Chapter 13
All he wanted to do was to be near her. Feel her bare skin under his fingertips. Lace her fingers with his own. Let her almond nails dig into his skin – anywhere, from his jaw to his neck to his shoulders. He kissed her with such fervor that she could have sworn she felt her skin scorch on fire. She pulled away wondering if she was imagining it.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, brushing his nose against her collarbone. He could bury himself in her neck for the rest of the night but instead he just pressed a kiss. Kiyoko wasn't imagining it.
"Fuck," she drawled out lowly, forcing herself to pull away from him before he could trap her against the wall. The elevator doors opened with a ding.
"I'd be happy to," he smirked.
"Ugh," Kiyoko shook her head at him with a smile on her lips. "You're such an asshole."
"You started it," he shot back with a shitfaced grin that Kiyoko couldn't help but to grow to like.
"I did," Kiyoko surrendered with a sigh. She should have figured that the Ootori would adapt to her tactics, learning to use them against her. "What kind of person would I be if I put-out on a first date?" She teased as she stepped out of the elevator first.
"This is a date?" he asked while catching up with her to pull her closer by the arm. He wanted her to slow down. No, he wanted to slow down so the night wouldn't end so soon.
"You asked me out!" Kiyoko reminded as she pointed to herself. "What is this if not a date?" She threw up her hands, easing out of his grip.
"It could have been a… blossoming of a friendship," he sheepishly offered as he kept up beside her. He instantly regretted asking the question – realizing he could have been smoother at handling it all. She was awfully good at grounding him.
Kiyoko stopped in her tracks and looked up at him with a squint. "You kiss your friends, huh?" She challenged while raising an eyebrow at him. Was he going to deny the intimate moments they shared together just minutes ago? Did he miss the way he could bury his nose in the crook of her neck – how it must have smelled like a sea of florals that sent his mind elsewhere?
She had a good point. Kiyoko stared at him in triumph, waiting for him to retaliate with something that would have probably driven her up the wall while still making her want to press her lips against his chiseled jaw.
"I don't," he admitted with a smirk and let her take the win. Her eyes widened at his quick submission to her, unsure of what to say. Her soft lips parted in confusion as she looked up at him in trying to read his expression.
Before she knew it, he was kissing her again in one fell swoop by tilting her chin up and slotting his lips right between hers. He did indeed, miss the way of her body against his – even if they were only apart for a couple minutes. It made her forget that it was in the dead of winter and that they were in public on a street. Strangers walked past them and averted their gaze as the couple had a private moment to themselves. They were part of the rich and elite but thankfully not the rich and famous. They had the privilege of anonymity for now.
"Smooth," she murmured with a small chuckle when he pulled away just slightly. Kiyoko breathed him in and held her breath, as if hoping that she could trap the feeling of being surrounded by the waft of crisp clean sheets. He smelled like comfort to her and she was doing her very best to hide the fact that she was very much drunk off of him. She would bury herself in his chest, leaning against him for support.
"I know," he grinned but didn't let her go. "We're not friends, Kiyoko."
"Yeah?" Kiyoko tested with the growl at the back of her voice, pulling away. "What are we then, Ootori-san?" she asked. This time she was nice about it. Her eyes searched for an answer by looking at his face but to no avail. They were close enough to easily mend the distance between them, both resisting the urge to do so.
"Call me Kyouya," he evaded her question with a demand of his own.
"Kyouya," she repeated with confidence. Her voice was dark and sultry – he wondered if she did it on purpose. He didn't care at this point; he'd let her say his name over and over again in that tone every day, every night.
"Better." He nodded in acknowledgement, letting the name ring in his ears. He liked the sound of that on her lips. The man stepped back and let Kiyoko gather her wits quietly. He observed her from head to toe before her eyes flickered at him as she pulled him closer by the collar; she wasn't planning on being nice anymore about it.
"Answer the question," Kiyoko demanded with defiant eyes. "What are we?"
"Whatever you want to be," the Ootori shrugged coolly, playing into his host self as he was always made to be. He wasn't particularly fazed by the way she gripped his collar, welcoming it with a smirk. She let go when he didn't respond with a straight answer and huffed. Whatever, she told herself. It wasn't worth asking again.
"What am I to you?" he shot back.
"Hm," Kiyoko hummed as she started walking again. She pretended to mull over the thought, letting her heels clack against the pavement while he trailed closely beside her. "You could be my husband?" she tested with a grin, hoping to make him uncomfortable at the thought. It was enough for Kyouya to stop walking.
"After one date?" He pretended to pat the pockets of his wool coat in search of something. His lips contorted into a playful smirk as he feigned panic on his face. "I don't have your pear-shaped one carat diamond on hand right now."
She chuckled at the way he took her comment with actual grace. Who knew that the Ootori was actually a good jokester? "I was kidding," Kiyoko rolled her eyes, letting him off the hook.
"But really? Pear-shaped one carat diamond?" he questioned curiously.
"It's a classic," she shrugged. "Didn't I tell you I already have a ring like that? I don't need another."
"Pfft, you might," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "Given your history of giving your jewelry away."
"For a good cause!" Kiyoko defended herself, getting more worked up than intended. She huffed with her arms crossed. She was generally very collected but Kyouya couldn't help but to laugh at how annoyed she became. The tables had turned tonight and he was enjoying every moment of it.
"As if you even know the definition of charity," the woman lectured. A smile escaped her lips. "You won't get anything back," she quoted him mockingly.
"Relax," he smirked. "It's very… noble of you," Kyouya tried to appease her but only earned himself another glare. He really did find her charitable efforts quite honourable, even if it did not come off the way he intended.
"Oh, don't patronize me," she snarled while brushing off his half-assed compliment. Who was he to tell her to relax? Wasn't there always an unspoken rule to never tell a woman to relax?
"I would never do such a thing to my wife." He slipped it in so naturally that Kiyoko almost didn't have to think twice about what he had said.
"Well, that explains the tone since I am not your wife," She shot back after a second. Kiyoko raised her nose up in the air and looked away, waiting for the crosswalk to turn to the right signal to continue walking.
"You could be," he murmured lowly into her ear. Kyouya nudged her arm to try to get her to look at him.
She resisted for a second before slowly moving her eyes to the side, trying to sneak a peek in her peripheral vision without having to turn her head. When the light allowed pedestrians to cross, she continued walking, refusing to respond to his last comment.
"Marry me," the Ootori smirked. "Come on," he tried again, keeping up with her pace.
"Where's my ring?" she rolled her eyes, playing along with his game.
"You can choose your ring," Kyouya easily offered. Any ring she could possibly want at the ends of the earth, he could buy in the blink of an eye. Or rather, the swipe of a card. She knew it too.
"Well, that's no fun, is it?" Kiyoko quipped.
He chuckled and caught onto her arm. "Slow down, Kiyoko," he chided, looking out for her feet that were trapped in red-bottomed stilettos. At the rate she was going, she was probably aiming for a slow jog in the way she ran across the pavement. He easily enveloped her hand and buried it into his pocket, setting the pace as they walked towards the underground garage where their cars were. The brisk walk in the winter air was enough to sober both of them up. One drink was not quite enough to get either of them drunk enough to stumble or throw all rationale out the window. But it was enough for them to relax under the storm of stress that they dealt with on a daily basis. It didn't hurt that they grew more comfortable with each other too.
"I think it's you that needs to slow down," Kiyoko mused, sneaking a glance at him. Kyouya caught her eyes and raised an eyebrow at her. "Proposing after the first date?" she whistled lowly. "Are you already in love with me?"
He shrugged and perched up his glasses. "If you keep it up, yes."
"Keep what up?" Kiyoko laughed. "The crazy? I mean, yeah, sure—"
"—the smiling," he corrected, squeezing her hand.
She bit her lip as a means of trying to keep herself from smiling. "That was sappy," she evenly gritted out, not caving into his flirtatious jabs. "I expected better from… what were you? A Host or something?" she narrowed her eyes in disgust.
"I think you were pretty impressed with me tonight," his voice was confident against her sharp tone.
She couldn't help but to slyly smile at that. Kiyoko looked away from the man, refusing to comment and averted her eyes instead, doing her best to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling. He watched as she coyly refused to look at him and playfully tugged her closer to his body with her hand that he trapped in his pocket. Kiyoko bumped into him unwittingly, nearly losing her balance before he caught her weight easily.
"You did that on purpose," she accused.
"So what if I did?" he chuckled. Kyouya needed to remind her that he also had the power to do whatever he wanted. "I didn't want to let go."
Kiyoko groaned and pretended to fake gag at the comment. "Let go, you smooth bastard," she pulled away her hand that he took hostage. He held on tighter with a smile, calling her bluff. She tugged a little harder before he actually let go, catching her off guard to let her stumble backwards when she lost her balance. She didn't realize how much she had been leaning on him.
He laughed at the way she ground out a quiet murmur of a curse word. She was usually pretty good at keeping herself composed but perhaps tonight wasn't exactly the night for it. She was getting soft. Kiyoko crossed her arms and huffed before leaving the man behind as she continued on walking.
Kyouya jogged to her, gently taking her elbow to remind her to slow down. She was always in a rush, always running somewhere, escaping to god knows where. What was she running from? Where was she going? Why the rush? He wondered.
"I'm sorry," he tried.
Kiyoko rolled her eyes. He had his few minutes of amusement and she hoped he enjoyed it. They reached the elevator that would take them down to the car park beneath the restaurant they dined at. The elevator ride made him realize that he was losing out on time and rather quickly by the way the beep filled the silence between them.
"Let's do this again," Kyouya offered.
"Do what?" Kiyoko asked under the guise of innocence. It was his turn to shoot her an annoyed look. She only batted her eyes up at him with a smirk.
"A date," he admitted reluctantly. She really enjoyed making him uncomfortable, didn't she? Did he really have to admit what this was?
"I thought this wasn't a date," Kiyoko shot back as she stepped off the elevator. "Wasn't it… a blossoming of a friendship?" she mocked.
Kiyoko made him regret ever speaking those words. He followed her to the black car that they both had the same model of. What could he say? She had good taste and he smirked at the thought. She leaned against the driver's door, readying herself to open it until he came close enough to trap her against the frame with arms on either side.
"What's wrong?" Kiyoko teased. "Don't want to let me go?"
"No," he told her. There was nothing but confidence in his tone, challenging her to tell him otherwise. "I don't."
He spoke with a certainty that made her swallow the comment she wanted to make about him falling in love too soon. Kiyoko had never seen such a look in anyone's eyes, at least not while looking at her. It was so foreign that it made her feel uncomfortable when she couldn't quite decide how to respond to it. Was it a look of love? Or was she just being equally naïve at the thought of someone possibly wanting more than just her body or her family's empire of hospitals?
"What's wrong?" she asked again, this time her expression more forlorn. Softer. Her eyes wandered over his face, trying to see what he was trying to say without having to speak. Kyouya hesitated, not sure where he should begin or how he was meant to end it all. He didn't want to say goodbye, not yet. His mind raced for the right words. When he didn't respond, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him into a natural embrace, as if they had done it many times over.
He felt stiff as a tree, almost afraid of reciprocating the gesture. She held on tightly, letting him bury his nose into the nape of her neck. He breathed her in, intoxicating himself with the wafts of gardenia before relaxing and wrapped his arms around her back before settling on her hips when she pulled away. She looked down and closed her eyes to gather her wits.
"This was nice," she admitted quietly, looking down to the ground. Her Louboutins glistened, even under the industrial lighting of the parking lot. "A good distraction."
"I don't want to be just a distraction," Kyouya shook his head. "I…" he trailed off. They joked about being husband and wife but both of them knew that the title meant nothing more than just a title to either of them. He sighed – he had no words to define what he wanted to be for her. He didn't even know what he wanted.
"I'll be fine," she reassured him. "See?" She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Alive and breathing," Kiyoko demonstrated with a sly smile. It wasn't convincing when the Ootori just looked at her with more worry. "I could also be alive and kicking," she offered. The corners of his mouth resisted the urge to move upwards.
"Let go," Kiyoko whispered. She meant it in more than just the physical sense. "I'm no good for you."
"I don't want just good," he argued. "I want—"
"Not me," she reminded.
"And why not?"
"You know why," Kiyoko answered with the same hard stare.
"I don't care about the rumours," Kyouya brushed off. "I know you. You run a successful business. You have so much wit and you take in everything with grace and eloqu—"
"I'm not," she denied. "I make my fortune off of taking advantage of people's egos. I'm smart because I learned how to barely survive in this world. But yes," Kiyoko laughed. "I am very graceful." She always tried to be, at least.
He returned the chuckle. Even when she deflected his compliments, she managed to somehow turn it into a lighthearted comment with the way she liked to ironically bat her eyes at him.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For being so kind – there needs to be more people like you," she gave a small smile at him, as if telling him that this was all that there could be between them. A fleeting moment of what-if instead of a reality.
"You're kind too," he pointed out. Somehow, they showed kindness only to each other – finding each other in this chaos of a world that they somehow were forced to learn to survive in. They had stopped to find themselves staring at each other, more similar than they both realized. Like looking into a mirror.
She shook her head. "I have 20 grand in cash at the back of my trunk and an address on a card that I was held at knifepoint for," Kiyoko sobered up. The night was over. She had enough of this fantasy. "Ootoris don't get involved with such a thing."
He stood in silence trying to compute her words. She didn't bat an eye at the statement, spoke of it so casually like it were just groceries that had been sitting at the back of her trunk needing to be unloaded. She stared at him and watched his expression turn from confusion to worry and back to confusion. Kiyoko figured it was a good time as any to leave – if she didn't do it soon, she was afraid of being pulled back into the convincing grip of his arms again.
She tugged on the door handle but the door did not budge. That was odd. She pulled out the key from her pocket and clicked the unlock button, only to have a car a few rows down the garage flash its lights and beep at the command.
"Shit," she muttered, realizing that this wasn't her car. So much for trying to leave at the right time.
He smirked as he unlocked the door behind her with his own key. "Can I drive you home?" he offered.
"No," she sighed tiredly. Kiyoko made the effort to try to side-step the Ootori but he was quick as to keep his arm against the frame to keep her from walking away. He expected an icy glare, a threat with her usual darkened eyes. Kiyoko averted her gaze and murmured something instead, so quiet that he nearly didn't hear her.
"Please don't make this hard."
"Just let me help you," he pleaded.
"You can't," Kiyoko sighed. "What are you going to do?"
"What are you going to do?" Kyouya narrowed his eyes.
She shrugged. "I don't know yet. Figure out what they want, at least?"
"And what if you get hurt?" he narrowed his eyes in frustration at the woman.
"I won't get hurt," she answered defiantly. It wasn't enough to convince the man even though Kiyoko thought her confidence would have won anyone over.
"But you could," Kyouya exhaled in exasperation. He wasn't stupid. Kiyoko should have expected as much. "Let me come with you to wherever it is."
"Absolutely not," Kiyoko shot back in refusal. Was this man an idiot? The look on her face couldn't have let her hide the thought even if she tried to. "You're worth much more than I am."
"What is that supposed to mean?" While he couldn't argue against it as the phrase should have inflated his ego, a pang of guilt sat at the pit of his stomach.
"It means they can take more money out of you than me," Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "Forcibly," she added.
"As if they won't do the same to you?"
"My net worth is measly in comparison to you," Kiyoko explained.
"Your family's worth is comparable to ours," Kyouya pointed out.
"Not if you're a woman," she smirked. Kiyoko was good for one thing and one thing only in her family. She was right. These people were targeting the wrong person if they wanted money. Kiyoko had it, but not like her father or her grandmother. She had funds that were more than enough to a regular person. Then again, these people didn't seem like they were after money. They were after something else that Kiyoko had.
"What do you need?" the Ootori asked.
"At what cost?" Kiyoko narrowed her eyes at the offer. She knew better than to sell her soul to the Ootori.
"No cost," he answered, almost too quickly. "What can I do to help?"
Kiyoko leaned against his car and thought over it. What was the least he could do for her? She sighed. She couldn't shake him off, even if she tried. He already knew too much and wouldn't let it go.
"I need a lawyer – a defense attorney, maybe," Kiyoko decided.
"A lawyer?" He repeated. "I thought you weren't a criminal."
"I'm covering my bases here," Kiyoko snapped. "I don't know what they want but I'm not about to unwittingly break the law here."
The Ootori nodded slowly. She was a smart woman, after all. He hadn't even thought of the legalities of it all – his only concern had been her safety amidst all of this.
"I know someone," Kyouya answered. "I'll give them a call tomorrow." He would call Haruhi so at the very least, she could provide some kind of legal counsel or direct her to someone who could.
"No," Kiyoko shook her head at him. "Give me their number so you can leave yourself out of it," she demanded.
"They're a friend," he explained. "It'll be better coming from me."
"That's even worse," Kiyoko groaned. "What if I accidentally put your friend in danger?"
"Stop being a hero," Kyouya scolded. "Can't you just sit still for once and stop thinking for other people?"
Kiyoko blinked before putting her foot down. "No," she challenged him. "Heroes are the people working in our hospitals, Kyouya. Know the difference between a rich person entangling herself with the wrong people over the sacrifices that people make every day to care for the marginalized."
"Then stop being naïve," the Ootori scoffed. "This is not something you should handle alone," his voice echoed through the concrete walls of the parking garage. Kiyoko almost flinched at how he raised his voice, not realizing he cared as much as he did about her.
"You know damn well that I can handle it alone," Kiyoko growled.
"But you shouldn't have to," he argued with the same stubbornness.
She massaged her temple with her red almond claws, frustrated by the fact that he wouldn't leave her alone to her own defenses. She had enough sense to deal with this with or without him. But he made her feel uneasy, slowly growing upon her like a weakness people could use against her.
"Am I that important of an asset to you?" Kiyoko sighed. Why was he like this?
"Yes," he answered. His hand gently caressed her arm, catching her attention so she could look up at him. Her eyes flickered up at him in confusion, wondering what he else he would say. If he instantly regretted admitting with such confidence that she was that important to him. The regret never appeared on his face. Not from what she could possibly see. "I'll talk to my friend," he assured, refusing to take no for an answer. "Get some rest tonight."
"You too," she murmured into his chest when he pulled her into a warm embrace. There it was again – how could she feel so comfortable in a stranger's arms? It didn't make sense.
"And don't fucking change your number," he threatened, pulling her back to reality.
Her laugh rumbled into his chest. It mingled with the fluttering of his own heart. "You can't tell me what to do."
"Please don't change your number," the Ootori corrected himself, his tone softer. It always felt like a negotiation with her and she was a hard woman to win over.
He felt her nod. Kyouya looked down at her, as if trying to confirm her response. He wanted to hear it from her lips. He was lucky enough to get something better, something unexpected. It was a soft kiss to his lips, the cold caress of her hand at his cheek, her body's weight against him as she leaned against his torso. He held her firmly by the waist, feeling like she had always belonged between his arms.
"Is that a yes?" he could hardly catch his breath when she pulled away. She only smiled and gently pushed him aside so she could step away from him to get to her car.
"Good night, Kyouya," she softly bid him goodbye.
"You're making good progress," the elder commented as she flipped through the photos. The pair had been caught together, hand-in-hand on the streets of Ginza. Another photo of them kissing. His arm around her waist. A sly smile on both their lips as they gazed at each other. "Seems like he has taking a liking to you."
I've taken a liking to him, she thought to herself. Kiyoko tried to repress those thoughts, trying to focus on something that weighed more heavily on her mind. "I got held at knifepoint last week," Kiyoko insisted on speaking on a more pressing topic. She watched as her grandmother lean on the chair of her desk, her eyes buried in a file that the granddaughter could not make out. Were those photos?
"I heard," the grandmother raised an eyebrow, unflinching at the news. She had sent people to keep an eye on her granddaughter, having grown suspicious of whether the child had actually been doing their job in keeping the Ootori's interests. Much to the grandmother's surprise, the child had actually been doing her duty instead of running off to visit her brother and running that stupid gallery of hers.
"What?" Kiyoko narrowed her eyes at the grandmother. "And you let that happen?"
"Why were you held at knifepoint?" the elder asked.
"I was hoping you'd know," Kiyoko coldly responded. "They gave me an address. A hotel, it seems."
"How odd," the grandmother was clearly not invested in this matter.
"And 20 thousand dollars in cash," the woman added flippantly. "Why would anyone give me money?"
"Why do you think?"
Kiyoko pursed her lips. She didn't want to admit it. "Someone is trying to get me to play again."
"Play?"
"Gamble," Kiyoko explained. "You don't see wads of cash like that unless you're cashing out or you're cashing in."
"Well, isn't that your fault?"
Kiyoko glared at her grandmother. "I needed money. No one in this family wanted to provide it. Quite frankly, I wouldn't have had to learn to gamble like that if all of you just fucking took care of my brother."
"As if our facilities weren't enough," the grandmother scoffed. "No one told you to build a private facility for him or hire private caretakers."
"Why was I held at knifepoint?" Kiyoko tried again. "What enemies have we made?"
"We?" the elder repeated. "You mean you. What enemies have you made?" The family didn't have enemies per se, only families that looked down upon them and those were far too many to count.
The granddaughter shook her head. "It's not me. It can't be – I didn't make enemies gambling overseas or selling art. This isn't on me. I would remind you that I'm better off alive than dead to you."
"Unfortunately," her grandmother muttered in agreement. "Your aunt isn't doing anything particularly concerning." The granddaughter must have been wondering – after all, she was considered the black sheep of the family. A concern at the back of their minds even during the peaceful eras of her not being in the country.
"What is she doing?" Kiyoko questioned.
"She checked into a psychiatric facility."
The granddaughter paused, thinking deeper into the statement. "Voluntarily or forcibly?" Kiyoko narrowed her eyes.
"Does it matter?" the grandmother snarled. "She's out of our hair."
"How are you sure of that?" Kiyoko frowned. "If she's looking for money – I'm perfect. A cash cow for her in more ways than one. If she thinks I could gamble on her behalf to keep her afloat before me miraculously marrying into the Ootori family – she has generations of blackmail on us to have her way."
"Then figure out what to do," the elder growled. "She's not my problem."
"She's your daughter," Kiyoko reminded. "I think she's very much your problem."
"And I told you she's taken care of." The topic was dismissed.
Kiyoko shook her head in frustration. "I'm doing my job," the granddaughter tried again.
"Looking pretty and keeping the Ootori's interest is hardly a job, child," the elder scolded.
"I'm taking care of Haru," she reminded. "Because no one else in this family will."
The grandmother crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
"I want to not get murdered," Kiyoko snapped. "My life is in danger and your biggest concern is whether or not the Ootori is taking a liking to me."
"Well, has he?"
"Not if I'm going to be fucking dead," the granddaughter raised her voice to try to talk some sense into the woman. "Check up on Asami and do your fucking due diligence. I'm busy."
"Busy with what?"
Kiyoko turned her heel and cocked her head. "Looking pretty and keeping the Ootori's interest."
She sat in the lobby of the hotel behind a marble pillar with the box in an inconspicuous bag. Strangers bustled about, not paying attention to the woman who sat patiently in the lounge by the window – quietly observing each person that passed by over the past hour. Travellers, tourists, businesspeople – none of these people stood out to her.
It was a tap on the shoulder that got her attention.
"Hibayashi-san," they addressed her politely. Up and away she was whisked into the elevator to the penthouse floor. She stood silently in between two men in suits, having made sure that she wore comfortable shoes that were appropriate for running if need be. Kiyoko had no time to be afraid. She had to survive. There was always the possibility that these men were armed.
The doors opened to the suite with a ding of the elevators. The man grinned at the woman whose eyes were covered by Prada sunglasses, her legs unmoved by the familiar presence.
"Kiyoko, you know we're indoors right?" he rolled his eyes.
The woman blinked at the figure before her. She took a few seconds to recognize him – his hair had been dyed black since the last time she had seen him. He dressed as though he were vacationing out on the beaches of Thailand, casual in Versace and Gucci. "Eugene," she growled in her British lilt. His family dealt in the import/export business, mostly of material that was better left unspoken. It was no surprise that he had men surrounding him out of protection or intimidation. "What the fuck?"
"Did you like the gift I sent?" He pointed towards the bag, flashing his Rolex watch. The man really did amass a fortune with whatever he had inherited since their days in university. He was a business major. She was a mathematics student. They met in economics, a common crossroad. Gambling was a fun past-time to him, a hobby of sorts. He played to win. He had plenty to lose and little to care for.
"I came to return it," Kiyoko held out the bag. "And I didn't appreciate your friend holding me at knifepoint for it."
"I told him to do what it takes to get you to consider it," the man shrugged. "You don't want in?"
Kiyoko shook her head. "No," she said simply. Her almond nails adjusted her shades to the top of her head, pushing the strands behind her ear. Her long hair flowed down her shoulders, boxed in by her Burberry trench coat.
"You don't even want the cute little Chanel bag?" Eugene pouted theatrically. "Isn't that what women like?"
"No," Kiyoko answered again, unamused by her friend. "You know I can afford my own," she added.
He barked a laugh that resonated throughout the entire floor. "Lighten up, Kiyoko – I haven't seen you in years." He led her down the hall into a space where they could finally settle and sit.
"And you didn't think to call?" Her boots filled in the silence of their short walk, her shoulders were still squared in defense. Japan wasn't exactly Eugene's homeland - his home was Russia. His mother was half-Japanese.
"No one has your number," Eugene rolled his eyes. "And besides, I haven't been in the country for a while. We don't operate like we used to – the whole group has dispersed around different parts of the world. Some of us still play for fun, you know? There's an undergr—"
"I don't want to know about it," Kiyoko stopped him, holding up her gloved hand. "Especially if it's illegal."
"It's not illegal," her friend explained with a scoff as he sat comfortably on the couch. "As long as the organizers aren't taking a cut of the pot, you know?"
"Eugene, I don't gamble anymore," Kiyoko answered. "I said I was out years ago."
"We know," her friend shrugged. "There's no pressure. But I thought you'd be interested to hear." The man leaned against the cushion, legs spread apart in his usual relaxed stance. He was the kind of man who went all in – the man who played for everything or nothing at all. He took big risks. Kiyoko took calculated ones. They had differing gambling styles.
"In what?" Kiyoko did not bother to sit down. She knew she was already taking the bait as soon as the man spoke his last sentence. Kiyoko was growing impatient despite being relieved that it was a familiar face she saw and not a stranger.
"Asami Hibayashi – she's related to you, no?" Eugene flicked his lighter and offered a pack of cigarettes her way. Kiyoko politely shook her head. "Aw, c'mon. Not even for old times' sake? Fuck, you're so uptight. Always had been," the man rolled his eyes.
"What about Asami?" Kiyoko cut to the chase. She had no time to share a smoke with her friend.
"She's runnin' it," He smirked before taking a drag. "I thought you were in on it. You would've been playing last week. And yet, I didn't see you there."
"Gambling addiction is real," Kiyoko lectured. "Our healthcare providers can help," she sarcastically added.
"Pfft." He blew out a puff of smoke. "How ironic, huh? You should tell that to your aunt. She's got the same eyes as you."
"The crazy ones?" The Hibayashi raised an eyebrow.
"Precisely," Eugene nodded. "She's going big. Got all the big Yakuza buddies at the table. She's got a system."
Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "How much evidence you got?"
"What?" the friend blinked, confused.
"How much do you have on her to shut it down?" Kiyoko asked again.
Eugene stared in awe of the woman. The Hibayashis were truly something else. He saw it in the girl when he taught her the game – her moves were calculated and logical. She was such a studious person that she even taught them all the statistics of it - forcing them all to memorize the probabilities while they played for practice. There was never a misstep. Kiyoko somehow always had a precise reading of the table. She always bet safe. But when she went big… it was over. Their little group had agreed to pool their winnings. When Eugene won, he won big. But Kiyoko? She always won – big and small, no matter the day or night. "Isn't she your family?" he wondered.
"I didn't say I was going to shut her down," she clarified with a shrug. "I'd let the authorities do the honours."
"It ain't illegal," Eugene reminded. "It's dangerously close though, I'll admit."
"Feels pretty fucking illegal to me if she's got yakuza hanging around," Kiyoko huffed. She got tired of standing and sat down. She pushed the bag over to him on the table and rid herself from the burden of carrying that much cash around in public. "Thanks for letting me know."
"What are friends for?" Eugene smirked.
"Now what do you want?" Kiyoko grumbled. It only felt right to repay her debt.
"Been lookin' for this art piece for someone special," the man admitted. "Was hoping you'd know where to get it."
"Consider it done," the gallerist tossed her business card onto the table – one with Nami's number, of course. Never her own. "Who's the girl?"
"You jealous?" Eugene teased before taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Curious," Kiyoko corrected. "She's got to be something if you're trying to impress her."
"Her family is in the same import/export business," he explained. "We get along well."
"Ah," Kiyoko nodded. There was no need for further explanation beyond that. "Growing the empire," she understood. They were all at that age by now.
"Heard you were seeing someone," her friend grinned. "A knight in shining armour was there to save you that night, yeah?"
"Oh," Kiyoko nodded. "Him," she spoke of him as though he were anonymous. She should have known better than that – the rich always had a way of figuring out who was who.
"Him?" Eugene repeated. "He must be something – putting himself in danger for you is the ultimate test, no?"
"He's alright," the woman admitted. "Unfortunate that he's pretty fucking stupid," she lowly muttered.
"The Ootori doesn't sound like a stupid bimbo to me. So what? You're gonna settle down? Live the normal life? Start a family or somethin'? That's cute."
Eugene smiled at the thought, egging her on to think about the reality. The woman he knew was never someone who fit that kind of mold – she was the kind to strip men of hundreds of thousands of dollars over the course of a couple of hours on a good night. She was a powerful woman, simmering with anger to take down anyone who got in her way. And she did so quietly, right beneath your nose – it was a beauty to watch. Eugene respected her as did the rest of the team. Kiyoko had the brains, the math, the fail-safe understanding of the logic. The rest of the team brought sheer luck and a fuck-ton of money to spare.
Kiyoko shook her head. "Well when you put it like that," she sighed. "It seems rather boring." She stared at the bag before her, nearly considering the offer on the table before snapping out of it. Winning was fun, sure. It had always been fun – the thrill of it was a temporary high, revelling in the power that she would have never had otherwise. It was never meant to be a permanent path to take and Kiyoko exercised as much control as she could over it.
"You left us high and dry," Eugene reminded. "I mean, we all were playing for fun – but you seemed like someone who would never quit."
"Family emergency," Kiyoko answered cryptically. It was a fair excuse.
"And then… what's all this? You sell art? I guess it pays bills, huh? All prim and proper now, Kiyoko?" Eugene eyed her from head to toe. She cleaned up well. She used to dress like a commoner to avoid suspicion and now she dressed like a woman who was the queen of an empire.
The woman smiled to herself, easily shifting the topic. "What is the piece you're looking for?"
"A Monet."
The Hibayashi scoffed at the name. "Can't get you a discount on that kind of stuff, Eugene."
"But you can figure out where to get 'em?"
"You're rich as fuck – you know where to get them. What's the catch?" Kiyoko narrowed her eyes.
"It's not for sale," her friend shrugged. "Either I steal it or… you find a way to get it on sale. I'd prefer the latter 'cause y'know, tryin' to look out for our image nowadays."
Kiyoko growled. "I'd rather you just steal it without telling me."
"Oouf, not so uptight as I remembered," Eugene raised an eyebrow. "You in on this heist, then?"
She shook her head with a scowl. "Can't wear my Louboutins in jail."
"Oh, it'll be house arrest," Eugene waved off. "You can wear whatever you'd like at home." It was a joke she didn't laugh at.
Eventually, Kiyoko caved. It paid to have friends in dark places. It always had. "I'll figure out something in exchange for evidence of the illicit activities my aunt is partaking in. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can land her in jail."
"What?" her friend furrowed his brows. Did he hear right?
"Sorry, I mean house arrest," Kiyoko corrected herself as she stood, her tone light. "Find her books. Get footage. Bleed her dry of any funds. And of course, do it quietly."
"This is a lot for a Monet," Eugene crossed his arms. "She's family, isn't she? Why are you doing this?"
Kiyoko shrugged. "Does it matter? I'll find a way to get the Monet to you. You find a way to get my aunt to her knees."
"Is this some kind of soapy revenge plot?" her old classmate scoffed. "Damn, you Hibayashis are fuckin' wild."
Kiyoko shrugged. "Not the worst thing we've been called. I'm just watching my back."
"By putting a target on hers?" the friend narrowed his eyes at the logic.
The woman smiled sinisterly. He recognized that smile. It sent shivers down his spine, even after all these years. Eugene could only stare back at the woman, eyeing her swift movements as she turned towards the elevator of his penthouse suite.
"No more knives next time or I'll slit their throat," she warned lowly. Kiyoko had already earned her seat at the table, having friends in the art world and the obscenely rich with questionable morals. Art could be appreciated by anybody and anywhere. She was the bridge, neutral to it all as long as she was paid. "Out of self defense, of course," Kiyoko added. Her eyes were blank while her dark red lips contorted in a lopsided smirk as she nodded to him to silently seal the deal.
He knew better than to assume it was an empty threat.