Maiko’s cocktail is bitter, little more water than alcohol, and she wrinkles her nose distastefully. She’d never used to mind it, never minded the way Itori would subtly disregard her. Miss a garnish in her drink, serve her last, slip in front of her to talk to Uta.
She had always felt that Itori was better than her, ever since they were teens. One of Uta’s oldest friends, Itori was beautiful, and as clever as the devil, and how could she ever compare to someone like her?
It was Itori, too, not Maiko who had been made one of the rank of the Pierrot. Maiko had been denied, for reasons she had never understood.
She and Uta had been a pair, a match made. Maiko had noticed it early on as teenagers, the way she turned her scarlet gaze towards the ward leader, the mere stench of her longing palatable, two beautiful ghouls, one a fallen angel, the other Lilith, a temptress, achingly sensual. Perfect.
But the angel instead, turned his gaze towards her, runt of his pack.
He loved her, would do anything she asked on bended knee.
She watches the woman’s hand slip along the confines of Uta’s chest, down his collarbone. She says something, a joke, then her hand drips upwards to touch his tattoo. Itori’s laughter is a spark that ignites in Maiko’s chest, burning up her throat.
A quick hand, the claw of a Nogitsune reaches out and she snags Itori’s hand in her grasp, body suddenly between the bartender and Uta.
Mine.
She leans close, close enough to feel the other ghoul’s breath awash on her cheeks.
❝Take your hands off him, Itori-chan.❞
Itori would be lying if she said she took Maiko seriously. In her youth she and Uta were on the brink of becoming a pair, the strongest duo in the fourth ward, everyone knew it, and the way he used to look at her, oh how she craved that attention again. But then the mouse showed up, running about the ward, getting in the way of things, even stealing from them. If it weren’t for Uta walking into the church at the wrong time and hearing her play that song, that damned song, things would be different, Itori likes to think that it would’ve been her next to Uta in his sleep, not the song bird who needed it’s wings to be clipped. Hell, even when Maiko left, Uta’s heart went with her, there was no way Itori could snatch it with red painted nails. But whenever given the chance, she enjoyed messing with Maiko’s head, making her seem less important, and lacking something special when in her sight.
Even with Itori’s achievements within the Clowns, she never felt as if she had one upped Maiko, for the pink haired ghoul was the one who carried Uta’s heart and soul in her designer pocket. So, she liked to take her emotions out whenever she could, even if it was something small like grazing her hands on Uta’s arms, laughing as sweet nothings spilled from her lips, or something big, like pulling Yomo’s heartstrings by showing him those films Shini made an apperance in.
A quick expression of shock is plastered across Itori’s face then it’s wiped away, replaced by a smile. For now, she had to play nice. ❝ Ooooohhh Maikoooo-Channnn what’s wrong? You’re acting as if I just grabbed hold of that special piece of him, you knoooow I’d never! ❞ Lies are forced out, her tone playful, yet if you look deeper, you know it’s all an act.
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