on the wall. The HOMRA members exchanged glances, their curiosity about the purple-haired girl growing. Yata leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You're full of surprises," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Mikoto's gaze remained intense, his mind racing with questions. "What brings you to the city?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Rose leaned back in her chair, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, you know, the usual," she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Adventure, excitement, maybe a little bit of trouble." though she really preferred to keep her secret, Rose wasn't one to let something so big that she held in her possession to basically 'let the cat out of the bag' and start telling everyone who she really was, or matter of fact, who she was indirectly related to. Anything but that big old fat secret. Fuck that.
"But if you're asking if I'm here to stir the pot," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "then yes, I suppose I am."
The room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily dissipating. Yata slapped the table, his eyes gleaming with mirth. "I like her," he said, looking at Mikoto with a knowing smirk. "She's got spunk."
Mikoto's gaze remained on Rose, his expression unreadable. "Spunk isn't going to keep her safe in this city," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
Yata's smile didn't fade. "Maybe not," he conceded, "but it'll sure make things interesting."
" Um...Sitting right here guys..."
Rose waved her hand in the air, her cheeks flushing slightly at the sudden outburst of laughter and attention. She had meant to ease the tension with her words, but she hadn't quite anticipated the reaction she'd get. The room grew warmer, the warmth of their laughter and the fire in the hearth combining to make her feel both self-conscious and oddly welcome.
The flirtatious bartender, whose name she had learned was Izumo Kusanagi, sauntered over, a tray of drinks in hand. His eyes twinkled as he set a frothy beer in front of her. "Welcome to the family, Rose," he said, his voice smooth as silk.
" Not like I was intending to be thrown here but yeah..." Rose took the beer, her eyes never leaving Mikoto's. "Thanks," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll try not to break anything."
Izumo's laugh was as warm as the alcohol in the glasses. "Good luck with that," he said, his gaze flicking to the Red King. "Mikoto's got quite the collection of...let's call them 'fragile' items."
" If you mean his cigarettes in his pockets? then yes. Oh Gimme one please Mikoto-San? "
Rose took a sip of her beer, her eyes never leaving Mikoto's. His stoic expression didn't waver, but she could see the flicker of amusement in his eyes. It was a small victory, but one she'd take.
Author here! If only I could slap myself for this, but I won't. Cause this is all my puny brain could gather and gods...I'm going to bed...g'nite!