Bar Opiuma, 1 a.m.
Shigure was on his third glass. Straight whiskey, rather bitter. He hadn't expected to be served a quality bottle. He just wanted to escape. He didn't feel drunk, at most slightly dazed. His movements were slower, more deliberate. But nothing clouded his mind. Behind his black, now glassy eyes, the same resolve, the same promise remained.
He tightened his fingers around the nearly empty glass. He wanted to shatter it and cut his fingers, to feel the pain. Yes, to feel. He was afraid, sometimes, that his heart would turn cold, trapped in hatred.
"Help Akito." That's what Kureno had proposed. That fool Kureno, that traitor Kureno, who had dared to come into his house tonight, armed with all his good intentions and his desire to do the right thing.
He had come, into his house, asking for the help of the entire juunishi to help Akito.
Stop sleeping with the woman I love, and we'll see, Shigure had wanted to shout at that moment. The woman I love, the goddess I must share with twelve other people, the one who is never fully mine, my obsession.
Now they knew Akito was a woman. And they all wanted to help her.
Help her with what? Even they didn't know.
Shigure had never wanted to help Akito. He wanted to possess her. He wanted her for himself. To free her, yes, of course, but so that she would belong to him, to give her a new prison, the most beautiful, the most gilded, in which they could live and love each other, without Shigure having to share her, without her being able to escape.
He was selfish. Oh yes, he knew it! But he loved her.
He was convinced, though, that she could be happy by his side. And that was why he had worked for so long. But lately, it was getting harder. He could no longer pretend, could no longer feign lightheartedness. Too much time, too much energy. He felt on the verge of exploding, out of anger and desire. Akito was his, solely his. And she had to accept it. Even if, for that, she had to suffer. Even if, for that, he had to break her.
He was afraid of hurting her, afraid of going too far. But then why didn't he give up? Why did he continue to want her? He had never asked himself the question.
There could only be one woman for him.
"Are you alright, sir?"
Shigure looked up at the bartender who had just spoken to him, leaning over the bar.
In his thirties, with a fresh face that didn't match the rather gloomy decor of the establishment.
"Why? Do I look unwell?" Shigure asked, bringing his glass to his lips.
The bartender chuckled softly.
"No more than the other guys who come alone late at night. But they don't have your look, or your class. You look like a man who could have it all."
"You shouldn't trust appearances. I don't have what I want."
A voice came from his left.
"You could."
Shigure turned. A young woman with long brown hair had taken the seat next to him. She wore a thin black dress and heeled boots. She had a beautiful face and an attractive body. Those were the only details his inebriated mind registered about the girl.
"You're a handsome man," the stranger continued with a gentle smile.
Shigure returned her smile, amused by her straightforward attitude. She probably expected Shigure to return the compliment and praise her beauty, but he did nothing of the sort. He simply ordered a fourth whiskey from the bartender and offered the young lady what she wanted. He would pay. Why? It didn't matter. He didn't want to be alone. And the young woman was lovely, wasn't she?
Visibly delighted, the stranger ordered a white martini.
"You don't come here often, do you?" she said.
"Why do you say that?"
She smiled and looked at him intently.
"If you did, I would have noticed you a long time ago."
"Thank you. Are you always this direct?"
"Only with men I like."
Another smile. Shigure stared at her lips, enhanced by a crimson red. Akito would have looked so beautiful with that lipstick...
The young woman kept talking. He only caught snippets of her speech. She was a real estate agent and had recently broken up with her fiancé. He didn't listen to her words; he was hypnotized by her gestures, her elegance, and her seduction. By her femininity.
She was attractive, she was intriguing, she was a woman. From her wavy hair down to the tips of her black leather boots, through her manicured nails and firm legs, she was a woman. She was what Akito should have been. Desirable, sensual, and carnal. Nausea rose to his lips. Anger, again, the anger of longing that gnawed at him. He wanted to see her.
"Are you alright?" the young woman asked, worried.
"I have to go, I'm sorry," Shigure said, nervously pulling out bills from his wallet. A hand rested on his arm.
"Don't leave yet," the young woman said tenderly, leaning toward him. She wanted him, he knew it. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it, hard enough to hurt.
The girl, troubled and chilled, tried to pull away, but Shigure tightened his grip.
Leaning closer to her, he whispered:
"I'm not very good company tonight. Be glad you're not the one who will spend the night with me."
He let her go. The stranger stood up, rubbing her sore wrist and casting a frosty look at the man who had hurt her. But he was already heading for the exit. He had somewhere to be before dawn.
Sohma Manor, 2 a.m.
Silence. No one in the hallways. Shigure entered the main residence and reached the quarters of the mistress of the estate. He had walked from the bar to the Sohma domain. With the help of alcohol, he hadn't cared about the distance or the cold. And now, he stood near the young woman's room. A few meters away. He was surprised not to meet any resistance. Neither Hatori nor the old servant.
Anger surged within him again; Akito probably didn't need protection—Kureno was surely in his bed…
Shigure stood before the goddess's door and opened it abruptly.
The room was shrouded in darkness, but the rice paper sliding door was open, and the moon cast a gentle light. Akito was alone. She hadn't reacted to Shigure's sudden entrance. She was sleeping, curled up in her futon.
Shigure looked at her, troubled by the calm of her sleep, so different from the passion that gripped him at that moment. He took off his jacket and tossed it on the floor. He approached her with long strides and, without ceremony, ripped the blanket covering her away.
Akito awoke, frightened. She sat up and wanted to scream, but Shigure dropped to his knees on the futon and covered her mouth with his hand. He pushed her back onto the mattress, holding her down with his body. She began to struggle.
"Shh, it's me," he whispered, bringing his face close to hers.
Akito froze, recognizing the young man in the dim light filtering into the room. Shigure removed his hand from her mouth and leaned over her, hands on either side of her head, dominating her.
"Shigure, what are you doing here?" the young woman asked. Her voice sounded more frightened than angry. She was shocked; she wasn't used to such behavior from the Twelve, or from anyone for that matter.
"What am I doing here," Shigure repeated slowly, and he lay down beside Akito on the futon. "I came to see you, of course."
He gently placed his hand on her hair and began stroking it lovingly.
Akito pushed him away and sat up.
"In the middle of the night? What's wrong with you? You come into my room like a prowler! You wake me up, you scare me… even though you've been ignoring me for days, and… And you've been drinking!"
Shigure laughed. He was amused. The evening was delightful. Everything was perfect, really.
Akito looked at him as if he were insane. He felt her growing fear. She tried to stand up, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the mattress, closer to him.
"Come," he said, "closer, don't be afraid of me, my goddess."
Akito stiffened and tried to pull away.
"You're giving yourself too much credit, Shigure, I'm not afraid of you!"
"Really?" he asked. His face suddenly darkened. He leaned over her and pinned her down on the futon. Akito gasped in surprise and tried to push him away. Shigure trapped her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, pressed against the floor. He brought his face close to hers, his eyes burning and feverish.
"And now? Are you afraid of me?"
"Stop, Shigure, you have no right to do this. Let me go!"
Akito's voice was meant to sound authoritative, but it trembled.
"Why?" Shigure asked. With his free hand, he caressed her face and her black hair. He brushed his thumb over her lips before pressing a rough kiss on them. "I'm not close enough to you, I'm not kind enough to you—you said it yourself, and tonight, I came for you, only for you, to see you. Aren't you happy?"
"You're drunk, you're talking nonsense, that's why you're not listening to me," Akito whimpered, trying to escape Shigure's kisses.
"Oh, that excuse would suit you, wouldn't it?" he murmured, kissing her neck, nibbling the tender flesh. Desire burned through him. He wanted her body. He needed it.
Akito stopped struggling, gradually yielding to Shigure's passionate embrace.
He released her wrists, and she didn't try to push him away, but she didn't encourage him to continue either. That's how it was with her. She offered her body as an offering, an indulgence, a gift.
And Shigure hated that.
He wanted her to give herself fully, body and soul. He wanted to dominate her completely, but most of all, he wanted her to desire him and only him.
He loosened the belt of her kimono and exposed her chest. For once, it wasn't bound. After her weight loss, her breasts were small but still retained their roundness.
Akito hated her chest; she hated any sign of her femininity. Except when they made love. It was the only time she allowed herself to be a woman.
Shigure caressed her left breast, nibbled the hardened nipple, while caressing the other with expert fingers. Akito moaned, squirmed. Slowly, she surrendered to the sensations of pleasure, relishing the heat building between her thighs.
She felt Shigure's hand caress her stomach and move down between her legs. He touched her there, playing with the source of her pleasure, gently. He slid a finger inside her and began caressing her over and over. She arched in pleasure, spreading her legs for her lover, who slid a second finger inside her. She burned; she was ready.
Shigure suddenly sat up, kneeling between her legs. He spread the kimono open, revealing her body. His eyes roamed over every inch of her feminine silhouette. The soft soles of her delicate feet, her firm and smooth thighs, her enticing hips, her flat stomach, her tender, round chest, her slender neck… her neck…
Shigure paled. There, on her neck. A mark, a hickey. A mark of betrayal on this body she shared with another. Anger surged through him again.
"He touched you again," he said, his eyes dark.
Akito looked at him, not seeming to understand.
"What…?" she began. But she was cut off as Shigure threw himself on her, violently. Something in him snapped, that thread tethering him to reality had torn. He wanted to hurt her.
He pressed his body against hers, suffocating her. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. His hands roamed over her body, caressing and scratching. He wanted to mark her, to make her his property, like marking an animal or an object. Each bite, each wound he inflicted brought him a sense of triumph.
Initially excited by Shigure's passion, Akito was now trying to push him away. She was afraid. He was hurting her, and he wasn't listening! She kept telling him to stop, over and over, but he wouldn't listen. She didn't understand; she wanted to cry.
Shigure suddenly sat up and started to undo his pants.
This was the moment! Freed, Akito stood up and tried to flee, stumbling over the folds of her kimono trailing on the floor.
Enraged, Shigure ran to block her path to the door. He stood before her, shirt torn, pants open. She, naked, innocent, tried to cover her body with her arms.
"Where do you think you're going like that?" he asked, approaching her slowly, hands outstretched, a hunter facing his prey.
"Let me go! You're not yourself," she said, stepping back.
"Go? I don't think we're finished," he replied, moving closer to her.
"No, I don't want to anymore, you hurt me!"
"You wanted to, you desired me."
"I don't want to do this with you anymore!"
He stopped.
"You prefer Kureno, is that it? He's the one who left that mark on your neck, isn't he? Or maybe you want Hatori? And who knows, maybe you'd spread your legs for Yuki and Hatsuharu if it would make them come back to the manor!"
She slapped him hard. She didn't realize what she had done until Shigure turned toward her with hateful eyes. His lip was bleeding.
He stepped closer to her. She didn't move, but she was trembling. But strangely… Shigure smiled at her.
"You hit me," he murmured. "You never hit me before."
"You deserved it!" she replied furiously.
"Why? Because I said you were sleeping with all your Juunishi? It's true, I exaggerated. It's only Kureno and me, isn't it? He's the one you betrayed me with."
"How can you talk about betrayal! You slept with Ren!" she shouted.
"For revenge! You betrayed me first," he said, pushing her harshly. She fell to the floor. "How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us? If we're here today, if I hate you so much, it's entirely your fault!"
He fell silent, panting. Akito wasn't looking at him; her eyes were vacant, soon filling with tears.
He was tired. The alcohol had worn off. Only an emptiness remained deep within his body. He had said too much. And he wasn't sure he truly meant everything he had said. He had wanted to hurt her. And as he looked at the young girl sitting naked on the floor, hugging her bruised body as if to shield herself, he realized that he had succeeded. Yet, the victory was bitter. He had crossed the line.
He knelt down and moved closer to her. He reached out, brushed her hair with his hand, let it drop to touch her shoulder, her arm. He wanted to be gentle. He leaned in slowly and placed soft, light kisses on her bent knees, tracing her thighs with his fingertips.
He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but he knew he shouldn't.
Without looking at him, she reached out her arms and wrapped them around his neck. She let herself fall backward, gently pulling him with her. She lifted sad, pleading eyes to him. And he understood. He entered her. She held him tightly, turning her small, tender arms into a prison around his neck. He slipped his arms under her body and pressed her to him as he made love to her gently, tenderly. Yes, he loved his angel.
When it was over, Akito did not loosen her embrace, and Shigure remained on top of her and within her, tracing her body softly and caressing her sides.
After a while, he stood up, fearing that, in this position, Akito might catch a chill.
"Do you hate me?" she asked in a whisper.
She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears already beginning to roll down her face.
Shigure did not answer; he took her in his arms, lifted her, and carried her to the futon. She did not resist. He covered her with his kimono and stood up to fetch the blanket. Akito lay on her side, not looking at him, but he knew she was crying. He lay down next to her, pressing his chest against her back, molding himself to her shape. He draped an arm over her, kissed her hair, and rocked her until the faint sobs that shook her frail frame subsided and she fell asleep. And he stayed by her side.
End of Chapter 5