writing to stay sane

paula ✨ just a 24 year old into kpop, anime and whatnot hyperfixation finds me when i need it ✨ amateur writer in becoming 📖

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste Chapter 11

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, found love, fluff, spice, a lot of teasing, angst

Word count: 32.3k+

TW: blood, stabbing, violence, brief mentions of torture and kidnapping

A/N: Hello... So, first thing's first, Addicting Taste kinda went on a hiatus (against my wishes) since I was in a pretty bad slump writing-wise, emotionally, mentally. But, gear up for hopefully back to back chapters this month. Managed to draw out some pain for these ones.

I realise Chapter 10 was a bit of a wholesome, extremely loooong read, but I hope you liked it. I don't know if people even read it since it's been radio silent on that front, but I hope some of you still are. For now, please welcome insane mayhem, a mess of feelings, hopefully great plot and a few new characters. Enjoy the revelations.

For Nina. Hope you're happy wherever you are.

Playlist: Up In Flames - Ruelle, Atlantis - Sleep Token, Radioactive - Imagine Dragons, The Grey - Bad Omens, Viva La Vida - Sofia Karlberg (Acoustic Version), Alibi - Sevdaliza, Pablio Vittar, Yseult, Start A Riot - Duckwrth, Shaboozey, Lovesong - Adele, Carnival of Rust - Poets of the Fall, The Love You Want - Sleep Token

Previous

"You."

The sly snake looked down at you with sheer delight like the very sire of satan he was. That victorious smirk sitting idly on his face was enough to make your hands shoot out to grab onto his neck and twist it backwards. That would've been possible if your wrists didn't get yanked back by the harsh pull of the metal shackles restraining you to the stone walls behind.

He bent down to you, tilting his head with sheer amusement etched on his lips at your struggle. There was a blackness in his eyes that consumed his orbs like a toxin, brimming in dark pools of oil, much like the one burning in the lamp one of his men was holding in the corner.

"Pleasure to see you again, kiddo."

"The pleasure will be mine once I stomp my foot all over your face," you spit back, continuing to pull on those chains to get as close to him as they could let you without splitting your hands away from the base of your palms.

"Ah, ah, ah," he stopped you, moving his finger from left to right right in your face, like he was ordering an animal, a pet, to stand down and know its place.

You were no damn pet but more of a wild animal at the moment. And you bit fucking hard if provoked. And by gods, he provoked every cell in your body with just that wiggling finger.

Before he had a chance to reel back on his feet, your head jerked forwards and you caught his finger with your teeth, gripping onto his pointer with wolfish strength. Terror flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, so fast and fearsome you might have just missed it. Rugged arms were on your shoulders in an instant, rough fingers digging into your skin to pull you back to your place against the wall. While more of his men tried to restrain you, pushing you to your knees, the reptile pulled on his precious little digit to shake your hold off like you were a stinging bug but your sharp teeth hung on damn tight, dragging the skin over the bone with each agitated flail of his hands. Your teeth dug into it more and more, determined to rip it off his hand or at least detach it from his hand a little, but with the resistance behind pulling on your shoulders and your throat, you kept to it until you felt a crack between your canines, tasting iron on your tongue.

Blood, you smirked.

Satisfied, you relaxed your mouth and let go reeling back, letting him reef his bloodied, damaged finger back to his chest in pain.

He's going to have a hard time doing anything with it for a while. Good for him. Would've bit his whole hand off if I had a bigger mouth.

Spitting the leftover blood in your mouth before it started tasting like poison, your gaze turned back to his, dark eyes now watching you in alert. He didn't expect you to attack so soon or even at all. You could see it on his face. Whatever he had planned facing you, it all fell down the minute you bared your teeth literally.

A guard handed him a cloth to wrap around his injured finger, while another stomped your way. He unwrapped your chains from the wall behind dragging you along with them. You fought against it but it was useless. His hands reached up to lock the chains to the rusty hooks on the ceiling, securing you in the middle of the dark cell. Your hands were pulled above your head making you rise to your feet, unable to move too much in any side.

Standing to your full height, your bruised hands fell bound together in front of you, keeping you still like a lamb about to be butchered. The good thing was that it let you make an estimate of your wounds. Sharp pain pulsed through the numbness in your legs and in every other part of your body that was still recovering from almost being crushed to pieces by the wooden carriage. Most of your right side suffered deeper injuries since you were thrown against the walls more times than you could count. A lot of bones felt broken - a few lower ribs, a collar bone, twisted elbow and opposite ankle among the main major ones - but you were sure there were more you couldn't see or feel. Crumpled up on the floor you didn't feel the pain so bad, but standing on shaky legs, swaying lightly, drawing sharp breaths through your parched throat, you felt it all.

All you wanted to do was lay down and cry it all out. But you couldn't collapse to the ground in front of this life-sucking serpent before you found out what he wanted or where you were. Any sliver of information was more valuable than anything right now.

"Why am I here?"

"For my entertainment and curiosity," spoke the Snake, tightening the cloth around his wound until he was satisfied it was tight enough.

"What is this? The fucking circus gathering?" you laughed dryly, chains jangling as you wiped the leftover blood from his finger still on your cracked lips with the back of your palm. "Thought you had better taste."

"Smart mouth she has. Quite like her mother," he harked a broken laugh that bounced off the echo in the cell. "You'll be quiet and docile in no time."

Docile? Am I getting married off or something?

"For what?"

"For my plans."

From where you were standing, his plans looked to be nowhere in particular. Or you were still dazed from that solid hit to the back of your head before these people kidnapped you. Either way, his words made no sense. What could he possibly want with you? Why was he working with the Triads for that matter? More and more questions pooled in, rendering you profoundly confused.

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"A little birdie told me you were quite the rouse in Edo not that long ago."

Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat suddenly too loud in your ears.

That's what this is about.

Barairo me, not me.

"The Crimson Rose of Yokohama they called you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing closer to you. "A teenage girl laying death to men more dangerous and lethal than the demons of hell walking the earth, the very best mercenaries in Japan."

"That bird of yours must be mistaken," you chuckled, trying to play the fool a little longer. But that dry chuckle fell unsure from your lips. a weak distraction in face of his conviction that he had the right person. He was confident it was you and had confirmation of it.

"I don't think so." He paced around you, circling you like you were the serpent's precious prey. "You see," he stopped right behind you, shadow leaning over your shoulder, his heinous whisper falling right in your ear. "You're here to fight for me, sweetheart."

You snorted. A fits of chuckles bordering on strangled laughter escaped your throat in a meager attempt to seem saner than you looked. He was crazy, maybe even borderline delusional, if he thought for one second you would do that for him of all people.

Rounded back to your front, he steered clear within a couple cautionary steps away from you, as if he anticipated another surprise attack of yours. His eyes raked your arms, legs, even your mouth, looking for a sign that there was any on the way at all.

He fears me. Good. I can use that to my advantage.

"In your dreams."

You punctuated your words with a good tug on the chains making sure to rattle them loud enough. Whatever those fucked up illusions of his were, they were not lined up in your program today, tomorrow or ever in the near future. You might have been up on the hire for anyone a few months ago, willing to do dirty work for whoever paid more. But the only people you fought for now were your own.

"Well," he turned for the door of the cell, nodding to his men on the other side of the iron bars. The door creaked open with a shriek, metal scraping the floor of the corridor lit with torches. Before he stepped out fully, his head craned back to you. "I hope you're ready. My dreams have a habit of coming to fruition lately."

"Do they include working with the Triads?"

"Ah, so you know," he nodded to himself, not once denying your accusation. "Saves me a lot of explaining to do. I am indeed."

"Why?"

That was kind of a loaded question. One he answered with a response that didn't really give you anything to work with - a goddamn shit-eating grin that went right to the pit of disgust already drawing in your stomach since the very first light flickered over his face. With that limiting conversation and a grin that gave you nothing, he left, taking the guards with him.

You didn't move until their steps faded away and all that was left in the air was silence and the light crackle of the torches. Blowing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you sank to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Everything hurt and pulsed uncontrollably along the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart. Some of your injuries ached more, alerting you they needed some attention now. Looking around the dark confinement, you noticed the small glow of light falling on a good portion of your cell. The only impediment was that is fell near the door

Pulling your feet from under you, you drew as close to the amber twinkle as your chains could let you before they tugged your wrists back painfully.

In that thin fragment of light, the long velvet skirt that was a beautiful ruby red at the start of the night was now a wet brown shade with patches of mud and grass sticking to it. Shoving it off your leg, you found a line of cuts and bruises all around each side you rotated your leg in, some of them deeper and dark red still bleeding, others just light grazes almost closed up. Your ankle looked like it felt - destroyed. Almost shattered, still usable if you ignored the angry purple swelling around it. Checking your other leg, you found the same grazes from your knee downwards but it didn't look as bad as your other leg. You gave it a test roll receiving less pain in response.

Your attention moved to your chest, feeling it too compressed with every breath you took. The corset manage to hold your middle together, protecting important organs. From what you could see there were no tears in it so nothing got inside or where it shouldn't be. And to think I doubted the extra double cover. But with every inhale of air, the boning pressed too hard against those few ribs that were broken. There was no way you could undo the laces, at least a little, since your hands couldn't reach behind.

Arms-wise, there were a few more cuts peeking through the ripped sleeves and some bruises. Your right elbow spasmed numbly, twisted inwards. You had to put it back and soon. This was not the best place to do it, nor did you have enough space to move it since both of your hands were chained, but it was worth a shot.

Getting up on your knees was harder this time around, all adrenaline to start a fight gone. Levelling your arms together, parallel to each other, you moved so your elbow was as straight as you could get it in that angle. Your left palm caught onto your right wrist to hold it in place.

I just need to pop it in. Nice and easy. It shouldn't hurt that bad.

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, then all at once drove your body forwards as if you pushed your hands into dough to mold it into shape. Though you weren't pushing into soft dough but repositioning your own arm in its right location. Pushing your shoulder and wrist towards each other, you moved your elbow back into place. Teeth grinding, you swallowed your scream and sniffled the tears away as the spasms were replaced by shooting pain, continuing to push forwards relentlessly until it clicked back in.

"Fuck," you hissed, sinking back on the floor, hands drawn above you by the chains. Head falling on your suspended arms, you sighed.

What now?

Wait?

Try to escape?

Fight them when they come back?

None of those options were viable routes to take in your condition. Your thoughts barely aligned in order with the pain coursing through you and your body took way too much damage tonight to stand up to anyone without ripping fresh scars. For now, as much as you hated it, just waiting was the best call.

For a while, you just let it hurt. You felt the torture throb through your body ruthlessly, slow and cruel, turning into soreness, discomfort that you couldn't move more. The laborious breaths leaving you went from aching gasps to much more controllable exhales. The minute some of the pain receded to mere stabbing sensations and your head cleared a little, you turned to planning.

From what you could gather, the way to the outside world had to be on the left, since that reptile and his guards took off that way. Then what was on your right? Your eyes shot up to find that the burning torch upfront was the only light source you could see alight. The rest of them on the right were not burning, drenching that area in complete darkness. You just prayed whatever awaited you down there was better than this - being locked up in a cage like a wild animal waiting to be domesticated or sold off for your services.

Your eyes widened with another thundering thought that caught your breath.

The boys.

Were they okay? You hoped they woke up and weren't laying still on the cold, wet and muddy ground of the forest. They must have woken up by now. They took worse damage in battle than that tumbling carriage could inflict on them. They weren't pussies to lie in pain until it passed on, though the scope of their injuries did worry you. One was barely breathing while the other looked on the verge of death when you reached him.

That self-righteous mop of hair worried you the most. To think he called you an idiot before it all went sideways. You chuckled dryly with a shake of your head reminded of the insults thrown around before the impact. Even when you were close to embracing death several times, he was talking your ear off about your shitty life choices like a worrisome mother would her rebel child. Absolutely convinced was he that you only made mistakes back there at the club. You came to learn that was just his nature - worrying about others before himself.

Thoughts bounced back and forth in the cold air carried down by the wind currents. The wind howled down here just as loud as outside, scaring the shit out of you when it started sounding like a real wild beast was down there, patrolling around to make sure no one left their deathtrap. Some torches ceased burning, drawing to a smoky kindle until no more light shone inside your cell at all. Only darkness and cold surrounded you, both crawling down your spine with rippling chills. The ripped velvet sleeves and the wet dress did little to keep you warm. But little was better than nothing. Shivers still shook you well, still with the searing pain inside the cold felt bearable for now.

At least this is confirmation they only took me, you sighed, burying your head into the small crevice of your tied hands, ready to give in to exhaustion.

Before you let the night take you in her arms, one last thought came through that just about managed to warm you up from deep within with a faint spark of hope.

I hope the boys are okay.

The rainstorm howled, blowing leaves and twigs everywhere it touched down upon. It was relentless, billowing above the tall tree line, shaking the wilderness down to the depths of the woods, ripping apart over him as if he was part of the forest. Like he was some kind of new addition to the open clearing full of wet, wilted greenery. One that wasn't as dead as the nature around him, waiting for the freeze of winter, but he was near becoming one with it.

He wasn't quite dead. Though it looked that way. His ashen locks were matted to his face, slapped dark with mud, dirt and scorched splinters of wood tangled in every strand, way darker than the paleness of his face and the bleeding parts of his body where his clothes were torn to shreds.

If that was how death looked, crimson like a flower of the purest bloom, soft skinned like a blanket of snow, yet so silver dressed resembling the finest royal jewels - then this death was painfully beautiful. Stealing your breath away and welcoming you with warm arms at the same time. A death that was, but wasn't.

Because he wasn't knocking on her doors just yet.

One moment he was still, as if turned to stone. The next, he drew in a gasping breath like it was his very first. His chest was hurting, moving, taking all of his breaths in and pumping the blood around his body as it normally should, but hurting like a motherfucker. He was alive, in piercing pain and trapped in his mind for extra safety, but on all other fronts, he was alive and breathing.

Somewhere between diving in and out of unconsciousness and awareness of endless pain, something moved above him. He couldn't open his eyes, eyelids weighing more than he could lift at the moment. He couldn't hear anything besides that ringing drowning the world out. But he could sense his surroundings. He could always count on sensing the energy around him when his senses failed to work with him.

It, or a person from the light motion, moved around frantically for a while then landed on top of him. He felt that, together with the blinding pain at the hard press of their body against his. If he could move, he would've pushed them away. But he felt desperation in that weak grip around him, so deep and tormented, hanging onto him for dear life, that it made him feel frustrated he couldn't gauge the situation at all.

One moment, the person pressed tightly into him as if in fear. He felt frail shaking wrapping around his arms then his shoulders, doing their best to reach him. Continual and beyond desperate, the shaking stopped on his face, around his cheeks, and he finally felt something beside the pain running through him - warmth. A warmth that was so familiar to him he tried moving something, anything to reach and comfort it. Then suddenly, the weight on his chest was replaced by a hollow emptiness. The person was gone. He couldn't feel them anymore. That's when his hearing started working again, converting the irritating ringing in his ears into muffled movement, rustling and grunting nearby. Really close by.

Something was happening. He had to open his damned eyes and look. Slowly, infuriatingly at that, all his other paralyzed senses started coming to but not his sight. He could feel the sloshy mud under his fingertips, smell it and the rain, taste the blood on his tongue. His sight took its sweet time even as his gut kept telling him to move it and take a fucking look at what was happening, but by the time he did it all turned quiet. The only thing he could hear was the beat of his heart and the rainfall hitting the ground beside him.

His lashes fluttered open, eyes meeting the blackened sky, raining down hard on his face. Trying to move was pointless when his whole body protested against it, tendrils of sharp pain bursting out in waves upon a single jerk of a finger. Moving was necessary, not a need but a must. Even so, his body just refused his orders firing one after the other. It wouldn't work like that - pushing himself in all sides expecting it to work with him. So he took it slow, slower than babies would.

He blinked away the heavy raindrops falling in his eyes, trying to clear the remaining haze of darkness away. Before he managed to gain back his sight properly, that darkness edged back in his vision, trying to pull him under with the irritating pounding in his temple. He couldn't let it take him again when an urgent need to get the fuck up and regain his bearings shook him to the bone.

He sat and sat, waiting for the pain to ebb away a little, enduring the cold rainfall drenching the rest of his clothes. Until the last shred of his patience finally burned to a crisp. Survival was his only friend for the longest but this was not the time to sit nicely with it. It was time to move. With a long grunt, he dragged his arms towards his chest and tried to push his upper body to sit at least on his elbows. Once that was manageable, he moved his head too, raising it in sync with the bend of his abdomen, hunching forwards with a shaky gasp. That was a mistake that only stirred the pounding in his head to unbearable throbbing.

"Fuck's sake," he hissed, managing to throw a hand to his head.

It hurt everywhere, but that spot near his temple hurt the most. His fingers pried and prodded, touching the soft, mellow skin there until he came to the conclusion that was a nasty gash that's been bleeding for a good while. Judging by the stinging around it, he's been laying there for even longer and rainwater bacteria was making itself rather comfortable.

Blinking away the woozy feeling keeping his body hostage to an imbalance he wasn't accustomed to, he focused his eyes in front of him. Embers burned all around - remnants of what was left of the wooden carriage. Some of them still sputtered, swallowing the remains of dry vegetation around them that wasn't completely soaked, others died down to a smoky kindle. Whipping his head to the right a little too fast that he saw his past, present and future in one dizzying flash, he caught sight of a body laying a few feet away. Zeroing in on it, he tried to figure out who it was but by gods if he could even see straight or make out the outline of the bush next to him at all.

Time to take a stroll and find out, he thought, willing his body to move towards that suspicious hunk of meat laying still in the mud.

In one brisk move, he moved to his knees. Way better than laying down in the mud and getting buried under it. But that's where he got stuck. Standing up properly was out of the question. He had to do it like he's never done it before. One foot before the other. One knee straightened fully then the other. He moved with the grace of a newborn calf, shaky and unstable on his feet, but at last he was standing. He took one step ahead of his head catching up with the rapid motion and nearly toppled over, putting way too much trust that it would be that easy to move. After all, he took several tumbles in a wooden box that nearly capsized with him inside it before his body collided with something hard and finally stopped the endless rolling, ending up in this situation in the first place.

Balancing his weight for a good minute, he tested a few more steps to get the blood flowing around before he took off in the direction of the body. The closer he got, the more it resembled a man. Dusty blonde hair peaked out from under heaps of wet maple leaves and mud and he recognized him instantly - blondie.

He fell to his knees, leaning over him. The upper right side of his suit was torn apart completely, burns climbing up his arms over his shoulder in small craters. He was scraped good, a few deep cuts on his face and light grazes over the side of his neck, but he was still breathing. Unknowingly, Enishi released a sigh of relief. At one point, somewhere in the tug of war between them, he started feeling for the guy because of you and your endless nagging for them to get along and grow a pair -

Wait.

You.

Where were you?

His feet acted on autopilot, lifting him up off the ground to take him along the open radius of the clearing, from the scattered pieces of wood still burning on the main road that got separated from the main frame of the carriage, going as far as the last fragments of the benches inside laying in the deeper opening of the forest. He called your name over and over, voice hoarse like it wasn't his own, whirling around every which side like a madman.

He scoured every corner. Lifted every side door or bench residue still standing propped on the ground, thinking you'd be stuck or hurt under it. Checked every bush and raise of greenery in case you were hiding. The rain just poured harder, making the blood on his head run down his face, extinguishing the fires still burning, except the one that sputtered to life in his chest the more he searched for you just to find nothing.

Not one sight of you, as if you disappeared without a trace.

Nothing at all.

In one breath, he was back at blondie's side, shaking his shoulders ready to yell bloody murder. The blond grunted in pain but Enishi couldn't care less about that. If he didn't open those fucking deer-in-distress eyes in the next few seconds, he would be as good as dead. The blonde continued grunting with no sign of waking up. Before he could stop himself, an angry palm planted on the other's cheek, the force of it forcing his head to the side and pulling a rough cough from him, finally awake and conscious.

"What the fuck," he groaned, his own world spinning to above and beyond.

"Miyu's gone. Wake the fuck up," growled Enishi.

That deep growl startled him enough to open his eyes wide. He took in his surroundings, then the angry, profusely bleeding gray haired man holding him by his collar at a close raging angle. Then his words registered and his mouth fell open.

"What do you mean Miyu's gone?"

"Hate to break it to you, but we were kinda hit from the back by a fucking fireball. I'm here. You're here. She's not. Now where the fuck is she?"

Cho groaned in response. "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I've been unconscious until you hit me." At that he paused and narrowed in on Enishi, brows furrowed in anger. "Why the fuck did you hit me?"

"Just felt like it."

Cho turned sideways and spit the blood out of his mouth before pushing the rough hands around his neck away. Enishi's grip never loosened, only tightened until his knuckles cracked.

"Get your hands off me."

"Or what?"

Before he saw it coming, a fist collided with the side of his head, the bleeding one. His sight got blurrier than it was as he fell backwards. He tried his hardest to shake it off, struggling back to his feet. When his eyes landed on the blond, barely standing himself but standing nonetheless, his jaw ticked and he saw red.

Two steps was all it took and he was pushing him against a tree bark with all his might. Lightning flashed above, drenching him in white, making him look like a bloodied ghost set on vengeance that's been overdue for a long time. Way too long.

Enishi's right fist connected with Cho's cheek before he could counter the attack. With that first blow multiple followed, all punches relentless and more powerful than the previous. Each punch held his rage for the past few days heading straight for the blond. One dug into his chin for hurting you all those years ago with empty lies. Another two cut his cheek open for letting him stay under his roof and feeding him when he didn't deserve it the treatment, giving him way too many chances to redeem himself. An uppercut for playing around with you like you were a toy to break his patience.

Pinning him into the bark of the tree with each strike, Enishi was set upon drilling his body into that hollow bark until he became one with it.

Cho let him send blow after blow until he got his world to stop spinning enough to respond. As soon as the side of his face started going numb and the blood in his mouth felt fresh, his hand lifted to catch Enishi's fist in his, longer fingers digging over his, all while launching his other hand to catch his arm, switching places to throw him into the tree bark instead. He dug his knee into Enishi's chest hard, then without hesitation kicked him down into a puddle of sludge he landed into face first.

The time to play nice ended the minute he smacked the blond awake. He wanted a fight? He was going to get one to remember.

This was what they were both waiting for. The anger they had towards each other just kept rising these past few days. Their instincts only knew violence and destruction for the longest time and they tempered those down enough. Each craved to see the other in pain for a multitude of reasons, most of them surrounding their dispute over you, others simply for futile fun of the moment.

It was time to put their powers to the test.

No mercy. No outside interruptions. Just them and their fists.

Enishi got up from the mud pummeling into Cho with a rough tackle, sending him into the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him. Taking advantage of how dazed he was, he climbed on top, bruised hands finding his grazed neck, pressing down with all his strength to cut his air supply. He didn't want to kill him. That hate harbored in his chest was heavy and punishing when he needed it to be but this wasn't the case for it to unlock. He just wanted to make the bastard feel the pain until he gave up on his own. A small part of him wanted to see him beg for it.

Cho struggled under his hold, hands thrashing around to find something he could use against the brute strangling him. He searched and searched ignoring the murderous gaze set on him. As soon as his palm connected with the length of a tree branch he lifted it up and flung it hard into Enishi's shoulder sending him flying off of him. He didn't give himself a chance to catch his breath before he pressed him into the ground with his foot and got a hold of his arm to twist it backwards at an inhumane angle without stopping until Enishi howled in pain. Even after he yelled in agony, he continued twisting with a wicked smirk on his face, finally satisfied to see him in pain.

The sword thief wasn't one to engage in extreme violence unless he was provoked. Enishi did a lot of that lately, especially when it came to playing around with you, acting like a saint afterwards. You were too peaceful to hurt him. Way too kind to him even in that hateful gaze after the stupid games he played. So he took it upon himself to teach him a lesson. Just because the lesson proved rewarding to Cho's ego, it did not mean he really wanted the guy to suffer for long. Just a little more would do him immense satisfaction.

Cho's victory was short lived. He might have been one of the Ten Swords but he lacked one thing Enishi held close - combat intellect. Something so inconsequential to a normal sword connoisseur but so trivial to a double blade wielder.

Enishi's right arm sneaked out from under him, grabbing a good hold of Cho's thigh as his leg kicked the back of his knee to hurl him back to the ground, letting go of his twisted arm in the process. The blond barely hit the ground before getting back up again, ready to send another kick Enishi's way. He intercepted it and sent one from the ground, angling his body sideways and kicking his leg high enough to hit the side of Cho's neck. He followed up with an elbow in his chest and an uppercut meant to cut off that annoying smirk on his face. He stumbled, colliding with another tree and almost lost his footing falling beside it.

Enishi gave him a second too long. A second that had Cho slide over the mud and kick his legs from under him. He fell backwards, flipping back up on his legs to grab onto Cho's neck once more. Though this time, Cho's hands flew to Enishi's neck too.

The sound of horses galloping went over their heads, both males busy with killing the other or doing more significant damage than the fireball or the carriage crash could. They both squeezed each other, pressing their dirty, bloodied fingers against whatever spots they caught, reluctant to let go and find a better one. They kept going at it until the shot of a gun echoed loud through their still ringing ears, stopping their brawl.

Moving on alert, their heads swiveled in sync behind them to see Wu and a few of the other gang members just looking at them and the disaster around with wide eyes. The older man approached, looking both of them dead in the eyes. In all the years he's worked with him, Enishi has never seen the man more angry than he did now.

"Pardon my language, but what the hell are you two doing right now?" He paused to look around, previous anger turning into worry with each injury he discovered. "And where's madame?"

At the mention of you they sobered up. Both of them let go very adamantly of each other and stepped away, putting some much needed space between them. They were both covered in mud from head to toe, with the occasional bleeding wounds sparkling through, clothes completely ripped apart now, worse than the rolling through the bushes left them.

Cho wiped away the blood on his lips. Enishi touched his wound again, tampering the blood flowing from his head with what was left of the sleeve of his suit. They gave each other one more look of seething rage deciding that this wasn't over. But it was a battle to fight another time.

"I don't know where she is. She was with us before we got hit," replied Enishi, looking down at the ground. Then he pushed a question of his own towards the old man. "How are you here?"

He didn't leave anything but the location with him and specifically told him not to follow in case the Triads showed up. Which they did. But he couldn't risk losing all his resources in one night. Though he did lose an important one. One he insisted stayed back but acted against his orders again.

"Madame came to find me before you left. She told me to come looking for you with back up in case you didn't get back by midnight."

She felt something was wrong, he realized, his chest filling up with dread. You were antsy and jumpy all day but he pushed it past to all the stress you've been under with the mission itself and what the result of it could mean for you. That and the bothersome confession he pushed in your arms without thinking a few nights ago.

"We need to find her," said Cho, holding his shoulder in pain. Now that the adrenaline was all gone, eliminated completely in their mini rage match, they felt the aftereffects of the crash tenfold, beyond the power of their punches.

"Master Enishi, the roads are all empty," said Wu. "It's been a good few hours since you left for the city. We won't find anything out here until morning."

The old man was right. With the pouring rain and the mud running liquid on the ground, all tracks were most likely covered by dirt puddles. They had no shot at finding anything now. Safest bet was going back and coming again tomorrow when the mud was dried up and it wasn't so damn cold. The wound on his temple agreed with him, thundering just once, hard enough that it sent his vision swimming and he stumbled over his steps. Cho's hands shot out to steady him before he took a splash in another puddle, this time of his own doing.

If he was able to stand on his own two legs, he would rip those twigs off his body and beat him with them for having the audacity to act all friendly after he tried to kill him. He did push a sarcastic remark only for his pained groans to cut through.

"Worried about me, blondie?"

"I'm worried about Miyu, not about you, Mr. Prince of the Frogs. How hard did you hit your head?"

Using the hand that wasn't holding upright the grunting mess deadset on ending his life mere moments ago, he got a hold of the side of his head to inspect his wound. Enishi just winced in response to his useless prodding, jerking it back from his hold. That sent his sight spinning like a swiveling chair would.

"We need to get back," urged the blonde, throwing Enishi's arm over his good shoulder. "We're no good to her like this, especially you."

That was the hard truth he had to swallow down his dry throat and make peace with for now. They had to get back. He couldn't do shit with injuries, much less find you. Even if the anger gripping him in cold waves at the thought of having to leave without you was suffocating. Not knowing if you were okay, not knowing what the fuck happened that you were nowhere to be found.

"Fine," he rasped out. "But we're back here the minute it lights up."

"Couldn't agree more," said Cho, helping him walk to the carriage.

Before they boarded Wu's transport, he cast a look back at the darkened clearing hoping to find something else. A clue or a hint that you were still there, lying somewhere he couldn't see or reach, hidden down some rabbit hole he couldn't spot.

Enishi wasn't one to believe in hope, praying to god for things, wishing on a shooting star or that sort of optimistic activities until you. He prayed that he didn't have to leave yet. He hoped that he would find you if he scoured the area better now, not in the morning when tracks might still be scattered under rainwater seas. As the storm rained down harder and the fog settled over the last burning embers of the carriage, he found nothing to hold onto. Nothing in the rubbles or the dense trees or even the other side of the road covered by trees upon trees.

Nothing at all.

No you.

You couldn't tell how long you've been out of it. There was no indicator of measuring the time down in this endless cave. Not one flicker of light shone through any crack in the stone wall. Not even a lost, thin ray of sun down the rock corridor. The only source of time passing were the lit torches to your left, burning up, flaring to wild flames, going out one by one until darkness was all that remained.

The strong, cold air current wafting through the iron bars, howling on the surrounding echo like a lone wolf, never got warmer. Not even a degree above the ice hanging in the air. The underground was supposed to be warmer than the world above the strips of grass and dirt, not colder than sheathed metal blades.

Pangs of hot pain surged endlessly through your body, alternating in your middle or the swollen ankle, waking you up at times only to switch position. As much as one could move chained to the ceiling before falling back into weary slumber.

Wake up. Shift. Sleep. A routine for a sleep that was neither restful or peaceful, escaping and calming like actual sleep should be. It was just enough rest to replenish your lost energy and pass the time in some other way that didn't involve staring at the iron bars ahead, watching how humidity condensed from the ceiling and dripped down the rusty poles until they gathered in puddles, drifting along the cracks in the ground with annoying plinks. You even started counting those at one point, unable to ignore the smell of dampness coming with the humid condensation.

Then you wondered, if a flood was to suddenly occur, what would it become of you? Would that snake come down to unchain and save you since he deemed you so trivial to his plans? He would rather save his own reptilian skin. What would become of you? Chained to the walls of a cavernous cell, swallowed by the water, lost in the drift heading down into the heart of a place that was somewhere but nowhere.

Upon all of that swirl of endless doom thinking to keep you awake and alert to any change around, you fell back into sleep, floating in the emptiness of your tired mind and the different scenarios it cooked up from nothing.

A loud clang shook you from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Keys rattled against the metal rods in front, clinking into each other with a disturbing noise that swam in your ears way too deep to ignore it and continue that excuse of a thing you called sleeping. Blinking your eyes open took a while. Coming to terms with the fact that you've slept with your head against the shackles for a long time took less. Your neck ached, your back coiled from a night's rest like a horse cursed to sleep upright in a barn for his whole life. At least they had hay to curl around.

The keys continued jangling in the lock, smashing into each other as if that infernal noise could make the door open alone. Finally, the metal frame was thrown open with a screech that might as well have been a train's horn. The owner of the keys stepped inside, heading for your spot in the middle of the cell. Your sensitive ears caught up with his footfalls stopping short of an arm's reach, chained arms reach. Cracking an eye open then the other, you were met with the dirty boots of a guard. He reached above you and fiddled with the chains until they were unlocked from the ceiling and thrown to the ground behind you, striking the stone floor with another clang that broke your hearing.

"Up," said the guard gruffly.

What if you didn't obey? Would he do something about it or would he just leave you the fuck alone?

As you debated your very limited stack of choices, you peered behind the guard, noticing two more stationed by, waiting. The three of them all wore commando gear - tight black shirts, vests ticked with small tanto knives inside and out, short range dao swords at the joined hilt on their hips, and dark green pants - staying incognito and on the ready for a fight at all times.

The one in front of you looked easy enough to take on - tall but scrawny in muscle mass, less armed and more sure of his authority in the way he puffed his chest. But the ones behind him looked brawny and skilled, armed to the brim with more muscles than they had weapons on hand. One of them tapped his boot impatiently as if he had better places to be. The other just seemed bored out of his mind, staring gaping holes through you. All odds combined, those two would definitely be harder to take down and they would probably skewer you before you took a step towards freedom anyway. Injured, dazed and unprepared, that was a big no go.

"Today, wench."

Rude prude.

You shot him a look that went ignored as he picked up your chains, wrapping the ends around his fists to pull you up to your feet faster than your legs could catch up. Stumbling over your steps out of the cell, your direction was almost changed for the wall upfront if it wasn't for one of the muscly guards reaching out to catch you before you could face plant in it, relocating you back on your feet a little more gently than the prick in charge could ever aspire to be.

"Easy there," he called to him before he glanced down at you. "She's important to the boss."

Important? Just how important am I to that reptile?

Bossy shoes just dismissed him and took off down the right from your cell with a huff. Guess it's time to find out what's down there.

The rest of the torches lined on the walls were now all lit up, all the way to the bottom of the long tunnel you turned for, leaping wildly with every lost gust of wind blowing through. Your extremely welcoming committee put hurry in his step, descending down a wide row of stairs with a short walkway in between every few steps. There were more cells littered all across your right but they were all empty. You didn't see one soul in any of them.

Sassy pants made sure to pull on the length of your chains a little harder at every last step before your foot landed on the flat surface, silently hoping you would stumble and break your neck faster. He seemed to have a lot of resentment towards you, holding his chin up high and mighty, but that was probably how he acted around all women.

As a precaution, you drew your shackles closer and pulled just as hard whenever he was about to step on the next row of stairs. Looking down ahead, you were about halfway down into the tunnel. It was a long way down and an even longer one back up and your growing nerves didn't like it one bit. The arrogant prick picked up his pace, running two steps at a time and you decided enough is enough. If he wanted a donkey he should've asked his boss for one.

You wrapped your fingers around the chains and pulled on your end, a little harder than you wanted. He nearly took a tumble backwards. To your disappointment, he didn't. Cracking his head from side to side, he blew out an annoyed breath. His temper seemed to run shorter than you gave him credit for and you were glad because that's exactly what you were trying to do - irritate and divide.

Nothing gives me more satisfaction than seeing men about to lose their marbles.

You let out an accidental snort that you instantly regretted. Slowly turning to you, he wrapped the remaining chain length putting safe distance between you around his arms, and he did pull harder, directing you straight into the stone wall this time. You crashed into it face forwards, getting the wind knocked out of you. The torch above your head rattled dangerously, sure that another thud would tip it over on top of your head to set you on fire.

In a delayed show of his authority and power, the guard pressed deep into your back, bladed elbow pushing you against the murky wall of the cave. You could taste the copper staining the tunnel top to bottom in dark orange spots, glowing amber in the light of the torch flame. Turning your head with a remark at the ready, you swallowed the words right back down your throat upon the sight of a sharp knife, drawn out of the nothingness behind you. Inching towards the corner of your eye, it sweetly caressed the side of your face downwards like the lips of a lover would, if those were deadly lips that could kill on a swift cut. The blade sat close enough to cut your cheek open if pressed against the skin, but far enough to keep writhing against the restraint behind you. No amount of struggling or pushing against him lessened his hold on you.

"I don't care how important you are to the boss. Try that shit again and I'll make sure to pull you down there backwards with this rusty chain wrapped around your throat until you beg me to stop," he spoke, marking his threat by snaking the tip of his knife against your cheek in small waves. Stopping at the edge of your lips with a thin prick of the blade, he spoke again, asking for your word of obedience. "Understood?"

You grunted, trying to shake him off and make him shove his words where the sun doesn't shine. He only pressed harder into your back, his hot breath fanning your ear. Tremors of disgust erupted all over your nape. You didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking like the righteous dick he thought he was being. So in true balanced nature you paid the warm welcome right back.

Before he saw it coming, you threw a head butt into his face hard. So hard you felt a crack in the back of your head. He did fall backwards on his ass this time, clutching the bridge of his nose in pain, blood seeping out through his fingers, falling splat on the floor in spots darker than the copper stains.

Think twice before trying to manhandle me, you moron. I hope you stop breathing properly.

The guards behind him snickered at the expense of their fallen colleague, enjoying the show more than you wanted them to. One of them moved to get a hold of your chain, while the other gripped your arm securely, almost as tight as the chains pulling on your wrists.

"Go get that checked out," said one of them chuckling heartily, before leading you down the last few flights of stairs.

The farther down you went, the colder it got. Keeping the icy chills at bay when they rattled the very bones in your body was a lost game. As you came to a long corridor leading to an arch entrance, you heard chatter and laughter. Female chatter and laughter. The closer you got to the archway, the louder and hardly unmistakable it got, cheerful and so full of life, unlike anything you've noticed so far in this place.

Rounding the corner below the arch, the guards walked you through into a well lit cave of some sort, much brighter than the dark corridors you traveled through. Rows of tall stone columns stood both at your left and right, all carved in from top to bottom, resembling the ones holding up the western monuments you used to learn about as a kid.

A much bigger fire blazed in firestone pits dug low behind them, so bright that it felt like the very sun was burning in the room. This cave was bigger than a theatre, stretching from the entrance all the way to the far end where you found the very source of the laughter.

There, a small lifted stone platform hosted a long table filled with food and people, some chatting away with merry in their voice, others just silently enjoying the food. All of them were women. Different nationalities, even different accents from what you could hear echoing back to you.

With the high columns touching the ceiling and the fire burning on the side painting them in a fair golden glow, it felt like you were looking at an army of goddesses having their holy dinner underground before bringing rueful battle above the earth. A painting brought to life and motion that took your breath away.

One of the guards took your hands into his rough hold and brought out a key. He gave you a look in fair warning not to try anything similar to what you did to his comrade since he might not be as lenient as him. A quick glance between his raw gaze and the sword sheathed at his side had you slump in defeat. Not that you could try anything that fast anyway. Trustful that you would behave, but wary it could be a trap, he inserted the key in the rusty lock and took off your shackles.

"Go and meet the others," he instructed. "We'll come collect you when it's time for you to go back to your cell."

Rubbing your aching wrists over the red indents left by the restraints, you turned to the masses and made your way over the long aisle as well as you could walk with a twisted ankle. The closer you got to the platform, some pairs of eyes took notice of your presence and the chatter drew to a mere shushing, until all eyes were trained on you like you walked the walk of shame. You noticed all of them were dressed in combat clothing. You wore a muddy, torn off occasion dress.

Way to make a first impression. I look like a damsel seeking refuge in a highly secured fortress. They might as well shoot me down now before I knock.

You walked a bit more then faltered in your step. All eyes were on yours except a pair that gave you their back. A familiar hunched over back, gobbling up food faster than your ears could cope with the sound. It was the hair that confused you. Dark mauve, almost black tangled wet locks of hair, longer and dirtier than you remembered her to keep it.

It can't be... you shook your head. There's no way it's her.

Sensing the quiet in the room, the girl you were ogling stopped eating, lifting her head to the girls in front of her.

"What? What happened?" she spoke, her voice coming out muffled through the bites still stuck in her mouth waiting to be munched away at. "Why did you all stop talking?"

Even her voice... That low, extremely pissed voice that could drop kick your attitude to outer space. It sounds exactly the same as hers.

Her hair, her voice, the very way she was leaned over the table. People don't share habits like those. Those traits could only belong to her. The possibility that it was her was as big as trying to latch a rope around a boar's neck. But all your senses believed it was her. It couldn't be anyone else.

What the fuck is this?

The girl opposite her, watching your every move since her eyes laid on you, nodded her head your way.

"We have new company," she said, low and sharp in Chinese.

The girl with mauve hair finally turned to you with an expression you couldn't decipher. One that you didn't need to because you knew that face all too well. You staggered backwards with a gasp of shock. At first glance, she quickly looked at you, dismissing your existence to turn back to the table. Then she choked, coughing up food and turned back to you once more. Upon seeing you, fully seeing you, her eyes blinked in surprise then in utter shock, doing several takes before the leftover food in her mouth ended up being spat on the floor.

In one breath, she was up and running towards you at full speed, closing the distance between you faster than you could comprehend what was happening. Her arms engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, almost taking your lungs away in it. Since she was taller, your arms wound up around her middle. You breathed in her scent, going beyond the dirt and potentially dried blood stench, unable to catch a whiff of that special citrusy perfume she used to lather herself in. Regardless, you dug your head in the crook of her neck, pulling her deeper into your hold.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she whispered, pulling away slightly to look at you every which way to make sure it was really you.

That was the same thing you did, smacking her cheeks together and looking deep into her golden brown eyes like she wasn't real and just a figment of your imagination. But it was her. It really was her.

Lyla. My Lyla.

Her hands moved from your shoulders to the top of your head, brushing through leftover leaves and twigs you failed to notice were strung in your hair like you were mother nature's plod.

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, still confused as to what was going on.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend?" asked the girl facing Lyla's empty seat. She wore a smile now, as if she waited for Lyla's approval of your arrival before accepting it herself.

"Yeah, of course," she laughed nervously, ungluing herself away from you. She walked you to the table where you were in everyone's field of vision.

"This is Miyu. She's one of the best assassins in the business I know, and an even better friend," she squeezed you closer looking at you affectionately. That squeeze, as loving and well-intended it was, it made you wince in pain, reminding you of the broken ribs that have gone forgotten in your reunion.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you grunted. "Can you just unlace this death trap of a corset a little?"

Said and done. She was behind you in a heartbeat, undoing Enishi's exemplary work on your corset a little so you could breathe. She unlaced it halfway then dug her fingers through the sides, pulling the fabric carcass wider until you tapped her arm that it was good enough. You bent over and breathed some fresh air in good gulps. As fresh as musty, humid cave air can be.

"How are you here?"

"I teleported myself here, Lyla," you deadpanned, straightening back up. She frowned and you instantly felt bad for the remark.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I was on a mission, some shit with a flying fireball happened and I woke up here."

"They took you too," she said.

The icy glare in her eyes alone, directed right behind at the archway you came through moments ago, shook a chill down your spine.

"What do you mean they took me? Too? What's going on?"

At each confused question, the wariness painting the faces around morphed into something else. Something that made them avoid

"You may want to sit down."

Another girl, much younger than the others, pulled out a chair for you and Lyla helped you over to it. She got an empty plate, filling it up with food for you as she started explaining what was actually going on in as less information and detail as was humanly possible. If abductions and arson ever went hand in hand as small talk topics, but alas.

"We've all been taken away. Kidnapped mid-mission, taken from our homes in the dead of night or literally just being ambushed while travelling around the continent."

The words coming out of her mouth made your blood run cold. Your eyes landed on the girl before you whose light nod confirmed the grim affirmations.

"All of us are really skilled assassins in our fields of expertise," continued Lyla. "Knives, guns, swords. Name your pick and someone at this table can show you the ropes. They picked us for their exclusive underground fight club."

That explains the dried blood spots on the floor from the arch entrance all the way to the far end where the dirt ground met the stone platform. But it sure doesn't explain why they were taken away, against their will, for such an unexplainable reason. The clubs you fought at, though many, were all on a consent basis from what you remembered. After all, that's how you met Lyla.

Rewinding the clock back a good decade to a few days after your parents disappeared, most of your relatives that were still alive in Yokohama refused to take you in. They treated you like you weren't part of the family. Like your parents didn't work their backs for the whole family tree line at times, always lending your aunts money or helping your uncles out with their rude specimens of children whenever they could. Being the sole survivor of the Hikari mansion massacre wasn't seen as a good omen, as if a wretched curse was following you around and would bring about their deaths too if they took you in. The doors shut tighter and faster at the sight of you, sometimes before you even knocked, treated like a stranger by your own kin and blood. And family became the very last thing you could count on.

Walking for days, hopping merchant carts from city to city, you somehow ended up in Central Edo. Begging around for food or some kind of work on the outskirts was the initial plan. But as soon as you arrived, you caught wind of fight clubs in the area being open to anyone, no matter their age or background. A fresh start from zero.

You heard it was easy money to make and even easier to track people through since most of the bigshots in the city frequented it. You attended it that day, undercover in case you'd be kicked out, only to find that most of the fighters in the ring were girls around your age. The audience sitting in on the matches loved to talk of anything and everything - crimes, mafia hits, unfinished business with snobs in high society. Nothing stayed private there. Thinking you'd find some information on your parents and have a roof over your head while going at it, you entered it that same night.

That's where you found her, sharpening her knives in a lone corner of the shared living quarters in the sewers underneath the city. Black Canary they called her. Whenever she was in the ring to fight, you'd hear that scream of hers, high-pitched like a bird of prey on the ready to send your ears into audible wreckage, symbolic of her reigning victory. She was one of the best the club ever had, keeping the public throwing stacks of money in bet tickets until they ran out, leaving the fight club with empty pockets.

Beside that triumphant scream, she didn't speak a word. She never ate, slept or trained with everyone else. All she had was fighting and the sharp blades of her knives.

With time, you learned to catch up on her habits. The way she sharpened her knives in the same pattern, up from the hilts, twice for each blade. How she trained in the tunnels far out instead of joining with the rest in the ring. That she would always come out to the weapons table when it was empty, after everyone else has already eaten, to eat by herself.

At first, you just watched her from a dark corner. After a while of building up the courage, you'd purposefully eat slower than the rest and stay around longer until she showed up, to keep her company. The first times you did it, she would get angry, shoot you a look full of hatred and leave the table with her plate untouched as if you disrespected her space or something. But as you grew older and matured, time passed and you were the only girl left around as the rest went on their ways. Only then did she welcome your presence.

Her name was the first word she ever spoke to you. Not the stage name they called her by after a successful kill that earned betting money to corrupt city officials. Her real name. The one her mother baptized her with on the cold winter's night that she was born. The name she never wanted to give up.

She never even gave her real name to anyone before you, she told you. Little by little, she spent more time with you and she opened up. You came to learn she had one of the nicest voices you've ever heard and that contrary to her silence she talked, a whole lot. But only with you and a few close friends.

Since then, you've trained together, fought together, moved ships together when the time was right. You've been at each other's side like sisters, guarding each other's back no matter what. Maybe you weren't bound by blood, but you were bound by that bond of found sisterhood. She became the only family you had left in the world, a home that you could always run to when the world got too much. The kind you'd risk anything for upon a simple ask. Even your life.

After you've left Japan, you lost contact with her for good reason, trying to protect that very bond you had since you had a moving target on your back. As good as it was to see her now, you wished it was under better and safer circumstances because these ones confused you greatly. Hell, the last few days have been confusing as fuck for you but this was next level fuckery you couldn't wrap your head around even with higher intellect.

"I don't understand why they kidnapped you all like this and forced you in here," you said, looking down at the ground like the stone floor would split open and a valid answer for why they were all gathered here would pop out on a stalagmite spear.

This was the work of the Triads for sure. But why? They were the reason you ran away in the first place. They had ties to your parents too. What could they possibly want with an underground fight club?

"Last I checked, they asked people if they wanted to join before they followed them around and took them by force," you added, subtly relating your personal experience with the Triads that hasn't been as much fun as they advertised.

"I was taken during a surprise raid of theirs in the West zone, almost off the border," spoke a girl to your left, sat at the far end of the table. Her gentle, melodious voice had your eyes snap from the ground to her instantly.

Two long, brunette braids split up to sit on each side of her shoulders. Small silver ringlets decorated random waves of the braids in her hair, from the top to the very last strand, tied tightly with leather laces at the spiky ends.

"My name's Yana. They also call me Qiang, like the spear I wield," she said with a smile.

You could tell she was confident in her wielding, much like the scabs and calluses on her hands as she extended one for you to shake. Your own palm wrapped around hers in a shake that dominated yours. Even her hold was hard like the wood used to make the base of the qiang.

"They surely didn't ask me to join their wretched cause before they set fire to my village, burning it to the ground," she said. Her eyes fell on the fire burning in the pits below, like she was living that nightmare once more.

"I fought back to protect my own, trying to help my family flee before the flames swallowed our home. I thought they were out for treasures or the small fortunes gathered together in our small quarters. But the minute I went out to fight they turned on me. Before I could know my family was safe, they hauled me away and shoved me in here."

"I'm sorry," you uttered underneath your breath, unable to process what they were capable of.

"Ah," she shook her head with a somber smile. "There's no need for that. You'll hear worse stories than mine."

Before you could make sense of her words or even begin to absorb the lengths of her story, someone else took the lead in sharing theirs.

"I'm Marissa," said the girl next to Yana. Her voice was much deeper and manlier than you expected it to sound.

The first person you noticed when you walked in the cave was her. As did she, her eyes instantly connecting with yours across the length of the rock gallery when you entered with the guards. Her blue eyes, colder than the Sea of the Arctic could ever aspire to be, pierced you in intimidation upon that first glance. Her face looked hardened by battle, used to it if you'd assume it, paler and reddish in tone around her cheekbones. Beside the tall bridge of her nose, her cheeks sat high like they were cut from hard rock cobalt.

One look at her told you she was a warrior of the caliber legends talked about, that ate battle for breakfast, won it by lunch and threw a feast fit for a queen at dinner.

Among her foreign features, what struck you the most was her ginger hair, glowing a bright auburn with the moving flicker of the firestone. It was the kind of shade you'd find on a really expensive material like imperial silk, so unique and beautiful that you'd dress her up in the finest of those silks just to see how bright she could glow.

"As you can tell, I'm not from around here," she spoke roughly in broken Chinese. Coughing dryly, she switched to Japanese in which she seemed much more confident, thing that caught you by surprise.

"I'm from Siberia. They caught me at a fortress in the North, digging up some ancient alcohol the monks were raving about," she laughed and you had to laugh with her, the rest of the table following suit. The girls seemed to be familiar with her story, certainly hearing it every now and then. It got you curious too.

"They call me the Axe Woman. I don't even wield an axe. It's more of a halberd."

She chugged down a mug of what smelled like hardcore alcohol. The scent of it wafted your way. Sensing your eyes on it like a hawk, she offered it to you with a small grin. You shook your hands in refusal but she insisted, pushing it into your hands.

"Have a gulp. You look like you need it."

You took it and had a tentative sip before you chugged it all down in one long gulp. The raw spirit went down your throat, burning out the chills wracking you all night, warming you right up. Finishing it up to the very last drop, you eyed to the bottom of the wooden cup looking for some more. That was unlike anything you've ever had before, somewhere between expensive bar liquor and ages old spirit brewed in the heart of the countryside. So strong and flavory, going right to where you needed some quick liquid smoothness.

Wiping your lips of the leftover drops, you held it back to her only for her smile to crack away into a really threatening sneer.

"I didn't mean the whole thing. That was the last of it."

A sacred rule of yours regarding alcohol was to never drink the last alcohol at the table because it could always be the last for a long time coming. A rule you forgot about that now made your hold on the mug tremble.

A loud hiccup escaped your lips out of nervousness for what could follow that threat. You jumped over your rule and drank the last of the alcohol at the table and from the looks of it there would be violent consequences since Marissa didn't seem to play about her liquor. After all, she did get caught and thrown down here as she was looking for some.

Debating your chances against her broader, much taller form had your stomach growl in protest. Then a huge burp came out from the depths of your throat before you could stop it. The eyes around the table rounded wide, all directed at you like you've committed the utmost final sin. You cursed yourself for being so selfish.

They're going to skin me alive for a mug of alcohol.

If they write that on my stone I'll become the laughingstock of pooping pigeons.

Maybe that plea could be my last words.

If I get the right to any last words.

Just when you thought the world was about to end for good, the whole table erupted in hysterics at your expense. They were just playing with you. Your face must have given away your stupid thoughts because even Marissa threw her head back howling, hand hitting the table in utter amusement that you weren't following along the trick.

"Don't worry. I had enough for today," she smirked in teasing, her shoulders rolling with a few more giggles. "Your face was priceless."

Your shoulders fell with a sigh. "Very funny. I nearly said a prayer with the last drops of it stuck in my throat."

"I love alcohol, but not enough to kill a sister. You're one of us now."

That made a smile fall on your lips. You've been here for a shitload of a few minutes and they already took you in as one of their own. The feelings were mutual, nods already falling in agreement with Marissa's words.

Suffering unites people in the worst of times. But how much of it did these girls go through that a simple good word and a laugh with you had them swear your name off their killing lists? From the fading scars on their faces and hands, way too much of it crossed their paths. The ones laying under the surface, deep in their souls, must be hurting worse. You could see it in their eyes - the haunting moments they lived in here.

The table quieted down and everyone went back to enjoying their food. Once the coast was clear of volunteers, it was someone else's turn to tell their story. Nothing could have prepared you for this one.

"I'm Mai," spoke the girl next to you. She was the one that pulled your chair over with a small smile.

A tiny thing she was, not a year above sixteen years of age. A young girl. You were a teenage girl too when you started fighting, much more younger, but at least you fought willingly and on your own terms.

"I've been here the longest," she said, cutting through your train of thoughts. She looked down at her plate with a small twitch of her lips that could barely be a smile.

Your heart thrummed in your chest at her words.

The longest? A child has been here for the longest?

"How?" was the only thing you could mutter, unable to get over the shock of what she was telling you, like it was a fable, far from reality.

"My parents used to work for the Triads. They were two of the best assassins they had. After they had me, they wanted to pull out and live a normal life but the bosses just wouldn't let them go. They ran away to protect me but the troops caught up to us," she said, her soft brown eyes filling up with unshed tears.

"They took me as revenge. It's been almost ten years since then."

What kind of animals do this shit?

"They kept me here and trained me, had me fight sometimes, welcome the newcomers. I don't go to the upper world though. It's always been off limits to me. I keep hoping that one day they'll let us all go. I don't even remember how it feels like to see the sunlight," she said, mumbling the last part as she sniffled away an angry, stray tear before it could fall away from her face.

She's been held down in this cold cave, with barely enough food to eat or a real bed to sleep in, as a killing machine for them?

For ten years?

Those weren't people. Those were mad devils walking the earth with no scruples and a slithering tail in place of a spine. These demons captured a young girl and locked her up in a fighting cave, making her call it a home when she should be in an actual home, in the comfort and the warmth of her parents' loving embrace, exploring the beauties of the world.

Your parents were snatched away, leaving you to fend for yourself in the unknown dangerous world. But they didn't take you like this, without allowing you time with them. But to steal a child that's barely been in the world for so little, taking away her right to live a life... This... this was madness. A madness that fueled your rage for the Triads even more.

"Can I hug you?" you asked, before even registering the words spilling out. "I just... you remind me so much of me."

At first she hesitated. You could see it on her face - a wonder for the comfort that she barely got to feel. Arms stretching out with a smile, you hoped she could look past the roadkill look you sported and get in there.

She passed you a slow nod and you rushed to engulf her in a delicate, gentle hug, hoping you could let her feel some of the warmth she's missed all these years she's been locked in this hollow lifeless pit. She probably hasn't had one of these in a while since she melted into your hold within an instant, burying her head in the crook of your neck. You squeezed her as hard as your wounds would let you, ignoring the stabbing pain under your ribs. The pain you were feeling didn't even compare to what she must have gone through. So you held her close, carding a hand through her soft locks, feeling her bury closer in your arms.

Maybe the others weren't the soft type. The assassin job usually meant killing off your softness in order to get things done quick and less messy. But no matter how much you or Barairo tried to get rid of this gentle side of you, it never worked. You never let the rage consume you to the point of no return. Perhaps it was the luck of being raised for more than half of your life by loving parents, a thing not many can say. Maybe keeping this kindness was what paid respects to their memory. Whatever the reason, you hung tight onto it, never letting go. You'd be dead and gone before you let that happen.

Your heart ached for her. This shred of kindness, as small and insignificant as it was, was all you've been missing growing up on the streets of Edo. Alone, scared, with no future in sight. A young girl left to fend for herself with no place to call her home, nowhere to turn to.

Pulling back from each other, you brushed her ebony hair back softly, the very way your mother used to.

"You're brave, Mai. So brave. Braver than I ever was back then," you said, cupping the side of her face. "Hold that close to your heart."

Her cheek leaned into your hand like a tigress letting herself be tamed. You could feel the anger she kept inside, but from the looks of it she was better at controlling it than you did.

The rest of the girls at the table introduced themselves and told you about their abductions. Every one of these girls braved through the odds to survive and live as best as they could, every story more tragic and painful to listen to. At one point you noticed something that raked chills down your spine. All the reasons for which they were taken blurred into a disgusting pattern that shook you to your core - they were all taken for their skills in battle. For being good, undetectable assassins in their local areas. For their expertise. For their unparalleled strength. None of them were housewives or farmers. All of them were powerful warriors.

Why they took only girls was a mystery beyond you. These girls were all well known in their fields and could hold their own against an army if they wanted to. And you found out that's exactly what most of the women at this table did if they had chance - they put up a battle in front of this unforeseen danger. Some fought legions to protect their own and keep the danger at bay for as long as they could. Others were taken as they carried out the only job they knew, trying to survive the days the only way they could, even if that meant taking a filthy life off the face of the earth in exchange for one more day or one more week to win the roof over their heads and the small meals they could barely afford to stay alive.

They were brought here to fight for their lives at the will of that smug serpent lounging in the luxurious comfort of the upper world without a worry in the universe, as if nothing and no one could take the world from under his feet.

What they called the upper world was the very world promised to them. The world they came into as little girls, to grow and blossom into amazing women and fearsome warriors, to become forces of nature that wished to protect and aid, not at all divide and conquer. The very world they now looked to from beneath the layer of the earth above this cavern, as if they were already dead corpses waiting to be absorbed a level lower than the one hosting their pain and anger at the moment.

They had a lot of it - rage. The pure kind that could tear through anything and wreak havoc on the world. You could feel it flow from them as they shared their individual stories of becoming and their changed endings before they even got to live the lives they had planned. And they had a lot waiting for them. Daughters, sisters, wives, engaged to be married to their chosen ones. So much that was taken away. So much they might never get back.

But not even channeling all that anger nor their skills, could help them get out of this hell. Twenty souls, beside you, all trapped in this dungeon until the lord of the house spoke of their use or freedom. A freedom which, from their small lettings, often came at the price of death in battle.

"You said they make you fight."

Your voice cut through the sea of silence hanging over the table, carrying out like a wake up call of what they were about to go through again and again, in a never ending cycle, as if they did not know anything of it before you mentioned it. You could tell from the way they avoided your eyes that they tried to forget about that part, fighting against the reminder of their fate at least now as they shared a meal together.

"Who do they pick against who? What are the rules? Do you get anything when you win a fight?"

Your questions shot out one after another before your brain could catch up to them. Yana simply smiled at you. A smile so full of regret and yet filled with endless compassion, that you were starting to grow fond of. She must have smiled a lot more before she was thrown in this shithole.

"They pick one of us at random," she said, picking your questions up in order. "Against outsiders mostly. Mercenaries, other assassins, big shots in the other mafias. People they have a bone to steal from, targets they want killed or taken care of. They've never had us fight amongst ourselves and for that we're a little grateful."

"Rules are simple. You fight, kill or get killed."

Her smile fell at the last one and you felt your heart twitch painfully in your chest. She didn't have to go into that one to know that some of them did refuse to fight or died in the fight. That thought alone made your insides twist and churn, not in hunger but in horror with another realization.

There were more of them locked down here and some of them didn't survive it.

Yana must have read the miserable sensation coursing through you right on your face. She gave you no time to dwell on it before continuing with more answers, though you dreaded having asked those questions now. But she needed you to know what waited for you.

"Winning a fight doesn't do much. We did agree to ask for similar things, like a full meal or a week of no fights so we could rest and heal."

The table filled with food in front of you was someone's well-earned meal, shared well with every hungry stomach. The very food you were eating was fought for with blood, sweat and wounds that were probably not healed yet.

Unable to help it, you scoured the table trying to spot the one who gave herself to battle to earn this feast. All of them were decked in bruises and cuts, some more recent, others scabbed over. You searched each girl for new, fresh wounds from left to right. Then your eyes laid on Lyla who was slurping noodle bowls by the second beside you, who turned awfully quiet all of a sudden.

Then it hit you - Lyla eats like that only after a fight. You knew her appetite was as big as a sailor fleet after her fists were locked in someone's face. Raking your eyes over her, you didn't notice it before but her eyebrow was indeed split open, as was her lower lip. Fresh cuts were littered between purple bruises on her arms too, one darker than the other as they peeked from under her torn sleeves. Her hair fell from the messy ponytail, some pieces drenched in the stench of dried blood.

Feeling eyes on her, she stopped slurping her soup, turning to you with a noodle hanging from her mouth.

"What?" she mumbled, slurping the noodle in with a pop.

"It was you this time wasn't it?" you asked, looking down at your plate in guilt.

"I did what I had to do," she shrugged. Her eyes landed on your plate that sat untouched this whole time, letting out a long sigh at your stubbornness.

"Miyu, please eat. You're hurt and this is the best we'll be getting for a while. There's no need for guilt-sulking and all that humble bullcrap. Eat. Please."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Your hand moved on autopilot. Grabbing a cloth, you raised it to her split eyebrow dabbing the blood away. She slumped in her seat and let you take care of it, knowing you'll just pester her about it until she did it, which would probably be never. She had a bad habit of letting her injuries dry up and heal by themselves, deeming it natural and less burdensome than patching herself up properly.

"Miyu," she groaned like a child, a few seconds away from shoving food in your mouth herself.

"Okay, fine," you smacked the cloth down on the table. "I'll eat."

Looking down at your plate, you saw it was ticked up with roasted chicken thighs and mashed potatoes. Dying of starvation didn't seem so bad considering it was food from the enemy. But the meatballs Enishi shoved in you before the mission were long digested. Your stomach grumbled dangerously at the sight of the chicken, the roasted smell, the way it looked so appetizing, and you couldn't deny it any longer.

Launching yourself into it, you ate that chicken like you've never had it before, chewing it on all sides like a famished wolf that finally found edible prey to eat. The meat was so tender and well cooked, you couldn't help a moan at the taste. A few girls snickered at the way you were eating, slurping the meat off the bone by the second like it was jelly.

"Slow down there, rosy," giggled Lyla.

Once you were finished with the chicken, your fork headed for the potatoes. Yana pushed a bowl of stew your way too.

Too busy inhaling the food, you failed to hear the echoing click of heels rapidly making their way along the corridor. Everyone stopped eating in a similar manner to when you entered, diverting their eyes away from the food and to the figure standing behind you. You stopped eating too, feeling someone standing there, glaring daggers into your nape.

"You're in my seat," spoke another female voice, much more pitchy and annoying than any you've ever heard.

Turning around slightly, you were faced with the very bitch from the Shanghai Club you tried so hard to kill all night before you ended up in this place.

What a surprise.

Patting your lips with a tissue, you placed it swiftly on the table and got up from your seat facing her. Her face was still swollen, cuts and bruises decorating her all over from forehead down to her uncovered neckline.

"I thought I killed you," you smirked at her, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I thought they burned you alive in that carriage along with your boyfriends," she sneered, like the evil vamp she was. "I guess we don't all get what we want."

You chuckled dryly at her, averting your eyes away from her irritating presence. That remark was enough to rail you up. Before she saw it coming, your smirk fell and your fist connected with her face, throwing her to the ground.

The night was still dark when they got back to the mansion.

Enishi made his way right to the office with the help of one of his men while Wu helped Cho out of the carriage. The older man gathered all men on duty in the room, instructing them to bring medical supplies and send for the doctor from the village, then started working on Enishi's head wound.

If there was something Enishi hated with a passion in the whole world, it was people fussing over him. Even when he simply scraped his knee on a grocery run with Tomoe and she rushed him home, he would berate her that he was capable of taking care of himself well enough, not in the need of anyone else's help. In those times, she would angle him down with a look of warning and lecture him that being hurt wasn't a weakness but a strength, a sign reminding him that he was human too. That was the same look the old man gave him, though less lecturing and more annoyed as he kept telling him to sit still. Sitting still was not in his itinerary for the night.

It took a while. At one point, he thought that Wu was moving slow on purpose, testing his patience. Wound cleaned and bandaged, he called over some of his men, delegating tasks of immediate execution and precaution, taking it from the beginning of it all.

He had to be quiet about what happened at the club, giving away only necessary details where needed.

"I want information on everything that moves inside and outside of Shanghai. Imports, exports, hidden shipments. I want to know about all of it," he demanded, tone strict and without a sliver of mercy. "Every little detail about people or stuff that's not where it should be, you have it going through my ears as soon as possible."

They all nodded, taking off out the door one by one as soon as they were handed work and locations. He sent some men back to the club to scope out anything suspicious or of interest, warning them to keep a safe distance and not get found out. If that happened, they were completely on their own and he could do nothing more for them.

Whoever sent the carriage ablaze believed all three of you were taken care of, set on fire to mere ashes tossed in the wind. Letting them believe that some more would get him places much faster.

The rest of his men were gathered in the room, but he failed to see a few.

"Is everyone here?" he asked Wu.

"Yes," he said, sticking a bandage over Enishi's wound. "Except the ones you just sent out and my own."

His fingers stopped prodding at his wound pulling back to look at Enishi's face for any leftover cuts left untreated.

Enishi's eyes bounced around, doing a mental count of how many men he left on duty, the ones that were off tonight and the ones he's already deployed. Some of them were definitely missing from today's force.

"Who did you take with you in town two days ago?"

"Just my crew. The twins, Kano, Liu and Yao."

The twins he just sent out to gather intel from the club, knowing they were the most silent weapons he had. He turned around looking for the rest, finding only Kano and Yao, loudly bickering about something in the corner as always. Those two could never get along and he always sent them out on missions together on purpose, hoping they would sort out their shit.

He kept twisting around Wu, trying to spot everyone only to fail at it. Wu himself turned around and looked for his own.

"Liu's not here," he concluded. Then his eyes widened to the size of rice balls. "I haven't seen him since we went out in the city and relayed info to you and madame a few nights ago."

Liu's been one of the older recruits Enishi picked out at the start of the mafia ensemble. He was good at finding out important information fast and promptly, often the one at the helm of interrogations. Liu made people talk quicker than he expected them to.

Enishi didn't know a lot about the guy himself. Lately, he placed him under Wu's directive since he had more connections and could reach a wider spread of information inland outside of the mansion walls.

Falling in his seat, he tapped his fingers on the wooden arms of the chair in deep thinking, zoning out of the ruckus and mobilization around the office. Someone talked in the wrong ear about his plans. He's suspected it for a while as he investigated the missing shipments, but after tonight, he knew for sure that he had a mole walking freely within his walls. Someone he's fed generously, gave a roof over their head, a warm bed at night and a secure and well-paid job to do. Someone who was ungrateful and selfish enough to throw all that away and sing at someone else's table about things that should've never left these walls.

The timing of Liu's sudden disappearance was too obvious and in plain sight not to fall under the suspicion that he was involved in tonight's shitshow. Not just that, but having been with Wu to gather intel on your parents, adding his presence the night Wu told you that, he knew enough about you to hand you over to the Triads and set up a trap to get you killed without anyone suspecting anything.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "Send your men after him. I have a feeling he has something to do with everything going to shit tonight."

"On it," he nodded, leaving him be.

Leaning on the back rest, he propped his head back and closed his eyes for a second. It felt like this night just wouldn't come to an end. It started so well that he himself was hopeful it would finally get you somewhere, that the false leads ended there at that wretched club. In turn, it all changed for the worst.

Enishi got up to walk around and stretch his legs a little, ending up in front of Cho. The village doctor was taking care of his shoulder, stitching up the open grazes slithering down to his side. He took a peek at it since it was uncovered, noticing that the whole of his right backside was covered in a long burn, bruised on the sides. The blond winced in pain wherever the doctor touched him, unable to keep still.

"You good?"

"Been worse."

Enishi's head turned to look at the window catching dawn on the slow rise. The doctor finally finished his job, helping Cho pull on his shirt to cover his back. He got up, walking beside Enishi,

"You're going back out there, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You should stay back. That thing on your back looks nasty."

"Your head being split open is nastier."

"Are you worried about me again?"

"I'm worried you'll miss out on clues since you can't see straight enough to send a punch properly."

"I don't think you want me to send a punch your way properly," said Enishi with a smirk, grabbing his kimono. "Meet me out front when you're ready to go."

Enishi left, taking a few more men with him, leaving the blonde confused with his mouth agape. He thought he had that quarrel in his hand only to be fooled. Enishi never went full on with his punches. He did made Cho believe he gave it his all though.

They were out riding back to the scene as soon as the sun rose up. They took horses this time, wary of carriages for the time being. The horses got there much faster and the rain stopped too, drawing to a slow drizzle.

Dismounting at the scene of the crash, the smoke still ebbed from the rest of the bigger remains. A low cloud of fog settled with the temperature change, but the endless puddles of rain were almost absorbed into the ground. That was a positive, but the slippery, muddy ground not so much.

"I'll take the right," said Cho, heading for the other side of the clearing.

Enishi nodded, moving to the site of the crash. "I'll take the left."

Splitting up was better than nothing. They searched and searched, flipping over even the doors or the wheels of the carriage that were still in solid state. Enishi found nothing. Not even a ripped piece of fabric from your dress or a loose thread hanging from a branch floating lonely in the wind. He looked for your necklace too in case you lost it here. But he found no track or lead on you, like you were never here in the first place.

They rejoiced on the main road as the rest of the men kept searching.

"Anything?" asked Cho, a glint of hope in his eyes that only shattered when it landed on his search partner.

Enishi shook his head discouraged. "You?"

"Nope."

"How did she even just disappear into thin air like that?"

"I don't know."

He replayed the events of the night up until the crash and from when he woke up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp what happened. He knew there was a part of tonight that was missing from his head. a part that might have been ripped away by the pain he was in. That hole between the crash and him waking up was pissing him off. He knew something happened but he couldn't recall it back.

He looked back at the bush he rolled through. Pinning down the place he was laying in and the spot he found Cho in, he looked for a way to measure the spot you would have been in after the carriage broke into pieces. Walking around the splotches of mud, he followed his gut and took off towards the woods. Something about the woods bothered him.

Thinking hard on it, he got a few steps away then it hit him like a flash of lightning touched his head - he did feel something happen. The person crashing into his chest, shaking him awake desperately and the rustles around him until everything went eerily quiet.

"It was her," he spoke breathlessly alerting the blonde.

"What are you talking about?"

"Before I woke up, I felt something. She tried to shake me awake. One moment she was grabbing onto me then the next she was gone."

His head started pounding and he had to hold onto it. That wasn't all. He saw you too, kicking and screaming through the haze as someone threw you over their shoulder. Then he blacked out again.

"I saw her."

"You saw her?! What do you mean?"

"Someone hauled her up and took her away," he groaned as he was spilling detail after detail he couldn't recall witnessing before.

"At least now we know she was here. We just need to figure out who took her."

Pacing around, Enishi took a look at the rubbles again. His eyes drew back to the road, mentally piecing together the events of the night leading up to the crash. That fireball came from the direction they left from - the club. A planned attack? Maybe. From which side present last night? The Triads? The Daos? The men behind that traitorous scum he killed? That was the mystery Enishi couldn't solve.

They were barely half an hour away when it happened. It definitely had to be someone from there. The Triads were barely armed but someone back there was loaded, both inside and outside to ensure their own safety - a mafia. If anyone had access to a catapult and incendiary ammunition on the side of town it was them.

Upon seeing the grim smirk on Enishi's face, Cho shuddered. Whenever he had that look on his face, it was either good or bad news, for him or for someone else. The blond didn't feel like playing the lottery right now so he just asked.

"What are you thinking?"

Enishi's gaze lifted up to him with a deeper grin.

"I think we need to pay the Daos a little visit."

Violence is never the answer. But it sure looked like it when this cross-legged, brunette, excuse of a human being opened her mouth.

You couldn't hold back when she spoke like it was her who ordered the attack on you and the boys and the heartless way she said it was enough to make your blood boil with rage. Once your punch flew her way, your hands wound up around her neck, planning to choke her until she spilled all her useless words and bitchy attitude out.

"What the fuck did you just say?" you gritted, pressing harder into her neck.

"Exactly what you heard," she spoke through gasping breaths. "You were all supposed to perish with that one fireball."

"How about you perish by my own two hands?"

Hooking a hand into her lacy top, you got up and dragged her along on the floor until you reached one of the stone pillars on the side. The girls watched with mouths open from the table as you lifted her up to it, smacking her head into it multiple times. That irritating grin on her face never fell away, even as you bashed her face in pretty well with just that one punch, splitting her lip open right next to the previous damage you made back at the club.

Upon hearing the ruckus, the guards came back down but never intervened, sitting at the entrance with smug looks on their faces, just enjoying their temporary entertainment.

So focused on strangling the living daylights out of her, she dug a powerful punch of her own right into your broken ribs. The pain spread worse than before, pulsing with every heartbeat in your chest. You winced and let go of her to hold onto your side, pinning her down with another murderous look.

Dirty little ass bitch. Just wait until I step on your face.

Determined to do just that, you kept your hand on your side, spinning a roundhouse kick her way. She stepped backwards, but the tip of your boots still scrapped her nose good enough to give her a nosebleed. You didn't give her time to fall back in attack, following up with a reverse side kick sending her right into another stone pillar.

"Damn, girl," howled Marissa. "You can fight in a dress and look badass in it too? Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

"Consider me putting in an order."

Your eyes widened. Your first customer just made an appearance. One you were excited as hell to dress up from the get go.

"Really?" you asked, facing her.

"If you're free of charge?"

"For you, anytime," you smirked.

In your customer scouting haze, you left your back open giving your denigrated sister an opportunity to run and jump on it. She wrapped her legs around your torso and her slinky hands around your throat trying to cut your air supply off, squeezing hard on all fronts.

Why is she like a bug you just can't kill?

Running backwards, you shoved her against a pillar, rolling for another fall and another, until she finally slid off your back grunting in pain. But she didn't slide off without grabbing onto the length of your hair to haul you on the ground instead. She wrapped a fist into it, pulling on it whichever side she wanted. Your hands wound up over hers trying to pry them away, aimlessly kicking at her until something shiny glinted in your peripheral and all your movement ceased.

She had a knife on hand. When she swiped the blade off the table, you had no idea, but before you could kick it away she flipped the handle upwards and thrust it hard into your thigh, making sure to plunge it deep through the material of your dress. Blood seeped out from the edges staining the ruby red a deeper, darker shade. You cried out in pain, letting a hand fall from her wrist tugging on your hair to sit around your new wound. Coupled with the jostle in your ribs, it hurt like a motherfucker.

The girls got up from the table in a haste, heading for you with shouts to stop her but the guards ran their way to keep them aside, pulling their swords out. They wouldn't get involved. They had no reason to as long as you both were breathing and not on the edge of death. This was unsolved business between you and her.

Her deft fingers, scarred from playing the violin, now inched deeper into your scalp with violent intent. Pulling your hair to her, she got closer and grinned widely in your face before making a tight fist and sending it to you with her empty hand while the other kept you in place. She kept going and going like she was following a written score on her instrument, replacing a musical sheet of paper with your face, drawing the notes with her knuckles instead of a pencil.

When she was satisfied with the bruises forming on your face and the black eye she gave you, matching the very damage you did to her face she stopped, leaning down to you. This time, her eyes were far from soulless, like they appeared back at the club. They were full of venom and spite.

"This is what you get for sticking your nose where you don't belong. You can't kill me in here. I'm the only one that can walk in and out of here unharmed while you all rot down here like rats." Turning her venomous sight on them, her tongue rolled with more insults at the address of the girls. "After all, that's why he collected you all. To eat up the trash and clean up the mess, getting scraps from above for food," she laughed. "Just like rats."

She had a lot of nerve to say these things when any of those girls could just wrap their hand around her wrists to snap them in two, making sure she would never play that wretched violin ever again. Why none of them did it yet was a question you were burning to ask. Once you finished this.

Spitting out the blood swimming in your mouth, you turned up a smirk of yours as your hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, silently bracing yourself for the pain to come.

"I may not be able to kill you," you grunted, twisting the knife upwards and out of your leg. Your blood dripped off the knife, inaugurating the stone floors with your presence.

"But I can make sure you keep your fucking mouth shut."

Faster than she could catch up on your move, you pulled out the knife from your thigh, flipping the handle and plunged it into her arm. You went deeper than she had the courage to stab you, making sure the hilt went through until it touched her skin like a wall decoration.

She shrieked, letting go of your hair to draw backwards until she reached the empty table, putting distance between you. She pulled the knife out and stood right back up, grabbing as many unused knives as she could find on top of the table. Pushing yourself up to stand with a bad ankle and a bleeding thigh, wheezing with the sharp air you drew in, you scoured the place for anything you could use to defend yourself. You ended up with the chair closest to you that looked worse for wear in your hands. You smashed it on the floor and broke it into pieces, grabbing a good hold on the longest parts.

She has knives and I have... wood.

Real inventive.

I can make a pyre and burn her on it. Maybe then she'll finally die. Big maybe to test out.

Your plan remained unfinished as she started throwing the knives at you one by one. The wooden planks flew out to catch them before they impaled deeply in your skin, wishing to keep the stabbing count at one and done. You let her throw all of them, avoiding the lower ones and paring the upper ones to the side, sending them right into the burning firestone at the side. She kept at it until she had no more blades to throw, seething as she looked at the forks stabbed in the meat as if she was tempted to throw those too, food included.

"Nice try, but you missed" you yelled, taking her attention away.

She smirked at you like a viper. "Check again."

What? I don't need to check again... Your eyes drifted around your arms, your heaving torso, front and back, then stopped at your legs. Indeed, there was another knife sledged in your leg. Right beside the gash she already gave you.

You've got to be shitting me.

The adrenaline of the moment might be what kept you from feeling that second knife embed into your thigh so close to the other one. It looked way deeper than the first. Your leg turned numb too, which wasn't a good sign.

On one more rage spurt, you threw the wooden logs in your hands at her, then collapsed on the floor. The first log missed but the next smacked her right across the face and you couldn't help a snort.

"Okay, this ends now," yelled a guard, finally moving to break the fight apart. He took to the brunette's aid, instructing the girls on what to do unless they wanted to bear consequences.

"One of you go pick up the new catch and help her to her cell. The rest go back to eating. If you're not done in the next ten minutes, there will be no more food for you this week, fights won or not."

That was a punishment that should've been yours, not theirs. You started the brawl in the first place.

With that warning, they left the way they came, taking the wench with them. Once they were out of sight, you let out a sigh that hurt like hell under your smashed ribs. Lyla ran over to you, followed by the rest each firing hundreds of questions at you. You waved them off unable to focus on any of them but the numbing feeling in your leg.

"Go eat guys. You need it more than me." You shot Lyla a look as you sauntered up on your legs unsteady, holding onto a pillar. "You too Lyla. I've got this."

"Where's your cell?" she asked, clearly not convinced by your words. You debated lying but she knew how far your white lies went. Not one of them went past her, no matter how hard you tried.

"About twenty-five rows of stairs upwards?"

"You've got it my ass. That's where mine is too."

She walked back to the table, packing some more food and fruits in a cloth for later, wrapping the edges tight into a small bundle. Coming right back, she hauled your arm over her shoulders.

"See you later, guys. Enjoy."

"Bye ladies," you smiled as best as you could, saluting them over Lyla's shoulder.

"Thank you Lyla! Take care," they all said in unison.

Barely, but somehow, you managed to climb all those flights of stairs. With Lyla's help and countless curses dropped here and there when the knife that was still in your leg moved in the slightest. Lyla advised against pulling it out, letting it feel numb rather than hurt.

The further you got from the bottom of the tunnel, the more looks you threw behind. You've had enough of heights to last you a lifetime. A fall from this far up would have your body shatter into pieces like a mug falling on the floor. Not something you were eager to try out.

"Stop looking down there or I'll drop you," said Lyla with a low grunt. She moved to grab you better, trying to take most of the weight off your wounded leg, almost losing the hold of the food package in the process.

"Sorry. This is one long tunnel. How deep in the ground are we?"

"I don't know and I don't wish to know."

Her tone told you she was pissed. Way more than the usual amount.

"Are you mad at me?"

She stopped walking, glancing at you briefly. "You're the smartest person I know." You were about to thank her for the surprising compliment when she continued. "But sometimes, you're the biggest idiot I've ever met."

Your mouth fell closed.

"I didn't mean to start a fight. And I mean, she asked for it."

"She does ask for it on the regular, but that doesn't mean you go and give it to her. Ignoring is a thing, you know."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that wasn't a highly requested punch session by the way you were all cheering me on."

She sighed. You had a point.

"Aim for her tongue next time."

Hopping along the long corridor, you finally reached your cell. The door was left open for you. Not for escaping but for containing. The chains were gone however, for now, but they might be back soon.

"Is your cell really up here?" you asked, suspicious if she was telling the truth.

"Right next to you," she pointed to your right.

Your brows drew together in confusion. "Why did I not hear you while I was here?"

"I was probably downstairs fighting. Those take a while."

Lyla helped you sit down against the wall, then moved to place the food pack somewhere that wasn't wet and dirty.

"Can you," you gestured to the knife poking out of your upper thigh.

"I think it decorates pretty well. Matches the dress...," she paused, tilting her head to the side, "or what's left of it."

You looked her dead in the eyes.

"Can you just fucking pull it out?"

"Yep."

She wrapped her hand around it and in one swift pull the knife was out. You caught a hold of the velvet around your arm, ripping the sleeve from the seams and wrapped it around as soon as the blood started seeping out. Lyla slumped against the metal bars next to you, watching you patch yourself up.

"That was fun," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. Despite her scolding, she did enjoy the fight back there. Your enjoyment of the quarrel was gone by now.

"If that's your definition of fun," you huffed, tying the material tighter around your thigh, "then you're not right in the head."

"That makes two of us sweetie." Your hands stopped, eyes ogling her for the meaning of her words. "Heard you've been rolling around in bed with the very crime lord of Shanghai."

When, where and from who does one find out such news?

Considerably shocked, you decided to deny all allegations upon further evidence.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"News travels fast in this shithole. People talked of sightings of him alongside a really conniving, skilled Japanese assassin, that's been assisting him on his recent missions."

Evidence proven.

"Did they really call me conniving and skilled?"

"I knew it," she gasped loudly. "They didn't say that. I just happened to hear of a poster your face was drawn on. The descriptions varied but I knew it had to be you."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know," she clapped her hands together. "Wild hair, wears mostly Western clothing, wields two golden pistols engraved with roses. Want me to say more?"

If Lyla could tell it was you from mere hearsay, you've been in the visor of the Triads for longer than you thought you were hidden well. Unfathomable to think that news travelled down in this cavern that was practically nowhere, but not to yours or Enishi's ears.

"Now tell me. What's going on between you two?"

"I'm not rolling around. We just..." you paused, at a loss for words. You tried looking for at least one word that described the relationship between you and Enishi but came up blank in the mess of every other cursed thing you wanted to call it.

"You just..." Lyla pressed on, a knowing look already on her face. But she waited for you to spell it out.

Good to know she still hasn't lost that nosiness and love for humiliation.

"We just live together. I'm his weapons person. We fight together." Your gaze fell back on your leg, fingers moving to undo the knot of your bandage and wrap it once more, trying to evade the obvious. "That's about it."

"And they were housemates," she concluded.

You shook your head with a laugh. "Trust me, there's nothing nice about living with him under the same roof."

That was the wrong lie to utter.

There were nice things about living together with Enishi under the same roof. The fact that he offered you your own room, giving you privacy and a space away from mafia things unless you wanted to be a part of it. The fact that you had a kitchen all to yourself, available at all times, night and day, as well as access to other amenities. He also trained you and taught you how to wield a sword properly. He made you tea sometimes and had deep talks about life with you in the middle of the night when nightmares kept you awake.

So, in all truth, there were more nice things outweighing the bad ones when it came to sharing a roof with him.

A small smile rose on your lips, much like a flower opening her petals after the rain to welcome the warmth of sunrays. Upon seeing it Lyla just couldn't leave it alone.

"It feels like there's something you're not telling me," she pried in like a cat looking for treats, scratching your leg until you gave them to her.

You drew in a breath. "It's complicated."

"If men weren't complicated, the world would be such a nice place."

There was immense truth in that.

"What about you? Still playing the queen of hearts or did some nice chap tame you yet?"

"Oh, no, no. I'm too wild to be tamed by a pair of balls and a dick."

"Last time I checked, you loved a pair of balls and a dick at night."

"I still do. But there's nothing you can do about it when you're down in a dungeon," she spoke, looking away through the metal bars with a sadness in her eyes that a pang of it rang through your own heart.

"Although, there is a guard here that I managed to get under with my charms. He supplies us with clothes and extra food, even outside world news sometimes. That's how I found out about you and that guy."

"Putting those skills to good use, I see."

"Oh, I didn't get into his pants yet."

That is news. Lyla was never one to wait too long before calling it like it is and having a good lay. If anything, it was her who dictated how a catch would go and not the other way around. But then again, who would sleep with someone down in this humid, smelly cave?

"How long has it been?"

"Way too long. My lady parts are riveting every time I see him and what's worse," she leaned in to whisper as if she was afraid of a higher power or the very guard she had the hots for listening in to the conversation. "He's not even my type. It must be the worst thing about being stuck here."

That begged the question...

"How long have you been down here?"

"A while," she sighed, settling in next to you. "They took me on a mission about two years ago. I was out doing the rounds for this man working in the arms trade. I was just supposed to guard and check a shipment but it was a set up. I was too blind to notice since I walked into it alone and without cover."

"Why did you go alone?"

"Because he specified it was a one person job. And he told me he was going to pay me a quarter of what he got for them. From what he was saying, it was a big shipment from overseas. It sounded like good money since no one was hiring assassins at the time."

She's been down here for two years. It's been two years since you haven't heard from her. Two years that she spent here in this pit of vipers by herself without a way to get out.

If I knew she disappeared, if I knew what happened...

But there was no way of knowing. You left and cut all ties with everyone you knew, including her, not just for yours but her safety as well. And look where that landed you both - right in the hands of the Triads for god knows what plans they had with you beside their exclusive fight club.

Leaving did more worse than good. I could've been there for her. I should've been there for her.

"I'm sorry," you said, head diving into the ground. It seemed like sorry was the only thing you could say, regret seeping through your bones like it was right at home ever since you've woken up in this dungeon.

She shook her head with a small smile on her rosy lips. "It's okay. I'm more sorry they managed to get you in here since you're not exactly an easy person to catch. What happened?"

With a grunt, you leaned behind on the stone wall to sit up in a better position that didn't hurt your middle upon simply breathing. Thinking of a place to start, since you had a duty to catch her up on everything that's happened since you've last seen each other, you struggled to pick just one thing. There was a whole amalgam of things that happened leading up to last night. Recalling one or the other would send the average human being into brain damage.

"It's a long story."

"As you can see, we have all the time in the world."

Focusing on the night before, you started with the whole mission, its objective, that was a complete fail, and how it ended with a giant fireball being thrown at you in the middle of the road. You then continued with the whole reason why you left your life behind, your search for your parents, meeting Enishi on a not so random encounter, stumbling over Cho in the midst of it all. You told her all of it.

When you got to the reunion with the blond, she stopped you. She was well acquainted with his existence - well, his existence pre-forgiveness and the redeeming talking sessions you've had in the past week. The Cho she knew was the rugged version of the man you knew now. Not that far behind this matured, upgraded version of him, but closer to the one that left you hanging in a gun warehouse to fend for yourself against a whole mafia.

"Hold on," she stopped you, blinking rapidly. "Cho Sawagejo?! The fucker that left you for money and a shiny sword job?"

You nodded lightly.

"Please tell me you held him at gun point and made him apologize with tears in his eyes."

Letting out a nervous laugh, you looked away trying to avert your eyes from the grenade next to you that was a word away from being armed and thrown out.

"About that.."

She knew that look. It was the look you had when you were too kind to people and just forgave whatever fucker did you wrong, no matter how wrong or twisted the consequences of their actions backfired on you instead of their sorry ass.

"Miyu... No. No, no, no, no. Please tell me you didn't."

"I'm not sure what you're asking."

"You know damn well what I'm asking. You welcomed him back with open arms after that shit? What the hell?! If you weren't injured right now, I myself would give you a beating."

Instead of a smack you knew was headed your way, she flicked a green grape at you, hitting you right between the eyes. If that had been one of her knives it would've hurt more. Thankfully, it wasn't.

"He's different now," you tried to convince her, dusting the grape off to pop it in your mouth. "Still has that potty mouth of his, but he's been repenting on his wrongs and he kinda did right by them."

"What if that's what he wants you to believe?"

"He wouldn't," you shook your head. "If he did, he wouldn't have made countless amends with me, Lyla. If you met him now, you'd see that too."

"If I met him, I'd break his legs and carve out his balls with his own swords and hang them on the hilts like tassels," she said, completely determined on doing it if she felt like it. You imagined that happening and cracked a smile.

"And your prince? How did he react to all this?"

You blew a huffed breath, trying to release some of the pressure in your tense shoulders. Upon revisiting the past few days after Cho's arrival, you got a whole migraine. Way too much happened, but amongst everything, the insane display of 'I'm a man and I came to claim what's mine' between the two ambulant testosterone, war-waging beings was sticking out the most.

"God, it was like watching the fucking war for the jungle in front of your very own eyes," you pointed two fingers to your eyes to emphasize the point.

"They were at each other's throats every minute of the day. That only filled up the mansion with the kind of tension you genuinely don't need to be around. Kitchen, garden, even my room!" you huffed throwing your hands up in annoyance. "I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl out of it only when they got bored of playing useless alpha male games with each other, keeping me as leverage in the middle."

"Mhm. One question."

You nodded at her to shoot it out.

"Which one did you fuck?"

"LYLA!" you screeched, leaning over to smack her arm. Her eyebrows only raised further, demanding an answer.

"None of them," you lied, but she caught up on it before you even registered the denial slipping past your lips.

"You did bone one of them! I can see it all over your face. Oh god," she gasped. "Was it gray haired dude? A wanted mafia lord?! Way to go, sister," she smacked your arm excitedly. "Now that I think about it, you did always have a thing for older guys."

"We're the same age," you pushed her hand away with a huff. "I am never talking about my life with you ever again."

"Was it good? Is it big?"

"Is what big?" you blinked up at her confused.

Putting up her palms parallel to each other, she grinned devilishly then started widening the gap between them, looking between the imaginary air pocket between her wiggling fingers and your flustered face as you figured out just what she was asking.

"Tell me when to stop," she pressed as she kept widening the gap to an insane length that looked almost inhumane to even perceive. How does that even fit inside -

"LYLA! OH GOD. He's big okay. He's alright," you hissed, running a hand down your face in embarrassment.

Knowing him, he was probably panicking right about now or gutting Cho for looking at him wrong, and I'm here talking about his-

Dear lord, I have sinned.

"How big? Come on humor me."

The current size she was left on was... close enough. But she didn't need to know that, so you slapped her hands away.

"Filling. That's all I'm going to say."

She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "That's good enough for me."

"What are you even going to do with that information?"

"That's for me to know only."

Suspicious... But it's Lyla. If there's nothing dirty coming out of her mouth every five minutes something must be really wrong. Then again, you missed this kind of girl talk and most of all, you missed her. Overtaken by another wave of sadness, you beckoned her over for another hug.

"Come here," you opened your arms. "I missed this so much."

She smiled and scooched closer, falling into your arms extremely careful not to rattle your new injuries. Your hands wrapped around her, just as careful not to press on any of hers.

"I missed you too, fiery rose," she sighed in your shoulder. "In a fucked up way, I'm really glad you're here and alive. And getting criminal dick-"

"Shut up," you laughed and smacked her shoulder.

"He must be really good in bed if you're keeping quiet about it."

"I kinda wish she stabbed me in the ear so I wouldn't have to hear any of this."

"You'd still have one I'd talk away endlessly about dick," she giggled.

She leaned into your ear and proceeded to annoyingly continue to catalogue all types and sizes she's been through, hoping you would cave in and tell her more if she got you flustered enough. But you zipped it up with a secretive smile. That was only for you to know.

By nightfall, a handful of Enishi's men armed themselves with blades from head to toe and took off marching over to the Daos territory on the outskirts of Shanghai.

Enishi stopped his small task force in the forest overlooking the path in front of the casino, regrouping in the shadows. While they hopped off their transport and checked all their weapons, he stalked forward, raven eyes surveying the scene. There were guards all around, from the front walkway to the sides, each carrying long swords. Revolvers hung in the belts of some, attached loosely next to sets of knives.

Seems like they expect company, he thought. The last time he was there, they had way less security around. Now the big guys were spurn up in front of the door, towering over it, while the rest had their own version of blackjack going on the side of the doors on top of barrels of rum. They slapped cards down as if they were playing inside the crystal-ticked casino walls with the rest of the high society they were supposed to guard.

Walking back to his men, he beckoned them closer for one last callout before going in to ruin the party. Cho had one last check over his blades then sheathed his katanas and made his way next to him.

"What's the plan?" asked the blond.

Enishi just glanced at him with a serious jaw tilt. The kind that meant controlled disaster was on its way. Though he was surprised to see the seriousness morph into a raving grin upon the words leaving Enishi's mouth.

"Was thinking of leaving plans aside tonight."

That was a first. He always carried plans at the ready in all forms, having a side save for every failed one, but all of a sudden they were all extinct from his calendar. He didn't even bother planning ahead this time, knowing all he had to do was get inside and have a heart to heart with the chief of the Daos.

"I like that," smirked Cho, looking forward to having some fun tonight. His katanas, though borrowed, liked seeing slashed skin rather than their metallic casing.

"There's no plan, but you don't kill anyone until I give the okay."

There might have been no plans in store, but they had to do this the right way or shit could go sideways tonight too. And he didn't want it to. Cho sulked, dropping the hilts of his swords back down till the metal tsubas clicked against their hold.

"That's not fun."

"I'm not looking for a war," said Enishi, hoisting his sword on his back. "Unless they give me a reason to start one."

A war was not in his cards. But if they liked to play with fire he was going to torch them good, have them think twice about where their loyalty stood at when it came to taking one of his on his territory. All he needed was a wrong move and the Dao lineage would cease existence for good tonight, right in this hedonist place crawling with liars and traitors. A tempting gamble to take.

With a swift nod, his pack of mercenaries took to the sides of the building. Moving stealthily, they took the guards by surprise, knocking them out before they could call out to the ones on the front. It didn't take long for the sides and the back to be secured, each squadron sending a glint of their blade in signal that the perimeter was clear. All sides besides the entrance.

Walking out of the shadows with Cho at his side, they marched all the way to the front doors. Two of the four muscular brutes guarding the tall, slick black doors, stepped out to block the path with a cross of their blades.

"You are forbidden access," sneered one of them, looking down at Enishi.

"I'm here to talk to your boss. We've got some unfinished business."

The guard leaned down, his sneering face falling in front of Enishi's with a scowl.

"Forbidden." He spat each syllable as if it would make him look of much higher authority.

Talking was a lost cause from the get-go. Enishi sent him a smirk before his fist connected with his face, shoving the giant to the ground. The thug sauntered back on his legs and got a hold of Enishi's neck hauling him against the door, punching his abdomen multiple times, the next fist diving harder than the previous.

Cho took on the other one with a clash of his katanas, slashing his chest open then his back, getting rid of him right away. The other two came at the blond, swiveling around to corner him. They sent their blades on par with his arms lifting the katanas upwards to catch them both. They both pressed down on his swords, his muscles straining under their combined strength. His right side throbbed with new hot pain, shaking the hold on his attack katana.

On the other side, Enishi grappled with the troll that was double his size. He grabbed a hold of the his face and thrust his head right into his, shocking him a enough to a punch of his own, cracking his nose open. He struck and struck, until his face turned to a bloody mess, but even then the brute continued sneering at him. He smiled baring his giant teeth before he smacked Enishi right back in the wall beside the door.

Cho couldn't hold the pressure any longer. At once, he thrusted his swords upwards shoving both giants off of him. Turning the hilt of his attack katana in his right, he shoved it in the torso of the one closest, using the recoil to send the blade through his comrade. The katana embedded in that bulky torso like it cut through a hunk of meat, blood leaking beside the edges to land on the ground with loud splotches.

Smirking in triumph, thinking that would end at least one of his opponents, he gasped in shock. The thug stood his ground catching a hold of the blade margin and tugged Cho forwards while he pulled on the blade backwards trying to get it out. The other threw his sword at him from behind falling right on his defense katana, getting him stuck between the two. His defence blade was completely useless without the balance of his attack partner in his other hand.

"Fuck this."

With a low sweep he kicked the legs from under the giant on his right and as he fell he drew his sword out and slashed open a big gash across his chest. Sparring the other one, he sent double cuts that sliced open the skin above his thighs, then defended using the pair of swords together. The thug got tired and with the first opening he saw he slashed both katanas in opposite ways across chest, bringing them back to slither parallel through his middle once more. Breathing heavily, he fixed up his bad shoulder with a roll, checking the two were eliminated for good.

Enishi had enough of his own dance partner. He drew out his hands going for a chokehold around the brute's long neck, squeezing harder than it was meant for a quick knock out. At this point he wanted him dead and gone, no matter the way he went about it.

The brute laced on his arms, trying to ply them off the trunk of his neck but before he could, Enishi moved behind him and delivered the final blow right to the back of his head then twisted his neck, falling to the floor with him.

Cho ambled his way to Enishi who was heaving breaths like he chased the wilderness in the forest for a hunt session.

"Rusty much?" joked Cho.

"I said no killing," deadpanned Enishi, looking over at the bloody mess behind him.

"That one looks pretty dead to me," said Cho, pointing at the grizzly Enishi dueled with.

Ignoring him, he marched up throwing the doors open. He walked the long corridor coming to the small staircase only to be faced with a full house. All tables were occupied and armed. If he had to take a guess, most of the clan was present in the casino tonight. Suddenly, the purging of the Daos didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment.

"Swords out," he roared to the troops behind.

The blond clocked him with a raised eyebrow. "You think?"

"Just shut up and fight. Don't get killed."

All hell broke loose.

The men sent their women to the back hallways then broke out their weapons to take over. Enishi led his men right into the fire, unsheathing his wato to wade through the suited bodies trying to stop him. They all failed miserably as he advanced, sending slash after slash before they could even lift their guns and point them at him, cutting through them three at a time. What went past him fell in the care of his mercenaries, tearing through the masses with the intent of not letting anyone escape.

Cho followed Enishi, moving towards the heavily weaponized side. He spotted them loading up to shoot. Quick on his feet, he kicked the guns out of the hands closest to him, tearing his blade through the rest of the barrels pointed at him, slicing through the cheap metal casing. Whoever supplied their weapons did a shit job at it.

Enishi dove through the bladed side, disarming as many as they fell in front of him, slashing the rest to shreds. Silver bullets still flew his way, bouncing off the edge of his steel with a single flick of his wrist. He moved side to side, avoiding all shots, taking down his opponents faster than they saw him coming.

The gunfire rang deafeningly over the clang of swords, drowning the angry shouts and the grunting cries of pain from both sides. The pungent scent of opium rapidly altered with the burning stench of gunpowder and the spoor of blood already in the air. Despite Enishi's wishes for a somewhat peaceful fight, the casino turned into a raging battlefield quicker than he intended it to. As much as he tried to avoid it, war was upon them. He could still control the outcome of this battle. If it didn't escalate to a point of no return.

With both of them on the attack, they ended up cornered in front of the crystal bar. Cho landed back to back with Enishi, defending each other's blind spots.

"Having Miyu here would've been so helpful," grunted the blond as his swords were dug into him by two men, each paring down their jian over his defence cross.

"She's the reason we're here in the first place," gritted Enishi, shoving off his own assailants with his wato, sending them tumbling into the bar.

"We need to get through to the hallways. If he runs off before we get to him," he grunted, curling his blade to cut up another running thug, throwing his sword away before crashing a bottle over his head, "we will never find her."

Enishi's men managed to overpower the rest of the Daos. Leaving them to take care of the main salon, he made his way through the hallway with the blond at his back, fighting the ones pooling in the front and the others coming from the back.

He buried through the force coming from up ahead. Jumping with a kick to the right to shove one into the wall, he used the boost to throw his leg up and ram it down over the head of the next one. Landing back on the ground, he barely caught the sword coming his way, wato clinging dangerously low on its hilt. That blade wasn't just any blade. A quick glance at the amber peeking under the stripes of the hilt and he recognized it. It was an odachi made from olden Japanese steel, its blade almost a meter long, curving wide like the arch of a bow.

Three more thugs coming down had them in their amateur hold. All of their handles were amber and black as onyx, the blades as sharp as if they just rolled out of the factory. That was steel made on special order, two pairs in amber, two pairs in black. Steel he just so happened to hold in his own two hands a few months ago, right before his weapons warehouse got broken into. They weren't marked with a seal yet, but he gave the measurements and details to the craftsmen himself.

Interesting, he thought, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. I wonder where they got those.

The swords came barreling down on him at the same time. They wanted to overpower him in that compact corridor. They wielded the swords messily, treating them like the shorter range blades they used on a day to day basis. That gave him an advantage. He whizzed through them, using their slow speed to smack the swords out of their hands. Soon enough they were all disarmed, inching for their pocket knives. Enishi kicked some away, spinning in reverse with a flip that sent the small knives right in the walls. The rest flew at once, aimed at his chest. One swing of his sword had the edge catch their tips with a screech, directing them into the wall.

Cho cleared the back and came to Enishi's side. Those four were the last one standing between them and their leader, the rest of the hallway cleared both ways.

Sharing a quick look, they got hold of a strategy to finish this quickly. Enishi went high, Cho went low. They wasted enough time as it is. Any more of it would have the chief running away. Two punches ricocheting from one guy into the other to knock them out cold and four slashes later, they got through those four too.

They ran all the way to the back until the room with the golden seven came into view. Without hesitation, Enishi stepped back and ran, kicking down the door in full force ripping it off its hinges, stepping over it once it crashed with a thud on the other side. Thankfully, the man he was looking for was still there. Standing right at the top of the poker table presumably in the middle of a game, his nose was stuffed with tissues, the imprint of a familiar heel left across the bridge of his nose. The look on his face gave him away - he was completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his casino.

At the sight of the two, he stood up throwing his cards on the table. One move of his fingers and the rest of his men in the room drew out in a line surrounding the table to protect him.

"Came to die again?"

"Where is she?"

"Ah, looking for that bitch that broke my nose? Unfortunately, you won't find her here."

Something moved in his peripheral. A quick look had him find Liu right in the corner about to sneak out behind them while Enishi was busy with the Daos. Cho stepped up to him, trapping him between the cross of his blades. The rest of the men around the room pulled out theirs, though not even those belonged to them. What some of them gripped in their hands were the long hilt nagamaki swords, these too part of Enishi's custom missing weaponry.

"Nice blades you got there," he spoke, voice laced with amusement at the shit he was seeing. "Where'd you get them?"

"Downtown through a really great trades person," he smiled widely, proud with himself as if he was the one who made and bought them. "If you wanted to ask me about weapons you could have done so without breaking down my door."

"Those weapons belong to me. They were stolen from my warehouse."

At his words, the chief of the Daos paled over like the cloth laying on the side of the table, stained with drops of his blood.

"Let me take a wild guess," spoke Enishi, lowering his sword. "The work of the Snake, isn't it?"

He gulped confirming Enishi's suspicions.

"How much did you pay him for all those custom made weapons? Ten? Fifteen?"

His head inclined to the side. He paid more.

"Double then? Thirty?"

"Twenty."

He laughed in his face. "Twenty for a shipment worth fifty million in raw cash. And I thought he would've used his head and charged more to get some profit. I guess he's not that great at trades as you thought he was."

That last remark was all it took for him to explode. Exactly what Enishi wanted. Stroke the lion then throw him the bone instead of the meat and see how desperate he becomes that he'll lick the very bone like the meat was still on it.

"Kill them," he rasped out to his men.

Looking back at Cho, he nodded to him to keep on Liu while he dealt with the seven leftover men in his way. He took on the two nagamaki wielders first, noticing their hold on the handles were wrong from the very start. Kicking their wrists one by one, they let go of the blades, staggering backwards. The others came at him with the odachi swords. Thrusting his wato, he caught all of them on the edge. Holding them off, he threw his leg upwards rotating it to the side to hit the weaponless men to the side. Moving his sword in a circle above his head, he gathered all the odachi, shifting the wato to press down on them. One kick above the five hilts was all it took to knock them over, getting the blades out of their useless hands.

Throwing the blades to the floor with his own, he let them come at him giving them a fair chance at a fight. They circled him, taking turns. The first one came at him with a sharp fist. He let him run into his friend on the opposite side, knocking him out cold. Returning with more anger, Enishi let him try two more punches before he slid the legs from under him watching as he hit a chair, cracking his skull open.

Three more left.

Another one came at him with one of the discarded odachi. He tried balancing the long range blade, treating it like a mere sword. He had difficulty moving it for a slash because of the smaller handle, letting the blade fall downwards. Enishi waded the messy slashes, getting closer until he caught a hold of his wrist. A hit to his throat had him choke, another one to his chest took his air away, the last one to his stomach had him fall to his knees.

The other two took off running towards the door. Cho threw one of his katanas swiftly, hitting one of them right in the back. The rest of Enishi's crew wound up by the door stopping the other one in his tracks.

Picking up his sword from the floor, he walked up to the leader of the Daos, his fallen kin that have almost gone extinct.

"Why are you really here?" he asked, standing tall in the face of the Shanghai mafia like his own would raise from the dead and come to his aid. "My men will end all of you-"

"Your men are dead. As for why I'm here," he smirked wickedly his way, "I came to finish what my girl started last night."

"You would go so far for a whore like her? Shanghai is crawling with them."

Those words were all it took for him to close the distance to him, booting his blade away to the side to sink his own sword in that hunk of an arm, silver edge curving deep enough to draw spurts of blood out of him. Hitting the back of his knees, the brute crumbled to the floor together with his superiority complex. His left hand latched onto his shirt, making sure his ears were open to hear him loud and clear.

"I would tear every inch of flesh off your body if it brought me even one soul closer to finding her."

The hold on his blade was steady, way more stable than the anger coursing through his veins. But his wato sat sheathed way too long, sheltered away from its lust for chaos, deeply yearning to taste blood and cut flesh down to the bone the way it was made to.

He had the leader of a bigger mafia kneeling right at his feet. There was a time when the pride and power that came with this sight was all he ever wanted to witness, but right now it didn't matter at all to him. Tonight, he wasn't out for blood or power or to retrieve his stolen weapons or to seek revenge. Tonight, he was out for you.

"Where is she?"

The chief of the Daos just smirked in his face, disregarding the blade slashing down his arm, severing through ligaments more and more by the minute. Enishi's wrist moved slow, digging it deeper until he trembled the way his pulse pounded through him.

"You don't know why they took her do you?"

Enishi's body stopped moving altogether. Searching those evil empty black eyes proved useless, finding only amusement at his torment in them. He let his guard down, letting the brute continue with his taunting.

"They not only took her for who she is, but more for what she is."

"What is that supposed to mean? What is she to them? Why do they want her so badly?"

Each question had him roar deeper in his face. The kneeling brute simply laughed, drops of blood flying from his lips to paint the green of the poker table in crimson stains. The rising tide of rage inside of him was reaching dangerous heights, moments away from falling over the world to swallow it whole. He needed solid information, not words in the wind.

The sword coiled back against Enishi's hold, craving for much more than his owner could give it, denying its unquenchable thirst for shriveling him to pieces with one blow. His fingers twitched on the handle, wanting nothing more than to slash it across his chest and watch the life drain from him. But reason knocked into him sober. He needed this fucker alive.

"Answer me!"

"She's something that was supposed to die a long time ago. A whisper of an existence that could end us and what we stand for. You should thank me for getting rid of her instead of going to battle with my clan."

"Most of your clan is gone," he thundered, his voice drawing low, seething with disgust for his kind. "I'm nothing like you or the other rats crawling around my city thinking you own it."

"We're more alike than you think."

"If you thought for one moment that I stood with you and this world of criminals, you're wrong."

"Is that what you told her too? She still joined you despite knowing that she's always been against it since this world is what took her parents away? The very thing that destroyed her life and had her wander the streets as no one's child?"

His jaw crunched tight, teeth grinding over each other with rage that got harder to contain inside.

"Even if she doesn't know it yet, she will be what kills us. They took her to prevent that from ever happening. To make her bend to their will before she gets out of control again."

Nothing this man was saying made any sense. You were just a skilled assassin that sometimes went rampage when extremely pissed off. But even so, under all his empty words, Enishi felt there was more this man wasn't letting on. Despite all the questions he came here with, there was only one he could bring himself to ask.

"Where is she?"

"You're asking the wrong mafia," he grinned. Enishi's hold loosened in the slightest. His eyes brimmed with mischief, gleeful that he knew more than the man cutting through his arm, unable to finish the job he started.

"You think we were the only ones part of the charade at the club last night?"

There were more parts involved. Enishi knew that. But none of his men got back with new intel to help identify them.

"All I need is a name," he bargained. "Then you're free to rot in a cell under the commander in chief for the rest of your miserable life."

That seemed like a good enough bargain to take. A name for a life of isolation. Death was an option too. The easy way out. A luxury he wasn't keen on offering so soon. Too bad the man kneeling at his feet took his own fate in his hands.

"What good if my whole mafia is gone?"

Before he could ask or demand anything else, the man pulled a hidden knife and plunged it deep within his chest. Enishi's eyes went wide with surprise, watching as he slid off his blade, falling backwards, choking on his last words with painful gasps.

"I hope you never find her."

Just like that, the captain of the ship died with his own crew and the rest of the words Enishi needed to hear were lost forever. He came here with questions only to leave with so many more. Questions that drowned his head up until this moment.

An eerie silence settled in the room. The smoking tray of opium in the middle of the poker table drew to a small vapor. The lights above flickered empty. The hallways of the casino were no longer packed with lively chatter and the sound of plastic coins being thrown around roulettes for bets. It was all quiet like the dark night outside.

Enishi's mind stopped running too. Wiping his wato clean, he sheathed it back in its hold, turning to his men who were awaiting further orders. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, like he lost the final battle but won the war, successfully eliminating the Daos and their leader, but losing all tracks that could lead to you. His men looked just as lost and conflicted, grateful to have some action in a while, but at what cost if they didn't find what they came looking for. Nonetheless, he delivered them tasks like it was the daily custom.

"Search the casino for our stolen weaponry. Take Liu in for questioning. Make sure there's no trace of our tracks here."

"And the women?" asked one of them. He could read the question on his face. Won't they talk?

"Let them go. Pay them if they need it to stay quiet. It doesn't matter how much, just make sure they're tended to."

The force dispersed to each their own. Picking up a chair, he set it upright feeling the need to sit down and recall his bearings back to him. Cho handed Liu to the crew and approached him wearily, sheathing his katanas back in their hold inside his coat.

"You have a weird look on your face. What's going on?"

"Something doesn't add up," he shook his head. "Why do they know so much about her?"

"You did have a spy planted in. For several years apparently," he added.

"It still doesn't explain why they know more about her and we don't. The disappearance of her family, her life as an assassin and the one outside of it. They knew about all of it, no matter how much she covered her tracks up. They watched her from a distance, giving her the impression they were nowhere near and consider her a threat for some fucked up reason." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Did anything he say ring a bell to you at all?"

"No," sighed Cho just as frustrated himself. "It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"It feels like there's a bigger puzzle we're not seeing. That this was just a piece of it that doesn't fit anywhere or we're not even looking at the right one or... I don't even know anymore."

Cho frowned at his words. He's not seen Enishi this conflicted and all over the place over anything. Not even in the past week when his loathing levels were at their highest.

"Let's hope that traitor has more to give us."

He hesitated at first, but his hand still landed on Enishi's shoulder in an encouraging pat that wasn't that well received. Enishi straightened and shot the blond a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the hand splayed on his shoulder with imaginary knives about to be shot into each finger separately. Maybe Cho was over the fight in the woods, as if they didn't attempt to kill each other. It would take much more than some help for Enishi to return the favor of blind trust.

"Nothing," mumbled the blond, hand flying away to scratch his neck instead.

Enishi's eyes narrowed in on him trying to gauge out his intentions. Last night, they were at each other's throats and now he was being cordial and kind of supportive. Maybe it was because they were looking for you that the lines between their mutual hatred and the care they had for you were blurring together in an odd bond of sorts. Nevertheless, it creeped him out.

His eyes fell on the poker table, mind instantly running over to the memory of you sat right beside his spot, playing the chief of the Daos with just one hand. An smile broke out on his face seeing the money in the corner, reminded of the stacks of money you had him splurge, only to lose them all in your escape before you got skewered to bits and pieces.

"What's got you smiling so wide?"

"We've been here before. Me and her. About a month ago or so," he smiled slyly, recalling that day. "We came to get intel and left a mess behind us, but before that, she played them at poker."

The blond sat down in a chair with a smile, sharing something of his own. "She always had a thing for betting. It's so hard to pull her away after she sits down to call in a game. All or nothing."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "She had me give her stacks of money to buy inside since the game was already ongoing."

"How much did you give her?"

"Two million," he chuckled. "Two million and what looked like one more half on the table. She won it all fair and square with one hand. She didn't even get to gather the money before they were on us and we had to run off."

He did remember you stacking some spare bills in your corset before he tugged on your hand to run away. The very corset he helped you lace before crashing the party, only to then rip it off of you that same night.

"That was the same night we...," he paused, debating on whether he should even say anything.

"The same night you...," pushed the blond, eager to find out what happened.

Too bad he would have to stay curious. Enishi's eyes dove at him with a teasing wink, amused at his childish scoff.

As if I'll tell you of all people what happened that night, he smirked to himself. That's for us to know.

"Have a look around, see if you find anything of help to us," he said, patting his shoulder in a similar manner. He deserved it since he had his back tonight.

Before he turned back to searching, he picked up a light blue chip from the table. The highest value you could play in poker. Holding it to the small light in the room, he smiled softly at it, then pocketed it safely on the inside of his kimono.

Ready to turn and leave, it was only by chance that his eyes landed on the open hand the fallen leader never got to play. Next to a red ten of hearts, a jack, a king and an ace, sat the queen card - your winning hand that night. Not thinking too much about it, he gathered the hand, picking up those five cards, storing them safely next to the blue chip.

Even a pigsty has more amenities.

The cell was a nice place. If you looked past the small pot left in the corner for a makeshift medieval toilet, the stench of rotten things you hoped was just leftover food and the occasional rodent visitors that resembled anything but how they actually looked like above, on the streets of Shanghai. You had your fair share of those beasts hopping from place to place in hiding but these ones liked to hiss and stare you down as if you intruded their very own sanctuary or something.

It's been days.

How could one be able to tell that the day turned into night in that underground stone cage with no sliver of light visible?

When the gust of wind blowing through got considerably colder and the torches went out completely om both sides of the walls.

Some nights, you sat and waited for the torches to be lit up again. Truthful to your assumptions, a guard came down early, from the looks of his lightly armed body, tasked with lighting up the long row of torches from top to bottom. The last lucury of the upper world they gave you. Though you wondered if the firestone down in the pit, how the girls called that horrors cave, burned at all times like an undying flame of hope, or if that one too was extinguished when no one was there and there was no hope to look for at all.

After your brawl with the violinist, you were welcomed down in the pit like you won the war against evil. As it turns out, her name is Li Wen, a walking-talking specimen of envy personified. One that was extremely hated by all the inhabitants of the pit. Her temperament at the club was dodgy, but her personality is just as such. She is just like she plays her violin, insatiable and almost never satisfied, always on the look for more. Whether she gets it or takes it herself.

What she said the night before as she tried to use your body as a darts mat was true - she did have the power to whizz between the upper world and the pit at her own personal will, or when the Snake sent her to check on his esteemed guests. That sole advantage itself turned her into an enemy, since she mostly came around to draw her claws at the girls or execute his orders.

In her eyes she was just like him, a fighter for a greater cause, thing that gave her no semblance of respect towards them. But not even the smallest bone in her body had the power and resilience these women had in their soul.

She wasn't the one going to war with death almost nightly in order to earn her right to keep on living and a meal to survive off, wondering when the next one will come. She is part of the pit. But she will never be part of the family that's made a unique promise of protection to each other.

That is the biggest ick that she will never be able to swallow down her thick reptile throat. Not as long as she sides with the wrong people.

That same night, you sat with the girls and told them your own story. Bottom to top, past to present. Everything.

For the first time in your life, you felt like someone actually listened. For the first time, someone was able to even relate to your struggle, understanding the length and impact of the things you've gone through. For the first time, someone was able to see the scars that refused to heal, scabbing over on the surface but still hurting deep within a place that would never be able to forget the pain, the loss, the shattered hope. Because they were the same unhealed scars that all these girls shared in one way or another, having been through hell and beyond.

Connecting through a bond was one thing. A bond could be just that, a one-off unique connection. But this was so much more because connecting through pain was another thing altogether.

As you talked and shared parts of your souls with each other in stories, things you liked, things you hated; honesty and trust wound up tied together in that blazing pit. Those two things, so small but so significant, were the only things that helped them endure the fear and pain of this infinite inferno, and the only things still standing real and true to their nature within the wild hellfire scorching the world.

That was what Li Wen was missing. She was free to share her story and join the family at one point until she alienated herself from the collective acceptance. This sisterhood will be something she will always long for, something she will never have the guts to sacrifice herself for.

After your heart to heart with everyone, their daily training session started. They spread out to their own corners individually or searched for sparing partners. Still healing from your injuries, you decided to keep to the side just watching. As your eyes walked around, you noticed that a lot of them still used their weapon instincts, sending their fists like they wielded their arms.

Yana was probably the best at breaking free from the hold of her weapon. She used aerial moves and kicks with her spear which made it easier to adapt to a life without one. Though she still parried the ground for balance and often lost her fighting stance.

Lyla knew some martial arts. Where she would normally train her arms to extend, open her palms to aim her knives and strike, she now sent rigid hits with the heel of her palm using that built up strength in her forearms. Kick-wise, she struggled with the direction she wanted her foot to land in, which should hopefully be through the enemy's throat and not beside it.

Marissa struggled. You could tell she leaned on her halberd for support a lot because her current hits went lucky-go wide instead of target-focused. There was immense weight packed in her punch but no technique. Her sparring partner was one of the stone columns but even so, she had much strength but couldn't send it through. You knew she had the power to.

Stretching up and out of your humble seat on the side, you walked up to her. Sensing you approach, she turned around. Her height was questionable while she was sat down at the table but being this close to her had you stumble a step backwards.

"What's up, shorty?"

"Uhm," you paused, looking for a way to say it without getting smashed or something.

Come on, Miyu. It's just Marissa. Your big, friendly giant that could mince and marinate you if she had her halberd on hand. Though she might just do well enough smashing your head between her palms.

"Can I see your fist?"

"My fist?" she asked confused. You nodded. Unsure but trusting, she held out her fist to you. Even her hand was bigger than yours.

Taking a hold of it, you moved her fingers in a better position, locking them in with her thumb, directing her to the stone column she was bruising her knuckles in.

"Don't clench your fingers. Swing with the muscles in your shoulder, not the ones in your forearms and angle your body parallel to your opponent." You nodded to the pillar. "Try it now."

Her eyebrow lifted, lacking assurance at your directions, but she did get in the stance.

"Send it on your exhale," you added in a small voice.

Her icy eyes narrowed in on you prompting you to take another step backwards, hands held up in defence to let her do her thing. She debated it but in the end she tried it your way. Taking a long, deep breath in, she spun from the right and swung wide going right for the column on the exhale. Her fist drove into the stone with a loud crack, chipping off a quarter of the pillar to dust and rocks that fell right into the firestone behind it. The others stopped training, looking over to see what happened. Shocked, she looked her fist over on every which side only to find no bleeding creases or pink indents of damaged skin on any of her knuckles. Then her blue eyes fell on you, sparkling like dew drops on plant leaves in the early morning.

"How?"

"All you were missing was technique," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. In return, she smiled just as big.

Moving to sit in front of her, hands held together behind your back, you motioned her to come at you.

Maybe Enishi's emotionally torturing, training techniques rubbed off on you. Or maybe you were batshit crazy since even the girls looked at you as if you've grown a head. But something just told you to do it and give her a good moving target to really test out her new set of skills.

"I can't do that," she shook her head, taking a step back refusing to attack you.

Her eyes fell on the dried blood stains littered all over your dress, stopping at the still fresh scratches on your face.

You beckoned her again. "Just trust me."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

You said that with so much confidence it surprised even you.

Marissa finally got into position and prepared for a moving punch. Her left foot pressed backwards while her right set up. With one step, she was right in front of your face, her huge fist headed for serious damage. You let her come as close as possible, just a few inches away from your face before you moved to the side, grabbing a hold of her forearm to push her forwards. She stumbled, turning to you with a guilty look on her face.

"You hesitated," you said, standing to the side.

"Because I don't want to -"

"Your enemy won't give you time to find a reason to hurt them," you argued. "You have to do it."

Softly caressing the knife won't make it not want to kill you. That was its sole purpose after all and what Enishi tried to teach you all along. Maybe you did learn something from his philosophy lessons, often coming as a package with the physical training.

"You need to strike first. No mercy. No remorse."

She sighed, tall shoulders dropping with the realization you were right. Ignoring your injured leg, you moved into a fighting stance, similar to the ones Enishi took with you.

"Now come at me for real this time."

Stop defending. Just attack.

And she did. She sent fist after fist, one more powerful than the other. Your body struggled to handle her speed but you willed it to in order to keep up and give her a real shot at it. Once you were happy with the form of her punches and she realized how well she sent them you both stopped. Holding up her fists side to side, she smiled widely at them. You simply bowed your head at her in respect.

Before you could spin back to your chair, the rest of them flocked your way asking for guidance.

"Can you help me too?" asked Mai, showing you her small fists.

Yana stomped over too, tapping your shoulder. "Can you help me with the kicks? I want to learn that reverse one you did to Li Wen's nose."

"Guys, guys, calm down! I'm no martial arts master," you waved your hands away. "I can't fight better than any of you. Not now anyway."

"But someone did teach you," said Lyla with a smirk.

Damn it.

You knew who she was referring to. There were two of them who tried busting off their asses to train you in hand to hand, close and far combat, including weaponry wielding. You failed weaponry... but you did overpower both of them in combat the last time you trained together. And that one was a no mercy match to the death you won fair and square.

These girls were experts in their individual weapons of choice. But they lacked combat technique. The kind of combat technique you ate at breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past two months and a half like it was the fucking military service trials.

If anyone could give them an extra chance at packing a deadly punch or a lethal kick and get hurt less, it was you.

"Fine," you blew a breath, whistling the stray locks of hair falling in front of your face. They cheered loudly, clapping you in the back excitedly.

"Get in a line."

A few days later, you were leading their training sessions from the sidelines, without getting involved until your ankle healed some more. Your ribs still hurt, but not enough to stop you from sparring with your hands here and there, correcting stances or acting as a moving target from time to time. Taking everything you learned from the sword master extraordinaire and placing it on different training, tailored to every girl and her fighting style, you managed to get them out of the rut.

Their forms got better than their wielding impulses, stronger than their sparing opponents, faster at laying a lethal blow if needed. Surprise after surprise came as you coached each one into changing little things that led them to big ones in such a short amount of time.

Marissa's punches became hunks of deadly power. Yana's aerials you molded following Enishi's. Lyla's flexibility went into quick attacks. All of them evolved.

On a well-deserved break, you sat around, passing mugs of water from the bucket that was brought down by the guards once a day.

"How do they announce a fight? Or who's turn it is?" you asked no one in particular. Already used to your question rounds, Yana picked it up like she was the pit's unofficial guide.

"You see the golden gong in the back?" she pointed behind you.

Your head whipped around to find a golden plate hooked up on two stands, reflecting the flickers of the fire around the pit. You've been here for days but have not taken notice of the percussion instrument at all, as if it just spawned there from nowhere. Not a lot of things to notice in a cave underground.

"Has that always been here or am I tripping? Are we sure those grapes weren't edibles?"

Laughter echoed around you in ripples of snorts and giggles. Another thing you grew to love in these past few days was making these girls laugh. An actual belly-flopping, cheeks hurting, eyes leaking laugh. Some of them haven't howled a true, joyous laugh in ages from how rusty their laughs sounded, but they welcomed your jokes nonetheless.

"It has," laughed Yana. "When they have someone ready for a fight, they come down and hit the gong. Another person has a bowl filled with our names written on thin paper strips and they just call it out."

"Is there an audience too?"

"We're allowed to sit in sometimes. The guards always sit in and place bets on the winning head."

That's disgusting. Placing bets as if they've ever been put in their shoes.

"Li Wen usually stands to the side-"

"If she's in the mood for being spat at, that is," added Marissa. "Someone always gets punched in the face and she is always right in the sputter of their blood."

You grimaced at that until you realised she deserved the bloody shower every once in a while.

"What about the lord of the house?"

"The Snake doesn't come down here."

Wait.

He abducted all of these girls for his own personal fight club only to not participate at all? Not even to sit in the audience to see his problems eradicated?

That doesn't make any sense.

"He didn't come for any of them? Any at all?"

"Nope," said Yuki, your other Japanese compatriot. She's been down there for the past seven years and could not recall at least one time he showed up. "Not one of them."

That same night, the call for a fight came through. The gong was hit, ringing deep in your ear drums, stopping you mid-training session.

This one had your name on it.

"Crimson Rose," called out the guard, looking for you in the crowd.

Of course they don't use real names in here.

You walked out from between the girls, dirty velvet rolling out behind your heeled steps. Chin help up high, arms crossed and jaw tightened to an angle that could cut, you gave him your most confident front. Deep inside, that courageous front was replaced for eating the walls trying to find an escape route out of this hellhole.

The guard walked down to you, stopping short of a few steps. He had a patch over his nose. It was the guard you head banged into a few days ago.

His eyes raked your body top to bottom, enjoyment disgustingly visible on his face at every curve he stopped at, only pausing his shameless perusal to look at your face. He must've read the fake façade you put up in your eyes, lips turning up with a devilish smirk.

"You're overdue for a welcome fight, rosy."

It's been a week since the night you disappeared. A week he wanted to throw to oblivion like that would just so happen to bring you right back. If only it was that easy to get you back.

Over the past few days, he's grown restless, much more than he used to be. Every word uttered the wrong way, any gaze focused on him for too long, the very sound of footsteps rolling down the hallways. All of these had him bust a nerve that never stopped ticking since he woke up that night in the middle of the woods and you were nowhere to be found.

Wherever he sat down, his eyes closed automatically. Tired didn't even begin to describe how he felt. But no matter how exhausted he was, he couldn't give into it at all. He would go into his room for a quick shower then return back to the office. Any accidental glances falling on his neatly made bed made him take a tempting step towards it only to turn for the door just as fast, like the very thought of sleeping in some semblance of comfort disgusted him. His body begged for overdue rest but he refused it time and time again. It wasn't the time to rest. Not until he found you or at the very least heard of your whereabouts, but so far he had nothing. No leads, no tracks to follow up on. Absolutely fucking nothing.

He's been up even at night searching for any word of you, the rest of the missing artillery, accidental sightings of your parents. It was all a never-ending circle of things to search for that never ceased from piling up on his desk or in his head, and he came to understand there was a second thing he hated the most in the world, beside people fretting over him. His office. This room held him mostly at his worst and he was sick of it. So sick he just jumped out of his seat with a long sigh, setting out on a walk.

Anywhere but here will do, he thought, pushing the doors behind him closed in hopes everything else that's been storming up his nerves for the past week would remain inside those doors if he shut them tight enough.

The sun brimmed bright down the hallway. A small breeze found her way inside through the open curtain, whistling it open like the veil on the prow of a boat. Light warmth drenched the air of midday, notes of the first blooms of camellias hanging sweet on the breeze.

December turned to January in the past week but the weather was so bright and pleasingly warm it was hard to tell the cold season was even present at all. As if winter skipped it's turn and let spring take it away just for this once. The ice still hugged the roads stubbornly in the crisp of morning and the scent of snow hung deeper in the night air, but no snow fell from the sky. Not even on a sudden hailing or with the gust of a storm.

That first fall of snow refused to come. He was sort of thankful for its delay. Not that it would hinder his plans or anything. His reason for it... was stupid really. He didn't want to catch the first snowfall without you.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew the meaning behind catching the first fall of snow with someone, especially if you had feelings for them. But above that foolish meaning, he knew how much you would have loved to see it.

That lone, brief thought of you basking in the white glow of a snowflake flurry brought his steps right in front of your room. Busy putting all his manpower in motion to find you, he was mostly cooped up in that office he dreaded so much. That and he couldn't find it in him to go inside your room and not see you there, either stitching up something or being cooped up in your bed with Koru with a soft smile on your face. Thinking of the feline, he realised that even she disappeared without a trace, somewhere in the depths of the mansion, probably looking for you.

His hand reached out for the door handle on a whim only to stop midair.

She's not in there, his mind echoed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his hand fell flat on the wooden door, and he let out a shaky breath. Even if you weren't in there, so many things of yours were. Pushing open the double doors, he took a wary step in your room to convince himself of the emptiness in the space.

One look around and the eerie silence got drowned in a deep chuckle.

Everything was a mess. Just the way you liked it. Pieces of cut up and unrolled material were still strewn over the work station you made for yourself in the corner, some falling over the chair like you were still working on stuff. Clothes were thrown every which way on hangers falling from the sides of your wardrobe and laying in front of it on the floor. He couldn't even tell where the laundry began and where it ended.

A chilly gust of wind blew in prompting him to turn for the window. It was cracked open. It didn't pass through his mind to check it before. You probably left it open to change the stuffy air in the room until you were out on mission. Moving to close it, he noticed the wooden pane was ajar, just a crack wide enough to lay your bedding out for some fresh air.

That's when it hit him harder - this was so domestic. Laying your bedding out. Cooking in the kitchen. Even simply just walking the hallways in a worn out shirt of yours. Like you've always lived here and this was the daily custom for as long as ever.

He grabbed your bedding, dusting it off the leaves and twigs that blew in from outside before he pulled the dirty covers off, throwing them in the corner for laundry, changing them for new ones. Then he folded them neatly, patting them down, moving to place them on your bed when he paused. On top of the white sheet lay a book he hasn't seen in a long time. Placing your bedding down in a corner, he leaned over and reached for it.

Wuthering Heights? his eyes widened at the title. Wasn't this in the library?

He turned it over on the side, surprised to see loads of paper edges hanging messily, stacked inside between the pages. Your writing peaked out on the sides of a few. He debated on whether he should open it and read some of them or not. It seemed almost too personal to even be holding it as if his hands would taint it and deem it unreadable for you.

Unbeknownst to anyone, he was an avid reader. He read all of the books in his library four, if not even five times. At times to just pass the time, to do research, to learn more about people and what drove them, maybe even to catch some surprising truths about himself. But out of his whole collection, this book was the hardest read he's ever come across. And he's read heavy shit like political thrillers and war tactic books. But this one, as poetic and straightforward of a novel it was, it remained a mystery to him and no matter how many times he's read it, tried to dissect it and understand it, he never could. This book was one of the biggest enigmas he couldn't solve.

In the end, curiosity got the best of him. He sat down on the edge of your bed and opened the book, flipping through it until he landed on the page where the last paper note hung loosely, nearly slipping out. Even the writing on it looked rushed, possibly written in a haste. It was near the middle and it looked like the last annotated note in the book.

She never got to finish it.

That thought alone angered him. Then he started reading the page and his mood instantly turned from sour to amusing.

The last quote underlined was Heathcliff's, mid-rage match with Catherine. The corner of his mouth upturned at the familiarity of the scene, happening between the two of you for the entirety of the previous week. Constant back and forth, making each other try to fall for one another but failing miserably to communicate like normal human beings. Taking a step forward with you only to fall three more behind.

His eyes fell on the quote above the note that was stuck in the middle of the spread.

"I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

The quote was highlighted angrily, black pencil running all around the quote like it swallowed it whole, a total contrast to the other pages his fingers skimmed across. His eyes fell on the note below it and his breath caught in his throat, pulse thudding in his ears like a drum.

I broke your heart? You broke it first. You played with me the way you wanted. You chased me down like I was an animal to be hunted. You're no better than them. The government, the Triads, Battosai. Name the devils we've been battling for so long and they're all just like you. But you're worse. Because as much as I want to hate you and wish you hell worse than the one you've been living in, for everything you did and said to me, for lying to me... I can't bring myself to do that. My heart doesn't let me. It beats for you and only you and I can't drown that annoying rhythm out of my head every time I see you. It just gets louder when you look at me with so many emotions I can't understand. When you hold my hand so gently before every mission. When you take care of me even after I push you away. When you're being you. Good or evil, selfish or caring, angering me to the world's end or catching my world when it comes crashing down. She's addicted to you wholly. To every part of you. I can't even wish for that beating to cease, even if at times I wanted it to with my whole being, because I know it would hurt you. And I can't bear seeing you in any kind of pain. That is how you broke my heart. But do you know what the funny thing is? That you're what I've been running from my entire life. You're everything I loathe the most in the world. And yet, despite all this, you're all I want at the same time. This... is how I broke mine.

A shaky breath he's been holding in since he read the very first word finally left him. All he could feel was pain. Pain unlike any other he's ever experienced, flooding his heart like a poison arrow that just about missed the most vital point but embedded deep enough to spread its venom like burning embers kindled to burn inside of his chest.

That note was something he was never meant to find. Addressed to him, through and through, but not to be discovered like this, in a book he couldn't understand. Because now, as his eyes darted over the words again and again at breakneck speed, he felt guilty. Guiltier than the weight of all the people he's ever sent to the afterlife with the edge of his blade could ever make him feel. This was a different type of guilt - the kind that made him feel like he was suffocating upon breathing just fine.

Having absorbed the words like a second skin, the note fell from his hand, falling right on the pages he found it stuck between. At once, he shut the book closed.

He's never looked at it in this way but having read what you've left for secret keepsake, what should've never ended up in his hands, he was nothing less than scared. That gut-wrenching fear that leapt at him whenever Tomoe decided to haunt him and laugh in his face at his idiocy, now unleashed at just the mere thought of you, way stronger and crippling than he's ever felt it course through him.

Feeling like he was intruding way too much, he placed the book back on your bed like simply touching it seared the skin of his palms. He checked the bedding once more and turned for the door. Then he paused.

Turning back to the scope of your room he glanced at it again. Contrary to the joke his mind played on him before he entered, you were here.

In every corner of the room where a part of you lingered like you just touched it. Not just in the room but even outside of it, as far as the rest of the mansion spread. In every tile of the kitchen where your feet padded tirelessly to cook up some new recipe you heard Wu talk about. In the hallways, floorboards creaking under your feet as you gazed at that favorite painting of yours that started becoming his favorite too. In his office, where you fell asleep more comfortably and cozily than in the warmth and comfort of your own bed. Outside in the garden, where you trained restlessly or down in the armory where you spent time studying weapons and learning more about them. Even in his room where he tricked you into using his shower, his mirror, his towels, his clothes, his bed.

You were everywhere.

And he realized there was one more spot you edged your way in, way before you even stepped foot on the premises of this house. A place that was so full of life despite him thinking it was as dead as the crunched leaves on the ground.

A place that beat wild, calm, out of control, ragged, steady, rumbled, bled.

A place that was so full of you he could never get you out unless he gave himself over to the hands of death like it would take him if he had a different reason this time around. But even then, when he stopped breathing and his blood ran cold, you would still be in there, keeping the walls of it together.

All his life, he's built his inner defences map by map, wreathing sharp blades around his heart like the ones on the walls in the office, in the shape of a crown that could somehow guard the last piece of humanity he had left after Tomoe died. He fought with his all to protect it, turned against anyone who tried to get too close, marred everyone he didn't want to lose before he got too attached. He did all this only for all those defences to uncover one by one and fall down at your feet the minute you stepped into his life.

You came in like a storm unlike the ones already on his shore, rumbling wild with promise of disaster, reaching out through cracks he didn't even realise were left wide open. He was so wrong about you being a tempest that would stop at nothing to destroy him. You did the complete opposite of it, saving that piece of him rather than killing it when he gave you every reason to because there, in your kind and gentle hands that have seen so much evil but did so much more good in return, that locked up humanity of his was set free. In the palm of your hands, he felt alive again.

Because his heart was yours. Every little part of it.

And he hated that it wasn't his own heart that broke that night instead of yours.

Thank you for reading :)

[pauking5]

back to working on stuff again, for good i dearly hope 🏎️

[pauking5]

Runaway Chapter 5

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, sports rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, fluff, some spice. TW: nosebleed, alcohol, light violence

Word count: 52.5k+

A/N: Apologies are in order for going mia. Had a little break away from all things technology over the summer, including my laptop, trying to get my wheels in some kind of rest mode and find my inspiration again. Going home brought some of it back, so gear up for feels, dreams and the next few chapters cause they are a lot (and my absolute faves in this series). I'll shut up now since I know you missed these two as much as I have. This one's a packed ride, figuratively and literally, and I loved writing it so much. Hope I delivered. Enjoy the mess, lovelies.

Raiko's Playlist: Hotel Room Service - Pitbull |CRUSH - Katy Perry | Hit My Heart - Benassi Bros., Dhany | Silence - Delerium, Tiesto, Sarah McLachlan | Cherry Blossom - Empire Of The Sun | What The Hell - Avril Lavigne | Focus - Ariana Grande | Man On The Run - Dash Berlin, Cerf, Mitiska, Jaren | Good Life - G-Eazy, Kehlani | 2U - David Guetta, Justin Bieber | Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande | Poison - Rita Ora | Slow Motion - Trey Songz | Run Away With Me - Carly Rae Jepsen | CONTIGO - KAROL G, Tiesto | Destination Calabria - Alex Gaudino, Crystal Walters | Let Me Think About It - Ida Corr, Fedde Le Grand | Every Single Day - Benassi Bros., Dhany | Believe - Cher | Chemistry - Velvet | Release Me - Agnes | Super Bass - Nicki Minaj | Eyes Off You - Pretty Much

Previous

Fuji Highland Masters Day 1 - Friday

The rest of your free week leading up to the rally weekend rolled by as discreet as the brush of the wind moving past your shoulder. Besides the endless training and testing, things have been something sort of interesting since that day. If by interesting you could describe activities nothing short of paranormal. All attributed to a certain dark haired player's spirit, cursed and vengeful, following you around like a ghost of reason out for your sanity. Nonstop.

For starters, Naozumi did come back for his car. When it was most convenient for him - in the middle of the week as the team garage brimmed full with Suruki Racing engineers, all hands on deck for the final tuning set-up before Fuji. The most difficult round of the cup. But why of course, he must've thought it way more important to disturb the work flow of serious people. He called you out of the blue saying he happened to be in the area, said area being the farthest suburbia from Tokyo's town center in the middle of prime time 5 pm traffic, and that he would soon come to collect his most prized possession. Though you thought that was his pride, but alas.

A little over an hour from that call, he waltzed in like he owned the place, shooting playful smirks at everything that moved in the packed garage space, specifically targeting the few female mechanics on the team busy working on the new chassis axels. They swooned over the way his custom blue leather jacket hugged his pumped up biceps, that by all means necessary he had to take off and flaunt the muscles in his extra short sleeve tee; his slicked back hair, spiky at the ends and lathered in a ton of gel that probably left the city without a hair gel supply; and how good the brown aviator shades suited him as they covered his precious eyes away from the eyes of the peasants. Still above everyone else, low and behold equal to no one. Several team polos popped a few buttons down for him as he walked around, lowering his shades down enough to wink at some of them and pocket a few post it notes with numbers and names hastily written down. Booty calls to add to his collection. All of that while you hid in a faraway corner hoping he would just spontaneously combust out of there with his car altogether.

You weren't looking forward to hitting sights again after the last time you saw him. But you were unfortunately called over to show him the way, since he specifically asked for you. Something told you he would always seek payback and irritation out of you so by all means, you had to comply. Sparing you a few playful remarks about your co-workers, that went completely ignored for the sake of your already crumbling sanity, you very politely showed him to his car at the back of the paint shop and shut his door tight as soon as he got inside, signing him to beat it before this incident too became the gossip of press in ways it shouldn't. All he gave you was a mumbled 'Thanks' as he revved his blue monster out of your garage, leaving tire marks on the new light grey flooring. One thing to bill his ass for in the near future.

Moving a little forward to the past few days, insanely weird things started happening. Weird in the sense of freaky shit that thriller movie plots were built upon. You saw Naozumi's face and heard that last conversation the day he brought his car to the garage over and over again, everywhere, like a broken record bleeding your ears dry.

It all started at the gym during one of your training days. Your arms were pushing double your weight while Tanaka spotted your back. Very ironically, that annoying conversation popped up as your muscles tried their hardest to support the weight above you. As if he was right in your trainer's place beside your head, directly saying them to you again, drowning Tanaka's counts out into those wretched, stupid words.

"Come on, a few more and we're done for the day. Twenty, twenty-one...," Tanaka spoke, counting your lifts. His voice faded into that deeper, whiskey-loving voice, throwing off your focus. "Twenty-two, twenty-three."

"One more for a distraction."

You ignored that honeyed voice speaking of sin, pushing the weights above your head with all your might.

"Another one considering you are something interesting to me."

I don't hear him, you blew a breath preparing to lift again. He's not here. He's not real. It's all in my head. My head is fucked up and it's an issue but he's not here. He's imaginary. I cooked him up.

"A third one for being a curiosity," he chuckled amusedly, the deep rumbles of his voice echoing in your mind. "My curiosity."

"SHUT UP!" you yelled, pushing the weights up in anger one last time before letting go of them behind you.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" screamed Tanaka.

Your chest rose with quick breaths, angry and violated by a fucking voice, while your training partner yelled bloody murder. Looking over to your side, you were confused as to why he was crouched on the floor, taking rapid breaths with tears running down his face. Eyes falling on the weight bar you just lifted, currently sitting with one half on the floor then the other, half-supported by its holder, you made the connection instantly. The weight bar you lifted and pushed away in imaginary fury landed on Tanaka's hand and his fingers getting caught underneath the bar holder he was leaning on. Strangled mewls escaped him as his hand turned purple and swelled bigger and bigger with each passing moment. You drove him to the hospital immediately where they iced his hand out until it deflated back to a normal size. Well, a usable size. More or less. It still looked like one of those twisty balloons you see at kids parties, just without the squeaky sounds. Your apologetic smile didn't help his swollen limb at all. And as punishment for your unprofessional behavior, and your laughter as he yelled profanities at his hand, he left you training alone for the rest of the week to recover.

Bad, very bad move. You had no way of knowing how sick and twisted this simple punishment could end up being because the horrors didn't stop there. No, no, no. Nope. Now that you were alone, with no one else to drown your rabid thoughts out, Naozumi appeared even more frequently to you, trying to drive you insane by all means possible.

He was there in spirit as you went on your usual runs up the hills circling the city. You were trying to build your stamina and clear your head. Get some fresh air in. But strangely, each stranger you passed by had jet black hair and his particular muscular build. After you ran past three people, all males, gawking at them, trying to understand if the universe was playing a sick joke on you and you were seeing things, the fourth one turned to you quite furiously with not so nice words at your address, prompting you to abandon the jog and bolt back down to your car. You haven't gone jogging since. But Tanaka didn't need to know that.

He even lingered on your occasional people watching sessions downtown. Walking through Shibuya, looking to get lost in the neon lights, you swore you heard his voice crystal clear in the tumultuous chatter of hundreds of people passing you by on the pedestrian crossings. Feet stuck to the ground, your head whipped side to side like you were chasing the whispers of a ghost out for vengeance with your last few neurons. You found no sight of him at all, but his voice remained a frequent visitor.

The worst one of them all must have been the time he popped up while you were just grocery shopping. That one was a scare pulled out of a horror movie. Shopping for your mother's cooking day, the holy Thursday before the rally weekend, you scoured your list for the remaining items seeing only the milk was left unchecked. You made your way to the cold aisles, searching through the iced foods and meat until you reached the dairy products. Opening the fridge door to pull out a bottle of milk, you closed it firmly only to jump in fright at an imaginary reflection of Naozumi, clear as the fucking day on the glazed fridge glass.

Thankfully, the store was pretty much empty so no one witnessed your high-pitched yelp as you dropped your basket, getting ready to fight a fridge door in the dairy aisle in broad daylight. You blinked in shock multiple times at the image staring right down at you, standing just a few inches away, unable to get it to leave you the fuck alone. One breath away from you, the memory of that day at the garage that gave you brain damage apparently replayed to you once more, against your wishes for it to stop. But there he was again, his face slowly leaning in, lips quirked in amusement at how easily he could toy with you by simply whispering those two damned words with such endearing playfulness, willing you to confront him about it if you had it in you. And all you could do was let him say them, as many times as it took for your fucked up subconscious to process them and get over it before you considered exorcism. Hoping he would stop playing mind games with you, giving those words over to oblivion and praying they would just stop appearing to you. But they never did. Asleep, awake, eating, drinking, training, showering, breathing, just existing, they were always there. Always a reminder that he stirred something deep within you that refused to forget about it.

"A curiosity."

"THAT'S IT. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD DEMON!" you yelled, forehead crashing with the bark of a tree. "I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET LEARNING HOW TO PEE BEFORE I TAKE YOUR DICK OFF WITH A WHEEL-"

"JESUS CHRIST," yelled someone in shock right behind you.

You turned around and jumped with a scream, just as scared of Akira's presence as was he of your sudden explosion of loud muffled yelling, directed at the poor tree beside you. Confused eyes darted between your distressed racing suit and the bewildered look on your face, as if you've seen a ghost or something.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh, yeah," you say, cleaning yourself up a little, hands rushing to dust off random parts of your suit. "I am, yeah. Good. I'm good. How-" your voice cracked. Clearing your throat a little you gave it another try, hoping to sound more sure of yourself. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Enough to see you head bang the tree," he chuckled, a small rebellious strand of hair falling with the movement to shade his eyes. More of them followed it from under the sunglasses holding his hair back like a make-shift headband.

Looking back at the tree, you noticed your hands were still holding on tight to it. Your nails dug into its sides through the rough cracks in the bark really painfully. If it wasn't a tree, that grip alone was enough to leave indents for ugly scars in someone's skin. Now, you may or may not have imagined that was Naozumi in need of a beating. God knows, maybe some kind of violence would get rid of that annoying smirk of his and those incredibly irritating brown eyes sparkling like shiny diamonds in the sun speaking of tease or whatever. He should consider himself lucky you didn't see him yet or this poor tree could've been him.

From Akira's stand, he caught you having a bit of a moment. Dirt from the tree covered your hands from the tip of your nail to the bend of your wrist, littered in patches of sandy brown as if you went camping. Your hair fell over your face in a mess of tangled locks and cherry blossom petals knotted in between, belonging to the branches above following your little scuffle with the tree. But even with all that mess, he still thought there was not a more beautiful sight to behold beyond you.

"Is this some kind of pre-race ritual?" he asked, taking a step in your direction.

"No? No. Yes? Yes," you said more confidently. "I... was..." you trailed off looking for a good reason why you might be engaging in banging your head into a tree for a recreational activity.

"You were?" he pressed on with a knowing smile, moving to close the distance to you. Your eyes fleeted up to his and you completely gagged on what to say. He stood so close that you thought he could hear your breathing go haywire if he took just one more step closer. One too close.

Think quick, you chewed on your lip. Say something smart for once.

"I was..." His eyes darted down to your lips for the briefest second before going back to your eyes. "Doing some... quick step resistance checks," you laughed nervously, embarrassed as hell on the inside. "Just in case I happened to run into a tree mid-race or something. God forbid I do, but it's good to have a back-up plan just in case."

Quick step resistance checks? HE'S NOT THAT DUMB-

Before you turned around and ran into the rally course like a feral squirrel with a death wish, a little tilt of his head to the side in thinking told you he seemed to buy your little white lies glazed over like sweet doughnuts. He looked at the tree at your side with utmost seriousness now, taking a step closer to place his own palm flat to the tree. His eyes darted up and down its whole length, examining how the slim, sturdy bark of a tree that could barely be a race hazard was of any help in your resistance checks.

"And do these resistance checks work?" he cocked a brow inquisitively, eyes falling back on you.

"They do," you nodded briskly, small leaves and petals falling away from your hair unbeknownst to you. "They're particularly important for improving the blood flow to your head and really healthy for testing how hard your head could smack against this hard bark and still survive a deadly crash..."

As you were talking nonsense about imaginary gimmicks, his hand reached above your head to pick something up. The rest of the words coming out of your mouth stopped somewhere over the lines of incoherent mumbles as his fingers lowered in front of your face. He was holding petals - light pink petals from the cherry blossom tree you were head banging a moment ago.

A brief oh escaped your lips at the sight of the soft flowers teared to pieces. Letting go of those, his hand reached up to get the rest of the petals nestled deep in your hair before your hand could race up and take care of it. His fingers sorted through your locks, picking them out one by one until he gave you the all clear. As soon as his hands left, your own rose up checking for other petals out of instinct, running your fingers through your whole hair, scalp and lengths, until you were sure all of them fell out and you looked more like a normal person rather than someone related to mother nature.

Stepping closer, he reached up above you again. Though this time, when you looked back at him his fingers held not just a petal but a small amber twig. From the tip to its end, it was filled with cherry blossom flowers, each little pink bloom happily facing a different direction as if in greeting of all the light surrounding it with warmth. Brushing your hair behind your ear, he placed the small branch atop of it, securing it with a loose lock of hair around it so it wouldn't fall.

"You can test the durability of your head without hurting the tree," he said, his fingers working to get the branch looking like it was part of your hair. He stepped back taking you in with a small smile. "Good luck out there."

One swift nod at you making his shades fall down to shelter his eyes from the sun and he left, smile widening along the curves of his mouth the farther away he got. Your cheeks bloomed as pink as the flowers beside your ear, feeling warmer than normal at the touch. Way too warm.

Why do I keep blushing around him? you wondered, slapping your cheeks together. Not like this is the first time a guy does something nice to woo me. Maybe it is, but I don't want it to boost his pride.

You slapped your cheeks multiple times as you tracked back to the team paddock. A few feet away from entering your pen, you just had to bump into the very devil that's been haunting your life for the past week shamelessly, strolling around freely without even knowing one single shred of the nightmares he's provoked. Smirking at you in his usual way of greeting once you were in sight, he then eyed you oddly, his eyes narrowed on your face.

"Did you have a practice run through the woods?" he asked, taking in your slightly messy state. Though that wasn't his main focus of tease, his attention fell more on the small branch of flowers covering your ear. The accessory looked so girly on you that it had him do a double take.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, wondering what was his problem now. He gestured to your ear wordlessly.

The cherry blossom branch, your eyes widened. I must look like a teenage girl that likes picnics on the field for lunch and picking wildflowers for her wooden basket. This is the shit people do when they have a crush or something.

Your fingers reached up to take the flowered branch off when he stopped you. His fingers brushed over yours right next to your ear. You were so set on taking it off that you didn't notice how close you stood to each other. All it took was one stumble and it was all sealed in a kiss that had no place to happen here, with him. Not with him.

"Don't." He blinked at you, hand pulling back from yours to fall back at his side, moving away to put that leveling distance between you again, just as fast as he closed it of his own initiative.

"It looks good on you."

You blinked back at him, taken aback.

Was that a compliment? Instead of a joke or a tease like on the usual? He was capable of saying nice things too? Or was it just a quick response already hotwired on speed dial when he saw a woman and flowers in the same combo? Clueless about his intentions, the gesture still made your cheeks flush more furiously than they already were.

Turning to pass by you, his boots stopped right beside yours. Lifting his eyes up to you once more, he eyed the flowered branch, no smirk, no cocky remark of his, then he was gone, leaving you completely and utterly confused with your feet stuck to the ground once again. All it took was a few words dropping out of his mouth and that loaded look of his, and your brain short circuited on the spot.

It looks good on me?

Man what the fuck-

"Welcome to Fuji Highland Masters, the fourth game in the Seiko Cup Rally Series!" spoke the main TV presenter for the live rally broadcast show. "I'm your host Ruki Hanoda, joined here in our studio by my amazing friend and colleague, our in-house expert and former racer turned engineer, Ken Nakamura!"

"Thank you, thank you! So good to finally be back here," sighed Nakamura. "It feels like time flew by since the last round."

"It has, hasn't it? We are getting closer and closer to the packed summer rounds. The race for the champion seat is catching speed now, and the potential winner should start rising forth within the next few rounds."

"While that's true, there are several changes to be announced soon that may or may not shift the course of the current Championship standings. I hear there is a surprise round on the way, very different in format from what we're used to seeing in rally, that's set to replace one of the rounds ahead since a course is pulling out of hosting the cup," comments Nakamura. "The federation hasn't let on too much about it yet, but sources confirmed they are preparing to make an official announcement very soon."

"Surprises aside, since we can't talk about that right now," laughed Hanoda, "let's talk about the drivers running up for big points in the Driver's Championship. There's a lot of young talent pooling in this series unlike ever before."

"There sure is," chuckled Nakamura. "The old dogs in YM Works and TOP RANK have reasons to watch their backs this season."

"You're an old dog now too," teased Hanoda with a snicker. "Who would you be looking out for?"

"First off, Akira Shinkai from Sigma Academy. After just one year with the team, he knows the car like the back of his hand. He proudly holds the second game victory back in the Shimanto Round. He's stood on the podium for three consecutive matches so far and is currently placed first in the point rankings. Motorsport media considers him a beacon of hope for rally and I mean, how can you not love this guy?"

The screen switched from the studio to show images of Akira walking over to the fans sandwiched on the safety barriers of his pen, all decked in the red and black team gear from head to toe. Signing their caps and taking pictures with some of them, he wore that bright smile on his face like the trophy was already in his hands. He aimed that killer smile at a girl at the front of the crowd and she completely froze when he added a wink to the combo. Stuck in her starstruck moment, the shirt she was holding out for him to sign fell over the safety barrier. Like the gentleman he is, he walked to her spot, kneeled and picked the shirt up, signing it before he handed it right back to her with a wider smile. She gasped in utter shock at the interaction, high fiving her friend at her side in joy.

"The ladies sure do love him," chuckled Hanoda. "Look on the screen. His pen is filled with Sigma Racing gear waiting to be signed. A real gem he is. But even so, the neighboring pen is just as full for his competition."

"Love him or hate him, all eyes are undoubtedly on Spica Racing's Naozumi Hiyama," says Nakamura, lips curling at the mention of rally's finest. "He's finally stepping up from the Australian Junior category to fight the big guns. He's quite the rally star to have your eyes on, having competed in almost all rally events in the country and a good handful outside of it. Known as the man who lives on dauntless courage, he's got charisma and that old thrill for speed you rarely find these days. One look at him and you'd agree he's racing in flesh and bones."

"One of our reporters is currently in the press area for a quick interview with him. Let's watch what he's got to say on the weekend so far."

The camera panned to Naozumi, fired up to answer reporters with that one business smirk right at home on his face. Head to toe, he looked like the epitome of racing and the cameras loved him. Even though he's had previous experiences with reporters that left a sour taste in his mouth for their kind, he's never declined their attention if it happened to benefit him. Anything if it meant no more negotiation nonsense with his publicists about talking to the press.

"How's it looking out there so far, Naozumi?" asked a female reporter.

"It was a splendid stage," he spoke, his eyes ever so lightly glancing at her. "But the car lacks a bit of power since the set-up is all new and it behaves differently to the other off-road courses we've been on so far. We hope to make up for the lost points and the limited time on the clock as we go along the stages with hopefully much more power."

"Even with this year's point rankings, you are behind Sigma Racing that have been the absolute champions over the last editions of the cup," she denotes, subtly referring to his previous race mishaps that amde him fall out of the cup before. "Do you have confidence that you can take over their spot this year?"

"Of course," he answered right away, flashing her one of his cocky smirks. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here fighting for the title."

Another reporter rushed in, pushing his mic over her before she could ask anything else. "But it definitely won't be easy to win since your opponent is Akira Shinkai," he shouted.

That one sentence was all it took to shatter the remainder of Naozumi's patience for the day, draining it below zero. Not that his levels were high before it but they were decent enough not to prowl away from the mass of cameras tha now blinked at him uncomfortably. By the looks of that smug grin and the bold glint in the reporter's eyes, he was one of those stingy tabloid journalists looking to throw him under the microscope and pick out the rotten from the good, much more busier berating him about his personal life choices rather than interviewing him about his driving.

"Shinkai doesn't drink or smoke, partying with celebrities all night long. And it seems like he even stays up late with his engineers to understand the car better, as do some of your other peers," the man adds, ignoring the warring tongue pushing through Naozumi's cheek impatiently. "Don't you think that the difference in your lifestyles in that sense is directly related to the difference of the current points?"

Naozumi simply looked at him like he's grown a head. If this wasn't belittling at its finest, courtesy of the media, he didn't know what else it could be. What this man implied was that his personal way of life came between him and his abilities as a driver. He prayed on the difference between someone who's been handed a seat at first glance and someone who's worked twice as hard for it. Just like the press to always chase the differences. They didn't care about the endless hours of training it took to become a good driver. The countless days spent trying to figure out a mid-field car and make it work like oiled all the time. They only cared about the best results, the growing fan counter, and most important of all about what happened when there were cameras present. Like now for instance. Always looking for an already burning flame to fuel, no matter who it belonged to.

While Naozumi's first instinct was to browse his inner book of smart replies, and get the fuck back in the car, the effort was a lost cause the minute the reporter opened his mouth once more. Just enough to willingly tip his whole canister of oil into a fire that was past the safety line already, catching speed in Naozumi's veins and heading his way with ire.

"There's also that fable," the reporter paused to recall, lips curling with goading. "The hare who thinks he's a genius and just played around for fun, but in the end the tortoise outsmarted him-"

Naozumi didn't let him finish that sentence. His hands wrapped around the front of the man's press vest in a split second, pulling him to eye level like he weighed nothing. He stared him down with an intensity that would make even a professional wrestler back down from a paid fight, daring him to wave his hand above the flames some more if he had it in him. The reporter paled at the slightly violent gesture, his hands falling on Naozumi's wrists with a trembling grip. He certainly did not expect the sudden shift in power, suddenly out of words or questions to ask or say at his address. Naozumi's eyes pushed him to say more, maybe the words would sound just as idiotic to him too. But the man clasped his lips shut like a fish.

"What kind of reporter are you?" growled Naozumi wild as a wolf, his eyes turning dark, piercing deep into the man's soul to see just where he found the audacity to be a natural piece of shit.

His publicist and other press officials rushed to try to get him to loosen his strong hold on the man. They couldn't make him lift a finger off his vest. That man woke pure fire rage and no one just backs up from that. Not Naozumi. The cameras moved quickly back to the studio before the audience witnessed a televised disaster, showing the commenters staring at the screen on the side with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Yeah, he's certainly a character. Moving away from these two experienced youngsters," Hanoda cleared his throat. "In terms of new and upcoming competition, what do we think of the unexpected revival of the season?" he asked, a smug smile tugging at his mouth.

"Suruki Racing coming back was probably not on anyone's calendar anywhere in the near future," spoke Nakamura, still bewildered at the news. "After an eight-year break, they're back and looking better than ever. They have the car, crafted in the home factory from scratch, running as smooth as a car that's seen dirt for way longer. They've also got a pretty solid team under the directive of the man, the legend, rally's original golden boy, Hiro Suruki."

"Aside from Hiro kickstarting his career again," spoke Hanoda, taking the words out of Nakamura's mouth, "the biggest surprise to me personally, was seeing the Robert Don Tanaka take a co-driver seat after being a personal trainer for top teams in the country for the past fifteen years. Rumor has it he refused a big gig for an overseas WRC team for a favor to his old friend. They've been buddies since their start in rally decades ago."

"Eh, let rumors be rumors," said Nakamura. "I'd refuse it too when they're doing so well in such a short amount of time. It's probably the most promising comeback we've seen so far in all my years in rally."

"They're in the points too, thanks to none other than super rookie Raiko Suruki," added Hanoda, chuckling at the play on words.

"A sight to see is this young lady," breathed Nakamura as if hit by some divinity. "She's freshly out of the homeland Junior WRC Series that earned her the spot in the cup and reigning champion of the Tokyo City Rally for the past three years. With her eight-year long karting career and the few cups she's entered and won just recently, she's got the driving resume that we used to dream of having back then. To top it all off, she's also the youngest female driver that's ever raced a Japanese rally series with her participation in the cup. Her passion for rally seems to be almost genetic."

"Now," Hanoda motioned his colleague to lean in, his voice dropping a little lower for secretive effect. "Since we're on gossip hour, another rumor has it she saved the team a horrendous loss on the Tokai Round, taking over a damaged oil filter like a professional mechanic. She did miss the first run of Day 3 but she finished on the scoreboard high enough to climb into the championship standings."

"All excellent things to hear from a competent driver that loves both the car and the game. But," Nakamura paused as your face came up on the screen, cameras zooming in on you talking with the engineers before gearing up to get in the car.

Noticing the camera crew enter the pen, you waved at them with an awkward smile before turning back to your own business. You seemed to be on top of the situation, looking over data as the mechanics explained more about the functions of the new set-up. Nakamura's comment fell through his open mouth into complete oblivion, so stolen by your charm that Hanoda had to tap his shoulder to get him to continue his point. He blinked a few times, rewiring his words back like a robot that suffered a slight malfunction.

"Does she have what it takes to complete the season?"

"That remains a mystery to unfold over the course of the cup. For one, I'm truly excited to see where she can take this brand new Suruki Racing. Hopefully not back to the scraps again," laughed Hanoda.

"Enough with the popularity chit chat. Let's get to the more practical stuff. How's the course looking?"

"Rough," breathed Nakamura with a heaviness only a racer would know. "On both the cars and their drivers. These teams have found themselves facing the fury of all rally courses, heavily seasoned into one round this early in the cup."

"That's right," agreed Hanoda with a tight-lipped smile. "It's a rough course of almost 200 kilometers in total, ranked pretty high on the difficulty scale. They will run for three days in eighteen special stages, spread across double tracks that they will attack twice across Day 1 and Day 2, and three individual separate tracks over Day 3."

"Not just that," interfered Nakamura, "but they'll be competing with their total times on a course like no other in the world. Fuji is like a snake crawling in the ground through rifted valleys, rising through the open hill mounds only to slither back down into the ground and up into the off-road terrain again. A mountain road with no curves and no breathers for the cars or the drivers at the helm. No wonder it's called 'The Rally of the Heavens' locally."

"Indeed," picked up his colleague. "This intense special features highlands of ups and downs that would scare off the average driver, having them take pauses at each scintillating turn to check for damages. But unlike the ordinary driver that lives with the fear of frequent service visits and car insurance brokers, these drivers have a bit of extra help in this round that might just prove crucial to completing the rally weekend with the car in one full piece."

A drone flew over the car paddock, giving the audience watching a bird's eye view of the park nestled atop of a hill. Since the course ran between outer hill slopes and rough terrain, the public had a better chance at seeing the action right from the screens placed around the paddock than being stationed along the course for single turns.

"The car paddock bustles with energy and they have all the reason to. This time around, changing the settings on the cars is totally permitted at any point between stages. The engineers can regulate the car set-ups after a stage, in case of pre-race mishaps, though they have a short limited time to do so since the stages are grouped quite close together."

"In this case, the team has to work quick and accurately to minimize the damage on the cars under the pressure of the clock," adds Hanoda. "Maintenance skills are necessary and team coordinating strength is the key to ruling the game."

"Raiko Suruki just started her second stage of the day," pointed out Nakamura. "Team Suruki's new set-up is looking good so far. The grip on the asphalt is top notch down the straights, much better than any other car running the course at the moment. But their new suspensions seem to have a bit of trouble adjusting to the serpentine hills of Fuji. If they want a chance at a higher placement on the scoreboard, they need to fix that issue and fast."

BANG.

You landed on the road with a trembling thud that shook the car and everything inside as you swerved down a rough hill portion. The car leaned left and right like a speed boat on high water, turning your driving messy and shaky. All your built up focus was lost from the first hazard in the race - a stupidly high jump. Trying to keep the brand new suspensions in check, with the car in a constant up and down tremor is not just difficult. It's hard as fuck. The control it takes just to keep your hands fixed to the wheel and the car on the road without skidding off into a field of wheat was something you and the team underestimated in testing. Big time. And it sure came back to bite you in the ass now.

"5 right long then another jump," paced Tanaka, thighs clamping the pace notebook as best as he could, hands holding tight onto his seatbelt.

And there I thought it would be a stroll through the hills, your nostrils flares, focusing on taking the next hill. This is the road to hell. All it's missing is some fucking flames on the side announcing your arrival to that horned dude.

"RAIKO!" wheezed Tanaka. "FUCK'S SAKE."

Taking the hill, you whizzed between the higher and lower gears and tapped the gas, accelerating on the slope up. A shrill of nausea lodged itself in your stomach as the car lifted into the air perfectly. But you hopped off the hill way too quickly with the gathered speed, smashing onto the straight dirt road with another forceful thud. Tanaka swallowed his upcoming pace notes in a choked gasp. That hop probably sent his lungs to near spontaneous combustion as it did to your already crunching stomach.

"Sorry!"

You scrambled out a quick apology before taking another tall crest rising from the ground with potholes on its upper slope that you couldn't avoid driving over. The car leaned left and right with the weight of a tank. Keeping to a higher speed as you took the jump, the suspensions pushed too hard on this landing, forcing the car to bounce up and down uncontrollably on the road, nearly swerving off it again.

"Last one. 6 right very long and a big jump."

Wide turn then another freaky jump. Awesome.

Corner already in sight, you pulled the brakes and pushed the acceleration, turning to let your rear in for a little drift. Rub a few seconds off your time. Once you were out of the turn and approaching the last jump, you slowed down to avoid a few potholes then pressed the gas flat out again before climbing the jaggy slope into the jump. Before you knew it, the wheels left the safety of ground.

You felt this one push deep down in your guts, pulse thudding muffled in your ears. The car went airborne below the big race banner stand, the ecstatic cheers of the crowd completely swallowing the mechanical tug of the clutch letting free. On your descent, you prayed to find some control at least on this landing. But all your prayers went silent as the rear lifted up into the air first and the car tipped forwards dangerously, the dusty ground becoming the only view in the windshield. Its nose hit the left side of the road hard before the back wheels could land, sending your heart pumping wild in your throat. A horrifying crunch followed as the side fenders and the front bumper scattered to flying bits and pieces before your very own eyes.

You'd be lying if you didn't think that was it for you. Where it would all end for good. But you had one more ace up your sleeve to play before the game was over.

Reacting quickly, your hands found the wheel and steered hard to the right. The leftover bumper crunched and the tires bit harshly into the road as you pushed the high speed gear back in to get the car running normally again. Scrapping a good part of your front off on the road and driving over it, the steering stopped the violent swerving of the car and you managed to get the car to stop. Slowing it down, you passed the marshals, completing the stage with a whole smoke cloud of dirt raising behind you. Among with pieces of your car left in a trail of broken parts.

Bringing the car in the pen, you parked it as fast as you could to let Tanaka out for some fresh air before he threw up in the car. His face was a mix of pale and green as he threw off his helmet, stumbling out to sit on the neat ground that wasn't moving up and down. Kate rushed to him with a bottle of water right away, patting his back softly. Pulling your helmet off as well you leaned back in your seat, taking a breather to settle your upset stomach and the rushing nausea crawling up your throat. Any longer and your stomach was going to start fist-bumping your lungs. Finishing up this stage alone was a challenge, switching so much between the gears that your organs most certainly switched places inside your body too. You weren't looking forward to driving that course again in the afternoon.

The scoreboard upfront updated to display your total track time over stage one and two combined. Your eyes rushed to it instantly ignoring the nausea.

9th place - Raiko Suruki - 4:55:32

We're not fast enough, you sighed, leaning your head back on the headrest with closed eyes. Middle of the bunch was not where you needed to be. Not after Tokai. If you wanted to keep that Top 5 spot in the Drivers' Championship, you had to give it way more. But considering that all that set the drivers apart in the first ten places was differences of tens of seconds, you had to pray for a miracle to get back on track and be faster than the current car set-up could take you.

The team gathered together around the hood when you got out, analyzing the damage on the bumper already getting replaced and browsing ideas on what to do to fix the system set-up so the car could take the aerodynamic forces better without you having to slow down and add to your track time. Sentaro and Akio argued heatedly about the height of the car while everyone else added one or two other issues into the deafening mix of angry yelling. Pulling your glove off with your teeth, you slapped it on the hood before putting two fingers in your mouth to whistle loud and clear. All shouting ceased with the noise, eyes from both your pen and outside of it now looking at you confused.

"Sorry. What do you think, Raiko?" asked Sentaro, rubbing his forehead distressed. He looked to be in dire need of a different opinion that didn't match his own or his mechanics team, all hellbent on taking the car apart again.

"Well, can I be honest?"

All heads nodded your way.

"The new suspensions don't work at all." A wave of sighs and huffs hit you as shoulders sagged downwards. "I don't know if it's the components or the entire inboard section. But they've been on the car for testing and two stages so far and they still refuse to break in when they receive the shocks from the jumps to soften the impacts."

"The new shocks are useless," sighed Sentaro, brushing away at the bags under his eyes.

A murmur of collective grunts of agreement resounded over the hood. The team tested those damn suspensions so much, calibrating the rods, the springs and the height to the point of exhaustion, but they're too rigid on the car to work properly, especially with the ridiculously high jumps on this stage alone.

"There were too many nosedives on this part of the course where I could feel the car lurch forward on the breaks. That and the stiff grip on the off-road parts feels like the car's running on boulders at barely the city speed limit," you added.

"It's too bouncy for me to give her the pace notes without busting a lung," piped in Tanaka, nursing some mineral water to get over the sickness your last run gave his insides. You patted his back in another silent apology that he waved off with a small reassuring smile, telling you not to worry about it.

"Can we get the other pack back on the car?" you asked.

The previous pack was changed before Tokai. The shocks mounted on those ones took the impacts as they should and the grip in the corners was way softer. The only disadvantage was that you would be slower and you'd fall in the middle of the scoreboard, losing some points. Not like you didn't lose enough of them today. What was a few more with a safety insurance this time around?

"We could, but they're used," said Sentaro, shaking his head, ruling out the possibility. "If they break off, you risk crashing at high speed. I don't really want to take that risk. Plus the fact that we don't have time to change the suspensions now. I can pull out the new suspensions and try to play around with the compression settings some more to balance them. But we don't have time for it until tonight."

Consider poor Tanaka in a fight with his guts for the rest of the day. There had to be some way to at least make the car run a bit firmer on the road without slowing down too much. Glancing up at the screen on the other side of the pen with the corner your bottom lip between your teeth, the service time gave them less than fifteen minutes until the third stage to make some kind of helpful change. Just then an idea popped up into your head that had the potential to work.

"What if we split them up later during the longer service break? We put the old ones on the front to take the first shock and the new ones on the back to absorb the impact. Would that work?" Sentaro tilted his head considering it. "We can work on the front springs to make them a tiny bit softer for the rest of the stages today so the front can have more flexibility to move."

"That I can do," he nodded. "Your idea is a good one that we can actually test today since you've got four more stages to get through until you're back to this one again. For now, I can dampen the compression to soften the landings a bit, but you'll have to take them with the new pack. It might just break them in better. But either way, we'll sort it out by tomorrow."

"Great," you smiled, feeling hopeful that you could save some time on the clock. "Also, the gear box has been acting funny since that nosedive earlier. Can you have a quick look at it?"

"Sure," said Sentaro, passing you a quick smile that barely curled his lips before heading off to his mobile desk. You knew that smile, the kind of pained encouragement that hung on the precipice of fatigue. He's been working overtime to make the car run smoothly and all his efforts seemed to crack with the pressure.

"Thanks," you quipped behind him more optimistic than you felt, trying to kick his spirits back up. He just sent you a thumbs up then got down to work.

"Why am I here when you're doing pretty well leading the team all by yourself?" spoke a voice from behind you.

Turning around to the driveway into the pen, you found your dad sitting on the side with his arms crossed waiting to be noticed by his very own team. You thought he was back in Tokyo taking care of recruiting more team members. Judging by his relaxed attire, much more at ease than his usual tailored arsenal made for corporative business, he's been out of the office for a good while. Nonetheless, you were happy he was finally here with the team, so you ran up to him for a quick side hug.

"Dad?!" You squeezed him tight but he squeezed you tighter making you break into a fit of giggles. "How come you're here? When did you even leave the city?"

"Well, I did a few interviews with potential factory workers to speed up manufacturing yesterday and some other boring administrative stuff. But duty hasn't called today yet. So I took a free day."

"Hope it doesn't call at all. You need some rest too," you looked up at him, rubbing his arm in sympathy. Those dark rims around his eyes were more prominent these days and his overall state of health was starting to worry you a little, though he kept telling you he was fine and never has been better.

"Rest is for the weak. How's the car doing?"

"She's alright," you smiled meekly, lightly scrunching your nose up.

That small nudge, as subtle as it was, is a gesture that didn't go unseen. He knew that little nose scrunch was a big flowy curtain hiding some kind of mess you didn't want him to know about.

"Something's wrong again, isn't it?" he blew a breath that made you frown.

He was so used to the old Suruki Racing and the horrors that never stopped coming, that his super dad-leader-driver tingle sensed issues as soon as they appeared with the new team. After Tokai, he's become more vigilant in the car checks, thing that has been stressing the engineer crew, especially Sentaro. Poor guy looked close to pulling a three week medical holiday on him every time he caught him stalking over to the team garage, and he had all the reason to with how fast the coming rounds will progress.

To balance things a bit between him and the team, you've been working with them day and night to test all the new components coming from the factory and help with installing stuff on the car to make their work and yours that much easier. Being there ended up being for your benefit after all, since you were able to feedback on issues in real time without waiting for testing days to say their word. Time effective and productive. That, and you've been able to ask Sentaro for tips regarding the set-up on your very own jewel, bonding over mechanic and technical stuff. He was quickly becoming your new favorite uncle, close to overtaking Tanaka's spot soon enough. So in true estranged niece nature, you covered for him anywhere you could, trying to get your dad off his back.

"It's nothing too major, just the new suspensions that haven't adjusted to the car yet. But they should be fine by tomorrow. We'll be losing some points today but nothing too bad that I can't catch up on."

"Better safe than sorry," he sighed, patting your shoulder. He looked like there was more he wanted to say, but one look from you telling him to cool it down had his mouth close right back up. "I'll go see what I can do over there before Sentaro blows a fuse that I'm here to breathe down his neck again."

"Okay, take it easy with him" you laughed. "And dad?"

He stopped, turning around all ears for you. You smiled wide at him yelling, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, lightning strike," he chuckled, smiling back wider.

The next two stages ran way better with the springs dampened and the height on the car adjusted lower, overcoming the force of the air flowing under the car way better. One of the tracks ran over an old asphalt road part of the main country lanes, going into long, low tunnels that dove deep through the bigger rocky hills. The other was a low trunk lane moving down up the rough cracks of a valley. Mostly made up of long straights and wide corners, these stages weren't as difficult as the ones you took in the morning, giving you a chance to catch up on your botched timings. By the beginning of the long break, you jumped up from ninth into seventh place. It still wasn't where you wanted to be, but two spots in such a short time following the early results of stage two was way better, changing race predictions for the whole day.

With the one hour long break in tow, it was time for extra work on the car. Most teams and their drivers went over to the food trucks to refill their stomachs, leaving the paddock almost empty. All except for your pen. Not one soul left the Suruki quarters. All hands were in position for work. The engineers went over data gathered over the four stages to make predictions on set-up changes for the leftover four. The other mechanics replaced damaged parts on the body of the car, doing an inventory of what they saw fit to stay some more and what needed immediate replacing. Plying away your racing suit for the more relaxed, loose team gear, you got your hands dirty too. Helping with the engine and oil checks. Filling up on coolant liquid and changing the air and pollen filter, clogged or filled up with dirt. Anything you could help with no matter the department it fell into.

Mid-break, while everyone was focused on their assigned tasks, the scent of food wafted in the pen all of a sudden, hitting your empty stomach like a freight train. Right when you were about to whine about who dared to break the sacred family fasting, your eyes rose from the hood to catch your father and Tanaka coming over with a ton of bags of food and drinks. The sight of food itself, all packed in foil was enough to make your stomach rumble bloody murder from inside, the team staff around you chuckling in amusement. Until their stomachs grumbled one by one and you were the one laughing.

From then on, everyone took a real break. Chucking tools back in their boxes, closing up the hood and their computers, you all walked over to the back of the paddock to camp on an open patch of green land. Tanaka even managed to get Kate out of her mobile office to enjoy some fresh air. As the hill mound curved downwards, it gave you a view of the rest of the evergreen hills around the area. The clouds covered some of the heat of the early afternoon, letting a pleasant breeze card through your hair, rustling it over your shoulders. There was something so filling about eating out in nature with the people you loved. As if the earth filled you with energy and took away your worries for a while. Playful chatter buzzed louder than the bees pollinating clumps of wildflowers. Laughter echoed around you making your heart full, much like a school trip with your colleagues would feel. It was moments like these when life stopped running, stopping her chase after time to just let it pass with the roll of the clouds. Allowing you to be in the moment. At ease.

A grunt came from your side as your father settled down beside you with two cans of sparkling soda. He opened one for you, then handed it over to you. You welcomed the sweet beverage with a smile.

"You know," he started, "I think I did one thing right in my life."

Your eyes ripped away from the scenery to settle on him. He had a look you haven't seen in ages on his face. Peace. Curious about the answer that brought him in this state, you asked, "Which is?"

"You."

"What is up with you and the compliments lately?" you giggled as you shoved your shoulder into his. "It's not like you."

"I'm just finally looking at life for what it is," he justifies, gazing down into the valley below, a million reveries floating through his eyes. "You've grown up so fast, like time just passed by in the blink of an eye and the little girl who used to run around me yelling curses at tires is now a full grown woman, still yelling curses but at a normal sized car."

"So did you," you chuckled, hitting the tip of your boot to the tip of his canopy trainers. "Though mom keeps telling me you're still as childish as ever."

"It's all lies," he shook his head denying the allegations.

You howled a laugh. "Sure it is."

"The factory headquarters called."

Of course they did, you huffed a breath. That meant he had to leave again. He was barely here for a few hours and he had to get ready and drive back on a Friday night of all times to take care of things at the firm. That sentence alone put the weight of this weekend closing in harder back up on your shoulders. As selfish as it felt, you wanted him to be here at least now and catch a race weekend from start to finish.

"Can't you just go on Monday morning?" you shrugged looking down at your soda. "It's almost the weekend."

"I wish I could, kiddo," he sighed. "But if I don't take care of it now, way more shit will pile up in the main office than I have braincells for. I won't stay too long," he tried to reassure you. "Last time I worked over the schedule, your mom drove over to run my ass back home herself," he laughed.

"Okay. You don't have to ask me for permission to go, you know," you say, playing around with the ends of the grass under your palm. "I've got things covered here."

"How the wheels have spun." You couldn't help but snort at his try at a known catchphrase. "My own daughter is sending me away," he chuckled shaking his head. "At least let me finish my can of soda. I haven't had one of these in years."

He sat with you some more, but he didn't say another word. He either felt the combo of dread and slight disappointment oozing off you or he had nothing else to say. But that silence weighed heavy on you. When he was done with his soda, he got up and walked around the team to pass his goodbyes before coming back behind you to crouch down and press his lips to the crown of your head. Your eyes fell shut relishing in the small token of affection that never failed to reassure you a little. Brushing away your hair, he held your chin to him demanding your full attention.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, be it mechanic or otherwise, you call me right away. My line's open all weekend, day or night, for you. No worry is too small. Okay?"

"Okay, okay," you laughed, tapping his wrist to let go before you got second hand embarassment. "Go get packed up if you don't want to catch the highway traffic."

"Be safe out there, firebolt."

"You too, dad. See you back home."

His hand swiped up your chin to boop your nose as you whined at the childish gesture. Then he walked off. Watching his back retreat away, you felt like the last ounce of peace for the weekend went away with him. The minute break was over, you were back in the car, running it over the last stages of the day, starting with the rough dirt roads again. The car behaved a little better in the jumps, still landing them like it wanted to fall to pieces at every turn. But there were no more nosedives where the car tipped forwards at full speed to give you a flash of your already shortened lifespan. Whizzing through the leftover doubles, you finished the day with a smile on your face. Sacrificing the break with the team was worth it in the end, gaining you an extra spot higher on the scoreboard. There was still a long way from sixth upwards, but it was better than being below the tenth mark.

The team pulled up service overnight. Some mechanics checked the parts stock for the next two days in the parked trailers. You stayed to help Sentaro replace bits and pieces on the suspensions, making the trade off between the old and the new ones, which has been a long process for the past couple of hours. The night already set in darker and darker around the paddock, lights flickering off in most team pens. In yours, a few bulbs lit up the work table beside the mobile team trailer.

"Can you pass me the shock rod?" asked Sentaro, his voice drifting somewhere in your subconscious. No response came from his right where you stationed yourself, so he called your name again, thinking you didn't hear him. "Raiko?"

Still no hand or shock rod in sight, he turned to see you half-asleep on the chair beside him, hand under your chin keeping you from toppling over. With a sigh, he put down his tools. A small shake to your shoulder had you straighten your back like you were just exercising your eyes closed. Definitely not sleeping on the job. You rubbed your eyes of the sleep sitting on your lids, almost ready to take you away to dreamland even in the uncomfortable position you were sitting in. Glancing up, you saw Sentaro looking down at you, a small smile peeking from under his twirly mustache.

"Go get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow."

"Are the suspensions done?"

"No, but-"

"Then I'm staying," you said determined, getting up from the chair to look in the mess of scattered tools and parts. "Is it the shock rods you asked for?"

He simply sighed, knowing you were as stubborn as your dad when it came to helping. From then on, you sat by his side watching as he handled the bits and pieces on the suspensions. Sight spinning blurry from the bright light above the work table, trying your best to stay awake. Not long after he placed the suspension down on the table, he took to cleaning up the area a little. The movement had you sober up and reach out for some tools too, putting them back in their designated places.

"Done?"

He nodded, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. "Yeah. I'll have the boys put them on the car in the morning."

"Amazing," you smiled tiredly, holding up your palm to him for a high-five. "Great work, Sentaro. I couldn't have done this without you."

"You too, kiddo," he smiled, high fiving you back. "You didn't have to, but you stayed with us, working day and night on this thing. Your dad should be proud of you."

I hope so, you sighed, the ghost of a smile on your lips. I really do.

Fuji Highland Masters Day 2 - Saturday

You woke up early to go for a run before the tracks opened and the public flooded the wilderness with their noise pollution. Exploring the wilderness around Fuji is something that's always been on your wish list. Doing it now, during the early April spring days as everything came back to life as the cold winter thawed over was bound to be a magical experience. One you wouldn't miss even for an extra wink of sleep.

Taking off from the hotel, you took a course out of the main town area, behind the chain of hotels running along the open village lanes. The loud noise of the city got drowned out by a small serene touch of wild. The clear air was already more refreshing to breathe in, tinged with a hint of an earthy scent from the damp soil still in the air as it rained the night before.

For a few miles, all you could see was timber two-story houses and smaller cabins, spacing themselves out between small, narrow neighbouring pathways. Until you broke out into a patch of forest completely untouched by the hands of the modern world. Green conifer trees decked in long pinecones, poplars with swirly roots climbing out of the earth, and old oak trees with outgrown branches touching the ground, stood tall on the sides of a rocky trail, shadowing over the outermost layer of the forest. They covered the sky almost entirely, letting small slivers of sunlight float through their crowns to dance on the petals of wild blue and pink hydrangea bushes growing beneath them. Butterflies flew around the rays of light tinted golden, birds chirping different songs and calling out to the rest of the forest, turning the mood almost fairy-like. The temperature dropped gradually at the foot of the woods, small shivers running up and down your spine at the rush of coldness around you.

Soon enough, you exited the woods and your path lit up completely with the warmth of the early morning sun. The warm rays touched your exposed shoulder timidly at first, then ran across your face with more friendly heat, warming you right up. But it's the landscape ahead that really put a smile of adoration on your face. There was only lively green and wildlife wherever your head turned, rushing up and down the steep hills to meet the deep blue sky in the middle. The white peak of Mount Fuji rose up behind the hill in front, its rocky side completely drenched in the misty fog of the blue sky. The snowy top of the mountain appeared as a floating cloud that no wind could ever blow, be it a harsh winter gust icing up its snow trails or a hot summer breeze trying its hardest to melt it.

The sandy wheat fields growing from the edge of the dirt road turned to vivid green tea fields and rows upon rows of colorful flowers the further your eyes roamed, stretching all the way over the slopes riding upwards on the low hills like the open petals of a flower you were in the center of. From freshly budded spiky lavender to wild irises at the side of the road and a multitude of imported tulips, there were countless species of flowers in full bloom all around the place. At the edge of the road. Beneath the fields. Everywhere. Tree lines of cherry and plum blossoms grew on top of every hill, their branches stretching up to the sky, cheerfully announcing the true coming of spring. There was even a Naozumi tying up his shoelaces-

Wait a second. Naozumi? you slowed down, glancing behind to see it was really him, crouching down on the side of the road to tie his shoelaces. What is he doing here, all the way in the middle of nowhere this early?

Though you jogged past him, it didn't take him too long to clock you and run after you, settling in beside you on a slower jog. From your peripheral, you caught a tug of a relaxed smile lounging across his lips.

"Good morning," he uttered, sounding rather pleased to see you.

Wishing to keep your run peaceful, and solo, you narrowed your eyes at him before muttering back a quick, "Good morning."

Hoping he would go his own way and leave you to it was poor hoping from the start. From the moment you replied back to his greeting, he was glued to your hip like a Siamese cat. You ran together like that for a while, side by side on the same medium rhythm. He didn't say a word and neither did you. He simply glanced at you from the corner of his eye from time to time, as did you, and you both left it at that to contain the peace of the scenery more than trying to question the heavy silence hanging between you. Because that silence existed and it was one blocking boulder you'd rather not move.

The slow run part was peaceful. Up until a point where you couldn't focus on the beautiful scenes around you at all, struggling to keep your attention on the road and away from him. If you dropped a glance his way that happened to be even a second too long, you knew that your brain would start making up imaginary scary movies again and you needed none of those at the moment.

I don't see him. He's not here. Nope. I am here to admire nature, not natural jerks.

Nature. Butterflies. Grass.

I should touch some grass.

Nature, you gazed at the open tulip fields with a smile.

Butterflies, you watched as a couple of them flew around the irises on the road sitting on the flower's purple petals.

Grass. No grass on your right, but there was a whole lot of grass on your left where he was- No, no, no. Keep your focus on the nature, Raiko. Come on.

The thing with focus however, was that your attention span was cut short instantly the millisecond muscles were involved in the already scenic picture. Taut, bunchy, hard muscles. Naozumi accelerated a little, drawing in front of you by a few steps, just enough to give you a glimpse of his bare arms and the really tight grey tank top hugging his chest better than one of those wretched compression shirts could, pressing onto his hard rock abs and chest like a toaster on a slice of bread. Consider your focus all gone to shit from that moment onwards.

His arms flexed as he ran, extending taut and sinew, with all those soft veins popping up, running from the round bend of his shoulder to wrap around the inside of his bicep. Entire strokes of them rippled down the length of his bulky inner forearms, the cannons, cascading in cyan blue waves all the way down to his wrist and around his tightened fist. But those weren't the muscles calling to you. The muscles that your mouth ran dry after, watching as they contracted and moved side to side with his synced steps, were unfortunately stuck to his broad chest and his strong tall shoulders, rounding and running all the way down to his lower back and hips like hill crests your hands inched to ride over.

Worse yet, that damn top turned to a mere cloth collecting the ripples of sweat drenching his entire torso, front and back side. So you looked. Shamelessly. But when you remembered to blink and looked away you realized the big mistake you made.

Like a firecracker being set aflame, the very thoughts you tried to break away from by going on a run flooded in like a wild typhoon, reminding you of your last encounters with him and how much his cocky, know-it-all, professional playboy behaviour pissed you off. With that alone, your rage counter spiked up high to the point his current presence started to piss you off in real time.

"Can I help you?"

The anger in your step made your voice cut through your heavy breaths with a hint of annoyance you dearly hoped reached him and made him feel how unrequested his company is.

"Hmm, nope," he replied.

As soon as that left his mouth, his existence sucked out all the joy brought by the splashes of color around you entirely. All the energy you absorbed from it was gone in all but a puff of dust with that disinterested nope, just like that.

Enough is enough.

Since he didn't understand the concept of personal space, you had to make him understand. Determined to lose him, you sped up ahead of him thinking he would at least comprehend basic etiquette of a solitary jog and fall aside. The plan was good. You just forgot he had no semblance of manner or apprehension of putting distance between you when he happened to be in that teasing mood of his.

You got two steps away before he sped up too, dashing fast to reach up to you again. Fury bubbling beneath your foot soles, you took another bolt ahead. He followed suit in it with barely a pep in his step. Your mouth fell open on a dry scoff. That sprint alone got on your nerves, activating your competitive side. If he thought you were fast in driving, he surely didn't see you run.

I did track in high school, bitch.

Gearing up your already burning calves with a run on the spot that had him eye you oddly, you sprinted forth faster than you've ever ran trying to lose him. Rocks flew from under your quick steps, your nostrils flaring to control your air intake as you took all the corners you could find off the main road, bolting like the locals were on your tail with burning pitchforks. You ran and ran, the only thought in your head to get as far away from him as possible. Charging rapidly until you left the main paved lane behind completely, not once looking back to see if he followed. At one point you tired out and stopped to take a breath. Your head whipped left and right, unable to hear his steps behind or his heavy breathing beyond yours. A victorious smile broke on your face. You did lose him. You secretly wished some ancient forest entity snatched him up on the way as food or something.

But Naozumi doesn't give up from pestering someone that easily. Not when his target arrow was now pointing at you most of the time like your patience was some damn trophy he had to have in his collection. So, for once, he used his brain for a smart decoy, taking a shortcut through the mini side roads to get back to you.

Passing a small tree line as you resumed your chill jogging rhythm, he suddenly bolted up from the left falling in right beside you, scaring the crap out of you while sporting that irritating smirk of his. You took that as a fucking challenge to your already dying patience.

Gearing up your leftover energy for one more sprint, you pushed yourself to the brink of your powers on the straight road, getting several meters ahead of him again. By this point, you ran way more than your legs could take you, lungs burning the more you pushed them.

Please god, tell me I lost him this time or I'll shove flowers down his throat and make sure they grow roots.

You were so close to freedom. You had it right in the palm of your hand. Just when you came up far in front of him, he overtook you in a bolder sprint, smiling like a maniac. His head turned back to you as he was running, his prepared victory shout just on the tip of his tongue.

"I win-"

Famous last words.

He started celebrating way too early - loser's curse. As soon as that celebration shout came out of his mouth, his foot slipped on the gravel at the side of the road and he barreled down the small slope of earthy eeeds, landing on his back into the opening of a flower field. You ran up to him coming to a halt right on the edge at the top of the slope, looking down to see him nestled among clumps of small blue flowers. He blew out one from his mouth. Some of them were in his hair, others stuck to him like fresh oil paint on a canvas, all smudged on his clothes.

Sitting up with a grunt, he looked as graceful as a kid running his brand new bike through the nearest rough terrain he could find - clumsy and sort of friendly with the world around him. Definitely not as menacing as the guy that wanted to punch a reporter for throwing a fable at him in hopes of humbling him a little just yesterday.

He lifted a hand to you, wordlessly asking for your help to tow him out. You stared at his hand with a raised eyebrow.

Frankly, you debated leaving him there. A little payback for his taunting so early and disturbing your peace on the daily. Such acts shouldn't go unpunished. But karma made sure she had your back when needed, one exhibit of her almighty power already staring at you with a glint of apology in his eyes. An apology he was too proud to utter. But then again, even a small twinge of regret goes a long way with someone like him. Small progress.

Your hand extended down to him as you knelt down to reach him. You might be vengeful but when it came to helping someone that instinct grabbed you way before any shred of hate ever could. And your parents didn't raise a self-righteous animal for a daughter.

Drawing as close to the edge as you could without slipping, you lowered your arm as close to his as you could. He grabbed a hold of your hand, fingers wrapping securely around your smaller palm. Eyes meeting his in the briefest glance, you caught that loop sided smirk of his and by all instincts going in alert you should've seen it coming - the betrayal. Taking notice of his plan way too late, you tugged him up using all the force you had in you only for him to catch your forearm and draw backwards, pulling you down with him this time.

Judging by his breathy 'Oh fuck', he probably didn't expect you to roll down the slope and fall on top of him with a hard thump. The air got knocked out of you for a moment that he took to chuckle like a moron. For a second you wondered what would've happened if he just choked on that damn flower. Once you could breathe normally, as if your lungs didn't nearly spontaneously combust after a deadly race for life and freedom, and a fall that left your joints ache, you lifted your head from his chest and shot him a deadly glare that clamped his amused lips shut tight.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" you coughed, moving to get up.

Placing your hands on the side, your palms slipped over the wet destroyed flowers, sending you falling right back into his arms, knocking your head in his jaw. You were sure he felt that one more than your head did. He deserved it after all.

Head tucked in the crook of his neck, you took a breath that let his perfume invade your senses. Overwhelming at first, the accidental whiff you took was followed by another one, more attentive, as you noticed a weird change. That citrusy scent of his turned flowery now, replaced by a much softer aroma falling sweeter than the stingy fruit notes you were used to catching as he brushed by you in passing. Was it the Fuji breeze that had this effect on him? Because you pulled back and saw his eyes catch that same softness as he gazed up at you, stuck under your body.

Your eyes fell on him and his pink lips, darting between the two as they fell open and closed again. All you could see were those brown orbs of his turning a bright amber in the bright rays of the sun as they searched your face, stopping their long race at your lips too, not at all subtle about it. Something about those pillowy pink petals outlining his mouth made your heart race. Shifting them back up the defined arched bow above them, over his tall nose, your breath caught on his eyes again. No longer dark and intimidating but warm and inviting. When your eyes dove back down to his lips, you found a smirk already taking shape on them. They smug smirk.

"You're so gullible."

He loves ruining moments, doesn't he?

Not that there was a... moment there.

"I thought you'd leave me here, stranded in the middle of nowhere with no help," he continued, watching your lips fall open lightly at his confession. His tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip, thing that brought your eyes back to them. "Guess I was wrong."

"I should have left you here," you coughed dryly, moving away from the warmth of his chest to sit down beside him on the grass.

Turning your attention elsewhere, you gasped as you took in your running gear. It was completely ruined. Previous sunny golden with blue hues in the team colours that you chased online for months, were now full of wet grass and stamped blue flowers all over. Parts of your leggings were torn apart where small green thistles embedded in the material. As were your trainers, all brand new now a mess of green and dirt. All of it courtesy of the leprechaun sitting beside you that attracted troubles instead of pots of gold and just felt like ruining another day for you for his own pleasure.

"Last time I help you," you mumbled more to yourself as you pried off the thistles throwing them at him. The prickly buds didn't even stick to him. "I really should've left and minded my own damn business."

"Then you wouldn't have been able to see this."

"See what, my foot in your face-"

Turning around to see where he was looking at, your threat died away on a breath stolen by something else. A view unlike anything you could ever dream of.

You were looking at one of the most beautiful flower fields you've ever seen, spreading endlessly into a sea of all shades of blue. A flower that you knew all too well. All previous rage slipped out of you in a smile of recognition. The clumps closest to you were of a baby blue so bright, round petals almost pale from the blinding sun, while the others stretched into a lighter blue the further you let your eyes roam over the hill filled with them from top to bottom. The small petals reflected the hues of the sky up above as if you were swimming in a sea of all blue. The kind of peace and serenity you'd find in otherworldly dreams.

A mute wow escaped your lips. What you were looking at was pulled out of a painting hung up in a museum by some famous painter you'd never remember the name of. It didn't even feel real if you didn't touch their little petals, feeling the soft velvety surface on the edges, watching as a breeze of the wind rustled them up in a dance. The childish joy and awe this view made you feel was real. You couldn't find that kind of feeling anywhere else even if you chased seas and lands for it. Not as unique.

"You almost ran beside it," he remarked, just as stuck on the mass of flowers.

"This is..."

You were speechless. Not one word came to your mind to describe it and truly capture the essence of what it made you feel. Until Naozumi came up with the perfect one.

"Beautiful," he said, barely above a whisper.

Looking back at him, you wondered if he was talking about the flowers or something else entirely. His gaze ran behind you, so far away, further than the field could stretch and the sky could reach. A place he could not see with his eyes but somewhere he once knew, cradled in the crevices of his mind, recalling a memory lost in time. You didn't take him for a pensive person until now. Whatever got that reaction out of him must have been important to him.

Not wanting to cut him off from the one true moment of peace you got together, you picked up a few flowers and started braiding them into a crown. You braided shoot after shoot, arranging flower after flower, fingers deftly brushing over the petals. Once you were pleased with the length and your work on it, you tied it together, wrapping the green shoots around until it was a sturdy flower crown worthy of a scouts' badge or the head of a wandering princess.

"They look like cherry blossoms," spoke Naozumi, breaking out of his reverie. He had one of the flowers in his hand, propped up on his knee, twirling it each and every way as if he was examining its deeper meaning.

"They're called nemophila. Baby blue eyes," you said, smiling at the bundle of flowers laying in your lap. He looked at you, brows drawn in confusion as to how you knew about them since it wasn't a common name for a flower and you didn't look like much of a flower person.

"My mom and Kate like these. Kate likes wearing blue clothing of this exact shade," you smiled, fixing the crown a little.

"Is that for her?" he nodded at it, eyes tailing over the neat work you made of the small blooms, not one uneven shoot sticking out of it.

"She's stuck in her hotel room doing remote work," you admit, brushing the pad of your finger over another velvety petal. "I thought it would be nice to take these to her and change the bleakness of that beige desk a little."

"Give me your hand," he asked out of the blue, holding his hand out to you.

Suspicious of another semi-permanent marker incident, or worse, you hesitated. But he held his to you wide open, no tricks up his missing sleeves to be seen, waiting for your palm to sit in it like a shell waiting for its pearl to return in the comfort of its home.

Blowing a breath still unsure, you looked between his palm and those soft eyes of his once more and caved in, lowering your hand in his. He held onto the back of your palm, warmth trespassing from his territory into yours in a speedy crackle of electricity. A buzz that sent your heart fluttering. Taking the flower he plucked and studied so deep in thought, he placed it in the small of your palm, his brown eyes looking at you like he looked at the flower mere moments ago. As if your face was the center of your own microcosmic universe, holding together the petals of your very being. As small as she was, that bundle of joy was able to withstand anything the world threw at her. A catastrophic fall thunderstorm. The deadly freeze of the winter. The burning heat of the summer sun. All of it, just for it to bloom in the middle of spring for all but a fleeting moment, greeting the world with immense joy. Just like you for that matter.

In this moment, silently floating on a lost spring breeze, you understood part of why he said you were a curiosity, watching that same playfulness in his eyes turn into wonder as he gazed long at you. A wonder moving beyond any game he could try to play with you, reaching for sheer honesty. A disarming moment where you were just two people bound by nothing but the need to exist, bare to each other's eyes.

Flower safe in your hold, his thumb traced down its shoot one more time pressing doen to the foot of your wrist before it left your palm. He got up dusting his pants of the grass and the flowers that stuck to his body, holding a hand to you. You smacked it away, less violently this time.

"I am well aware of what happens when someone tries to help you up. I don't want a rematch."

He smirked down at you. "Fair enough."

He pulled his hand away but still offered it after climbing back up on the road. Unable to refuse it now since he was your only shot at being towed out in the middle of nowhere, you grabbed onto his hand and let him pull you up, clutching the small flower and the crown to your chest. One powerful tug had your feet land back on the edge of the country lane. Stumbling into him on unsteady feet, your faces were once again so close. You felt that weird spark again as his hand was still holding yours, wrists pressed into each other, passing warmth around. The longer he kept his eyes on you your grip on his arm turned rigid, clamping on it like he was your lifeline. His thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of your forearm, sending your pulse thumping all the way in your throat. You prayed he couldn't feel it. How it intensified with each breath you took. Eyes landing on your joined hands, you pulled yours a little only to feel resistance coming from him. Cautiously lifting the pads of your fingers off his arm, you let go and he finally did too.

After that, you went back to running together in a silent jog until you reached the city again. You split ways between your hotels without anything else but a glance each other's way as you turned a corner. Padding down the hallway to Kate's room to drop her flower crown, your mind kept replaying that flower exchange, twirling the little bloom between your fingers as you questioned her meaning.

What could a flower this small and unknown mean to Naozumi Hiyama? you wondered. The way he gave it to you, laying it in the palm of your hand so openly, had you think he entrusted you with something of huge importance to him. Could it be he's seen the flower before or that it meant something to someone close to him? You couldn't tell. But from the confusion on his face when you told him what its called he seemed to have no previous recollection of the flower. Whatever it was, you were determined to find out. Soon enough.

Stopping by Kate's door to knock, you noticed the door was left ajar. Why would her door be open? Just as the thought passed through your mind you heard noise and things rattling to the floor. Thinking of the worst, you pushed the door open walking in her suite.

"Kate?" you called her name but no answer came except that weird noise. You turned the wall to her desk, catching a glimpse of long hair. "I brought you flowers- WHAT THE FUCK!"

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Right as you rounded the wall to attack the intruder, you found Kate. And Tanaka. Making out like the world was ending and you didn't get the memo. If making out resembled eating someone's face off. She had him pushed into the wall beside the desk, papers and pens scattered all over the carpet. Your eyes flew up from the mess on the floor to catch her blushing furiously, hands slowly falling away from Tanaka's messed hair. You turned around before you could see any more, holding the flower crown to her behind your back.

"It's barely nine in the morning guys," you groaned, waving the crown around for her to just take it already. "You left the door open too."

"Thank you," she laughed awkwardly, taking it from your hold. "They're my favorites! See, why can she bring me flowers but you can't?" she said, a hint of anger in her voice, all directed at Tanaka.

Slipping out of their hair, you made your way to the door while she continued berating him about not showing her enough attention, avoiding getting caught in the crossfire of a lovers quarrel this early.

"I will be in my room until call time," you said, before slipping out the door, shutting it tight like it should've been in the first place.

My eyes, man, you rubbed them in hopes it would delete the image of Kate pushing Tanaka to the wall. Not even brain damage will help me forget this. Not cool, man. Not cool.

Itchy and extremely annoying. That's how your nose felt all day since you came back from your morning run. No matter how much you scratched it to the point your nose turned pink, blowing it to get rid of the liquid pooling out of your nostrils until you exhausted three packs of tissues, it just wouldn't. stop. itching. Driving with the helmet constricting fresh air from going in only made it all worse.

You got through most of the stages of the day just fine, until a sneezing fit took over you before you got in the car a few moments ago. Currently on your second to last run of the day, you struggled to breathe through your congested nose while maneuvering the car through the first corners. Each itch you couldn't scratch had you tighten your hold on the steering wheel, praying to any higher power listening to take this terror away before you made a mistake or worse, crashed the car with you and Tanaka in it.

"3 right into 6, very long," he paced you.

Tight corner in the right going into a wide one on the coming left. I feel like cutting my nose off.

Going into the first corner, you swerved the wheel quickly sending your shoulder towards the window. The movement only made your nose itch much worse. Shifting gears to take the wide corner running down a hill portion, the sudden change in pressure made it unbearable to keep the incoming sneeze in. Refusing to let it out, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched your nostrils together, pressing your foot on the throttle a bit too hard. The car lurched forward on a sharp inhale, almost wiggling that sneeze out of you forcefully.

"Raiko, slow down."

"I'm going to sneeze."

"Don't sneeze, we're almost done."

Easier said than done. That fucker crawled down the bridge of your nose faster than you could clench your nostrils together to keep it inside. You had only two corners left. But that stupid sneeze wanted to float outside and explore the world so badly by how fast it made your nose run. Your reflex instinct had the nerves in your arm tingling to lift and brush off your nose just once, hoping it could bring you some relief, but the drift portion coming ahead had you glue your hands to the wheel.

"6 right 50, very long."

The drift portion is right up ahead.

Ah fuck.

I can't hold it in anymore.

Your foot searched for the brake quickly, fully knowing you'll lose this stage. Before you knew it, you sneezed loudly in your helmet, accidentally pressing the throttle.

Shit, shit, shit.

Moving your foot at breakneck speed you recovered the brakes but spun out right in the middle of the corner, car facing in the wrong direction, a few inches away from smashing into the high wall of dried earth at your right. The crowd at the top of the hill looked down with shocked gasps as smoke floated from under the tires from the force of the quick spin.

"Raiko? What happened?" asked Tanaka, worried about the maneuver you just pulled out of nowhere.

"I'm fine-" you got cut off by a bigger sneeze that sent your head spinning more than the car spin just did.

"Jesus. Are you okay?"

Opening your mouth to say something, it fell shut as another sneeze shook you, teeth accidentally biting into your lip. Followed by another one. And another one. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop the triple rounds of sneezes from coming. Once they calmed down a little, you felt warm liquid dripping down over your lips and into your mouth.

"I think my nose is bleeding."

Marshals called the truck to tow you back to the paddock since you couldn't drive at all. As soon as you were parked, you pulled off your helmet to take some fresh air only to inhale once and start sneezing again. Tanaka took you to the medical tent right away despite your endless pleas that you were fine and it was just a sneezing fit. Even though the rolling nosebleed said otherwise. The nurse on duty consulted you as he waited right beside you, nudging his bearded chin worriedly that something serious happened. After patching your nose up with tissues and giving you something to soothe the itching, the nurse came to the conclusion you had a wild case of hay fever. Explained the sneezing warcry and the hammering headache taking up a seat.

"She's inhaled way too much pollen from somewhere. It's peak allergy season too and we're in Fuji so it was bound to happen," she said, her eyes landing on you with a question. "Did you perhaps explore the field area recently?"

"I did go on a run around them this morning but I was fine until..." Wait a minute.

The field that you and Naozumi fell in was fully bloomed. Your clothes were smeared with the pollen as much as the blue flowery petals. That, and unlike him, you happened to kiss the weeds on the slope on your way down because he pulled you down. You practically did it to yourself but he was to blame way more.

"Until...," the nurse pressed on with a brow lifted, Tanaka's eyes boring into you just as curious beside her.

"I slipped and fell down in a field of flowers. I must've run my nose against the weeds on the side of it too," you sighed, deciding to keep what actually happened to yourself.

Tanaka's shoulders relaxed with your words, visibly happy it wasn't something much more serious. If he found out it was Naozumi who pulled you in, he would break his legs and cause a scandal none of you needed right now. So you zipped it shut for now.

The last stage of the day was cancelled for you. Both the nurse and your team fell in agreement that you deserved to catch up on some rest. As welcomed as it was, resting only made you stress more. Even with the upgrades installed on the car overnight, the most you managed to climb was up into sixth place, which meant having to pull in way more energy in the last three stages tomorrow to get back into Top 5. Rest was much better welcomed tomorrow afternoon after this hell round finished. But participating in the last run today was out of the question. Tanaka made sure of that with a threat to call your father, thing that would ultimately nuke the whole race weekend for you. So you obliged. Putting up a fight first. But still losing it in the end.

The nurse helped you out of your suit, left in your soaked fireproofs and sat you on a bed with a TV view so you wouldn't miss how the rest of the day went for the other teams. She didn't forget to prescribe you some allergy meds, instructing you on when to take them. Once she was gone, leaving you all by yourself in the tent, you let out a long huff to deflate your disappointment. Laying your head and your aching back on the bed let some comfort cushion you. Maybe a little break was in order after two of the longest days in rally you've ever competed in, body running on nearly not enough fuel as you ran back and forth between sleep and the paddock. Although, watching like this from the sidelines gave you a sense of missing out on things. You hoped this was the last of it, if possible for evermore.

Balancing a cold water bottle on your forehead to get rid of the migraine forming behind your eyes, you focused on getting the pain to go away. All your senses shut off for a while. You tried to relax. Filter through your multitude of thoughts. Drown out the noise from the outside world and what lay beneath it. Not really paying any attention to anything but resting. You didn't hear when he came in, but devil incarnate was sat at the door of the medical tent observing you. He was so silent, you could've missed his presence if it wasn't for your eyes landing on him on accident just as he shifted his weight to lean on the tent's frame. You haven't been in medical for long, so how long has he been standing there gazing at you with that look in his eyes?

Through the blurriness of your irritated pink eyes, you saw his brows furrow in what could only be called concern. Or constipation. Though the first option sounded more plausible. Then he opened his mouth and you wished he was actually constipated.

"You spun out from a sneeze?" he started, chuckling mid-sentence until that infuriating sound turned into maniacal laughing at your expense. Because the nice thing to do for someone you dragged into shit with your own two very idiotic hands was to laugh in their face instead of asking about their wellbeing. Very Naozumi of him.

On impulse, you threw a pillow at him. It landed right by his boots missing him just in the slightest. That pillow didn't reach him, so you hoped a much kinder gesture would - flipping him the bird with both hands. If you could manage your toes individually, you'd show him the little ones too. He took in the pillow at his feet and your middle fingers and snorted. Your head lifted off the pillow, eyes shooting very pointy screws at him. He just continued laughing, slapping his chest as he walked away.

Please don't let me see you for the rest of the day, dear Naozumi. Shifting violently in the bed, you landed back on your back with a frustrated huff. I'm feeling very murderous today.

You preoccupied yourself with analyzing your competition. Watching their runs, you noticed most cars had similar set-ups to yours. A few of them ran quite adventurously on high height, thinking their cars were jeeps, only to plunge headfirst into dangerous dives just like a jeep would. Very revolutionary. Several teams passed on the screen, until Naozumi's last turn for the day came up. Looking at the scoreboard, he's been doing pretty well on the course so far, sitting high up in third, trying to catch up to Akira in second. From what you've seen, the car's been giving him trouble in the horror hill sectors, much like yours has. Though he's been driving more recklessly, chasing after that top spot instead of prioritizing the mental of his team like you did.

The overhead helicopter camera zoomed in on him speeding through the straights of a ramped hill, leaving a rising trail of dust behind him. He got past the tight corners, forcing the gear way too hard till the car bit into the road edges. So far so good on the control front. Then he came up to the last crest preparing for a jump that led him right into a wide corner, perfect for a final drift before finishing off. The first time you saw that turn in the course, you looked at it with knees wobbling. Now, you were a little glad that was something you didn't have to put yourself through today. Especially with deathly sneezing fits.

Curious on how dauntless Naozumi would take it, you glued your eyes to the screen. He tapped in the breaks and cued the gas way too fast, flying over the crest. The nose of his car dove forwards, greedily eating up the dirt with the tip of its hood. Ouch. Then instead of taking the corner wide to the right, he cued in the gear for the drift way before the descent into the curb line. He oversteered, tires sliding off the dry tarmac into the deep ditch at the rim of the scooped up road margins. His right side smashed right into the rock wall on the side of the road, scratching the whole side of the body and paint off entirely until it stopped down at the exit of the curb. Everything stood still for a good minute. There was so much smoke coming out from under the car, a huge cloud of dust engulfing it whole especially on his side of the car. The timer on the screen stopped. Then the transmission was cut off to the presenters.

Soon enough, Naozumi was brought into medical too, settled on the bed next to yours. From what you gathered as the nurse tended to him, he came across issues with the gear box and swerved to the right so his co-driver wouldn't be the one to take the hit. The nurse pressed an ice pack against his temple telling him to rest. His eyes fell shut with a pained groan before she left, shutting the tent flaps closed. Sight falling to your left, a quick scan over his still suited body revealed a swollen bump peeking from under the ice pack, turning a light shade of green on the side of his head. He must've hit his head either in the plastic seat latches or the window. However it happened, it looked nasty. It didn't take from his annoying good looks though.

"What?" he grunted out, sensing your eyes on him.

"What happened?" you asked, curious as to what brought him in the tent as a patient this time around. His head turned to you, wincing at the rapid movement.

"I lost control of the car," he said, pressing the ice pack better on the swollen side.

"How? Did your engine fail again or was it the gearbox this time? You had a pretty good run up until that last turn."

"I just...," he starts, pausing with a sigh. "I sneezed."

Karma sure works in nice ways.

"You lost control of the car because of a sneeze?" you said, trying to mimic the amusement in his earlier remark, throwing it right back at him.

"I guess I deserved that," he breaths out, closing his eyes.

"It's all your fault."

His eyes fell back open. "What?"

"This never would've happened if you didn't pull me in that damn flower field with you."

"I'm glad I did," he smirked amused by this whole situation. "Now we can suffer together."

In the blink of an eye, you were out of your bed grabbing a pillow, stopping by his bedside to beat him up with it. You made sure each hit hurt more than the previous since he sabotaged the rest of your racing day, as well as his, but most importantly all your work and progress for a stupid, idiotic, completely unreasonable motive other than being a self-righteous jackass.

"Ow, ow, ow! Why are you hitting me?"

"How about I send you to fucking hell to see how glad you'll be when you suffer like I did-" you yelled, pushing that pillow in his face fighting against his hands that tried to get you to stop.

"Not the face! Ow. I NEED THAT, YOU PSYCHO!" His hand let go of the ice pack letting it fall splat to the floor, rushing to your waist to tickle you in hopes you'd drop your soft weapon.

"Exactly why I should carve it out and drive over it! Stop playing dirty- WHY ARE YOU TICKLING ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER-"

"Rai? Heard you were in medical. Whoa, what's going on?"

Hand midway to smothering Naozumi with the pillow as his fingers dug into your waist to stop you, you paused, turning around to see Akira standing a few feet away from you, utterly confused as to what in the world was happening. What he was about to see was Naozumi's crime scene if the tissues shoved deep in your nostrils didn't fly out to let more blood flow out with yet another nosebleed.

He nodded to your nose. "Your nose is bleeding."

Throwing your head back, you shoved the pillow Naozumi's way once more then headed back to your pillowless bed. They were all wasted for nothing. Akira gave you some tissues to pluck up your nose as you laid back down, headache thumping harder in your skull. Naozumi leaned over the edge of the bed to fish his ice pack back.

"Are you okay?" Akira asked again. The question was obviously directed at you, but Naozumi took the courtesy to reply instead.

"Amazing, thank you for asking, though some snacks would do wonders," he said, looking at him with that annoying pest smirk of his.

"Don't mind him." You threw him a look to watch it before you tried murdering him again, unless he wanted you to succeed next time. Your attention then turned back to Akira with a soft smile. "He's just being a moron as always."

Naozumi rolled his eyes, focusing on making the bump on his head be less annoying than the upcoming conversation he was about third wheel.

"Anyways," coughed Akira, ignoring Naozumi's existence to put all his attention back on you, the reason he was here in the first place. "I heard you ended up in medical and didn't participate in the last stage for the day, so I thought something bad must've happened."

Awe, he was worried for me, you thought smiling to yourself about how caring he was. The fact that he was still suited up in his fireproofs meant he rushed over to medical as soon as his own run was over. Fidgeting with the zipper on your suit, you wracked your brain for what to say. His soft brown eyes looked at you in worry, waiting for you to tell him what happened. I can't tell him I quit the stage because of a fucking sneeze. What will he think of me then?

"I just spun out in that last corner. I geared in too soon and went into oversteer," you said with a small smile. It wasn't a total lie because that did happen when you changed between the brakes and the throttle quickly, turning the wheel too fast. Oversteering was a pretty common issue in racing to look out for too. Even though spinning out in a corner doesn't normally give you a nosebleed. Not that sneezing should give you one either. But alas.

"She sneezed," drilled in Naozumi, making you pinch your eyes shut to avoid yelling at him.

Not the time or place to be a fucking smartass, Naozumi, but thanks for your unrequested help. I'll ping you my six figure sanity bill for your continuous unsolicited help soon.

"It's okay," said Akira, trying to take some of the tension away. "Stuff like that happens sometimes. I'm just glad you're doing okay and nothing worse happened."

"Are you all done for the day?" you asked, moving the subject away from you before Naozumi spilled more unnecessary information.

"Yeah," he nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. "I took some damage in that last jump and fell down to third, behind Tohira and Katsumi. Those old dogs are pushing hard to get their championship points back, man."

"Let them push. Their cars are past the expiration date," you joked, pulling a laugh out of him.

"Realest thing I've heard lately," he smiled back, his eyes crinkling in those little soft moon crescents you took a liking to lately. "They made so many changes in their teams, it's almost like they traded mechanics and they still suck. Their cars are still running on missing parts."

"God," you barked a laugh. "Did you see Tohira lose that rod at the start of the first stage yesterday? It was just sitting in the middle of the road with everyone's eyes on it, except Tohira who was already at the start line. The engineers rushed to pick it up before the cameras could get a good angle on it."

"I did. That was a sight for the history books," he chuckled. He smiled at you, one dimple popping out on the side of his cheek, right above that pair of moles on his chin. "You've had a rough day. I'll let you get some rest."

"Thank you," your smile tilted up. "For coming by."

"Anytime," he nodded.

Passing you another smile and a wary look Naozumi's way, he walked out leaving you alone with the devil who despite being sort of incapacitated and fresh out of a crash, still worked his mouth well enough to annoy you some more.

"Are you two dating or something?"

"What?" you narrowed your eyes at him. "No."

He went significantly silent after that question, thing that had you wonder what worked the wheels in his brain so fast in that direction in the first place. Why would he ask me that? you wondered. You literally had just a friendly conversation with Akira. Not like you batted your eyelashes at him with love hearts shooting out of your eyes in his direction. But this reverent quiet was the kind of quiet that filled the air with turbulent hops. He was plotting something again, deep in that corner of his brain where his factory carved jokes and plans of sabotage in the same budding crate, creating something that leaned more in his favor than yours.

"Why are you asking me that?" you voiced your earlier thought, trying to impend on his train of thoughts.

"No reason," he shrugged. "Why didn't you tell him what actually happened?"

"Because I don't want him to think I'm stupid, Naozumi," you replied, stating the obvious.

"You didn't want him to think of you any less, did you?" he asked, at which you found yourself nodding.

Telling Akira you crashed from a sneeze after playing ditzy in the fields would make him look at you like you were less than what he thought of you. Like you didn't take your job seriously and didn't deserve to be a professional driver. Or that was just your catastrophic overthinking driving the doom bus today. But you were better safe than sorry. Even if that meant keeping stuff away from him.

Glancing at you, he caught you zoning out far away, deep in your thoughts. He's seen that look on your face these days more than he's managed to catch you and annoy you, which was a first. You were getting serious about the cup and it made sense to put your attention into it more. But all he could think about was how that look on your face didn't suit you at all. So, he concluded that he should get on your nerves until it fell away and that murderous look was fierce and right back in your eyes.

"Someone has a little crush," he sang, annoying the shit out of you.

"I don't have a crush on him."

"I didn't say you had a crush on him specifically. You said it yourself," he smirked, making you realize you just confirmed it out loud.

"My god," you laughed dryly, blowing a breath out of frustration as your fingers massaged your temples. "Why do you like being a little shit to me so much?"

"Because I enjoy teasing you," he spoke, his voice dropping an octave in the slightest, glamoured in a tint of softness. The same softness you caught around him back on that damned field.

At that, your head fell to your left to catch him on his side looking right back at you. Something about the silence hanging between your shared gaze didn't feel as heavy as before, at the garage or in the field, or in other previous interactions with him where it all started sweet with a joke and ended sour on the foot of argument.

"You know," he started, propping an arm under his head getting more comfortable on his back, eyes falling shut as he talked. "If he really liked you, he wouldn't think you were stupid."

"You think so?" you caught yourself asking, sounding a little too hopeful.

A small smile cracked on his lips, eyes still shut tight. You couldn't anticipate any of his remarks when he played hot and cold like this. But he really drove you up the wall with this one the second it left his mouth.

"I told you that you have a big fat crush on him."

"I'm telling the nurse to sedate you."

He barked another laugh, cracking an eye open to look at you and point at your nose. "You're leaking again."

"Go the fuck to sleep or something," you growled out, stashing more tissues up your nose.

Fuji Highland Masters Day 3 - Sunday

Somewhat rested and ready to take on the last three stages, you suited up and headed over to the paddock early. Thankfully, Fuji was missing one addition to the already super packed schedule - press conferences. A good thing for your nerves, but a bad thing for your patience. The press was instead left to accost your pen whenever they felt like during the day, much like crows flocking after plastic bags in the wind, making movement around much harder. At some point they came by to get one more interview out of you to put on the Sports TV news roll, but Tanaka did not let them through at all.

Between the last engine checks and shooing them away, it was time to prepare to get in the car. You had a look at the rest of the data the mechanics pulled together with the extra free time from yesterday which was a lot. The calculations saved you time in sectors you definitely needed it. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get you back to top five. If all variables sat in their seats and let you drive.

Focused on scaling the findings, your thoughts were ripped away by loud ruckus at the side of your paddock tent. At first, you thought it was the press looking to get run over. Looking up, you caught sight of a familiar face trying to get past a marshal. Before the conflict escalated, you decided to check it out. The long sleek ponytail, her polite tone and that smile on her face once you saw her - you knew exactly who she was. Her smile only got brighter as she saw you coming in beside the marshal.

"I have a press pass," she insisted, showing the man her pass. "I'm here for Miss Suruki. She would know who I am if you simply asked her agent."

"I'm sorry, miss. But you're not allowed in here right now," said the marshal, pointing at the race clock ticking beside him. "The team will be out on track in less than five minutes."

"Let her through," you told the marshal. He gave you a look but once he saw your racing suit he moved aside with a nod, letting her inside your pen. Her shoulders visibly relaxed as she stepped past the roll line that shut back up behind her. "You're Hina, from Daily Times, right?"

"You remember me?" she asked, her dark eyes shimmering like black diamonds, sparkling back at you just as bright as her disarming smile.

"Of course I do! You were the only reporter not out for my head back at the press conference back in Tokai," you joked, making her chuckle.

"That was my first time at a press conference. I've been assigned to rally quite recently, but I do love a good bunch of racing series... And I am rambling again," she laughed nervously. She pursed her lips shyly and held out her hand for you to shake in proper meeting manner. You couldn't help but indulge in the greeting, shaking her hand back.

"To be honest, that was my first time around these parts as well, so having a female counterpart in that sea of vipers really helped. And it's also really lovely to meet you," you smiled at her, finding her smile just as contagious as the good vibes swimming around her. "Heard you've been looking for me. Is there anything I could help you with?"

"Yes, actually. I kinda got lost in the crowd and saw your tent, so I thought of coming by to say hi!" she spoke, her ponytail swinging with the movement.

Seeing such a friendly face this early pumped you up with the kind of positive energy you missed having around. That alone prompted you to do something to conserve it for what you hoped would be long-term.

"Give me a second," you rushed out before running back to the mobile trailer. Throwing your duffel bag open you fumbled for your phone, rushing back to her with the keypad open. "Would you like to exchange phone numbers?" you asked breathlessly.

"I would love to!" she nodded, her eyes crinkling to little moon crescents. She typed out her number into the phone, handing it back to you with her name attached. Just then, Tanaka came by to pat your shoulder in sign that your turn on track was coming, meaning you had to leave Hina all alone. Although, she didn't have to be. Calling Kate over, you introduced the two and they hit it off on the spot, already chatting your ears off about their shared fashion preferences.

"I have to go now, but give me a call when you're in Tokyo so we can go out for a coffee or something."

"Noted," she nodded, lifting her fists to her chest. "Good luck out there. Will be rooting for you!"

Gearing up with your gloves and the helmet, you stepped into the car and turned the engine on with a smile on your face. Things were looking up today. You could feel that optimism coursing through you like a high.

Is it because it's Sunday that I'm getting such a good vibe today?

By noon, you were past the first two stages with flying colors. Despite the chaos of yesterday, DNF-ing a stage and not starting the last one, dropping all the way down to mid-grid in tenth place, you pushed hard and managed to pull really good timings in these two, pulling yourself up all the way back in sixth. The car is finally responding to the upgrades after Sentaro mounted the suspensions using the idea you suggested. The previous day on the course oiled the new parts in too. There was still an increased risk of breaking the old pack since they were supporting the front side and the impacts became much rougher on the off-road terrain, but you prayed they lasted until the last stage was over. Then Sentaro could set them on fire if he wished to while you clapped on the side.

The last stage of the day was a serpentine road going through a caved tunnel beneath a tall hill, followed by raw turns as the road slithered down into the paddock at the bottom of a valley, testing the endurance of the car in tight corners and your reaction time in short corners. This asphalt felt way better under the car, smooth and levelled enough to hasten the grip of the tires. Driving inside the darkened tunnel, the daylight behind you dimmed, consumed by the pitch black. Every few hundreds of meters, incandescent orange bulbs most certainly left from prehistoric times lit the way. The reduced visibility had you slow down the pace, eyes glancing often to your right to keep to the metal barrier running the length of the tunnel. You weren't sure what hazards lay below the darkness but you'd rather be careful, than careless. The low rear of the car scraped the old tarmac, sparking up behind the wheels wherever the road lifted and bumped up. Well past the halfway mark, the bulbs were completely dead. Fun times. As enveloped in warm, protective material as your nape was, icy chills ran up and down the back of your neck. Knowing the dark history of the place, especially the one of the spooky forest nearby apparently crawling with spirits of deceased people who've had worse ends, only added to your growing anxiety. You shared a terrifying look with Tanaka, the man just as spooked as you at the chilly shift in atmosphere. Then all at once, the tunnel lit up with spiky rays of burning sunlight. Soon enough you exited the tunnel in a heavy, tight turn to the left, leaving the poor spirits behind to terrorize the rest of the drivers.

"3 left into 3 right."

Medium turns. Beyond the long pine tree line sheltering the road, sunlight barely filtered through. Shadows and the mist of the deep forest brought those chills back as you swerved over the small patch of tarmac still intact. You amped the speed, lifting back the higher gear to catch up on time lost in the freaky horror tunnel. Ignoring the faded Twilight vibes of the place giving you the peculiar eebie jeebies.

"50 to 4 right into 2 right."

Slightly wide corner running into a tight turn. You badly wanted to drift this one but the car would fall apart from the force of the steering and swerve, hitting a poplar tree. Taking the loose curb without tricks, the tires skidded off the final bits of paved road surface onto a bouncy rocky trail, shaking the car with trembling power. The following rough turn shook the steering wheel under your gloved hands, fingers gripping hard on the leather casing to keep from falling off. Road aligning down the curbs, you started your descent into the valley. The woods gave way to more and more light, save for some grey clouds gathering above. Flickers of the valleys thousands of meters below hid behind the tree line, scattering away to bushes and country fields surrounded by wooden fences as you rushed past them. Glancing to your right made your heart hammer. A huge drop below the interrupted road guardline. One wrong maneuver and your car would swerve right into it, rolling down slopes and fields of wheat until it capsized with you and Tanaka inside it. Eyes back on the road, you willed yourself. Focus on the road.

"50 to 2 right and 2 left. Caution on the jump."

Another tight swerve to the right, followed by a slight jump. The road spiked then ran into a bit of a straight portion before it was nothing but a bumpy pile of rocks and potholes. Your seat wobbled with the unstable tremble of the car. That's not a good sign. Pressing your behind hard on the seat to keep it in place, you struggled changing the gears with the sharp turn, followed by another one much shorter than your lifespan. It forced your steering left and right, muscles in your arm quaking under the heavy pressure and constant vibration. Driving out of the serpentines, you climbed the high dent lifting in the road with winding speed. The car went airborne as you took off in the jump with the memory of that drop imprinted in your mind. The wobbling seat sprung up with you. Fear running haywire, you dove into it with all your force, hearing a haunting click as if it fell right back into place. Like it wasn't secured in when you left the pen. Weird. Landing briskly back on the ground, you released a breath of relief. The tires crunched on the rocky surface, bows springing the car up and down until they balanced themselves on all four wheels again. The timber woods came back to shield your eyes from the depth of the bottomless country void, letting you focus on driving. Just driving.

"Last turn. 6 left 100. Flat out."

Fifty meters left to the last corner - a wide drift portion. Let's go baby. Come to mama.

Taking the last snakes in the road, you followed the faded inner line of the lane until you hit award winning tarmac again. Reaching the last wide corner shaped like a ginormous C, protected by nothing but hard decapitated tree barks and dents on the side, you got ready. Entering the curb, your foot tapped the pedal to make the last switch between the gears, cueing in the breaks. You let all control go to the gods of drift. The car skated on the rocky asphalt smooth like it was ice, barely any bumps rocking beneath the car to throw you off the road. Smoke rose in your mirrors. A few sputters came through the gearbox too. Upon exiting the curb, you straightened the wheel to slide in right beneath the last race banner. The crowd went wild. Cheers and whistles were louder than the revvs of your engine as you completed your final run for the rally weekend. It was done. One by one the horrors ended. The weekend was all history now.

"Oh lord above, it's finally over," you mumbled finally parked, head falling on the wheel with a long ragged breath that you held in all weekend. You glanced up at the tall mound you just drove down on and you felt all those chills finally leave you in a breath of utter relief. Both for not crashing and for ending one of the most tormenting weekends of your life so far. High up there with your first ever karting run.

Once your foot stepped outside the car, you were welcomed like a warrior that saved her country from ruin. Tanaka patted your back as the team applauded your performance loud and proud. Though you didn't even know where you finished on the grid, it felt like a win that it was all finally over for both you and the team. Speech more or less prepared, you were stopped before you even got to say anything, all eyes pointed at the scoreboard. All your total times placed you in third place for Fuji so far, which could be a potential podium if no one else had a faster run than you. Knee bouncing up and down in crippling anxiety, you sat and waited until all drivers had their last run, watching the scoreboard like a hawk for any updates on the timings. You knew how much you and the team gave it this weekend. Way over three thousand percent. They deserved that podium fair and square.

After Top Rank's driver came back, the last human to race the course, an eerie silence took over the whole paddock. The crowd settled. No one blew a breath. Not one beer cup crunched. All eyes were on the screen waiting to see who won this round.

In all but a sigh, the scoreboard turned blank before names started appearing one by one. Heart thumping hard to explode in your chest, you looked for the Suruki name breathless.

1st place - Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing

2nd place - Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory

3rd place - Katsumi Ishibashi - Top Rank

4th place - Raiko Suruki - Suruki Racing

Almost podium, you breathed out. Almost.

The team gathered together for a big circle, each arm supporting another fellow teammate. Even Kate was pulled in the line, tucked into Tanaka's side as she held onto his waist with a soft smile. Your favorite uncles shoved you in the middle between them for the honorary speech. You cleared your throat loud on purpose making them all laugh before you even started.

"I know it's been a wild weekend. Probably our wildest yet," you chuckled. "But it's all done now. You worked your hardest, giving your all to this fabulous car and this hard-working team, without leaving any of us stranded into the nothingness of rage and despair."

"Sometimes, hard work doesn't always take you where you need to be. Or where you want it to. But it's a step forward towards something greater that awaits us somewhere in the future. Somewhere I plan on driving to at full speed with all of you by my side." You let your eyes sweep over each pair of eyes in the circle, including Hina on the outer line. There was an important pair missing, but you knew he was here in spirit. "I couldn't have done this without you all. Small or big, your help saved someone from a therapy visit," you chuckled, some following in tow. "Don't sell yourselves short on your magical abilities to heal other things, beyond patching the car up."

"Lastly, I have something you'd be far more excited for than my speech. A little birdie told me there's talks of a teambuilding trip to Okinawa," you grinned, at which amused smirks and shocked gasps alike broke onto everyone's faces. "I'll put in a word to the big guy that he better make it a five-star beach resort with an all-inclusive."

"Raiko! Raiko! Raiko!" they started chanting your name again, making you blush furiously.

"I say we chant something else," you proposed, extending a hand forward. "How about... Suruki Racing never ends. Suruki Racing always race."

"Suruki Racing never ends! Suruki Racing always race!" They all chanted, several voices a little off timing dashed over with laughter. But the spirit was there within every soul around that circle, burning strong for this amazing family you've all found a home in. A flame that you'd make sure never died out and continued living on.

After your joy-packed team moment, you got ready to finally leave this place. The hotel bed was calling to you more than your unpacked luggage and you wanted to make true by some real rest. Getting your stuff, you passed by the digital placements that were still showing on the screens around the paddock, feet stopping by one of them. Glancing up by chance, your eyes fell somewhere else on the scoreboard and you chuckled to yourself. Naozumi spent all weekend chasing after Akira like crazy only to get second place after that crash and the constant issues with his car. Second was still better than lower fourth. He was still on the podium enjoying the loud cheers of the excited crowds and the load of champagne. But you knew how bad he ran after winning it all. The hit that silver trophy must have brought to his already declining pride must feel pretty sour to quench with celebratory champagne.

Still, you watched as he climbed on that podium with his unwavering million dollar smile, charming the ladies at the front as he sprayed them with sparkling champagne. Then he placed his lips to the rim of that bottle, taking a gulp that left him dry by the looks of it, pursing his lips bitterly as he glanced at the trophy sat on the floor. Getting so close to the podium left you feeling that mad thirst for winning too. Not necessarily for first place. But to finally sit on there to bring the team back the honor it deserved for all the years of hard work. You swore you'd get them there no matter how long it took. And it was a promise you intended to keep. No matter what the road threw at you on the way.

Kate rushed over, breaking you out of your thoughts. Her arms engulfed you in her flowery scent and a sweet, bone-crushing hug, before she pushed something pink and fluffy into your arms. Cotton candy. A little childish for an encouragement gift, you thought. She must've read the look on your face, questioning her intentions.

"Champagne is for podium," she starts, instantly making your eyes roll. "And they are out of alcohol so that is the best I could do. You were almost there and it's just your second weekend here! Be proud of it," she spoke with excitement for your small but big achievements, patting your shoulder softly.

"I am," you said, munching on the top part of the cotton candy. It surely tasted sweeter than the disappointment wedged deep inside the core of your soul. Not sure when you'd get that out. "I just think I could've done better. Eh, there's a next time."

"For sure," she nodded with a sympathetic smile.

"What time are we driving back?"

"We're not," she smirked, acting like there was something she knew and you didn't. "Not until tomorrow afternoon."

You cocked a brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We're staying in Fuji one more day!" she said excitedly. "Well, for work purposes since you're programmed to execute your penalty for that illegal street race."

Out of all times, they decided to throw me off the cliff now, when I came so close to tasting real victory. I hate corporations.

"What does this penalty presume?" you sighed, wondering what they'll have you do to pay the price for unruly behaviour. From what you knew of penalties, they were usually cash or race ban related, so you prayed it was none of those.

"A photoshoot for the Seiko Rally Cup."

"A photoshoot?" you asked, blinking at her empty. "Are they serious? I would've happily done one right away! Why did it take them this long to schedule it?"

"They thought that Fuji was a good place for it so they booked it just before the rally round started."

"If we're not leaving, then where are we shooting?"

"One of their private studios and I know you'll be excited for this one. Fuji Speedway!" she says with a grin.

Your jaw fell open.

Okay, maybe we like corporations.

"The Fuji Speedway that used to host Formula One races for decades?! The circuit at the foot of Mount Fuji, where the asphalt is so smooth that it's like a heavenly myth to get to drive on it, that same Fuji Speedway?" She nodded, her lips quirking up into a cheeky smile. "You're lying."

"I'm not," she laughed at the disbelief on your face. "They want us there at 9 am sharp tomorrow since you'll be doing individual photoshoots, then group ones, and a separate one for a well-known media outlet to promote the cup."

"Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean individual and group shoots?"

"In case you forgot, I'd like to remind you that Naozumi was part of that whole press charade."

Of course he was, you groaned internally. Trust in the universe to avoid giving you a day free of any mention or sighting of the one and only devil assigned to fuck with your head. Either he had a magnet attached to you when you weren't looking so he could follow you everywhere or he just liked to manifest ways to ruin your day in more way than one before sleeping.

"You, Naozumi and Akira will be representing not just the cup, but also the Japanese branch of the WRC in their under 25 campaign to get more people to join the rally world." That made it sound like a pity campaign. "Don't make that face. It's a pretty good opportunity to get the word out about you and the team's comeback with the media involved, as well as bringing more audiences to the cup races since we're close to mid-season. It's a win-win situation."

"Sounds good," you nodded. It didn't sound so bad, though there was one thing that threw you off. "Why is Akira getting dragged into this mess too? He's like the poster boy for exemplary behaviour."

"Well, exactly that. And they thought it would be nice to show the younger generation and the fresh talent in one big exclusive," she adds, driving the point home into your tired brain. "Since it's all about promotion and advertising nowadays, they want to really put their drivers in the spotlight. To do that, there will also be an interview segment with all three of you as well."

Great. This truly reinforces how much I hate Mondays.

"Thanks for letting me know so soon," you smiled bright at her in fake manner. From what you could tell, she's been working on this thing the whole weekend, failing to mention anything about it to you. Not even a word. "Did they swore you to secrecy or something? Why didn't you tell me, I don't know, tomorrow morning like five minutes before nine o'clock?"

"They told me not to say anything until after the round was completely over," she spoke, her smile tipping downwards in regret. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," you said, zeroing in on her with hawk eyes. "But you got me cotton candy so your sins are automatically washed away." That made her sweet smile come back. You couldn't handle her being upset at you.

Fixing your bag on your shoulder, the cotton candy stick and the last wrapped up burger you found at a nearby food van that was still open, you moved to leave for your hotel since apparently, you were stuck in town for another day. You were in dire need of a bubbling, soaking bath and a real fat ten hour sleep to be able to face tomorrow. On the foot to leave, Kate called after you once more.

"Don't you want to explore Fuji some more since we're free for the rest of the day? See the mountain or the flower fields?"

Those flower fields costed me podium.

"I think I did enough of that to last me a lifetime," you spoke with a forced smile, feeling the anger at the troublesome leprechaun that fucked your weekend from behind coming back stronger. "If you need me, you'll be able to find me sleeping like the dead in my hotel room until 8 am tomorrow. But I hope you and Tanaka have a ton of fun," you smirked.

"I'm going alone!" she shouted alarmed from behind you.

"Sure you are," you mumbled. "That's what they all say."

You took the fattest sleep known to mankind. After soaking yourself for several hours to get rid of all the grassy, muddy, disgusting smells attached to your body, you collapsed into bed and fell asleep like someone smacked a pancake pan to the back of your head. You woke up in the same position you slept in, feeling like your whole body was a steel carcass that had rust in every corner. But at least you slept all the way until Kate came by to wake you to get ready, pulling on every ounce of silence you had available until she pried your duvet away.

Arriving at the circuit, you barely set a foot out of the car before you were whisked away by a stylist crew that would become your best friends for the day. They sat you down on a chair and worked on your hair. Untangling the beast of messy bed hair you couldn't tame yourself. Working a little natural make-up on your face to get you looking more alive. To look good and feel alive this early, they were asking for quite a lot of you already. Once they were done, they got you in a pair of denim utility trousers running longer than the heel of your boots, dark in street style manner, and a plain white t-shirt. They explained that they kept the fit simple since the first shoot would be on the circuit grounds with your car. Before they took you over there, Kate all but burst through the door, shoving through the busy bodies in the small room.

"One little addition," she spoke out of breath, bringing over something wrapped in a plastic cover. She placed it in your hands, lips pursed in a small cheeky smile. "Go on, open it."

Wondering what it could possibly be, you took the hanger off and unwrapped the huge plastic foil cover to reveal a leather jacket. Tilting your head in confusion at it, you noticed familiar color hues branded beneath the folded sleeves and you rushed to unwrap it faster. Sandy golden ran over one half of the sleeves while a darker blue wrapped around the other one and the rest of the jacket. Upon reaching the front you realized it wasn't just any leather jacket. A big font spreading from left to right spelled Suruki in all plaque golden, a smaller handwritten Racing sewn below in darker blue. The shoulder pad on the left had a big 7 - your car's number - all in glinty silver. Turning it around to the back, your eyes followed even more smaller silver lines speared by golden strikes of lightning down to the bottom of the jacket, finding your name stitched in handwritten letters on top of the leather. This was your very own team leather jacket. Crafted with only you in mind.

Mouth open in shock at the sudden gift, your wide eyes reached Kate's grin at your reaction. "It's mine? It's really mine? I can keep it?!"

She chuckled with a nod, "All yours."

"We need to get these for everyone in the team," you added. Your fingers traced over the front lettering again, unable to process you were actually holding this treasure. It looked so modern yet so vintage. Right up your alley.

"We will, but now we have to go," she said, helping you wear the jacket. Her hand smoothed down the sleeves, fixing the clipped off biker-style collar before she really took a good look at you. "Looking like a real racing driver now." Your lips thinned in a small, shy smile.

"Okay, so," she started, leading you down the corridor to reach the pit entrance. "The boys are shooting a few duo photos now but should be done soon, so you can take your turn and the photographer can take some with the three of you. After that, it's time for the interview followed by the shoot for it and some promo images. And then we're finally done."

"Not a lot to do at all."

Walking out of the building and onto the circuit grounds, you saw the crew already at work behind the wired fence. The Sigma and Spica cars were parked next to each other diagonally, each nose facing the other menacingly. Much like the boys themselves. The photographer seemed to have taken on the rivalry narrative with them. The two silent enemies stood face to face, holding their helmets in one hand with steel grips. You could feel the tension all the way behind the fence, heavier than a truck. Both pairs of eyes were laced with unspoken threats and taunts, boring into one another's soul. Akira's smug smirk had Naozumi's fists balled with knuckles white. It's barely ten in the morning and someone already got them to look like they're plotting to kill each other. At least it wasn't me.

Following that close mental duel, he had them part ways with jaws and fists twitching, directing them to the hoods of their cars. You couldn't tell if the man felt it, but the air reeked of heavy undisputed conflict that simmered close to boiling and exploding. Who knew what would've happened if he didn't blow the distance whistle. Revising the lighting, he instructed them to pose to the camera the way they each wanted, to act as natural as they can be. And they surely complied.

Akira took it away almost instinctively. The shades holding his hair on the usual were missing, brown hair parted down the sides to frame his face as he pointed his chin up like a true professional model. The sun tinted his eyes in glowing embers as he looked at the camera with a gaze that reached deep into your soul, stringing parts you didn't even feel the existence of before. His body moved like he danced a graceful ballet of sorts, so delicate in technique but strikingly beautiful in form that you couldn't take your eyes off him, always anticipating what his next move would be. Words of praise fell one after the other from the photographer's mouth and the crew, prompting him to show and give way more for his private crowd.

Moving to his other muse, the man had to lower his camera for a good moment to take in the near divine appearance that sat on the hood of Spica Racing's car. Gasps echoed behind you, dragging your attention away from dazingly admiring Akira. When your eyes landed on Naozumi, your breath hitched. The cameras loved him for all but one reason - his roughness. Sitting on the car with one leg pressed to the hood's edge, his other ankle flat on top of his knee and his helmet in his lap as he faced his nemesis, he looked otherworldly. The sun lowered its glinting light on his rugged, solid appearance. A rush of wind rustled the styled spikes in his black hair, picking up speed with the rapid thump in your chest. His strong posture and his worn racing jacket draped him in the bad boy flair. So raw on the edges, just like a diamond in the rough. A hidden treasure that showed itself only to the true believer. Tracing the side of his face falling in a jaw tilt that could cut, running over the steep curve going down his thick neck, you swallowed on dry. This is a man who breaths racing and sex appeal of the explicit kind. Above his looks, that natural air of stardom hung around his shoulders like a cape of unwavering strength, shimmering golden on the face of a winner. Something he's always been fated to be.

Shortly after the boys were done, they parked your car between the two older teams, taking a few of your side profiles before directing you to the hood too. Akira and Naozumi went back to their wordless feud until you broke it. Walking through their line of sight like a wake up call, you stole their attention away from their telepathic tug of war. Those two pairs of eyes unglued from each other to follow you until you sat on the hood of your car. As you passed them up close, you had to look away to not faceplant on the ground from the intensity of their gazing. You had to ignore them, against your deepest wishes, if you wanted to get anything done for yourself. So you sat on the hood, leaning back on one hand, helmet supported by your other on your lifted knee propped against the car, shaking your hair behind to get picked up by the breeze. One look down at the ground had your eyes rise to fall right on the photographer with an intensity that made him drop his camera out if his hand. Thankful for the strap holding it around his neck, he picked the dangling tool back up and got to photographing you like he couldn't get enough. You gave him a relaxed smile, proud and confident in your powers to charm and conquer not just driving but people themselves. The crew whispered about you. You felt the males at your side trail their eyes over you too, one pair burning marks deeper than the other.

"I've never thought I'd find three muses all in one place," squealed the photographer, completely astonished by the power the three of you held together. He took several pictures of just that setting, without any further instructions added since he figured that you all did your own thing better than any of his pointers could direct you.

Not long after, two officials from the cup walked out onto the dark tarmac carrying this year's trophy. Strong beams of morning light rays dressed its gold encasing in blazing shimmering glory. Its empty, soon to be engraved nametag that will carry the honor of a driver and their team glowed the brightest. The gloved hands lowered it carefully onto a tall platform block in front of your cars before they stepped away. The photographer suggested the idea - a photo with all three of you holding onto the cup, the cars and the circuit behind - saying it would make one hell of a photo. Just imagining holding that trophy stopped your brain from functioning. But to imagine a photo of that moment existing would be nothing short of surreal.

Akira walked to it first, placing his hand right below the golden bowl, greedy for the opportunity to hold it. You stepped to it next, carefully wrapping your fingers around the middle part, seeking balance of such great power. Naozumi stalked over to it last, letting his hand slip beneath yours to hold onto the bottom, looking for grounding victory. You all gazed down into that symbol of mastery and success with all but one shared emotion swimming in your eyes - want. The thing you were all racing for, giving your body and soul, long days and endless nights. What you gave all your passion, hard work and ceaseless sacrifices for. Giving it your life. All of it for a golden moment of triumph you held in the palm of your hands for a fleeting minute. By gods if it didn't make you feel worthy enough to lift it. Worthy to rule the road as a true champion.

You've been eyeing the long straight going down into the inner track ever since you walked inside the circuit grounds, badly wishing a lap around it was included in the photoshoot. But to your growing disappointment, it wasn't. Done with the shoots outside, they called you in to prepare for the interview as soon as possible. But you still decided to go up to Tanaka and ask. Maybe, just maybe, they'd be kind enough to let you for one ride around. Some of the mechanics were present too, so it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to get the car ready. You walked up to your dear co-driver, hoping he could make some magic happen and earn back some uncle points.

"Don?" You called his nickname as you approached on tip toes, batting your eyelashes at him. He turned to you with a deep chuckle at the sweet tone that was not a normal custom for you, already catching the scent of the sugary bribery of a favor.

"What does your highness request of me?"

"What do I have to do to get a lap around the circuit with my baby?"

"I'm not sure, but I can go ask the officials and circuit keepers. Though we're quite short on time, they might let you. Sit tight and I'll be right back."

You sat by the pit, leaning on the engineer station, tapping your feet to each other to pass the time. Within a hot minute, he was back with a sad look on his face. All the hope brimming in you dissipated.

"I take it they said no?" you asked disappointingly, looking down at the perfectly carved asphalt lane you'd probably never get to drive on.

"On the contrary," he spoke, a wide grin taking over his fake sadness. At the change in tone, your eyes lifted to his with some hope surging back in your chest. "They not only allow it. They want to shoot it on camera!"

"THEY WANT TO WHAT?"

"Go get suited up, kiddo," he patted your shoulder. "Sentaro will run a few checks on the car and the guys will change the tires, then you're good to go for a warm-up lap."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," you leaned up on your tip toes and kissed his cheek before running for the changing rooms at breakneck speed. He definitely won back those uncle points.

Gearing up as fast as you could, you ran back out to the open pit garage where a few of your team mechanics hooked up the screws on the tires. Getting in, you strapped on the belt waiting for them to be done. Heart pumping in your chest like hit by a rush of adrenaline, you tapped your fingers to the wheel impatiently until Sentaro came by your window for one last check before you drove out.

"Okay so, we changed the tires to softs and pulled out the tough rims for more mobility. Off the record, I stripped off the anti-lock brakes and disabled traction control," he winked. "Try not to break the new suspensions completely or your dad will kill us both before we even make it back to Tokyo," he added with a chuckle, tapping the hood in sign that you were ready to go.

You gasped, realizing that meant you had complete freedom on track to do whatever you wanted. Drift it. Spin it. Floor it. Complete control. Driving out of the garage, you aligned the car to the pitlane exit. Since you were co-driver-less, it was your duty to communicate with the team during the drive. You cleared your throat, checking in through the loaned comms.

"This is car number 5 at the pitlane exit waiting for release. Do you copy?"

"Copy copy," replied Sentaro. "Free for release."

"Put on something for the road."

"Coming right up."

The moment the first beats of the song played, you drove out of the pit and onto the smooth tarmac. You did a quick lap to get a look at the track outline from behind the wheel and to get the car ready for the real deal - the timed speed lap. Letting them snap some quick pictures before you smoked them like a patty on the grill. Coming out of the last corner for the long straight in front of the pit, you pulled the breaks just enough to let you gear in the throttle, smoothly whizzing past the garage like a rocket.

Time to really test this beast.

Taking the first wide corner on high speed, you forgot all about breaking and let the engine roar to life like it never did before, speedometer already rising past 120. On the second turn you could really feel the change in power. Tremors vibrated through the steering wheel way better than on a rally course since this was smooth, bumpless asphalt. The real ride began. Entering the third corner into a difficult curb bending to the left, you reined in light breaking to slow down. From your previous formation lap, you knew you'd be able to amp back the speed as you went into the next portion - the 100R - a one hundred meter corner taken at full speed with a long, fast turn leading you right into a sharp left turn for the hairpin - your drifting spot.

Naozumi just walked out of the restroom on the first floor of the paddock building. He saw everyone huddled up, watching something on the circuit with mouths open. The crowd included a really dazed Akira that plied himself to the window as if it would help him see better if his breath fogged up the glass. Getting closer to check out what caused that delirious reaction and the wave of shushed murmurs about some car running wild, he glanced ahead lifting a brow in confusion. Indeed, there was a car on the circuit, just running out of the first sector with the speed of a madman. Taking a closer look at the colors of the car, he recognized the sandy golden and the dark blue hues in an instant, eyebrows hitting his hairline.

Down in the car, you drove into the right-handed 100R corner. Slowing down on your quick ascent you hit the throttle in its apex, sliding the wheel swiftly to the right before turning in the opposite side. Angling the car sideways you drifted into the first turn. Smoke billowed from underneath the car as white as a cloud on the sky. Some of it slipped inside through the gearbox as your favorite tune filled your ears - the loud screech of the tires burning off their rubber. This was a dance you waited for so long. Your hands moved in sync on the wheel and the brakes, letting the back of the car swing wide and savage with the wave of smoke rising behind you like a fierce untamed dragon let loose from its cage.

"Is that Suruki?" asked Naozumi bewildered.

"Yep," replied Akira, clearly just as shocked.

Keeping to the racing line almost effortlessly, you let the car lose all its traction in that left corner before pulling the breaks and changing course in the opposite direction, recovering the swinging rear back in control to take the descent into the hairpin turn. The wheel slid beneath your gloves smoothly as you shifted gears, drifting more with the front of the car, scorching the whole track behind as your tires slithered over the asphalt. Thunderous like a storm, the rumble of the engine rose above the noise from the tires burning marks over ground, heard all the way up there on the first floor. You exited the slow, tight bend of the track, tapping the throttle back in to complete the sharp U-shaped turn. Energy coursed through your veins wilder than ever. You were driving with so much excitement, heart pounding wild in your chest with euphoria. As if the long rally weekend you just went through wasn't enough for you and you wanted way more adrenaline. You craved more speed. More danger. Faster thrill.

"She's crazy," laughed Naozumi, shaking his head at the pure madness he was seeing. His eyes followed your car as fast as he could, unable to fathom how that flying tin can could go so fast.

"Crazy good," piped in Akira, completely absorbed by your performance.

Climbing up another turn, you saw the wider 300R corner bending off in the distance. You needed way more speed in this one so you pressed the clutch twice to rev it up one gear higher, putting pressure on the acceleration to the fullest until you took the whole turn and let the rear wild and free once more in another insane drift right in time with the building chorus of the song. This is what you wanted to yell to the world. That music and driving created an otherworldly synergy that nothing else could. A high on life of impossible sorts.

Driving into the uphill part of the circuit, you slowed down to enter a brutal chicane to the right. Quickly veering left before turning right again, you navigated the tight snaked portion in all but a gasping breath of inner focus. Eyes on the red and white track line. Hands tightening on the shifter stick with mighty strength on each curb. Foot pushing the gas pedal to the floor hard. As soon as you exited the climbing hill, a straining left turn pushed you to slow back down into a steadier rhythm, trying to keep up the speed in the run up to your final corner. The one that needed all the speed you could get in a real race. Even if this wasn't a real race, you intended to do right by the experience and that that corner at lightning speed.

Come on, honey, your left hand gripped the brake lever. Let's show them what we're worth.

Going into the last corner, you pulled in the reins for a hard drift, smoking the rubber off your tires to the maximum, getting ready for the epic grand finale. Pedal. High gear. Let it loose. Tapping the clutch twice back into the highest gear the car could take, you pushed the gas pedal to the floor watching the speed increase on the dashboard beyond any testing round you've ever done with the car. She shook upon the command, generating breakneck speed under the hood as she came alive, shoving you into the seat.

Almost everyone upstairs rushed downstairs into the pit garage for your big finish. Sentaro and the engineers monitoring the computer on the car gasped in shock at the results coming out of it. All the testers from your inboard computer, from engine power to how the brakes behaved, all of them rising to the highest performance levels they've ever seen them reach.

Glancing down at the speedometer, you yourself were shocked at the limits you were driving through. The car shook wildly, rattling your seat and your hold on the gear levers. Your heart hammered inside your chest at how fast you were going, the numbers on the dashboard rising until they synced their counter to your wild galloping heartbeat.

190 kmph. 194. 197. 198.

The arrow on the meter kept going until it almost reached the two hundred mark. It wasn't quite there yet, but you kept going on the throttle, pressing hard for that last digit to come through. That one number could change everything the team knew about the car and its performance.

Come on, just one more. I believe in you. Please believe in me too.

The speedometer moved down a few digits making you gasp. You couldn't believe your eyes. The car surrendered to you, moving up well past the 200 kmph mark, as if it heard your small prayer for greatness. This was fucking unbelievable. You only pulled out 172 in testing, and that too was on a rough polygon terrain just outside town, in the middle of nowhere. But this is on a proper racing field. It didn't matter that the meter arrow stopped climbing higher than a few numbers. It mattered that this was a revolutionary step for the team and an unbelievable breakthrough none of you saw coming.

"DO YALL SEE THAT?" you yelled over the radio static.

"WE DO!" yelled Tanaka from somewhere in the garage. "WHAT THE FUCK, SURUKI!"

"You can slow down now," laughed Sentaro overjoyed by the data coming in. "Good job kid. Bring it home safely."

You giggled back, just as taken aback as everyone else in that garage. "Will do. Thank you!"

Slowing down as you approached the first corner once more, you went for another slower lap around the circuit just to take in the sights. The way the asphalt curved up and down with old tire tracks that made history sometime ago, still visible on the edge of the checkered lines. A breathtaking view of Mount Fuji leaning past the old sponsored logo banners. The small forest on the side, adding a touch of vivid green to the dull dark grey. Even the playful glint of the early afternoon sun rising with warmth through your visor. All of these small, beautiful details you didn't get to see while in race mode. You didn't attempt another fast run down the circuit to avoid overheating the engine after the rally rounds its been through. But when you rounded up back on the straight in front of the pit, you dove in with the tires for some smoky doughnuts in front of the garage as your people whistled and cheered you on from the fence.

Finally parked back in the pit garage, you let out a breath of content. That was a once in a lifetime experience you would repeat anytime you had the chance. Or if you happened to just take it yourself. Who knew. Unexpectedly, another surprise awaited after you got out of the car. The helmet came off your head to see Sentaro stare at his computer in absolute shock.

"You pulled a record lap."

"I did what?" your mouth fell open, feet stuck to the glazed floor. "How quick was I?"

He clicked a few buttons and pulled up the lap time of your fastest run on the garage computer screen. You read it once and had to blink twice, reading the numbers once more.

Track Time - 1:28.215

"Ten seconds away from almost surpassing the Felipe Massa driving an F1 Ferrari here just a decade ago. With almost half the engine and specs that rocket of a car had."

"Well, fuck me," mumbled a familiar voice from behind you.

Spinning around, you found Naozumi rubbing his chin wide-eyed, looking between you and the numbers as if he was looking at the second coming of Christ. That flustered look on his face was all your doing and it fueled your confidence so good. So for once in your life, you put a big smirk on your face and took the chance to be as cocky as him, speaking powerfully sure of yourself, lifting up a challenging brow.

"Still gonna call me a rookie now?"

His mouth opened to say something. You waited for a playful teasing remark or anything to keep his stance on you not belonging in the sport just once more. But his mouth just shut back tight. For once, he had absolutely nothing to say to you. Putting a smile on your face, as wide and cheery as a flower that just opened all her petals in full bloom, you walked away to gather the laurels and the thundering claps following your performance like you won the war. Or at least this one battle. Because even one win against Naozumi tasted sweet like honey.

Kate informed you that the last of the photoshoots has been scheduled at the circuit hotel's premises instead of the private studio. And where the interview would take place as well. Back in the comfort of your normal clothes, you made your way into the makeshift studio with a weight in your step, nervous for what's coming. You felt tingly from the tip of your fingers to the way your heart raced, senses buzzed at the maxxed out setting ever since the drive. But that might just be the best mood to be in for an interview.

A grey-walled conference room was turned into a fashionable studio in all but a few hours. Big enough to host a private business event, the swiveling chairs and dull couches were switched for a medium mahogany velvet couch, sat in front of a tall white backdrop getting fixed up for the final shoot. The space wasn't yet illuminated by the professional gear, the foggy weather outside naturally turning it darker and much more intimate for a heart to heart talk with a media official. In front of the couch sat a small coffee table filled with a few mugs of steaming coffee, and another armchair in the same shade, already occupied by someone. A woman.

At the sound of your steps falling near, she stood up walking the rest of the way to greet you with a warm smile. By the ashen streaks in her hair, styled in soft, brushed out brown curls falling down to her waist, she seemed to be close to middle age. You greeted her more formally with a polite smile. Her name fell to oblivion as soon as she uttered it, too focused on calming your nerves to catch it. She introduced herself as the editor in chief of a big lifestyle magazine, a name you instantly recognized to be of global tally, for which she was working within the Japanese division. Her stylish red tailored suit and killer black stiletto heels told you she must be a professional in her field. Even her makeup was striking but a la mode, sharp and elegant, much like the way she carried herself.

You got there at the set time after the lunch break, wishing to keep the punctual etiquette intact. Naozumi and Akira on the other hand, took their sweet time, arriving a good fifteen minutes later. They excused themselves and shook hands with the woman too, exchanging sweet pleasantries, before squishing you between them on the small cushioned couch that was nowhere near being a three-seater. Maybe for a pack of canned sardines.

"Thank you all for coming here today, and to your agents for making this possible," she spoke, dropping an appreciative look back at your agents sitting huddled behind her to monitor the interview. "This exclusive will be all about your start in rally, where you are now and where you might see yourselves arriving in the next couple of years. They're mostly group questions, individual and more developed depending on who is getting them, so feel free to request a turn or placate an answer whenever you feel like it."

"I know you've had a packed day, so I'll try not to keep you for too long," she added, her red lips widening along the stretch of her smile, preparing her recording device and her notebook.

You can tell she was trying to ease the tension in the room. Or more like your growing tension since this was your first official press encounter where you had to speak directly to the press after being chosen to represent the cup with two of the most fascinating people in the world of rally at the moment. If fascinating was able to describe two of the biggest PR haters in the world sitting next to you.

Akira winked at her like five times in the past two minutes, giving her that crooked smile of his that made him popular with the ladies.

Naozumi flashed her his overly confident smirk when he walked in and has been completely ignoring her existence ever since.

I am shit at taking questions even with all of Kate's preparations. You smiled meekly in her direction. They truly couldn't find a better trio to represent a national sports event.

"What drew you to a career in the world of racing?" she asked, starting with an easy one to get you going.

"Can I go first?" you asked, considerate of the two muppets lounging beside you in case they wanted to answer her first. Akira just nodded, getting more comfortable beside you. Naozumi gave you what resembled a low grunt, looking like he could care less about being present. So you took it away.

"As you may know, for me it was family driven," you started, a little unsure of where to take it in terms of origin story. "A good part of my childhood was spent taking part in different motorsport events and getting to see all kinds of cars up close. Rally, formula, moto, imports. Being in the team garage most of the time, tinkering with my own little karting kit on the side while my dad worked on the big rally cars, it didn't take long for me to wish to pursue some kind of racing further."

As you thought of your racing journey, words started flowing out of you more naturally and Kate's thumbs up helped steer you in the right direction. "Since rally has been in the family already, I went with that route, wishing to continue my father's dream as it slowly became my own."

"I had a feeling you would say that," she admits. "I take it tinkering with a car is another thing you've inherited?" she asks, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, absolutely," you nodded eagerly, making her chuckle. "There's not a day I don't get my hands dirty on a car, be it mine or the team one. My own car is a custom piece I worked a lot on. Most of my teenage allowance went into buying new parts to replace its old ones, building it up almost from scratch. I also help out with the team car since I drive it and can feel the effect of upgrades first hand, so I can work with the engineers if something's off or not right away." You were getting the hang of it almost naturally now. "I've learned a lot in the garage, tuning and racing manner wise, so it's nice to be able to apply it somewhere else if needed."

"Your father must have been a huge influence in both your professional life and your side hobbies, but it's impressive to hear you took personal initiative," she spoke with a knowing smile.

"However," she interjects, "since motorsport is still not a big scene for female involvement, more so rally, did you ever feel like there were setbacks in reaching further than karting?"

"Karting isn't a complicated scene to join because it's open to anyone looking for both a competitive and fun environment to experience racing. The rally scene though, is highly competitive and hard to break into if you don't race sporadically. But it's not totally impossible," you spoke resolute, reminded of the bittersweet days where you thought you'd be stuck karting until the end of time. "Just because there wasn't much female involvement when I joined the junior series or entered rally events, it didn't mean I couldn't take part. After all, no one puts a sign on the ticket booth at the entrance saying females aren't allowed to enjoy or take part in the sport. It's all about whether they want a career in racing and if they do, they should just go for it regardless of statistics and society telling them not to. Don't let anyone else drive your own wheel," you concluded, happy with the little encouragement you could pour in.

You were aware of who read this magazine the most - teenage, young adult girls and unfulfilled women who were still looking for a chance to catch a dream - and you planned on giving them the boost they needed to reach out for those waiting dreams. They still had time to make them real if they really wanted to.

"Well said," the woman nodded, crossing her legs one over the other before leaning forward with a grin you knew all too well. The offense tactic. You didn't expect her to hide sharp teeth under that scarlet smile. "But that's not what I'm asking." Her eyes glinted fiercely at you. "What I truly want to know, as might our readers, is if you personally had any issues regarding your participation in rally?"

Thinking back to your first days in a rally car, the press element has always been there with the constant nagging for drawing blood publicly in the dirty way. As pressing and intimidating as it felt right now, in this very moment. But you couldn't go directly accusing the media of being miscellaneous with a literal body of the press sitting a few feet in front of you. That would be like calling the venomous viper a milk snake. So you steered the conversation away a little.

"The only thing I can vouch for is entering this series undercover at first, without anyone but the team and the cup officials being aware, to protect the team's image and keep that surprise effect to it," you admit, clasping your hands together, hoping that would be enough for her. But of course it wasn't. It never was, is or will be enough for them.

"You mean your father's image," she hit back instantly, as if this was a premeditated attack.

Naozumi stopped fiddling with the frame of his sunglasses at that, narrowing his dark eyes on her. He profiled her the minute he stepped foot inside the room, pinpointing exactly the kind of journalist she is just from the fake smile on her face. Thing that you most likely overlooked out of lack of experience with her kind or politeness. But he knew her type very well. She was walking a very fine line between getting quotes for her article and feeding into the little cracks of your insecurities, eager to wrap her sharp nails around their roots and wrench them out forcefully. Her kind's favorite sport. No matter how good of a person you were, she was out for your blood. Any hazard you avoided would be replaced by several others until she got you to cave in. Interestingly enough, he wanted to see how far she could take you before you exploded and handed her the key to your very being yourself. By the sound of your hissing breath, you were quite close to reaching that point.

"Your father had quite the impressive career start at such a young age. He's had significant impact on the sport during his glory days." She was simply reiterating things you could find on a google search. "Up until Suruki Racing came to life," she strikes again. You bit the inside of your cheek. "Do you think that creating the team was an asset or a deficit to his career?"

Not this shit again. You took a breath to calm the rage meter inside you that happened to get tickled a little too violently by that question. There's so many other things to ask about but it seems she's out for dirt on me and my dad just like everyone else. Classic and outdated is what this lady is.

"His career continued beyond his racing days," you argued, mirroring her crossed-leg position, back straightening like a cobra facing off another cobra to see whose venom was more poisonous. "Though he hasn't raced for a long time, he continued putting his all into it by leading a team. The most successful I've ever seen him is when he put the first Suruki Racing together and continued his dream, even if it was from the sidelines," you said, fire in your voice and steel in your words. "The team was neither an asset or a deficit to his career, not there to produce revenue or drain it. It was simply the driving force behind his passion for racing. His reason to be someone that took rallying further than the track stretched."

"A passionate man," she smirked, pleased to see you respond to her taunts. But she needed more. "Although, he's been quite private about raising you, keeping you away from the public eye for a good part of your life. Shortly after your birth, he put his all into this dream team. Was it due to the fact that he couldn't juggle both being a father and a team director that it all fell to ruin right at its peak?"

Your fist tightened on top of your knee, squeezing the denim of your jeans in pure anger until your knuckles cracked white. She couldn't be serious, directly attacking your father through you like this. Every question written by that polite impostor hand on her notebook of opinion, had nothing but gigantic seeds implanted about the team's fail record because of your dad's negligence or vice versa. It took you a while to seek out her true nature. The assured serpent slithering her way through life one magazine feature at a time. The vicious smile on her face told you she didn't give a rat's ass about pleasantries and keeping safe to the introductions and boring crap about you. She wanted to dig deep and get a reaction. But she had to dig your heart out to get one from you. Hell would froze over before you accused your father of anything he wasn't.

Avoid all questions about yours or your father's private life with a 'no comment'. Kate's rule jumped out at you now. From the looks of her head shaking rapidly side to side she wanted you to use it. But if you let this woman run her vamp heels over you now, what would other journalists do? Carve your conscience out every chance they'd get to decide that the truth should be served as a lie? Fuck no. So you chose to put her in her place as diplomatically and elegant as you could, despite everything in you screaming for sheer violence.

"He wanted me to have a normal childhood, away from the cameras and the prying eyes. The team was his everything back then and it still is now," you say, each word a declaration of your confidence in him and the team. "But he made sure I knew I was just as important while working his overalls off for the team, making all parts work as oiled."

"Just as important or in the way have similar connotations, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know," you chuckled dryly. "I'm not a journalist to know the difference between raising questions and feeding into assumptions."

A deep chuckle fell past Naozumi's lips at that. You really weren't going to step down from chewing this woman up classier than she tried to gobble you in big greedy bites. She blatantly ignored your defense, trying to go for another jab at your father. You made sure this one would be her last.

"The current team has been producing pretty promising results so far. A lot of cups won, a good variety of national titles, several breakthroughs in terms of engineering. But what's there to say it won't fail again?"

"Time. Time to exist, time to grow, time to just be. Life doesn't have a speed limit to run at and neither do we. Oh, and regarding priorities," you cut in before she could, "my father put his life on the line for the team back then and he will do it again, as many times as it takes for it to continue living and breathing. I will make sure to do the same."

"One more question," her eyes skimmed down fast, reading through her notes for one more nerve shattering question to ask.

"I believe that's all from me," you smiled politely, hoping she would get the point that you were done talking, unless it was about your other hobbies or interests.

"I still have a few more-"

"I think that calls about my turn," intervened Naozumi. The cocky smirk on his face made him appear a tad bit intimidating against her pushing, but the surety in his voice was enough to tame her venom down. "After all, you know we've had quite the packed day already."

"Of course," she cleared her throat, sitting back in her chair glancing at you once more before she dismissed your presence. "Please, go ahead, Mr. Hiyama."

You leaned on the backrest with a relieved breath. After that, it was mostly Naozumi and Akira completing her slippery sudoku of questions. Sitting in the middle in complete silence while they conversed was better than talking to a brick wall of a person. She asked her questions, glancing your way every so often. If she expected you to be deflated and pouting she had another thing coming. Whenever she tried to get you back in the discussion, the boys interfered, offering her another surprise answer she would rapidly scribble down in her notebook, successfully diverting her attention away from you. Intentional or not, you were grateful to them for silently guarding your back. God knows, a lot of people wanted to take a shot at it and gawk to see where their words would stab. How deep they would reach and how much they'd make you bleed.

"I think that would be it," spoke the editor, finally getting up to grab her things on her way out. "Thank you again for this opportunity," she thanked the agent team behind out of courtesy.

She shook hands with the boys and their agents. When she got to you she hesitated extending her hand, perhaps out of humiliation for stepping out of line in front of a good handful of people or her pride being walked all over by a mere rookie. Despite all that, yours still reached out with a firm smile on your face, showing her it would take more than some interview questions to scare you away from facing the press.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Suruki," she smiled, showing you her fake pearly whites, pointy sharp like cobra fangs. "Looking forward to working with you in the future."

"Likewise," you bowed your head. I hope not.

After she left, you huffed a winded breath and went back to the couch, sitting down to mull in your thoughts. That interview left you feeling miserable, taking way too much of your energy to not start off with 'Listen lady' at every word coming out of that woman's mouth. Why was everyone so hellbent on digging up the past on your father? It's not like he committed first degree murder or something like that by getting his career nuked because of circumstances that were out of his hands. Why couldn't they just leave the past be? Why did it all matter so much to these people? You shook your head at each thought, looking past your joined hands supported on your knees.

Naozumi walked over behind the couch, looking out at the dark grey rain clouds forming above the track, his back facing you. For a moment you just stood in each other's silence, listening to the fading murmurs of staff around you and the small patter of raindrops hitting the windows. Until his voice cut through the fog in your mind.

"They'll come after him no matter how much you try to stop them," he spoke, a hint of warning in his voice. "But they'll come after you too."

"Let them come."

The determination in your voice made his gaze turn to you. The look in your eyes was stormy, sharper than the edge of a knife. You were always going to try to prove them wrong, be it about you, the team or your father. That alone made him think that maybe he's got this all wrong. Maybe you had more fight in you than he's seen that night at the docks when you took the insult to your driving personally and gave it your all to prove him wrong. Maybe you were more than just a rookie. Maybe you might just save what's left in the ruins of your father's career. But out of everything you were, he thought you were right about one thing - only time would tell. If your team would burn to ashes again. If your father will continue being a living legend or become a forgotten name. If you could save them both. For now, he was even more determined to see how far you'll go even after the track ended and there would be no more road left to drive your rescue mission on.

The hair and make-up team rushed you back into the compact dressing room to get you ready for what looked like a super makeover. The table in front of you was full of scattered make-up brands, from different types of eyeliner, various brushes, and foundation packs to more than ten shades of lipstick. The outfit racks, one in each corner of the room, were decked in designer and haute couture pieces. Some still had tags of four-digit prices hanging from the sleeves. Since this was a magazine shoot, they needed you to look the styling part and they went all out in every way. All the way.

In a little under an hour, all you could smell was the sharp scent of hairspray, the sparkly glitter hanging in the air and the taste of strawberry overlaying your lips. When the make-up artist spun your chair to face the mirror, your jaw dropped to the floor like a wrecking ball. You were unrecognizable to your very own eyes. That was the same face you saw every morning in the mirror but like a thousand times more accentuated. Your eyelids had the sharpest wings ever drawn in cat eyes history, highlighted by subtle eyeshadow that made the colorful specks in your irises pop out. Falling in messy curls, your hair dropped over your shoulders softly. Hairpins shoved all the way in the back of your skull gathered a few strands behind your ears to add a little volume at the front, besides the shorter curls framing your face. To top it all off, your lips were done in a nude pink shade, appearing glossy and not that far away from your natural tone.

After sorting through heaps of different styles and textures, they finally brought out your outfit. Your lips quirked up in a smirk as you took in that wild beauty sitting on your body. An all-black leather dress with a plunging neckline, not too deep to pop a nip out or too formal to bore, stopping just above your knees. The material ran over your curves like it was meant for you, fitting like a dream. The sides had metal ringlets running for their length, held together by overlapping sheer black laces to pull the front and the back tighter, ends left to free fall below your thighs like a soft caress on your skin. Keeping the accessories light, one of the stylists hooked up a pair of sparkling diamond earrings to give the attire a subtle elegant flair, finishing up with a pair of heels that strapped around your ankles covering your foot in a crisscross pattern, giving you a lot of height to match. A classy rockstar concept very elegantly executed. Truth be told, you looked like a model ready to go out for vengeance rather than a woman starring in a high fashion magazine photoshoot.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror once more, you put a confident smile on your pink lips and walked out in the hallway heading for the studio. Your heart thumped hard against your ribcage, driving your focus in all directions, mostly on not killing your ankles. Door in sight, your nerves escalated even more. As easy as doing a magazine shoot felt the day before, the deed weighed much more heavier now. Throwing a look at the stylist that dressed you up, you saw her pass you a small nod and a smile of encouragement. Maybe this won't be so bad. Right? Taking a deep breath, your hand fell on the handle to push the door open, stepping inside the room. You blinked up and stopped in the door frame feeling the air leave your lungs in shallow breaths.

All buzzing chatter stopped when you walked in. From the photographer in the middle of the room to staff and agents scattered in all corners, all eyes raked you from head to toe. Kate herself looked both shocked and thrilled to see you so dolled up. But what caught your breath wasn't the loaded stares from well over twenty souls in the room. It was the two handsome men all suited up by the smooth velvet couch. As those two pairs of eyes ate you up shamelessly, you did the same to each one in part.

Akira wore a full suit in passional scarlet red. The whole ensemble was the main piece. The relaxed co-ord jacket, the collared shirt and the wide leg trousers fell on his body like every part was made to flatter his features. Beneath a pearly choker hanging stylishly above the open collar, you took a delicious peek at what laid beneath the three open buttons showing his well-defined chest lines. The shirt tucked in his pants and his hands sliding deep in his pockets pulled his shoulders wider than you've ever seen them. The pants ran long over the black boots on his feet, seemingly taller than he already was. And his hair, a curly mess all over the place was the cherry on top. But all details aside, that red alone made your head spin. He might as well have been a demon from hell below coming to take your soul under and you still wouldn't be able to take your eyes off him.

Gaze shifting to the other end of the couch, your racing heartbeat froze still, slowing down to a fluttering rhythm in your chest. There, sat atop the velvet armchair you found a dream dressed in dark navy blue. A fantasy of Naozumi your head hasn't played for you yet. Not until his raven eyes rose up to meet yours across the room in a piercing gaze steeling you breathless. Your eyes jumped from the way his hair was parted on the sides so softly, to the dainty silver necklace falling below his collar bones, to the smooth cut of the suit, unable to focus on just one part of him. From top to bottom, refined wool tailored to an elegant charm enveloped him in the depth of a vast deep blue sea. Hugging the breadth of his shoulders strong and tight. Streaming in a calm, smooth wave of material over the rest of his body, back and front down to his feet. A double breasted blazer with coupled rows of golden cufflinks wrapped around his waist as if worked and shaped to the muscular ridges of his body. It was the only thing covering his torso. But even that cover barely started below his exposed chest, tan and raw with packs of meaty muscle, calling to your touch. The shirt meant to be underneath was missing, or you failed to notice it was never there in the first place. Not that you complained. Knowing what hid beneath that heavy wool, hard and sculpted with strength, your fingers prickled at the memory of those rough muscles. How they called to your touch that night in Tokai, mouth-watering and deliciously sweaty with the brief touch of sex. How they stretched beneath the ironed lapels grazing them as he took a breath you took with him. How the heat pulsed just as hard between your legs now as it did then with his eyes on you, unaware of where your thoughts ran to. But the lone smirk tilting the corner of his lip had your breath twist in your chest that he knew. He knew. And he loved seeing the proof heat on your cheeks. In the tug of your teeth on your bottom lip. In the way your breath faltered. But most of all, he saw it in your eyes. Hungry. Craving for him against your better conscience.

The photographer clapped ripping you out of your breathless daze. Your eyes jumped to him in confusion. He covered his mouth in awe as he looked between the three of you with pure adoration in his eyes. This was a man who truly loved his job.

"My third muse just arrived." You shyly smiled at his compliment. "You're welcome to take your seat among the boys and we shall get started."

You had quite the audience as you made your way over to the velvet couch. Naozumi left his subtlety outside the door, undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone. His dark eyes looked more than hungry, roaming over you from top to heeled toes and reversely with every step you took until you reached the couch in the middle. Those black orbs followed a trail of their own as they drove up the length of your legs. Hastily skimming past the hem of the dress barely stopping at your thighs. Rounding in on your torso where the leather pulled tightly over your skin. Brushing over the deep neckline on your chest. All to stop at your lightly flushed cheeks. Each graze of his eyes burned hot on your skin wherever it stopped a second too long, as if branding each part of you unto his memory. More blood rushed to your cheeks as you took your place next to him, aware of his intense gaze. So you focused on Akira at your right, trying your best to ignore the chaotic flutter growing in your belly before it overwhelmed all your senses.

"You look like you're about to crash someone's wedding," you said, complimenting Akira. He gave you a cheeky smile, letting his eyes run over you a tad bit less intensely than the man at your left continued doing.

"And you look like you're about to crash a really exclusive club party," he joked. "I can't even recognize you. You look amazing." The compliment had you shy away with a smile.

Lights, camera, action and you got down to business right away. The camera flashed brighter than the lights overhead as you were positioned around the couch in various poses. Most of the shots had the boys sitting on each side of you, each doing their own thing. You had your legs crossed, chin propped on your fist, leaning forward on your elbow with a bold smirk as you faced the camera. Akira on your right faced faraway to the left, hands joined in his lap in business manner. Naozumi on your left leaned on the raised arm of the couch, fist supporting his head as he looked away to the left in thought. The next had you sat still in the middle of the couch. Akira was sat down at your feet, cross-legged, rustled hair and relaxed smirk making him look like an outlaw. You leaned back on the couch, legs still crossed, a serious smile on your face this time. Naozumi was sat behind you, hands on each side of your shoulders supporting his weight as he leaned forward above you. All three of you had your eyes at the camera, fierce and bold. They were both stuck so close to you, enclosing you in the small space. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled at the one far too close behind you. You felt the scent of his expensive perfume before he angled his lips right above your ear.

"Looking smoking hot, rookie," he spoke low only for you to hear, words barely brushing the side of your head. Close enough to make a rush of tingles climb up your spine. Turning your head to the side slightly, you replied in the same low tone, keeping your eyes on the camera and thump in your heart calm. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Hiyama."

He didn't say anything more past that point, satisfied enough with your response. His hands stretched on top of the couch backrest, changing position to lean forwards a little more. The back of his palms fell behind your back, fingers mindlessly playing in your hair. They sorted through the longer ends, twirling them around and moving them aside to get to your exposed shoulders. When the rough pads of his fingers landed in direct contact with your skin, you sucked in a breath. His touch was warm, oddly relaxing and gentle as it moved on top of your spine line. Spreading out on each side of your back, his fingers ran in circles over the skin of your shoulder blades, thumbs pressing down in all the right places. They padded lightly up and down, left and right, every brush as soft as the caress of a feather. Soft, as they glided up to your nape, the touch almost toe curling. Soft, but nowhere near close to releasing the heavy tension strewn in your back. You were close to just leaning back, ignoring the rest of the people around you and the shoot completely. All to just enjoy the massage and purr like a grateful cat being stroked by its owner for being good. A soft little whimper worked its way up your throat the more you felt of his fingers. Until the reality train smacked you hard. Suddenly, like boiling water scalded your skin you saw right through his intentions. He was playing with you. Every touch was calculated strategically, not for comfort but to get you riled up. Blinking away the haze of his feigned comfort tactic, you gave him quick credit for the moment then adjusted your position. To anyone else, it simply looked like you shifted your back on the couch. You fell back with a thud with the wish to crush those meticulous hands of his. A threat to make him keep them to himself. As your back collided with his outstretched fingers, you felt them press flat to the backrest. All you heard was a low groan behind you that brought the littlest smirk to your face. But he didn't stop there. He resorted to annoying poking now, pushing and pulling lightly at the hem of your dress to have the leather strap back to your skin painfully, looking to piss you off completely. Before you could rip his hands off and ply his fingers off one by one, the photographer called for a set change. Just his luck. His hands retracted back to their place, falling into his trouser pockets and he left you alone for the remainder of the shoot. But that touch of his still lingered on your skin, the ghosts of his fingers still tracing it, raising goosebumps along your back.

Several prop changes and posing instructions later, you were tired. Of the camera shutter. The bright lights. The gawking eyes. The constant moving made uncomfortable by the leather dress that by this point stuck to your body like wrapping foil to a freshly waxed car. Especially having been seated between Naozumi and Akira who emanated heat like the central heating in the building was broken. As you posed upright, lined up together to let the expensive outfits get their own moment of promo, their bodies were so close you could literally feel their hot breaths on your face. And the photographer instructed you to get even closer. If that was physically possible when you were practically sandwiched like cured ham between two of the most solid slices of bread ever baked.

"Okay, Akira. That's good. Now let me have a few with those two only."

"Are you sure?" He sounded almost hurt. "What about me and her?"

The man took his camera to the computer crew waving him off. "We can do them after the break."

His incoming please died somewhere in his throat as he landed eyes with Naozumi's. He couldn't fight a cheeky smirk Akira's way. Ignoring their contest for whose turn is it next to hold the doll, you shifted your weight on your legs with a sigh, wondering when the shoot would finally end. After the long weekend, your little victorious lap around the circuit and that interview, you were nearing the end of your battery life faster than usual. You just wanted to go home or at least reach the hotel bed. Or any flat, cushiony surface that could offer some temporary relief to your aching joints.

Naozumi moved closer as directed, accidentally bumping his shoulder to yours which made you jump away a little. It wasn't intentional at all, it was just the exhaustion speaking. Although, he saw it as an open chance to tease you. He leaned down to your ear a little, keeping his focus on the camera.

"Someone's antsy," he whispered. You didn't need to look at him to see the playful smirk on his face.

"I'm just not exactly happy to still be here. We should've been done by now," you whispered back through gritted teeth, trying to keep a polite smile on your face.

"You can switch positions," said the photographer. He came and sat Naozumi behind you, moving you in front of him, leaving barely any space between you as you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder, skin to skin. "Now look at each other."

Craning your neck to the side, your breath got caught in your throat and you sobered right up. Naozumi was looking right at you. The camera flashes went dark, the bright studio lights disappeared and the sound of the shutter died in the thunder of your heartbeat. His presence was... overwhelming. Those dark brown orbs consumed everything around you until you felt like it was only you and him around. Sneaky and hidden, his palm encased your waist in such way that no one else could see it. Only you could feel it, pressing against the small of your back, peaking up ever so lightly on top of your hip over the leather that suddenly felt too slim and warm. Regardless of how badly his touch had your nerve endings spin in endless circles, those eyes of his drew you in like the pollen of a freshly bloomed flower drew in a hungry swarm of bees. So sweet and hypnotic that you were losing faith in your strength to withstand the Naozumi effect.

He seemed to be absorbing your presence just as much, finding it hard to take his eyes off you ever since you walked in the studio. He had a tease attack planned, the very reason why his hand was so hidden on the small of your back. But the minute he looked into those eyes of yours, glaring up at him with marvel and a glint of curiosity, his plans lost all sense of steering in the right direction, hitting a curve so dangerous that it changed all of them just like a snap of his fingers.

"How about we make a run for it?" he whispered, eyes darting between you and the crew occupied with checking the photo screens.

You snorted. "Run where?"

"Somewhere."

His eyes ran back on the moving crowd of people among staff and publicists, falling on your bag then on the shiny set of keys in the bag next to it. Turning back on you, that soft gaze turned challenging, lips quirking up in a playful grin with an idea.

"Truth or dare?"

Your eyes narrowed on him. He wanted to play games now of all times? For the sake of your growing boredom, you chose to indulge in that little game, hoping it would make the time pass by quicker or something of the sort.

"Dare."

"I dare you to steal the keys to that cherry red truck parked in the back of the parking lot."

"Kate's Chevy?" He nodded. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're not dying to get out of here."

He's not wrong about that.

"Miss Suruki, look up a bit more," pointed the photographer as he resumed shooting. "You're showing a bit of double chin."

Exasperated, and annoyed as fuck, you followed the instructions and tilted your chin up higher with a huff. You hated to admit it. Naozumi was right. You did inch to get out of here before you channeled some of his rage and broke something that may or may not be the photographer's camera if he commented any more about how you posed. You thought about Naozumi's proposition. It sounded like a promising plan. Truthfully, it wouldn't be that hard to steal Kate's car keys. She had a habit of forgetting where she put things in the first place so she might not suspect them going missing before her actual car went missing. What really begged the question was how you'd be able to slip past so many people with a pair of car keys that weren't yours without getting dragged back in the studio by your ears.

At the sight of your brows furrowing together, Naozumi's grin just widened more. You were considering it. Partly, but that was still considering.

Your unsure eyes fleeted back to him. "I'm gonna get in trouble."

"Isn't that the fun part?" His smirk only grew. "Come on, live a little, rookie."

One more look between him and Kate doomscrolling her phone. Another uncomfortable tug of the dress sticking to your thighs irritatingly. The light hit of Naozumi's impatient breath fanning your neck and the brush of his hand sitting way too comfortable in the small of your back. All of those brought upon your loss in this fight that you didn't really care about carrying to a win in your territory this time. Because running away with Naozumi might give you answers to some of the burning questions you've been having about him. And because that puzzle box branded with his name on it called to you to get it open. And you tore at it like a feral wildcat.

"So? Accepting the dare?" he pressed, cautious that you had a time limit to accept or refuse before the deal dissipated into thin air.

You surrendered to the game. Simply because you did want to get out of here. And for the fact that this one curiosity urged to be satisfied more than the collection you've gathered of them so far, all sitting in a mess around his torn puzzle box, unable to match any of them to the man in front of you. And as of this moment, you craved a little rebellion against the system. But you had to bargain some kind of leverage to still keep the ball in your field. And you had just the perfect idea on what to go for.

"Only if I get a truth out of you."

"Deal," he replied almost instantly.

"Deal," you replied, sealing the deal with a shared nod.

As if on cue, the photographer lowered his camera and placed it down on the screens table. "Alright everyone, take a break and we will resume in ten."

Naozumi's head dipped beside your ear in a small graze, coiling his aura around you like he was the very devil summoned out of the depths of hell to convince you to do bad things.

"I'll meet you out at the car," he whispered, pulling back to fix his eyes on yours. "Be fast."

He cut through the crowded room, grabbing his jacket from the back and his bag. Hand on the door, he threw you one more look before he slipped out of the studio without a soul noticing.

Okay so, I have ten minutes to make myself disappear like Houdini. Time to get this show rolling. But first, how does one steal something without getting spotted by literally everyone?

There were people literally everywhere you looked. Make-up crew, the stylists, some magazine staff, publicists and other team officials, all by the table filled with bags, by the dressing mirror, by the door. Someone had to notice you slipping out every way you tried to make a run for it. Trust in Naozumi to give me the hardest part in the deal.

Without a plan, you started making your way to the bag table. Your shaky steps took you close to the bag, fingers reaching for the keys. You nearly had the keys in your hand when as you got stopped by the makeup team for a quick retouch. They didn't give you the chance to refuse it. Letting them lead you to a chair, your eyes never moved away from the shiny set of keys hanging out of the side pocket inside Kate's bag. Until the person in charge of eye makeup moved your head to the other side to widen your eyeliner wing as if it wasn't longer than a crane's wing. Knee bouncing restless, they finally let you go and went on their own break. Blinking the modifications to your makeup away to get rid of the heaviness around your eyes, you glanced at the clock on the wall. Six minutes of the break went by already. You had less than four to get the fuck out the door or you'd be called a rookie until the very end of your career and lose your chance to find out one of Naozumi's secret truths. There are big things at stake.

Looking back at the bag, you saw Kate searching through it messily. Her hand accidentally brushed the keys and you watched horrified as they fell inside her bottomless pit of mysteries. You mumbled a curse. How the fuck do I get her to give me her bag? The clock was ticking quicker than your fatigued brain could work up a solid plan. Two more minutes left. Fuck. Think, Raiko. Think. Think faster.

Eyes whizzing around for ideas, you caught one of the makeup ladies leaving, holding what you assumed was her pad holder box. You nearly put her to oblivion when an idea hit you. That should work. Going up to Kate with a sheepish smile, you tapped her shoulder.

"Who are you- Oh, Rai," she smiled at you, thinking it was someone else. "What can I help you with?"

"I, uhm," you cleared your throat, trying to not make yourself sound guilty of what you were about to do. "Do you..."

"Do I what?" she asked, eyelashes batting at you to spill it out already.

"Do you have a pad or something?" you blurted out way too quickly. "I think my period just started since I... have been having weird cramps all morning. Just wanted to check in case it did."

"You mean now?!" You just nodded with a tight lipped smile. "Sure, I can have a look, though I doubt I'll have any since I didn't find time to buy another stash."

Okay. She bought it. We're moving.

"But you're lucky since I do have one left. Here," she was about to hand it to you when you stopped her, shoving her hands back in the bag.

"NO! No, no, no," you laughed nervously, trying your hardest not to look suspicious. A few people looked at you weirdly. "C-can you just give me the bag too?"

At this point she was looking at you like you've grown a head. She lifted an eyebrow very confused. "Why?"

"Because there's a bunch of people here and they don't need to see me carry around a pad in my hand. I have nowhere to stash it in this dress."

"Oh, yeah. You're right," she nodded in acknowledgment of your very false predicament. "Don't need them to shush you around more than they have already. They're not really nice people apparently."

Thank fuck, you sighed internally. One more lie and my knees would've broken down spilling all my sins from start to finish until I perished by her freshly manicured hands.

She took out her water bottle and laid the bag in your hands. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for the quick plan. Though it wasn't the best escape motive, it worked like a charm. If a pad could be called a lucky charm. Making your way to exit the studio and to find the "toilet", she called your name again. Stopping in your tracks, you felt beads of nervous sweat trickle down your back, knees starting to shake on the weak support of your tall uncomfortable heels.

Did she catch me? Am I dead? Oh god-

"Just make sure you're back before the break ends," she smiled. "I'll tell them to add five more minutes so you can do your business in peace."

"Oh right. The break, yeah," you barked another nervous laugh. "Thank you. You're the best."

She gave you another suspicious look but you didn't sit any longer to see it and dashed for the hallway. Clutching that baby blue designer bag to your chest like it was an armed bomb about to explode, you made your way down to the hotel's reception. Passing some people working on the shoot heading back from their cigarette breaks, you left quick smiles their way but they completely ignored your existence. Once you saw no one else coming from the front, you broke a shaky run for it, heading for the doors to the parking lot. Naozumi was already outside waiting for you, all changed out of his suit in a light blue denim jacket and jeans co-ord, most likely ogling his phone for the time knowing the break should be over soon and you weren't there yet. Rushing over to the double doors, you pushed the handles multiple times, confused as to why any of them wasn't opening. Only for Naozumi to gesture to you that you had to pull them towards you. Much like the sign on the door to your right said.

"I'm a fucking idiot, for fucks sake please open-" and they did open upon a strong pull, letting you outside where you could take a breath properly. Reminded that the break was probably over by now, extra time included, you ran the rest of the way to the car, searching Kate's bag for the keys. Once your hand touched the cold keyring set, you pulled them out and messily threw them to Naozumi mid-way to the car. He caught them, heading for the driver seat right away.

"What took you so long?"

"Just open the car and let's go. The break is over about now."

He unlocked the truck and you both got in, closing the doors swiftly. Your hands were working at lightning speed to fix the dress on you a little and the hair out of your mouth, but Naozumi stopped moving altogether. Looking at him, you saw his eyes zeroing in on Kate's bag laying in your lap.

"What?"

"Why did you take the whole bag?" he snickered, as if that bag was more important than making an escape now before anyone found out what you were up to.

"Does it matter? Let's just drive before they find us and rip our contracts to shreds before our very own eyes."

Back in the studio, the crew has been waiting for the two of you for a while now. The photographer tapped his foot impatiently, constantly checking the time on his watch, on his phone, even the one on the wall. When those extra five minutes were up and you were still not back, he marched to Kate asking her about your whereabouts. It's been a good ten minutes since you went to the bathroom, so she took off to find you, thinking you got lost or needed an extra pad.

"It doesn't take that long to ply on a pad," she mumbled, pushing open the doors to the toilets. She scoured all the stalls only to find them all empty. "Is there a different bathroom on this floor?"

Slowly losing her patience, she walked out of the restroom only to bump into Tanaka right outside the door. He went looking for Naozumi at the request of the makeup team who couldn't find him either.

"Naozumi's missing," he spoke out of breath.

Kate's head tilted in confusion. "So is Raiko."

They shared a wide-eyed look before they took off down the hallway towards the hotel reception.

"Have you driven a truck before?" you asked Naozumi, watching as he struggled to get to terms with the different gear.

"No, but it shouldn't be rocket science. It's just bigger."

"We should really get going before they find us-"

Right as the words left your mouth your eyes connected with Kate's right across the parking lot. As soon as her golden pair landed on her car, seeing you in the passenger seat and Naozumi in the driver's, she was raging. She took steps at twice the speed in those kitty heels. Your hand shot out to tap Naozumi's arm repeatedly as he fiddled with the cluster of keys rattling in the ignition.

"Naozumi," you choked out alarmed.

He waved off your hand to pull the steering wheel up to a better height. You continued slapping his arm to the point he started getting annoyed. "What is it?"

"Drive. Now."

"Hold on, give me a second."

"Naozumi we don't have a damn second," you gritted out, anxiety about to explode in your guts at how close Kate was getting. "Just fucking drive."

He finally got the car to start, pulling a few revs from the big old engine under the hood. Looking up ahead, he caught sight of your co-driver and his publicists all heading for the car angrier than he's ever made them. Then his eyes landed on Kate and he couldn't help himself from giving her a devilish smirk that made her take off running in your direction.

"NAOZUMI DRIVE NOW!"

His foot pressed the throttle so briskly that the recoil from the rush of speed pulled you hard into the passenger seat, hands shooting up to hold onto the handle above the door. The tires smoked and skidded as the car shot out of its place. Naozumi steered along the occupied parking spots, close to hitting some of them, barreling out onto the main street in front of the hotel. The rear of the car trunk was close enough to drifting into Kate and the rest of the people running after the car and knocking them down like bowling pins.

"RAIKO SURUKI I WILL KILL YOU!" yelled Kate as she took off after the car with Tanaka running after her.

Naozumi spun the wheel out onto the road connected to the main boulevard. You looked in the mirror watching how you got farther away from the parking lot, losing everyone that was on your tail. You and your superstar chauffeur on the job managed to escape. You let out a breath, falling back in the seat in relief that they didn't catch you. Not physically, but they did catch you. Kate saw you. Tanaka saw you. A bunch of strangers saw you running away with a car that wasn't yours and a man set on trouble. The realization that this was a really stupid idea hit you belatedly. You started freaking out with all the different consequences running through your head following the stupid, idiotic, very maddening thing you've just done.

"Oh my god," you breathed in a good inhale of air. "Oh god. She-She's going to kill me. Dad is going to kill me. Then mom will kill me too until they all had their rounds," you laugh dryly, hands covering your eyes.

"I think you should put your seatbelt on and calm down," suggested Naozumi, getting his clipped on.

"Calm down?! No, no, no. Do you realise I just sabotaged my own career? Again?" You pulled the seatbelt over from its hold, struggling to clip it in as you were busier freaking out, hands shaking with anxiety. "Why did I accept that dare? What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," replied Naozumi, taking a hold of your seatbelt to clip it in for you. His fingers grazed your hand in the lightest touch before they flew back to sit on the gear stick.

"We're just taking a well-deserved break," he argued. "They took enough photos to make pictorials and calendars for the next three years, if we even get to race that long."

"They did take a lot of photos," you laughed nervously, taking a breath.

"A lot of them," he nodded, voice a little softer as he agreed with you so you could calm down your tits and let him focus on driving.

He took a turn on the highway, taking a left under an indicator you failed to see, presumably driving out of Fuji. Within the whole hit and run you just pulled, he failed to mention the location you were driving to.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere."

"Somewhere," you repeated with a scoff. That was all he gave you. You came with him based on a mythical location. "Do you actually know where or you just don't want me to know in case I want to alert base?"

He just grinned looking ahead. "Both."

"You're so helpful," you smiled fakely.

"Thank you. I try my best," he says, placing a hand on his heart at the sarcastic remark.

Kidnapped by the devil. Why did I even agree to this in the first place?

It's been a little over half an hour since you ran away leaving the world in shambles. Well, your world. His was probably always in shambles. Beyond the catastrophizing, you haven't spoken one word with the person at the helm of what is presumably a stolen car that he's been driving peacefully like he was the only one in it. Although, ignoring each other for the time being might make this impromptu escapade much more delightful to endure in the long run. Who knew?

On the other hand, you were getting cooked in that leather dress. Kate's Chevy was old. The body and the interior may have been reconditioned and brought to modern standards, but it got hot like the tropics inside it during the daytime. The sun rays were so bright and warm through the windscreen that it felt like the leather seat was on fire under your already leathered bottom. Even the makeup on your face felt almost liquid, a breeze away from sliding off your face like melted ice cream. Upon one accidental look in the rearview mirror, you caught sight of your luggage right in the back seat. You completely forgot Kate hauled your stuff in the car, all ready to drive for Tokyo as soon as you were done.

Taking off those uncomfortable heels, you stretched your toes with a sigh. Then you chucked them on the floor under your seat, hoping you wouldn't have to see those feet killers anytime soon until you returned them. Unclipping your seatbelt, you rose up carefully and prepared to plant one foot in the back when Naozumi finally spoke.

"What are you doing?" he asked, glancing up at you to try and figure out just where you were headed in a rapidly moving car.

You looked at him like he didn't understand basic human needs. "I'm boiling in this dress and I'm planning to get changed in the back."

Wordlessly, he lifted the hand from the gear shifter, holding his palm open for you to take. One hand propped on your seat, the other slid in his, balancing some of your weight in it as you took a step over the armrest. Your foot barely landed on the floor behind his seat when Naozumi took a swift turn to switch lanes. You scrambled for balance as you nearly fell over him, almost tearing your dress at the seams. His hand tightened its grip around your wrist keeping you steady. Your hand flew away from your own seat to the back of his to keep you from falling over, dress magically remaining intact. Perhaps falling back in your seat instead of dangling over his head like a spider with your legs spread apart between the front and the back of the car would've been more acceptable if the dress wasn't so damn short, riding up the side of your thighs a few inches too high for your conscience. The deep cleavage dipped a few inches down too, nearly popping one out if it wasn't for your hair falling to cover it. Flashing Naozumi with your goodies up above and down below was not part of any of your plans for today. Or any day.

"Didn't know you were this adventurous," he smirked, glancing at your middle for the briefest moment before his eyes turned back on the road.

That glance alone, so short and intense, moving between your chest and your eyes made your heart race faster than the speed he was driving at. Something else pounded too, you just shoved it downhill before taking notice of it. Dazedly, you let go falling into the backseat with a thud since he let go too of your hand too, a tad bit too intentional judging by the grin spreading on his lips. You shot him a glare through the rearview mirror at which he chuckled.

"You might just be the clumsiest person I've ever met, rookie."

"And you're the most annoying prick I've ever had to deal with."

Zipping open your luggage, you sorted through the heaps of clothes until you landed on a pair of dark washed jeans and one of your old band tees. Pulling the the bag closed, you moved it over to sit behind the passenger seat. Thankful the windows were already boarded with your racing gear so no one could look inside, you made quick work of pulling your jeans on under the loose skirt. As your fingers sped to undo the zipper at the back of the dress, you only got halfway down the slider when you remembered you did have an audience. Right in the driver's seat. And his eyes were already set on you in the rearview mirror that gave him a perfect angled reflection of your torso, from neck down to the start of your waist.

"Eyes on the road, cowboy."

"They are on the road," he shrugged, eyes fleeting back down to the highway lane to put the blinkers on, acting like he didn't want to take a peek just a moment ago.

You gave him a sharp look. "You know what I mean."

"I won't look. I promise."

Still, you hesitated, fingers frozen on that damn metal zipper. The serious tone in his voice almost convinced you of that, but you needed something more. A level ground of sorts.

"How do I know you won't break it?"

He gave it a thought then replied right away.

"If I do, I give you permission to get more truths from me. One look is an extra truth to the deal." His eyes fell back on the rear view mirror. "That sound better?"

Your earlier shyness was completely gone, replaced by that bubbling ore of curiosity nestled deep within your soul. Additional truths from Naozumi for free? What if you managed to get more truths on purpose? How hard could it be to get him to look? Now you had a mission to accomplish and you chose to take it.

Curious to see how this would play out you moved ahead with the new plan. "Deal accepted," you nodded with a grin.

You went back to changing, moving around to get more comfortable in a place that gave him full access to the backseat upon just one small glance upwards. Carding a hand through your hair, you tried making it more messy, even taking away the secured pins at the back to let the hair underneath free to fall over your shoulders. Finding the back of the dress once more, your fingers resumed pulling on the zipper extra slow. So slow it didn't even make a sound as it went down the cold, long row of metal teeth stuck to your spine. Taking your sweet time until it almost reached the end of the slider.

Unable to hear any movement behind him, his eyes flew to the mirror only to catch you smirking, already onto him. He sighed in defeat.

One more truth in the bag, you cheered internally. Maybe this won't be so hard after all.

The zipper hit the bottom line of teeth on the low of your back. You moved steady, fingers catching hold of the bottom hem of the dress. You lifted it up never once taking your eyes off the mirror. He didn't look. Glancing away you rolled the leather hem in your hands and pulled it off. Before the material obstructed your view his eyes were focused on the road, jaw held in his hand to prevent him from looking up. After the dress came over your head, leaving you only in your bra and jeans, your eyes rose up to find him looking right at you.

About to declare another stolen truth for the winning streak of three in total, you lost your breath on the line of that wild gaze of his. The same one that skimmed your skin with hot fire in every trail he drew over every clothed and uncovered inch of it with those intense eyes of his. If looks could ruin, that gaze alone would be enough to rip your body to pieces like a hungry wolf. His eyes raked wildly over you from your messy hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder, driving down the lengths curling snug around your chest. Stopping to draw in a sharp breath at the dark lacy bralette covering almost everything he wasn't allowed to witness, letting just enough peaking out that he shifted in his seat with a low grunt.

He knew he was a loser the minute he agreed to that deal. Hearing the rustle behind, he knew that fucking dress was off your body and couldn't help himself from looking up into the mirror, no matter how hard he pulled on his jaw to keep his composure. Upon his eyes connecting with your half-naked reflection in the mirror, torso bare and bathed in the sunlight, he turned into a thirsty man wandering the desert. So raw and hungry for just one look at you in all your splendor, that he would give you all his hidden truths if you'd let him take as many looks as he wanted at you.

"Shirt," he grunted, coming to a red light stop.

"Shit," you muttered, throwing your t-shirt on at the speed of lightning.

"You put it on backwards," he gestured, mumbling another curse.

Pulling your hands back in through the sleeves, you moved the shirt around getting it right this time around. "How many looks was that?" you asked with a smirk, trying to rail his gears up a little.

"Just shut up and move back before we're moving again."

Doing as he said, you sauntered back in the passenger's seat without another word. Getting a pair of boots on, you laced them up all the way, then clipped your seatbelt back in, fixing your hair a little. The sun was still too bright for your eyes, burning through your brain rather than your clothes now. You searched Kate's glove box, finding her burgundy rounded sunglasses stashed in a corner.

"Do you happen to have an extra pair?" he asked, just as annoyed by the bright light.

Searching some more through the glove box, you found your own pair of aviator shades in dark green with golden framed edges. "These are mine."

He held his hand out for them. For a second you debated giving him Kate's since they looked like old lady sunglasses, but the lenses were scratched and you'd like to return Kate's car back in one piece. You moved the frames to your pair open and placed them in his palm.

"How do I look?" he asked, looking at you with a model pose. The way his lips pursed made you chuckle.

"Not as cool as me when I wear them."

"Okay, Rambo," he laughs. "Thanks for sacrificing your coolness for me."

Rolling your eyes at the comment, you turned on the radio. Searching for a station that isn't old people rock or edgy pop, in the middle of the highway where reception is static dead, you ended up on the classics post. Naozumi himself got frustrated with your constant button pushing, blowing a breath when the classic instrumentals of a random opera piece played through the speakers.

"That the best you can do?"

"If I had my phone I could play you some actual music," you retorted, resuming your ceaseless button pressing. If you had more time you would've been able to grab it on the way out of escaping.

"Like the stuff at the car show?"

"I thought you left before that."

"I was people watching."

You snorted. "More like lady scouting."

At that he grinned. "I take it you're still jealous you missed out on the fun that night with that sexy model?"

"Absolutely not," you shook your head with a dry laugh. "I'm glad that was the last time I had to hear that next to my head for a full night, just on and on without stopping. Is your dick that insatiable?"

"Stop deflecting," he said, licking his bottom lip with a scoff at that last remark. "Was the stuff at the car show yours?"

"How did you know?"

"It was good. For dancing and stuff."

"Pass me your phone," you held your hand out. He lifted a brow suspicious of your wishes with his phone. "For some actual music. Please. My ears will go deaf if they play Vivaldi's Four Seasons."

Just as you uttered the name of the famous composition, that atrocious violin jingle copyrighted for an advert started playing. Your fingers wiggled in the air waiting for him to move it before you clawed the device out of his pocket. Blowing another breath, he fished it out of his back pocket, tapped a few buttons to unlock it and handed it to you open to his music app. A huge mistake on his behalf. You now had access to everything he listened to and you started giggling at what you found on his home page.

"What's so funny?"

"Your recent listening history- Oh my, what even is your liked playlist? This is giving divorced dad on the way to the repair service. Or the scrap yard."

You literally hit a gold mine. If anything told you a lot about a person, it was the music they listened to. Naozumi here, listened to a lot of alt rock and indie with occasional iconic pop anthems here and there. That itself told you he was an emo boy at heart, even if he didn't really wear it on his sleeve.

"Give it back," he grinned, trying to take the phone away from your hands.

"Nuh-uh," you smacked his hand away. "I'm the DJ here. You're my chauffeur now."

"Your chauffeur?" he laughed. "Wow."

Quickly looking around some playlists, you queued up songs one after the other to last you for hours. As soon as the first notes of one blared through the speakers, his head started bouncing in sync with the tune, fingers tapping the leather casing on the wheel in rhythmic beats, looking pleased with what you picked. It fell right between his style and yours - pop with a twinge of edgy. The best of both worlds.

"Better?" you asked, leaning closer to him. He just looked at you through his shades, plastering a small smile on those mischievous lips of his.

"Way better."

All you could see was the long highway lanes. Forwards. On the side exits. Always going straight and diving through the edge of multiple cities without even going inside any of them. At one point, your stomach started grumbling. You pat it down to silence it. Food was one thing none of you took into consideration. Well, you would've if he mentioned the way to wherever he was taking you would take several days to reach. The more you tried to keep down the civil war going on inside your belly, the louder it got.

Naozumi drove some more until he took a diverting lane into a gas station. Did he hear my stomach grumble like a troll or something? If he did, he didn't tease you about it. Parking by the gas pump, he got off and closed the door pausing at the front of the truck. He waited for you to get off too. You waddled your way out, stretching your legs then walked into the station with him right behind you.

"Since we have nothing for the road, I thought it best to stop and do some shopping. I'll go get us water and some drinks," he said, half-turning for the aisle, waiting for you to tell him if you wanted anything in particular.

"Cool. Hope I don't find your spit in it," you joked. He gave you a look that told you he did contemplate that, then shook his head. "Then I'll go get food and snacks. Want anything?"

"Get me what you're getting yourself," he said, turning for the aisle only to crane his neck back from behind a shelf stacked up high with travel accessories. "Oh and ditto. If I find something in the food that isn't food, I will sandwich your face with it."

He was in dire need of better comebacks. "Sure, sure," you rolled your eyes at his pathetic threat.

Whizzing around the stacked aisles, you grabbed all the snacks you could find on hand. Chips, salty crackers, flavored gummies. You took the freesom to fill your hands since he was paying. Rounding around you ended up in front of the windows filled with the fresh daily's. Your mouth watered at all the food combinations, from the crispy chicken strips to the burger menu selection on the other side. Even the muffins and crème desserts underneath looked delicious. In the end, the need for food won over the sweet treats, so you picked up two footlong toasted everything paninis and made your way to the till where Naozumi was already waiting for you. He only had a few bottles of water and soda meanwhile your arms were barely holding onto everything you dropped messily on the till. He drew in a sharp breath shutting his eyes.

"Did you buy the whole available stock?"

"No. But if you're paying," your hand inched towards more finger treats at the till, "I can go back and pick up more stuff-"

"Stay put," he smacked your hand away, putting the caramel chocolates pack you managed to grab right back in its place. "And you said my dick is insatiable," he mumbled under his breath.

"We have a promotion going on," spoke the old lady scanning your items watvhing you with a sweet smile. "You bought a lot on our two plus one deals, like the water and the salty snacks. So you can get one pack of sweets of your choice for free," she added, scanning the chocolates you wanted earlier and putting them right in the bag with the sandwiches. Naozumi just grunted while you smiled at her like she saved your world.

"You look like a nice couple." She smiled sweetly at you, then shot Naozumi a cold icy stare that made you burst out laughing. "Don't upset your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he sighed, seeing the atrocious price displayed but still tapping his card.

"She could be."

That made you choke on the very air you were breathing. Naozumi froze too, his credit card beeping on the scanner for him to slide it off as the transaction was complete.

"Is that all?" she smiled again handing you the bag.

"Yeah," coughed Naozumi. "Thank you."

"Have a nice trip!"

Thanking her awkwardly, you both walked out zoning over the parking lot. A few words from an old lady rendered both of you completely and utterly speechless. Her previous words washed over you like an induced fucked up hallucination.

"You look like a nice couple."

Me and this imp in flesh and bones? You laughed to yourself. Not a chance.

"She could be."

No, thank you, coughed Naozumi. I like my braincells and sanity intact.

Sharing an accidental look, you both shook off the earlier conversation with a violent shake of your heads. Spotting the car, you took off bolting for the driver's seat while he continued shaking his head blankly. Despite the fact that he was caught in his own argumentative thought process on why that lady was wrong to consider you and him a couple, Naozumi still beat you to it, splaying himself in front of the driver's door before you could reach it. He wasn't the one carrying the bag with food, snacks and a bunch of bottles, which gave him the unfair advantage of shoving his hands to cover the door handle as you struggled to get your fingers through. You even shoved your shoulder hard into his torso but the most that did was make him wince. The man was fucking impenetrable.

"Let me drive too!" you shouted, smacking his chest so hard that you were sure it left a handprint.

"Nope," he shook his head, arms crossing over each other. "Even if you got in the driver's seat, I'm the one with the keys and the destination. So tell me, were you going to drive back all the way to Fuji or straight to Tokyo?"

Growling at him, since arguing with Mr. Know-It-All was actually fucking pointless and braincell eroding, you stomped your way to the passenger's seat mimicking his words in his annoying voice, just a tad bit more pitchy than it actually sounds like.

"I heard that," he deadpanned.

"Good," you eyed him over the roof, wishing you could flip him the bird as well. "You were supposed to." You sat back inside with a huff.

He clipped in his seatbelt, turning the engine on. He cast a look at you, happy to see you so excited to be here. "Shall we, daddy's little princess?"

You looked him dead in the eye trying not to gag. "Just shut the fuck up and drive."

Driving for hours now, you still had absolutely no clue where Naozumi was taking you. Just that the highway scenery changed to a mountain road covered by a dense tree line, going through a dirt trek of fields and hills. The indicators didn't help your mental map much since they were mostly pointing to little villages you've never heard of ever before in your life.

The ride turned surprisingly pleasant. Despite the fiery company you've been in for the most of it. You've been throwing small insults at each other here and there that turned into playful bickering and small talk about this and that. Music, cars, even sports. The man was an open book. The Naozumi you're travelling with was nothing like the one you knew in the racing paddock. This one had a mountain of calm and relaxation in him, already in the vacation spirit judging by the relaxed smile laid on his lips. You could be just as relaxed too, if you only knew where in the world he was taking you. Browsing a few destination options, you came up with two possible places - somewhere he's never been to before (possibly getting you lost and driving shit knows where for hours), or somewhere he liked going on the occasional. The more you looked at it, the latter seemed much more plausible given his carefree persona at the moment.

Too focused on him, you failed to notice he turned right into an open plan overlooking the mountains until the wild panorama was all that surrounded the car. Parking in a spot, he unclipped his seatbelt right away and got off walking to the reddish barrier in front of the car. You followed after him stopping beside his hunched form to lean on the metal frame. One look his way and you caught him taking a good breath of fresh air inside, shoulders dropping off all the weight they seemed to carry back in Fuji, letting it all go to oblivion. Even the stressed twinge in his brows loosened. Perhaps it was this Naozumi that was his true self. Calm and at ease with himself and the world.

"Where are we?"

"Izu."

You tapped the metal, listening to the echoes. "Interesting choice for a surprise getaway."

"Have you been around these parts before?"

"No," you shook your head looking down into the valley below. "But I heard the beaches are really nice, surrounded by pure white sands all around the peninsula and the water is so clear and blue since it's open entirely to the ocean." You looked back at him. "Why?"

The smirk on his face grew as he listened to you talk about the scenery, like that is exactly where he planned to take you from the get-go.

"What now?" you asked, crossing your arms on top of the railing.

"Come on," he tilted his head mountain ward. "Take a guess on where I'm taking you."

Trying to piece together the long road you've just driven down and the fact that you were currently up in the mountains, you had a few places come to mind. If you were in Izu, then the beach was pretty close by. But it couldn't be that one specific beach. That one has been nothing but a scribble in your long growing bucket list for years. There was no way of him knowing that, so you mentally searched for a different place still around the area.

He watched your brows furrow together, chewing on your lip in thinking. In one blink, your face lit up and your eyes sparkled as if you found the answer, but then your head tilted to the side confused, shoulders sagging.

"We're up in the mountains," you stated. He nodded confirming the obvious. Your eyes focused ahead on the massive mountain spreading into multiple tall rocky peaks, cresting down into ripples of pine covered hills and valleys below the open plane. You realized you've seen that mountain before. "Is that Mount Amagi by any chance?"

"Yep. You're getting close."

"Hot close or cold close?"

"Hmm, I would say hot."

The second he said hot, your mind landed back on your travel bucket list.

"No way!" you gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Are we going to Shirahama?" He nodded with another smile, glad to see you this excited. "For real, for real?"

"For real, for real," he laughed, a pleased smile on his face that he didn't ruin the surprise. You shared a gentle look before orying your hands away from him. "Thought it best to go catch some sun near an open body of water. I don't know about you, but I sure needed it after that madness in the mountains. Fuji is beautiful, but I don't want to see it again anytime soon."

"You and me both," you huffed. "Although, this view is pretty charged with sun itself," you smiled, closing your eyes to feel the mountain breeze just blow over you. The fresh air was really sent down here from the gods above. The wind played around your arms, floating up to glide through your locks, stopping to caress your face softly like a lover. Warmth danced on your face as the sunshine turned into an eternal state of mind you didn't want to step out of.

"It is a pretty view," he agreed, mumbling the words beneath a long breath. He was looking at a very different view from the mountain, sitting right beside him on the railing, more alive and breathtaking than the endless stretch of greenery or the wild flora growing on the cusp of these dormant mountains could ever be.

Something came over him, making his fingers move on autopilot to pull his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment - you - with the wind rustling your hair, the mountain in the background, eyes closed in peaceful wonder, a content smile on your face. He moved back silently, careful not to ruin your moment, as he angled your face with the mountain in the back. A breath and his finger tapped the shutter. Checking the picture just once, he pocketed the phone satisfied with the result. He wasn't one to take photos of things or people, as aesthetic or nice as they looked. But he believed that some memories were worth keeping within the layers of one. Glancing back up at you, still in your serene moment of peace, he smiled in content that this view was now his to keep. A little secret memory created just for him.

Mountain view left behind, you began the descent through the serpentines surrounding the hilltop area. Soon enough you reached the opening of the cityscape below, the blue ocean a stretch sway. Buildings and hotels peeked out between tall cliffs lining up along the stretching skyline, resembling a slice of paradise you've only seen in movies. The pictures online didn't do the place justice at all either.

"Can you hand me a sandwich?" asked Naozumi, attention fully on the curved road.

He was right on time since you were hungry too and didn't feel like eating on your own. Picking up a panini, you unwrapped it halfway and handed it to him. He took a hold of it shifting in his seat, leaning the hand with the sandwich on the rolled down window. He switched lanes, fingers nimbly moving between indicators before falling down the slope of the wheel, forearm settling back on his knee. Your sandwich stopped midway to your mouth, watching the movement as if you haven't been driving cars for as long as you could walk on your own two feet. There was just something about the way he did it, so manly and self-assured, that was too hypnotizing not to sit and observe it like a co-driver doing the same for its driver. Just more immersed in the way his hand glided over the leather casing of the wheel to take a swift turn, steering it straight before the foot of his wrist ended back on his knee to keep the wheel in place.

The traffic came to halt as the late afternoon rush hour set in. Feeling eyes on him, he found you looking at the way his hand was sitting on the wheel tapping to some song in the background. His lips quirked, about to comment on it and tease you, until his eyes fell on the mayonnaise drop hanging on the side of your cheek. He just chuckled to himself drawing your attention away from his hands.

"What?" you asked cluelessly.

"Why do you always have shit on your face?"

"For you to get your knickers in a twist about it," you huffed, rolling your eyes. "Where is it now-"

Before your hand could even stretch to find the location of the misplaced sauce, his thumb rose up to collect it rapidly, pulling it to his mouth in all but a blink. His tongue flicked out over it, licking it clean. Your mouth fell open at the gesture, appalled and in disbelief.

A comment brewed in you until a phone started ringing somewhere in the car. Naozumi shook his head that it's not his. It wasn't yours either since you left your bag at the studio in Fuji. Searching around the back you came to Kate's bag. Her phone was ringing bloody murder inside now that it caught city signal. Tanaka's name flashed on the screen for one more ring before it stopped, showing you a polaroid photo of her and her very secret boyfriend on her lock screen,and about twenty-seven missed calls, and a shitload more texts.

A mere second and the phone lit up with his name again. You shared a look with Naozumi. He nodded for you to take it. You pressed the answer call button only to be welcomed by silence - a fake silence - preparing the Kate Volcano to explode and engulf everything in burning flames and lava. You had to cook up a believable story fast. Sure enough, she gave you five seconds to pick something then her voice came through lightly satirical.

"Raiko Maria Suruki."

Not the government and the religious name. If she used your full baptized name, she was more pissed than you've ever seen her be pissed. And when she was this mad, all hell broke loose upon the world around her without one soul leaving unscathed. Truth be terribly told, you feared her more than you feared your parents. You cleared your throat before answering to appear on top of the situation, though your trembling heartbeat said something else.

"Present?" you spoke, voice a tad bit higher than you wanted it to sound. You caught a grin on Naozumi's face. He was enjoying this a whole lot.

"You better be on your way back this instant, young lady," she spoke sternly like a parole officer. "Did devil incarnate kidnap you against your will or did he somehow coerce you to do this to get out of the photoshoot deal? If that's the case I can give him over to the police so they can handle his rogue ass-"

Naozumi's ears were perked in silence, listening in the whole time. At all the accusations brought to his name, he felt compelled to take the phone from your hand to place it on speaker instead. Your eyebrows hit your hairline. Glaring at him you warned him not to do anything stupid.

"Devil incarnate speaking," spoke Naozumi, Kate's voice drawing to a bouldering halt.

"One, she's not coming back until possibly tomorrow or when she feels like it. Two, I didn't kidnap her, she actually came of her own accord. And three," he turned to you. You seemed more relaxed than he's caught you these past few days. If anything, he did you a favor by taking you away. "She looks like she's having fun to me." Your eyes fleeted up to his, softening despite your earlier warning. "Any other problems I can solve for you?"

"Naozumi Hiyama, just you wait until I get my hands on you-" He must've seen the ear-splitting yell coming so he pressed the end call button, hanging up on her and putting the device on mute. Sliding the phone inside the armrest compartment next to his, he picked his sandwich back up continuing to eat as if he didn't just wake Wrath in flesh and bones.

"Wow, you have balls."

"That's kind of the point," he turned up a smirk.

Giggles ruptured out of you one more joyous than the other. Your giggly fit turned into a full laugh consuming the breath in your lungs like you heard a really good joke. Maybe it was the situation you've found yourself in or the atrocious circumstances following it, but all you could do was laugh. He was downright insufferable in essence, but at times like these, he surprisingly turned into the funniest thing you could have around. Naozumi who couldn't give two fucks tried to give one and even that worked his way still. Unbelievable.

He watched you laugh, truly laugh it out until you clutched your stomach and the edges of your lips made a pair of rare dimples pop out. He laughed with you, the sound pulling your eyes to him. From beneath that serious jokester façade of his came a smile so genuine, it knocked your breath out before you could even take it in, rattling your heart to a flutter. The thought that he might actually be human underneath that troublesome devil attitude of his made your heart race with warmth.

"You should smile more often," you say, fiddling with your panini. If you focused on that bright, real smile, your opinion on him might just shift to places you thought it impossible to reach. Just like your pulse shifted rhythms from just looking at it.

"I don't have a lot to smile about in my life," he let on, eyes boring out onto the city skyline at nothing in particular. He searched the skyline just like he did the flower field just the other day. Like his mind ran a hundred miles a minute and stood still at the same time in a contradiction of his real self and the one he showed to the world. Though this time around, all that wind spinning in his eyes was gone and he wore a true smile. The kind where his lips pulled in like the tide reins in the sea with the changing flux. It barely reached the corners of his mouth, but it was a smile nonetheless. His own kind of smile.

"I'm sure that's not true," you argued, clearly affected by that affirmation. Or the shadow of that smile still on his lips. Or both.

He spared you one more glance then turned his lips upwards in his usual smirk, focusing back on the road ahead.

In the month you've known him, you've found yourself observing that smile of his. Sometimes accidental. Sometimes incidental. And you found that he has a wide collection of them, varying on intensity and honesty from each and every human he interacted with. The one he wore the most is the cocky smirk he showed the world and the press, letting his charm conquer the crowds, filled with secret dishonesty as he hid his heart away. The one he dressed up in front of the ladies is a sure and confident smug grin designed to keep him safe, not too close to tie a long-term bond, or too far to turn him into a societal monster unfit for human interaction. Even the self-assured grin after he crashed his car over many instances was calculated, that you wondered if he truly felt any pain or he just hid it well. You've experienced all of those, and still, many more. The playful smirk when he annoyed you to the world's end, tilted in the same smug way on his upper lip. The overconfident grin, stretching it bigger when he succeeded. The pursed, hidden smile like a Cheshire cat's when he compelled you to give in to his taunting. But none of them were as true and close to candid as the one he just gave you. This one was a unique piece in his collection. A limited find. One that happened to be just for your eyes.

Focusing back on the tropical scene on your left, you tried to calm the rattling shake in your heart. He drove some more, turning around a few resort-style hotel buildings. A giddy excitement bubbled in you with every glimpse of the light blue ocean you could catch between them. Soon enough he drove down the main street in front of the beach. One more turn and he drove over a sandy path at the foot of the beachfront, parking with the front facing the main street. As soon as the engine cut off, you threw your seatbelt off and shoved the door open, running out to the shore. Naozumi didn't even get to pull the keys out of ignition and you disappeared into thin air.

Running all the way to the shore, hair winding down your back, you stopped at the frothy foam rushing up the seams of broken waves. You arrived just in time to see the sun start his descent to set above the horizon line. Bright orange bled into strokes of red over the blue sky, spreading to reach as much of it as possible. Warm sunrays played on your face as the fireball dove towards the endless ocean until he finally sank down beneath the water line. The last figments of his light left a purple haze as a gift for his moon that would be bringing the night. Naozumi joined you on the shore, hands in his pockets as he watched the waves lap a few feet away. He saw your eyes jump all over the place, trying to take it all in with one look. Your eyes sparkled with each new detail you found. He could almost feel your frustration that you couldn't photograph the place to memory.

"Welcome to Shirahama Beach," he spoke with a chuckle. You turned to him a bit startled, unaware of just when he fell in beside you.

"It's so beautiful," you marveled, looking back out on the water. Cliffs rose all around, surrounding the coast. The white sands, now a deep beige with the sunset, stretched all the way to each end of the beach. Sapphire waves lapped eagerly at tour booted feet. Despite the loaded traffic you just drove through, you couldn't see a lot of people around. "Is it normally this empty?" you asked, eyes turning back to Naozumi.

"Well, it's barely the start of the season so most people come in the morning to explore the city and go partying in the evening. All hotels are normally fully booked once the weather is constantly warm. And the beach may be empty, but the clubs are always packed."

"They have clubs here?" your eyes were nearly bulging out as you asked.

He nodded with a smirk. "How do you feel about a drink and some real music?"

Falling in beside him, Naozumi started telling you about the club you were heading to. The main building is just an expensive high-rise hotel on the beach front. At least ten stories of guest rooms, an indoor and outdoor pool, several gyms and a restaurant. But the side building attached to it has a built-in club and bar space that was packed for most of the year, be it the weekend or a random Monday night like tonight. From how he spoke about it, he knew an awful lot about this place. True to his words, you couldn't tell where the queue in front of you began and ended. Just that it looked as long as the line down to hell must be. Naozumi cut through the waiting line, clearly not cut out for waiting, until he reached the main entrance. A pair of big, bulky bouncers controlled the flow inside and out, turning around anyone who didn't seem fit for entry. They only let in the regulars and occasional VIP clients dressed extravagantly. Seeing some of the outfits rolling inside, you looked down at your tee and jeans combo thinking you could've done better putting that tight leather trap back on. At the sight of Naozumi approaching, one of the bouncers leaned down to his height with a grin and a firm handshake, most certainly a face he knew. Tapping your boot to the faded bass tremors coming from inside, you eyed Naozumi oddly, wondering how frequently he visits these parts that he's besties with the bouncers. Changing a few words between them, the man glanced between you and Naozumi briefly. You smiled awkwardly, feeling nerves crawl up your body at how hard that man's stare was. They shook hands again, finally moving away to let you through.

Naozumi took the lead, taking you down a long hallway tinted ultraviolet. People were either talking or making out against the walls openly without a worry. Most were too inebriated to keep themselves or their smooching partner on their feet as they rushed to devour each other's faces. They looked carefree and as happy as a club visit can get someone, diving in the crook of their partner's neck with intoxicated smiles. A brief thought had you imagine Naozumi in that position with a random model but you set that scene on fire as quick as it came around. You didn't need another nightmare on your mind. Although, you and Naozumi hitting the club on a beach you've never been to before without a way back home was already a horror masterpiece in the making. The night was just getting started after all.

"I didn't take you for a club kind of guy," you whisper-shouted, keeping close behind him as you passed through the people at the front entrance. He stopped in front of two tall black doors, music getting even louder now.

"I didn't take you for a DJ either," he shouted, glancing back at you with a smirk. "Seems like we're both full of secrets."

He pushed the doors open right as the trumpets started their ascent into the famous Destination Calabria chorus and boy, the club button in your body pressed play right away. Early 2000s dance music crashed through your eardrums at full volume. The music pounded with your pulse, thrumming in your body like a jackhammer. It coursed through you with a thrill of adrenaline putting your body in motion right away even as you were just sat on the spot checking the place out.

Packed was a huge understatement. The club was flooded to the brim like an overflowing glass of water, filled with dancing bodies instead crashing into each other. The minute you set foot in the main part of the club, the mixed scent of high quality alcohol and expensive perfume hit your nostrils. Neon signs in pink or blue quotes were hung at the entrance and above the bar at the other end. Multicolored light batons dangled down from the ceiling, changing colors with the lights set beside a small stage reserved for the DJ, a pedestal on each side occupied by dancers. Naozumi sat beside you, watching as you curiously gouged out the place.

Leaning up to his ear, you shouted, "This is a thousand times better than what they play in Tokyo clubs. Are you sure we should even be here?"

"Last I checked, it's not illegal to go clubbing. Plus, it's only us here," he said, his lips falling by your ear. That affirmation did little to comfort you. You looked around the club with more unease. He dove back down to your ear with more words of conviction.

"Come on, let loose for a bit, rookie. It's not gonna hurt you if you set free to have some real fun. Let someone else spin your life for a night."

The depth of his voice reverberated in your ear over the music, echoing small ripples of shivers down your back. Both the anxious and the fun kind, mixed together. After the weekend you had, you really needed the fun to overpower the stress. But you had doubts when it came to doing anything with Naozumi in the equation.

"I hope you won't make me regret this."

He only gave you another grin. That pointy smirk on his lips alone telling enough that you were in deep shit already. His hand brushed your arm in encouragement as he leaned back down to your ear, voice so sure it almost convinced you for good.

"You won't regret this. I promise." You looked at him with a doubtful look. He's been making an awful lot of promises to you today. Not that he broke any of them. It just felt weird to find him seeking your trust.

"I'll go say hello to some old friends but I'll be right back. If you need a drink, mention my name at the bar and they'll open my tab. Try not to get lost."

Pulling back, he glanced once more at you as you nodded. In a heartbeat, he let go of your arm and made himself scarce. You followed him with your eyes for a while, until his jet black hair disappeared among the ripples of bobbing heads in the crowd completely. You pushed away the shrill of anxiety prickling your nerves and took to dancing, trying to let loose. Diving deeper into the pivoting bodies moving on their own rhythms, you landed somewhere in the middle of the atmosphere. The middle has always been the safest. Close to the DJ booth, covered by strangers, lighter than the rest of the room. The perfect place to let go.

A few songs rolled by and there was still no sight of Naozumi. A part of you told you he left to go look for a hook-up catch or do god knows where with sketchy people since they seemed more his entourage. With or without him, you let go and let your body move along to the music, humming to a beat that sounded familiar, mouthing lyrics you knew somehow. You gave it full control and let it take over you. Closing your eyes, you felt it running in your veins with a rush of energy, tingling your limbs like no other song has done before. Hypnotizing your senses to the sharp notes and motions of the instruments. Reeling your heartbeat in sync with its melody. It swayed and spun you over and over, making your hands drive along your hips, around your waist, to the back of your neck and in your hair. It moved you in a trance until the chorus hit and your eyes opened to find Naozumi, just a throw away. Too far. As if hearing your thoughts, his steps fell in closer and closer with every passing beat of your heart growing louder in your head. Too close.

Every single day, single hour I can see your face, single day Every single day, single hour I can see your face, single day

Back turning away from him, you continued dancing until rough, sure hands wound up around your middle, spinning you around to pull your body to him. You sucked in a breath at the sight of those dark eyes catching yours with such an intensity your heart quivered off beat. Synths melted into softer vocals beyond the chorus, just like you fell into his arms, bodies all but melting into one another. One figment of your fantasy after another came to life as you sunk deeper and deeper into his hold, running your hands up his the strong sides of his arms, the needs of your body louder than your rational thoughts going into override. His touch curled around your body, fingers brushing above your hips over the thin material of your shirt to pull you closer. Your body crashed into his, hip to hip and eye to eye. But it wasn't close enough. Not nearly enough. You could see it in those eyes of his, looking at you with a hunger that made your skin heat over. The need to have him close when he's been craving to have you closer.

The tempo rose steadily as he pressed you into his chest. His touch electrified all your nerves. It skimmed up your waist, rounding around your back with raw need. You moved together to the dizzying rhythm, letting the bass guide your hips side to side wherever the music wanted to move you. Be it away from his chest to link your hands together as they raised above you, your small fingers threading through his bigger ones as he leaned into you. Be it deeper into his chest, surrounded by his strong arms like a ship drifting in the ocean. You spun around, back colliding with his broad chest as he caged you back in his hold. Lifting your hands up to swing with the wave of the melody, you felt him dive low into your neck, his breath whispering things over your skin. Disarmed by his broad form towering behind you, your arms fell back down, hands rushing to grab and tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck to shift the control back in your hands. He didn't let you, his strong arms sneaking back around your waist holding control back to him. You tugged on each other's restraint back and forth until you both let go of every worry, every inhibition, every rule, every barrier placed between you. Until it was only you and him on the crowded dance floor, bodies finding synergy with the raising synths, heartbeats rising just the same.

Spinning back to him, your hands raced up the front of his chest beneath his jacket. The pounding of his heart ran steady under your palm, the hard muscle underneath his shirt warming up with your touch. In all but a blink, your fingers laced around his neck while he pulled you in closer by the small of your back, faces falling closer than a mere breath away. Close enough to lay it all to faith and do something sober you would horribly regret. But she was so far away, stressing her pants off about life, so afraid to let go for once. Music-intoxicated you didn't care about a thing. Not about the bad boy beneath your arms, swaying too drunk on the feel of him around you. Not when the gaze in his eyes promised much more, gazing into yours with fire. Not too long and they fell on your lips. A beat and he leaned in for them. A puff of his hot breath on the rim of your bottom lip. His tight grip pulling your body into him. Nose brushing the bridge of yours. So close. Closer, you begged internally.

Kiss me, you nearly breathed out. Kiss me mindless and hard.

Do you believe in life after love? I can feel something inside me say I really don't think you're strong enough, no

The sudden change in tune had him halt. Painfully close. He dropped a curse just a nail away from laying his lips on yours. You whined audibly at the lack of lips missing from yours but the music swallowed it. The more upbeat disco rhythm ruined the growing sync between you. Demolished sounded more like it. The spark of the moment was all but gone in the blink of an eye. But the buzz was still there. As you backed up, his arms slid off yours almost reluctantly, like they wanted to hold you a little while longer. Too bad your conscience reeled you away. You felt the phantom warmth of his palms like a ghost holding you gently.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," you coughed awkwardly, taking a step back. Your hands fell off his shoulders aching to race back to hold onto them. You fisted them at your side, trying to push the tingles and the feel of him off your fingertips.

"Want me to come with you?" he asked, looking unsure of what just happened himself.

"No!" You shook your head at him way too fast. Music changing the mood, sober you was slowly inching back into your head with countless thoughts rapidly firing one after the other making it hard to make both your mind and mouth co-operate. "I mean no. It's okay. I'll be right back." With that you dashed away to the bar at the back.

What the fuck am I doing? We danced together??? We nearly kissed?!!! I wanted him to kiss me. Mindless and hard? Jesus Christ. We were so close to doing damage to everything. My career, my sanity, my dear lips," you stopped, unconsciously touching them. Dear god, this runaway trip feels more like a curse than a blessing.

Your hands all but smacked down on top of the bar, getting the attention of a few people and the bartender. Pulling them away with an apologetic smile you waved over the man behind the bar. He smiled at you in sympathy, as if he knew the mess rolling around in your mind at the moment all too well. "What can I get you?" he asked, getting a glass ready.

"The strongest shit you've got."

Right as you said that, the reminder that you were penniless and at the mercy of Naozumi's wallet had you grimace. Inching to take the order back, you were about to tell him to leave it when someone on your right called him over. She was one of the dancers you saw on the dancing platform when you stepped in the club. Her tan skin all but shimmered. Curly long dark hair fell below her waist, draping over her pink sequin dress to match the few rebel pink streaks in her looped curls, changing shades with the neon lights above. She seemed to be a foreigner, though she had very subtle Asian features and a different air about her. Her lips drove up to the bartender's ear with what must be an order, glancing between the mixing instruments in his hand and your conflicted, slightly confused stare. He plied himself away with a knowing look directed at her, shoulders sagging with the familiarity of her words. She flashed him a sweet smile and he had to surrender to her charm. You would too if she smiled that sweetly at you. Then, her green eyes glanced up at you as she motioned you over. Your feet moved to her spot with polite intent, as she pulled a stool out for you with a friendly smile.

"Hey girl, I got you covered," she patted your arm. "I told him to put it on my tab." Her green orbs dove up and down your face, frowning at the way your brows pulled together like they've always been that tightly pinched in stress. "Rough night?" she asked, her voice floating softer over the blaring music.

"You could say that," you scratched your neck awkwardly. "Look, thank you for paying. I forgot my wallet... home." In Fuji, actually. "I'll make sure to repay you somehow."

"There's no need for that," she shook her head. "If you're having fun and get to forget about your rough night, then consider me paid. Us girls have to stick up for each other every once in a while." Her brows shot up as she pulled her hand off the stool so you could sit. "Oh my, I'm Stella by the way. Come and have a seat."

You climbed the chair and spoke with her some more, getting to know each other. She was so easy-going you might just tell her all your secrets. She went by Stella down here at the club, working as a server and occasionally filling up the dancer platforms when she felt like letting loose. Her parents were of Japanese-American descent. She's grown up around the coast for most of her childhood, courtesy of her grandparents, and moved over from the mainland once she was old enough, trying to get her family off her case. A little while later, the introductions turned your way. She was stoked to learn that you were a rally driver. More so, as soon as she found out you came with Naozumi, her lips tipped up in a knowing smirk. She let on that he's Shirahama's most regular customer, doing more miles with his car to get down here than to spend them flying somewhere else more tropical and sunny.

"He's been coming down here for a couple years now. There's no season I haven't seen him walk through the door, even if it was just in passing or to say hello to everyone." Her hands wound up around her sparkly top, leaning forward on her chin to get a better look at you. "Though, I've never seen him bring anyone with him, especially all the way from the big city."

The way she said it made it seem as though you crossed some sort of dynamic bridge with him. "Does that make me special or something?" you joked.

The way her green eyes stilled cold with the blue hue of the lights told you there was a lot she wanted to say on the topic. But before she could tell you more, your drinks came through. The bartender laid down a cocktail glass for you and one for your new friend, pouring the contents of the cocktail shaker skillfully. The liquid had an interesting peachy shade, light on top and darker at the bottom of the glass. He added a cherry and a slice of orange on the side, telling you that it was called Stella's Special. The woman in question all but glowed as he said it.

"Let me know what you think of it and be honest, even if it sucks," she says. "I've been tweaking the recipe and I'm lost on what to change."

"The whole thing," coughed the guy behind the bar. Stella glared at him with a silent warning to watch it.

She didn't let on any other information on what it contained to not spoil your first taste. A bit skeptical, you clinked the glass with hers and threw it back together, letting it burn down your throat. The first hit tasted like a mix of vodka and martini, with a tang of citrus fruits leaving a sweet aftertaste. The next had a weird consistency to both tequila and rum. Whatever it was, it kicked your system into instant relaxation. Her eyebrows lifted up waiting for your review.

"It's exactly what I needed," you sighed, having another gulp of it. "Light but really strong, fruity and smooth, surprisingly all in one. It's really good." She clapped excitedly at your comment making you giggle.

"See, I told you it's good to go," she sounded pissed turning back to the bartender. Something told you he's had to taste test the cocktail enough to puke his guts out. His upcoming sigh of defeat only confirmed that.

"It might be Stella," he deadpanned, "but I'm not selling it as long as I have a bartender license to uphold. I like my job. Active and safe from a Consumer's Protection citation."

"Whatever. Be sour that I made my own drink and you won't ever figure out how to make an original one for as long as you live. Come on," she clinked her glass to yours. "Let's have some more of these, then we can go have some fun once you have some real fuel in you!"

Naozumi was racking his mind about the moment you just had. Well, it's been a while since that scene happened but he just couldn't get it out of his head. He liked it. A tad bit too much for his own good. He didn't mean to lean down and try to kiss you. Kissing you was not a part of the plan and he hoped it wouldn't ever get there. But with your hands tangled deep in his hair and his arms around your body, he got carried away. The change of music was truly unsolicited, ruining whatever he built up in him to do. As glad as he was for the interruption, a part of him wished the DJ never played that fucking disco song. Climbed right up his extremely disliked list.

Minutes passed by and there was still no sight of you or the drinks you disappeared after. He took off to the bar, pushing through the lost drunk dancers and the couples making out, thinking you were either getting a drink or someone managed to chat you up already. Getting to the bar, he looked left and right but there was no sight of you at all. Nodding to his bartender friend in greeting he talked to him asking if anyone ordered alcohol on his line. His friend said his tab wasn't opened by anyone tonight. That left his mind blank.

Where did she go? he wondered, looking around trying to spot you in the crowd drenched in strobe lights. Blue and red flashed and his eyes landed on the dancer platforms at the side of the stage. Moving away past them, his eyes fell on the one to the right of the DJ scene where a very familiar face was getting down with one of the dancers he knew. Drawing closer to the platform, his eyes caught on the dirty boots, riding up the dark jeans and an old band tee and realized it was you. Completely shitfaced by the looks of your lascivious dance moves. The hem of your shirt was tied together to expose your navel. Your hands were deep in your hair making it a mess, hips swaying wide to the side of the stand, feet padding dangerously close to the edge. He tapped your leg to get your attention. You looked down ready to shoo whoever touched you away with a boot to the mouth until you recognized Naozumi. A wide smile broke on your face as you waved at him.

"Fun's over, rookie. Get down from there."

"You told me to let loose. That's exactly what I'm doing, so no can do," you sang, continuing to move your hips to the music, sending his existence to oblivion.

He tapped the back of your leg again and you glared at him this time. "Are you always this complicated?" he asked.

You stopped dancing and leaned down to him with a brazen smirk on your lips. Hand moving of its own accord, you grabbed onto his chin trailing your fingers under it as if you were petting a dog for being a good boy. Naozumi was far from being a good one but that wasn't something you could change. What you were in fact able to change was his pestering.

"Oh, I'm not the complicated one here, mister," you bit back, a devilish smile matching his usual one stretching your lips. Your other hand tugged on his shoulder pulling him in close, letting your lips graze the side of his ear, as you whispered, "Unlike you, I know what I want."

"And what is that?" he asked, angling you down with a fire in his eyes that made something in your belly flutter. Ignoring that weird feeling, you simply smiled bright at him, unknowingly sending his wheels spinning.

"Why fun, of course!" you say, throwing your head back with a drunken giggle. Jumping back up unsteadily on your feet, hugging your dancer friend once more. She hugged you too as you sang together to the song playing.

At this point, he had better chances letting you run out of fuel than forcibly drag you away from the platform and into the car. So he let you dance it all out until you dropped, keeping watch from the side. One song passed, then another, until about ten of them went away and you were still dancing and singing like you drank heavy shots of espresso instead of the loaded alcohol scent he caught off your breath. He gave it a few more preparing to call your curfew soon.

The music coursed through you like an energizer. At one point you weren't even sure what you were dancing to. The songs all morphed into one melody, the rumble of the constant bass rocking your body giving you one solid beat to follow until you struggled to move your limbs past a half-assed twist here and there. You didn't have to move much to feel the joy of being free of all your burning worries, letting yourself float on the wave of music, drowning the world out to hear your inner one sing. You just had to look through your blurry eyes at your new dancer friend holding most of you up, swinging you side to side, and carry on feeling the freedom.

But slowly, your energy was depleting. You ignored it as much as you could, but that bout of exhaustion you ran away from all weekend hit you all at once. And it hit you hard. The boots on your feet weighed like heavy lead every time you lifted them to take a step. It was impossible not to blink at the flashing lights like they didn't annoy you to hell and beyond. You swayed, blinking away at the lightheaded feeling gripping you with force. Stella leaned in to tell you a joke but you barely registered it before starting to laugh uncontrollably, unable to process her words past the blur of her mouth moving. Whatever she said must have been funny because you shook on your feet as you laughed and hiccupped, clutching your stomach in jolly pain. The lights spun in dotted lines all blue and too bright. Your steps backtracked, tangling over each other until you stumbled over the edge of the platform, blacking out for a moment.

Naozumi saw your knees wobble and bolted up to reach you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and the back of your knees, holding you up as your arms wrapped around his neck out of reflex, the one thing that was still working with you. He blew a breath of relief that he got to you before you could kiss the floor and break your skull. Or something else Kate would most likely put him six feet under for.

The world around you fell to a complete blur, feeling yourself free fall to the bottom of something. Shaking away the heavy feeling weighing on your lids, you blinked multiple times to clear the fog. The force surrounding you felt cushiony, soft, weirdly safe. Your mind struggled to catch up with you as your eyes rode from the platform you just stood on to what looked like a person at your side. A familiar face spun in your field of vision like they rode a merry-go-round around you, pivoting side to side until Naozumi's serious face became clearer. His jaw looked tense up close, so close you could see his lips parted in shock and his eyes swimming with worry. You squinted, trying to figure out if you were seeing things or this was actually a really worried Naozumi you were seeing. You gaped at him for a moment, zeroing in and out of focus on him and the world around you. Then you simply giggled with a messy hiccup, smiling sweetly at him as you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

"I think that's enough fun for tonight," he spoke, fixing you in a better position in his arms. Seeing as you were completely out of it, making wide blinky eyes at him, like one of those colorful pocket-sized lizards that smiled at people before biting them, he took off through the crowd with you safely secured in his arms.

He made his way out of the club through the other entrance connected to the beach, carrying you the way back to the car. The waves lapped at the shore splashing one after the other in the dark of the night, calming to hear after the loudness of the music. So calm your eyes drifted closed, your legs swinging left and right supported by your humble transport, feeling as if you were in the sea and the waves were lulling you into a dreamless sleep. Until a smooth, deep voice with a hint of sweet alcohol broke through the silence, calling your name. It took a handful times but your attention was finally on him.

"What did you drink at the bar?" He sounded concerned, glancing at the way your lids dropped every so often.

"Your friend Stella has the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen," you say, drawing your head back on his shoulder with a drowsy smile. "She ordered her special for me."

"Of course she did," he chuckled. "You drank that atomic liquid bomb with all but a panini sandwich in your stomach?" You nodded. "How many did you even have to get this drunk?"

You lifted your hand to eye level trying to count the number of pink umbrella glasses on your fingers. You got as far as your fourth but your memory blurred beyond that point. There might have been more but you weren't that sure about it. He looked between your narrowed eyes and the struggle to keep your fingers straight as you counted beside your hand and knew the answer weighed heavily on way more than four. And even one of those was enough to send you in a coma.

"I hope they give you kids champagne on the podium."

"You think I can get podium?" you asked, eyes fixed on him, fingers tapping the rhythm of the song playing back at the club on his shoulder as a small giddy smile graced your lips.

His brown eyes flickered in the dark settling on your face. That smile of yours was a wonder to him. Now, in all the weeks he's known you, he's barely seen a real smile fall on your lips. At some point he thought you forgot all joy somewhere, locked in a briefcase with a number combination that you could collect after working your seriousness off on the job. But tonight, he finally saw it. You were smiling so much, letting all that cheer explode from deep inside you with a brightness that would put the glow of sunshine to shame. His serotonin counter broke somewhere after the third one you flashed him while wildly dancing on that platform, unaware of just how fast those drunken smiles of yours made his heart race. If you gave him any more of those, he might just pop a leg and get knee damage before he made it to the car with you.

"I think you can do whatever you put your mind to," he spoke, eyes falling over your winged eyes, sparkling in the light of the bright moon.

"You can put me down now."

He lifted a brow in doubt. "You sure you can balance your wheels?"

"I'm sure," you nodded with a tight-lipped smile, the kind children have when they're being entrusted with a big responsibility for the first time.

He obliged, letting you down from the safe hold his arms had around you. The moment your feet touched the sand, you took off your boots and so ks tucking them inside and started running along the beach, laughing at how good life felt. It hasn't felt this good in a while. Just having the lights blinking up the hills and the roiling waves of the dark sea in sight made you feel like you were floating on a cloud, away from the mundane responsibilities of life, enjoying the present like nothing else mattered. Because at times when the stress of helping the team get back on track and deliver results called, everything mattered, big or small, insignificant or trivial. But everything was too much to handle sometimes. Take for example how this weekend treated you, kicking you up and down the roads of Fuji, running over your hopes and dreams until they turned to almost unsalvageable roadkill. After all, this impromptu trip was like a distraction sent from the gods. Especially Naozumi's sweet friend with the pretty green eyes and her special liquor. That friend made your weekend much better.

Naozumi let you run away as far as you wanted. He didn't run after you. He just sat back walking beside the path of footprints you left in the sand, keeping an eye on you just in case he had to gather you up from the sand. Slowing down, you turned around running backwards through the small waves breaking at your feet, looking back at him. Once that smile of yours appeared, he felt compelled to grin back just as wide.

He thought you looked more like yourself now, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, than you did this weekend in the one place you seemed to love the most. A part of him was glad he threw that little revenge plan away back at the shoot, asking you to come with him. He could tell you were stressed out of your mind these past few days when you didn't reply to his annoying remarks at all, not even on a hard wedge of his shoulder into yours in the line to get food or an inappropriate teasing remark thrown your way, keeping that serious look with furrowed brows on your face at all times. A look that he knew too well. The independent fix-it-all, available nonstop for each and every soul, acting like all was fine to keep the stress at bay when there was a war waging inside of your own, refusing to just be indifferent and let things go when the world was running faster than you could ride it.

That same part of him was also glad that you listened to him and let loose a little tonight. You ran backwards again and stumbled falling on your back in the sand laughing. The grin on his face fell, concern replacing it again. He got ready to run to your side when you got back up to your feet like nothing happened, giving him the thumbs up that you were fine before taking off running again. Maybe you let loose a little more than he recommended. But you were laughing making him laugh to himself. He's seen you getting your hands dirty by working on cars and braiding flower crowns, and still, he felt there were more layers to you. His own curiosity wanted to pick apart at those layers one by one, until he got to the core of you.

He finally caught up with you stopping a few steps by the water. Squatting down in front of him, you made wide eyes at a coiled sea shell that washed up on the sand with a really adorable look on your face. You had that childlike wonder in your eyes as your pointer poked it, looking at it like it was some sort of magical tool. If your eyes glimmered any more at it, he thought you'd start believing everything was possible if you wanted it to be by the power of the magical sea shell. Crouching down to you to get a better look at the pursed smile on your face, he wondered where your mind ran off to again.

"What did mini you used to dream about?" he asked, looking between you and the shell.

"To see my dad happy," you replied in a heartbeat, nodding in agreement that current you wanted the same thing. "Well, mom too, obviously. And Tanaka. And Kate. And everyone! But him especially."

Your eyes moved away from the seashell, focusing on the big waves rolling out at sea, as if looking after the spark of a hope that your dream was almost done being crafted. Almost on its way to you. Almost in your hands. Almost real.

"If dad will be happy and live his life without all that worry he's been carrying around for sooooo long, then I would say that my dream came true," you said, smile turning meek on the edges. "That's all I've ever dreamed about. I want to make it come true. No matter how long it takes."

A shrill breeze blew from the sea, sending chills down your arms. You shook like a duckling with your cheeks puffed. Naozumi pulled off his denim jacket, wrapping it around you as best as he could without stepping on your precious new find. He picked up the little seashell and placed it in the front pocket of the jacket, patting down the pocket so you knew where it was in case you happened to look for it. His hand brushed a lone strand of hair away from your face, falling to your arm to rub some warmth into you.

"Come on, Dora the Explorer. Let's get back to the car before we freeze our seashells out here."

He helped you get back up on your feet and tucked you under his arm, taking you the rest of the way back to the car. The cold sand crunched under your feet, toes already on the brink of becoming mini icicles. Stopping to pull your boots back on, you held Naozumi's arm for balance, sliding your feet back in the warm comfort of your boots. Then you ran ahead of him until you reached the car's trunk. You let the latches open and the gate fall before running over to your luggage in the back clicking the keys to unlock the car. Rummaging through it, throwing clothes all over the backseat, you found your long fluffy blanket. Rounding back to the back you climbed up, with a little help from Naozumi pushing your legs up as you crawled over.

Confused, he watched you lay the blanket down for most of the length of the trunk bed before sitting down holding your hand out to him with a smile. He grabbed it and you pulled on it hard with a giggle so contagious he couldn't help but laugh too as you struggled to pull him up without sliding off yourself. Finally up in the back of the car, you had a way better view of the high cliffs hugging the coastline and the dark sea splashing up on the shore. Golden bundles of yellow lights flickered from one end of the coast to the other, from little houses way up on the hills, to the bigger hotels down on the shore, mixing in with the midnight blue sky and the sea, both drenched in almost complete darkness. The waves crashed on a calmer tide and the wind blew, but not enough to make the air cold, rustling your hair in a twirl from time to time. The peace of the night made you sigh in content.

Naozumi unwrapped the lid of a water bottle handing it to you. You looked at it with a pout shaking your head. He insisted, pushing the water your way once more. You reeked of alcohol and dehydration was not a good thing to go by after a rally weekend. He's felt that on his own skin way more than he cared to remember. You whined audibly, pushing it away from you like it would do you more harm than the shit you already consumed.

"If you want to puke your guts out first thing in the morning, then be my guest." That sentence alone made your guts roll in horrid anticipation. With a scoff, you took the bottle, drinking a good amount of it before handing it back to him.

He set it aside, bringing up his knees to lean his arms over them in a brooding lean. You caught him doing that thing again - zoning out somewhere too far away from here. The earlier easy, relaxed look on his face turned heavy with something he seemed unable to let go of and you were dying to know what made his mood turn so sour all of a sudden.

"What are you so in deep thought about?"

"Nothing," he sighed, shoulders dropping low. You haven't seen the man so depressed into the space of his cockiness. But there was a first for everything.

"I think you should let loose a little too. Come on, tell me what's on your mind."

"I didn't realise this was twenty-one questions."

"Need I remind you you owe me like three truths? Now come on, spill one. I'm letting you choose the first one out of courtesy," you said, making a short curtsy, bowing your head with a hand roll. The pun had him chuckle, smiling down at the floor of the car covered by your kiddy blanket.

"You're welcome to start off with what's bothering you because I can practically smell something's been on your mind ever since we fell in that damn flower field two days ago."

"Oh, yeah? How come?"

"You notice things when you become a driver," you said, tapping your temple in intellectual manner, giggling as he followed in tow.

"Okay," he nodded. "One truth." He thought long and hard about what to say. Knowing you, the other two most likely had thoughtful questions prepared.

"I...," he started, making you lean in with curious eyes. Then he sighed. "I have nothing. I don't know what to tell you."

"What are you chasing after when you drive?" you blurted out, trying to kickstart his brain a little. You knew that determined look in his eyes before he got in the car was hiding something important. Something that gave him the drive to chase the road ahead with more than just adrenaline and a desire to always keep on winning.

"I'm not chasing after anything," he retorted, looking back at you. You had that look on your face that told him to watch the bullshit.

"I'm asking for truths, not denials. I can tell you're chasing after something important." Your eyes moved back to the sea, thinking back to what you told him a moment ago, about your own chase after a pipe dream. "We all drive for a reason or another."

You weren't wrong. He did race for something important. A motive so important and sacred to him that it haunted his waking moments more than he wanted to let it plague him.

"It doesn't matter what yours is," you shrugged. He was puzzled at the step you took back all of a sudden. Looking back at him, you searched his raven eyes and asked, "But there is one, isn't there?"

"Yeah. There is," he replied right away. "You race for your father. I race for someone too, hoping I can stop time just enough to keep them here with me longer."

Something told you that was as much as you'd get out of him for now. A reason to put your life on the line was better than living life with no meaning.

"That's good enough of a truth for me," you smiled, bumping your shoulder into his to lighten up the heavy mood falling over you.

Laying back on the blanket with a sigh, you looked up at the sky just in time to see the clouds clear a little. He laid down beside you too, trying to spot what you were looking at so absorbed. There were countless stars above you, blinking down at you. Through the faded blur in your eyes, you tried focusing on a brighter one among the many sparkling in the sky, stifling a yawn.

"Whenever I see the stars," you started, "I try looking for the brightest one to place a wish upon. There's so many of them, floating out in space with unspoken wishes." His dark orbs fell on you as bright as the stars above. "So many prayers hoping to be heard. Even more dreams waiting to come true to those who want them badly enough."

Your eyes fell on him briefly before they ran back to the star you found to land one more wish upon. "Do you think dreams come true?" you asked him.

He followed your line of sight upon a star, flashing a bright, intense fiery red - a red giant. From what he knew about them, they were stars that don't live that long, going close to end their lifespan before other celestial bodies around them. Placing a wish on them was like wishing on a shooting star, to do it quick and fast before it faded, unable to put real meaning into it, but with the peace of knowing that your wish was out there in the universe for longer than a burning second in time. He's never sat down to contemplate the universe like this but he had a lot of unspoken wishes in him. Maybe there was some magic in letting it out in the open to make your heart rest easy. Even if it's just for a while.

"I think that anything can come true if you truly want it," he said softly. "You just have to believe in it enough to make it real."

His eyes fell from the star on you to see you were fast asleep already. A deep chuckle fell past his lips. While he contemplated his limited knowledge on philosophy and the wonders of outer space, your hands tangled around his forearm pulling it closer to your chest like a child hugging their favorite stuffed plushie to sleep. Your face nuzzled in the muscled bump of his arm, trying to soak up all the warmth his bicep could offer. Your cheeks puffed up as you breathed in and out lightly, all curled around him as your battery ran out completely.

Unable to conceive what came over him, he unwrapped your hands to pull you closer into his chest, fixing his jacket around you better. Brushing your hair away from your face and down your back, he couldn't take his eyes off you, sleeping soundly in his arms. He's held a lot of women before, in more passional and less comforting ways, always to get that rush of anger out of his system, never to get attached for too long. But he's held none of them so gently as he held you. And you didn't even want him near. No woman ever made him feel this strange need to chase, hunt and taunt until he ran out of weapons and backup plans. No woman has ever refused his satisfaction as many times as you did, throwing his words right back at him every chance you got. And normally that would make him stop chasing. But not with you. That only made him think of other plans, chase after you faster, coming in way stronger than he's ever done with anyone else.

But no matter what he did, you wouldn't fall like the rest. You weren't like them. Because very oddly, none of them fit so right in his arms like you did right now. Safe, warm and not his to hold.

Thank you for reading! :) Taglist: @ellisaworld @howimeetyoukit @jonnelpunk @nadlx33333 @fancifulrealist @iamnotxevil

[pauking5]

that moment you untangle a paragraph after nearly TWO years of rewriting it until it hits the way you wanted it to hit god damn the lord is gracious and his light is shining upon me today

[pauking5]

it's been a while 🫠❤️

[aquilacalvitium]

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

[aquilacalvitium]

Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste Chapter 11

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, found love, fluff, spice, a lot of teasing, angst

Word count: 32.3k+

TW: blood, stabbing, violence, brief mentions of torture and kidnapping

A/N: Hello... So, first thing's first, Addicting Taste kinda went on a hiatus (against my wishes) since I was in a pretty bad slump writing-wise, emotionally, mentally. But, gear up for hopefully back to back chapters this month. Managed to draw out some pain for these ones.

I realise Chapter 10 was a bit of a wholesome, extremely loooong read, but I hope you liked it. I don't know if people even read it since it's been radio silent on that front, but I hope some of you still are. For now, please welcome insane mayhem, a mess of feelings, hopefully great plot and a few new characters. Enjoy the revelations.

For Nina. Hope you're happy wherever you are.

Playlist: Up In Flames - Ruelle, Atlantis - Sleep Token, Radioactive - Imagine Dragons, The Grey - Bad Omens, Viva La Vida - Sofia Karlberg (Acoustic Version), Alibi - Sevdaliza, Pablio Vittar, Yseult, Start A Riot - Duckwrth, Shaboozey, Lovesong - Adele, Carnival of Rust - Poets of the Fall, The Love You Want - Sleep Token

Previous

"You."

The sly snake looked down at you with sheer delight like the very sire of satan he was. That victorious smirk sitting idly on his face was enough to make your hands shoot out to grab onto his neck and twist it backwards. That would've been possible if your wrists didn't get yanked back by the harsh pull of the metal shackles restraining you to the stone walls behind.

He bent down to you, tilting his head with sheer amusement etched on his lips at your struggle. There was a blackness in his eyes that consumed his orbs like a toxin, brimming in dark pools of oil, much like the one burning in the lamp one of his men was holding in the corner.

"Pleasure to see you again, kiddo."

"The pleasure will be mine once I stomp my foot all over your face," you spit back, continuing to pull on those chains to get as close to him as they could let you without splitting your hands away from the base of your palms.

"Ah, ah, ah," he stopped you, moving his finger from left to right right in your face, like he was ordering an animal, a pet, to stand down and know its place.

You were no damn pet but more of a wild animal at the moment. And you bit fucking hard if provoked. And by gods, he provoked every cell in your body with just that wiggling finger.

Before he had a chance to reel back on his feet, your head jerked forwards and you caught his finger with your teeth, gripping onto his pointer with wolfish strength. Terror flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, so fast and fearsome you might have just missed it. Rugged arms were on your shoulders in an instant, rough fingers digging into your skin to pull you back to your place against the wall. While more of his men tried to restrain you, pushing you to your knees, the reptile pulled on his precious little digit to shake your hold off like you were a stinging bug but your sharp teeth hung on damn tight, dragging the skin over the bone with each agitated flail of his hands. Your teeth dug into it more and more, determined to rip it off his hand or at least detach it from his hand a little, but with the resistance behind pulling on your shoulders and your throat, you kept to it until you felt a crack between your canines, tasting iron on your tongue.

Blood, you smirked.

Satisfied, you relaxed your mouth and let go reeling back, letting him reef his bloodied, damaged finger back to his chest in pain.

He's going to have a hard time doing anything with it for a while. Good for him. Would've bit his whole hand off if I had a bigger mouth.

Spitting the leftover blood in your mouth before it started tasting like poison, your gaze turned back to his, dark eyes now watching you in alert. He didn't expect you to attack so soon or even at all. You could see it on his face. Whatever he had planned facing you, it all fell down the minute you bared your teeth literally.

A guard handed him a cloth to wrap around his injured finger, while another stomped your way. He unwrapped your chains from the wall behind dragging you along with them. You fought against it but it was useless. His hands reached up to lock the chains to the rusty hooks on the ceiling, securing you in the middle of the dark cell. Your hands were pulled above your head making you rise to your feet, unable to move too much in any side.

Standing to your full height, your bruised hands fell bound together in front of you, keeping you still like a lamb about to be butchered. The good thing was that it let you make an estimate of your wounds. Sharp pain pulsed through the numbness in your legs and in every other part of your body that was still recovering from almost being crushed to pieces by the wooden carriage. Most of your right side suffered deeper injuries since you were thrown against the walls more times than you could count. A lot of bones felt broken - a few lower ribs, a collar bone, twisted elbow and opposite ankle among the main major ones - but you were sure there were more you couldn't see or feel. Crumpled up on the floor you didn't feel the pain so bad, but standing on shaky legs, swaying lightly, drawing sharp breaths through your parched throat, you felt it all.

All you wanted to do was lay down and cry it all out. But you couldn't collapse to the ground in front of this life-sucking serpent before you found out what he wanted or where you were. Any sliver of information was more valuable than anything right now.

"Why am I here?"

"For my entertainment and curiosity," spoke the Snake, tightening the cloth around his wound until he was satisfied it was tight enough.

"What is this? The fucking circus gathering?" you laughed dryly, chains jangling as you wiped the leftover blood from his finger still on your cracked lips with the back of your palm. "Thought you had better taste."

"Smart mouth she has. Quite like her mother," he harked a broken laugh that bounced off the echo in the cell. "You'll be quiet and docile in no time."

Docile? Am I getting married off or something?

"For what?"

"For my plans."

From where you were standing, his plans looked to be nowhere in particular. Or you were still dazed from that solid hit to the back of your head before these people kidnapped you. Either way, his words made no sense. What could he possibly want with you? Why was he working with the Triads for that matter? More and more questions pooled in, rendering you profoundly confused.

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"A little birdie told me you were quite the rouse in Edo not that long ago."

Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat suddenly too loud in your ears.

That's what this is about.

Barairo me, not me.

"The Crimson Rose of Yokohama they called you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing closer to you. "A teenage girl laying death to men more dangerous and lethal than the demons of hell walking the earth, the very best mercenaries in Japan."

"That bird of yours must be mistaken," you chuckled, trying to play the fool a little longer. But that dry chuckle fell unsure from your lips. a weak distraction in face of his conviction that he had the right person. He was confident it was you and had confirmation of it.

"I don't think so." He paced around you, circling you like you were the serpent's precious prey. "You see," he stopped right behind you, shadow leaning over your shoulder, his heinous whisper falling right in your ear. "You're here to fight for me, sweetheart."

You snorted. A fits of chuckles bordering on strangled laughter escaped your throat in a meager attempt to seem saner than you looked. He was crazy, maybe even borderline delusional, if he thought for one second you would do that for him of all people.

Rounded back to your front, he steered clear within a couple cautionary steps away from you, as if he anticipated another surprise attack of yours. His eyes raked your arms, legs, even your mouth, looking for a sign that there was any on the way at all.

He fears me. Good. I can use that to my advantage.

"In your dreams."

You punctuated your words with a good tug on the chains making sure to rattle them loud enough. Whatever those fucked up illusions of his were, they were not lined up in your program today, tomorrow or ever in the near future. You might have been up on the hire for anyone a few months ago, willing to do dirty work for whoever paid more. But the only people you fought for now were your own.

"Well," he turned for the door of the cell, nodding to his men on the other side of the iron bars. The door creaked open with a shriek, metal scraping the floor of the corridor lit with torches. Before he stepped out fully, his head craned back to you. "I hope you're ready. My dreams have a habit of coming to fruition lately."

"Do they include working with the Triads?"

"Ah, so you know," he nodded to himself, not once denying your accusation. "Saves me a lot of explaining to do. I am indeed."

"Why?"

That was kind of a loaded question. One he answered with a response that didn't really give you anything to work with - a goddamn shit-eating grin that went right to the pit of disgust already drawing in your stomach since the very first light flickered over his face. With that limiting conversation and a grin that gave you nothing, he left, taking the guards with him.

You didn't move until their steps faded away and all that was left in the air was silence and the light crackle of the torches. Blowing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you sank to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Everything hurt and pulsed uncontrollably along the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart. Some of your injuries ached more, alerting you they needed some attention now. Looking around the dark confinement, you noticed the small glow of light falling on a good portion of your cell. The only impediment was that is fell near the door

Pulling your feet from under you, you drew as close to the amber twinkle as your chains could let you before they tugged your wrists back painfully.

In that thin fragment of light, the long velvet skirt that was a beautiful ruby red at the start of the night was now a wet brown shade with patches of mud and grass sticking to it. Shoving it off your leg, you found a line of cuts and bruises all around each side you rotated your leg in, some of them deeper and dark red still bleeding, others just light grazes almost closed up. Your ankle looked like it felt - destroyed. Almost shattered, still usable if you ignored the angry purple swelling around it. Checking your other leg, you found the same grazes from your knee downwards but it didn't look as bad as your other leg. You gave it a test roll receiving less pain in response.

Your attention moved to your chest, feeling it too compressed with every breath you took. The corset manage to hold your middle together, protecting important organs. From what you could see there were no tears in it so nothing got inside or where it shouldn't be. And to think I doubted the extra double cover. But with every inhale of air, the boning pressed too hard against those few ribs that were broken. There was no way you could undo the laces, at least a little, since your hands couldn't reach behind.

Arms-wise, there were a few more cuts peeking through the ripped sleeves and some bruises. Your right elbow spasmed numbly, twisted inwards. You had to put it back and soon. This was not the best place to do it, nor did you have enough space to move it since both of your hands were chained, but it was worth a shot.

Getting up on your knees was harder this time around, all adrenaline to start a fight gone. Levelling your arms together, parallel to each other, you moved so your elbow was as straight as you could get it in that angle. Your left palm caught onto your right wrist to hold it in place.

I just need to pop it in. Nice and easy. It shouldn't hurt that bad.

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, then all at once drove your body forwards as if you pushed your hands into dough to mold it into shape. Though you weren't pushing into soft dough but repositioning your own arm in its right location. Pushing your shoulder and wrist towards each other, you moved your elbow back into place. Teeth grinding, you swallowed your scream and sniffled the tears away as the spasms were replaced by shooting pain, continuing to push forwards relentlessly until it clicked back in.

"Fuck," you hissed, sinking back on the floor, hands drawn above you by the chains. Head falling on your suspended arms, you sighed.

What now?

Wait?

Try to escape?

Fight them when they come back?

None of those options were viable routes to take in your condition. Your thoughts barely aligned in order with the pain coursing through you and your body took way too much damage tonight to stand up to anyone without ripping fresh scars. For now, as much as you hated it, just waiting was the best call.

For a while, you just let it hurt. You felt the torture throb through your body ruthlessly, slow and cruel, turning into soreness, discomfort that you couldn't move more. The laborious breaths leaving you went from aching gasps to much more controllable exhales. The minute some of the pain receded to mere stabbing sensations and your head cleared a little, you turned to planning.

From what you could gather, the way to the outside world had to be on the left, since that reptile and his guards took off that way. Then what was on your right? Your eyes shot up to find that the burning torch upfront was the only light source you could see alight. The rest of them on the right were not burning, drenching that area in complete darkness. You just prayed whatever awaited you down there was better than this - being locked up in a cage like a wild animal waiting to be domesticated or sold off for your services.

Your eyes widened with another thundering thought that caught your breath.

The boys.

Were they okay? You hoped they woke up and weren't laying still on the cold, wet and muddy ground of the forest. They must have woken up by now. They took worse damage in battle than that tumbling carriage could inflict on them. They weren't pussies to lie in pain until it passed on, though the scope of their injuries did worry you. One was barely breathing while the other looked on the verge of death when you reached him.

That self-righteous mop of hair worried you the most. To think he called you an idiot before it all went sideways. You chuckled dryly with a shake of your head reminded of the insults thrown around before the impact. Even when you were close to embracing death several times, he was talking your ear off about your shitty life choices like a worrisome mother would her rebel child. Absolutely convinced was he that you only made mistakes back there at the club. You came to learn that was just his nature - worrying about others before himself.

Thoughts bounced back and forth in the cold air carried down by the wind currents. The wind howled down here just as loud as outside, scaring the shit out of you when it started sounding like a real wild beast was down there, patrolling around to make sure no one left their deathtrap. Some torches ceased burning, drawing to a smoky kindle until no more light shone inside your cell at all. Only darkness and cold surrounded you, both crawling down your spine with rippling chills. The ripped velvet sleeves and the wet dress did little to keep you warm. But little was better than nothing. Shivers still shook you well, still with the searing pain inside the cold felt bearable for now.

At least this is confirmation they only took me, you sighed, burying your head into the small crevice of your tied hands, ready to give in to exhaustion.

Before you let the night take you in her arms, one last thought came through that just about managed to warm you up from deep within with a faint spark of hope.

I hope the boys are okay.

The rainstorm howled, blowing leaves and twigs everywhere it touched down upon. It was relentless, billowing above the tall tree line, shaking the wilderness down to the depths of the woods, ripping apart over him as if he was part of the forest. Like he was some kind of new addition to the open clearing full of wet, wilted greenery. One that wasn't as dead as the nature around him, waiting for the freeze of winter, but he was near becoming one with it.

He wasn't quite dead. Though it looked that way. His ashen locks were matted to his face, slapped dark with mud, dirt and scorched splinters of wood tangled in every strand, way darker than the paleness of his face and the bleeding parts of his body where his clothes were torn to shreds.

If that was how death looked, crimson like a flower of the purest bloom, soft skinned like a blanket of snow, yet so silver dressed resembling the finest royal jewels - then this death was painfully beautiful. Stealing your breath away and welcoming you with warm arms at the same time. A death that was, but wasn't.

Because he wasn't knocking on her doors just yet.

One moment he was still, as if turned to stone. The next, he drew in a gasping breath like it was his very first. His chest was hurting, moving, taking all of his breaths in and pumping the blood around his body as it normally should, but hurting like a motherfucker. He was alive, in piercing pain and trapped in his mind for extra safety, but on all other fronts, he was alive and breathing.

Somewhere between diving in and out of unconsciousness and awareness of endless pain, something moved above him. He couldn't open his eyes, eyelids weighing more than he could lift at the moment. He couldn't hear anything besides that ringing drowning the world out. But he could sense his surroundings. He could always count on sensing the energy around him when his senses failed to work with him.

It, or a person from the light motion, moved around frantically for a while then landed on top of him. He felt that, together with the blinding pain at the hard press of their body against his. If he could move, he would've pushed them away. But he felt desperation in that weak grip around him, so deep and tormented, hanging onto him for dear life, that it made him feel frustrated he couldn't gauge the situation at all.

One moment, the person pressed tightly into him as if in fear. He felt frail shaking wrapping around his arms then his shoulders, doing their best to reach him. Continual and beyond desperate, the shaking stopped on his face, around his cheeks, and he finally felt something beside the pain running through him - warmth. A warmth that was so familiar to him he tried moving something, anything to reach and comfort it. Then suddenly, the weight on his chest was replaced by a hollow emptiness. The person was gone. He couldn't feel them anymore. That's when his hearing started working again, converting the irritating ringing in his ears into muffled movement, rustling and grunting nearby. Really close by.

Something was happening. He had to open his damned eyes and look. Slowly, infuriatingly at that, all his other paralyzed senses started coming to but not his sight. He could feel the sloshy mud under his fingertips, smell it and the rain, taste the blood on his tongue. His sight took its sweet time even as his gut kept telling him to move it and take a fucking look at what was happening, but by the time he did it all turned quiet. The only thing he could hear was the beat of his heart and the rainfall hitting the ground beside him.

His lashes fluttered open, eyes meeting the blackened sky, raining down hard on his face. Trying to move was pointless when his whole body protested against it, tendrils of sharp pain bursting out in waves upon a single jerk of a finger. Moving was necessary, not a need but a must. Even so, his body just refused his orders firing one after the other. It wouldn't work like that - pushing himself in all sides expecting it to work with him. So he took it slow, slower than babies would.

He blinked away the heavy raindrops falling in his eyes, trying to clear the remaining haze of darkness away. Before he managed to gain back his sight properly, that darkness edged back in his vision, trying to pull him under with the irritating pounding in his temple. He couldn't let it take him again when an urgent need to get the fuck up and regain his bearings shook him to the bone.

He sat and sat, waiting for the pain to ebb away a little, enduring the cold rainfall drenching the rest of his clothes. Until the last shred of his patience finally burned to a crisp. Survival was his only friend for the longest but this was not the time to sit nicely with it. It was time to move. With a long grunt, he dragged his arms towards his chest and tried to push his upper body to sit at least on his elbows. Once that was manageable, he moved his head too, raising it in sync with the bend of his abdomen, hunching forwards with a shaky gasp. That was a mistake that only stirred the pounding in his head to unbearable throbbing.

"Fuck's sake," he hissed, managing to throw a hand to his head.

It hurt everywhere, but that spot near his temple hurt the most. His fingers pried and prodded, touching the soft, mellow skin there until he came to the conclusion that was a nasty gash that's been bleeding for a good while. Judging by the stinging around it, he's been laying there for even longer and rainwater bacteria was making itself rather comfortable.

Blinking away the woozy feeling keeping his body hostage to an imbalance he wasn't accustomed to, he focused his eyes in front of him. Embers burned all around - remnants of what was left of the wooden carriage. Some of them still sputtered, swallowing the remains of dry vegetation around them that wasn't completely soaked, others died down to a smoky kindle. Whipping his head to the right a little too fast that he saw his past, present and future in one dizzying flash, he caught sight of a body laying a few feet away. Zeroing in on it, he tried to figure out who it was but by gods if he could even see straight or make out the outline of the bush next to him at all.

Time to take a stroll and find out, he thought, willing his body to move towards that suspicious hunk of meat laying still in the mud.

In one brisk move, he moved to his knees. Way better than laying down in the mud and getting buried under it. But that's where he got stuck. Standing up properly was out of the question. He had to do it like he's never done it before. One foot before the other. One knee straightened fully then the other. He moved with the grace of a newborn calf, shaky and unstable on his feet, but at last he was standing. He took one step ahead of his head catching up with the rapid motion and nearly toppled over, putting way too much trust that it would be that easy to move. After all, he took several tumbles in a wooden box that nearly capsized with him inside it before his body collided with something hard and finally stopped the endless rolling, ending up in this situation in the first place.

Balancing his weight for a good minute, he tested a few more steps to get the blood flowing around before he took off in the direction of the body. The closer he got, the more it resembled a man. Dusty blonde hair peaked out from under heaps of wet maple leaves and mud and he recognized him instantly - blondie.

He fell to his knees, leaning over him. The upper right side of his suit was torn apart completely, burns climbing up his arms over his shoulder in small craters. He was scraped good, a few deep cuts on his face and light grazes over the side of his neck, but he was still breathing. Unknowingly, Enishi released a sigh of relief. At one point, somewhere in the tug of war between them, he started feeling for the guy because of you and your endless nagging for them to get along and grow a pair -

Wait.

You.

Where were you?

His feet acted on autopilot, lifting him up off the ground to take him along the open radius of the clearing, from the scattered pieces of wood still burning on the main road that got separated from the main frame of the carriage, going as far as the last fragments of the benches inside laying in the deeper opening of the forest. He called your name over and over, voice hoarse like it wasn't his own, whirling around every which side like a madman.

He scoured every corner. Lifted every side door or bench residue still standing propped on the ground, thinking you'd be stuck or hurt under it. Checked every bush and raise of greenery in case you were hiding. The rain just poured harder, making the blood on his head run down his face, extinguishing the fires still burning, except the one that sputtered to life in his chest the more he searched for you just to find nothing.

Not one sight of you, as if you disappeared without a trace.

Nothing at all.

In one breath, he was back at blondie's side, shaking his shoulders ready to yell bloody murder. The blond grunted in pain but Enishi couldn't care less about that. If he didn't open those fucking deer-in-distress eyes in the next few seconds, he would be as good as dead. The blonde continued grunting with no sign of waking up. Before he could stop himself, an angry palm planted on the other's cheek, the force of it forcing his head to the side and pulling a rough cough from him, finally awake and conscious.

"What the fuck," he groaned, his own world spinning to above and beyond.

"Miyu's gone. Wake the fuck up," growled Enishi.

That deep growl startled him enough to open his eyes wide. He took in his surroundings, then the angry, profusely bleeding gray haired man holding him by his collar at a close raging angle. Then his words registered and his mouth fell open.

"What do you mean Miyu's gone?"

"Hate to break it to you, but we were kinda hit from the back by a fucking fireball. I'm here. You're here. She's not. Now where the fuck is she?"

Cho groaned in response. "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I've been unconscious until you hit me." At that he paused and narrowed in on Enishi, brows furrowed in anger. "Why the fuck did you hit me?"

"Just felt like it."

Cho turned sideways and spit the blood out of his mouth before pushing the rough hands around his neck away. Enishi's grip never loosened, only tightened until his knuckles cracked.

"Get your hands off me."

"Or what?"

Before he saw it coming, a fist collided with the side of his head, the bleeding one. His sight got blurrier than it was as he fell backwards. He tried his hardest to shake it off, struggling back to his feet. When his eyes landed on the blond, barely standing himself but standing nonetheless, his jaw ticked and he saw red.

Two steps was all it took and he was pushing him against a tree bark with all his might. Lightning flashed above, drenching him in white, making him look like a bloodied ghost set on vengeance that's been overdue for a long time. Way too long.

Enishi's right fist connected with Cho's cheek before he could counter the attack. With that first blow multiple followed, all punches relentless and more powerful than the previous. Each punch held his rage for the past few days heading straight for the blond. One dug into his chin for hurting you all those years ago with empty lies. Another two cut his cheek open for letting him stay under his roof and feeding him when he didn't deserve it the treatment, giving him way too many chances to redeem himself. An uppercut for playing around with you like you were a toy to break his patience.

Pinning him into the bark of the tree with each strike, Enishi was set upon drilling his body into that hollow bark until he became one with it.

Cho let him send blow after blow until he got his world to stop spinning enough to respond. As soon as the side of his face started going numb and the blood in his mouth felt fresh, his hand lifted to catch Enishi's fist in his, longer fingers digging over his, all while launching his other hand to catch his arm, switching places to throw him into the tree bark instead. He dug his knee into Enishi's chest hard, then without hesitation kicked him down into a puddle of sludge he landed into face first.

The time to play nice ended the minute he smacked the blond awake. He wanted a fight? He was going to get one to remember.

This was what they were both waiting for. The anger they had towards each other just kept rising these past few days. Their instincts only knew violence and destruction for the longest time and they tempered those down enough. Each craved to see the other in pain for a multitude of reasons, most of them surrounding their dispute over you, others simply for futile fun of the moment.

It was time to put their powers to the test.

No mercy. No outside interruptions. Just them and their fists.

Enishi got up from the mud pummeling into Cho with a rough tackle, sending him into the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him. Taking advantage of how dazed he was, he climbed on top, bruised hands finding his grazed neck, pressing down with all his strength to cut his air supply. He didn't want to kill him. That hate harbored in his chest was heavy and punishing when he needed it to be but this wasn't the case for it to unlock. He just wanted to make the bastard feel the pain until he gave up on his own. A small part of him wanted to see him beg for it.

Cho struggled under his hold, hands thrashing around to find something he could use against the brute strangling him. He searched and searched ignoring the murderous gaze set on him. As soon as his palm connected with the length of a tree branch he lifted it up and flung it hard into Enishi's shoulder sending him flying off of him. He didn't give himself a chance to catch his breath before he pressed him into the ground with his foot and got a hold of his arm to twist it backwards at an inhumane angle without stopping until Enishi howled in pain. Even after he yelled in agony, he continued twisting with a wicked smirk on his face, finally satisfied to see him in pain.

The sword thief wasn't one to engage in extreme violence unless he was provoked. Enishi did a lot of that lately, especially when it came to playing around with you, acting like a saint afterwards. You were too peaceful to hurt him. Way too kind to him even in that hateful gaze after the stupid games he played. So he took it upon himself to teach him a lesson. Just because the lesson proved rewarding to Cho's ego, it did not mean he really wanted the guy to suffer for long. Just a little more would do him immense satisfaction.

Cho's victory was short lived. He might have been one of the Ten Swords but he lacked one thing Enishi held close - combat intellect. Something so inconsequential to a normal sword connoisseur but so trivial to a double blade wielder.

Enishi's right arm sneaked out from under him, grabbing a good hold of Cho's thigh as his leg kicked the back of his knee to hurl him back to the ground, letting go of his twisted arm in the process. The blond barely hit the ground before getting back up again, ready to send another kick Enishi's way. He intercepted it and sent one from the ground, angling his body sideways and kicking his leg high enough to hit the side of Cho's neck. He followed up with an elbow in his chest and an uppercut meant to cut off that annoying smirk on his face. He stumbled, colliding with another tree and almost lost his footing falling beside it.

Enishi gave him a second too long. A second that had Cho slide over the mud and kick his legs from under him. He fell backwards, flipping back up on his legs to grab onto Cho's neck once more. Though this time, Cho's hands flew to Enishi's neck too.

The sound of horses galloping went over their heads, both males busy with killing the other or doing more significant damage than the fireball or the carriage crash could. They both squeezed each other, pressing their dirty, bloodied fingers against whatever spots they caught, reluctant to let go and find a better one. They kept going at it until the shot of a gun echoed loud through their still ringing ears, stopping their brawl.

Moving on alert, their heads swiveled in sync behind them to see Wu and a few of the other gang members just looking at them and the disaster around with wide eyes. The older man approached, looking both of them dead in the eyes. In all the years he's worked with him, Enishi has never seen the man more angry than he did now.

"Pardon my language, but what the hell are you two doing right now?" He paused to look around, previous anger turning into worry with each injury he discovered. "And where's madame?"

At the mention of you they sobered up. Both of them let go very adamantly of each other and stepped away, putting some much needed space between them. They were both covered in mud from head to toe, with the occasional bleeding wounds sparkling through, clothes completely ripped apart now, worse than the rolling through the bushes left them.

Cho wiped away the blood on his lips. Enishi touched his wound again, tampering the blood flowing from his head with what was left of the sleeve of his suit. They gave each other one more look of seething rage deciding that this wasn't over. But it was a battle to fight another time.

"I don't know where she is. She was with us before we got hit," replied Enishi, looking down at the ground. Then he pushed a question of his own towards the old man. "How are you here?"

He didn't leave anything but the location with him and specifically told him not to follow in case the Triads showed up. Which they did. But he couldn't risk losing all his resources in one night. Though he did lose an important one. One he insisted stayed back but acted against his orders again.

"Madame came to find me before you left. She told me to come looking for you with back up in case you didn't get back by midnight."

She felt something was wrong, he realized, his chest filling up with dread. You were antsy and jumpy all day but he pushed it past to all the stress you've been under with the mission itself and what the result of it could mean for you. That and the bothersome confession he pushed in your arms without thinking a few nights ago.

"We need to find her," said Cho, holding his shoulder in pain. Now that the adrenaline was all gone, eliminated completely in their mini rage match, they felt the aftereffects of the crash tenfold, beyond the power of their punches.

"Master Enishi, the roads are all empty," said Wu. "It's been a good few hours since you left for the city. We won't find anything out here until morning."

The old man was right. With the pouring rain and the mud running liquid on the ground, all tracks were most likely covered by dirt puddles. They had no shot at finding anything now. Safest bet was going back and coming again tomorrow when the mud was dried up and it wasn't so damn cold. The wound on his temple agreed with him, thundering just once, hard enough that it sent his vision swimming and he stumbled over his steps. Cho's hands shot out to steady him before he took a splash in another puddle, this time of his own doing.

If he was able to stand on his own two legs, he would rip those twigs off his body and beat him with them for having the audacity to act all friendly after he tried to kill him. He did push a sarcastic remark only for his pained groans to cut through.

"Worried about me, blondie?"

"I'm worried about Miyu, not about you, Mr. Prince of the Frogs. How hard did you hit your head?"

Using the hand that wasn't holding upright the grunting mess deadset on ending his life mere moments ago, he got a hold of the side of his head to inspect his wound. Enishi just winced in response to his useless prodding, jerking it back from his hold. That sent his sight spinning like a swiveling chair would.

"We need to get back," urged the blonde, throwing Enishi's arm over his good shoulder. "We're no good to her like this, especially you."

That was the hard truth he had to swallow down his dry throat and make peace with for now. They had to get back. He couldn't do shit with injuries, much less find you. Even if the anger gripping him in cold waves at the thought of having to leave without you was suffocating. Not knowing if you were okay, not knowing what the fuck happened that you were nowhere to be found.

"Fine," he rasped out. "But we're back here the minute it lights up."

"Couldn't agree more," said Cho, helping him walk to the carriage.

Before they boarded Wu's transport, he cast a look back at the darkened clearing hoping to find something else. A clue or a hint that you were still there, lying somewhere he couldn't see or reach, hidden down some rabbit hole he couldn't spot.

Enishi wasn't one to believe in hope, praying to god for things, wishing on a shooting star or that sort of optimistic activities until you. He prayed that he didn't have to leave yet. He hoped that he would find you if he scoured the area better now, not in the morning when tracks might still be scattered under rainwater seas. As the storm rained down harder and the fog settled over the last burning embers of the carriage, he found nothing to hold onto. Nothing in the rubbles or the dense trees or even the other side of the road covered by trees upon trees.

Nothing at all.

No you.

You couldn't tell how long you've been out of it. There was no indicator of measuring the time down in this endless cave. Not one flicker of light shone through any crack in the stone wall. Not even a lost, thin ray of sun down the rock corridor. The only source of time passing were the lit torches to your left, burning up, flaring to wild flames, going out one by one until darkness was all that remained.

The strong, cold air current wafting through the iron bars, howling on the surrounding echo like a lone wolf, never got warmer. Not even a degree above the ice hanging in the air. The underground was supposed to be warmer than the world above the strips of grass and dirt, not colder than sheathed metal blades.

Pangs of hot pain surged endlessly through your body, alternating in your middle or the swollen ankle, waking you up at times only to switch position. As much as one could move chained to the ceiling before falling back into weary slumber.

Wake up. Shift. Sleep. A routine for a sleep that was neither restful or peaceful, escaping and calming like actual sleep should be. It was just enough rest to replenish your lost energy and pass the time in some other way that didn't involve staring at the iron bars ahead, watching how humidity condensed from the ceiling and dripped down the rusty poles until they gathered in puddles, drifting along the cracks in the ground with annoying plinks. You even started counting those at one point, unable to ignore the smell of dampness coming with the humid condensation.

Then you wondered, if a flood was to suddenly occur, what would it become of you? Would that snake come down to unchain and save you since he deemed you so trivial to his plans? He would rather save his own reptilian skin. What would become of you? Chained to the walls of a cavernous cell, swallowed by the water, lost in the drift heading down into the heart of a place that was somewhere but nowhere.

Upon all of that swirl of endless doom thinking to keep you awake and alert to any change around, you fell back into sleep, floating in the emptiness of your tired mind and the different scenarios it cooked up from nothing.

A loud clang shook you from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Keys rattled against the metal rods in front, clinking into each other with a disturbing noise that swam in your ears way too deep to ignore it and continue that excuse of a thing you called sleeping. Blinking your eyes open took a while. Coming to terms with the fact that you've slept with your head against the shackles for a long time took less. Your neck ached, your back coiled from a night's rest like a horse cursed to sleep upright in a barn for his whole life. At least they had hay to curl around.

The keys continued jangling in the lock, smashing into each other as if that infernal noise could make the door open alone. Finally, the metal frame was thrown open with a screech that might as well have been a train's horn. The owner of the keys stepped inside, heading for your spot in the middle of the cell. Your sensitive ears caught up with his footfalls stopping short of an arm's reach, chained arms reach. Cracking an eye open then the other, you were met with the dirty boots of a guard. He reached above you and fiddled with the chains until they were unlocked from the ceiling and thrown to the ground behind you, striking the stone floor with another clang that broke your hearing.

"Up," said the guard gruffly.

What if you didn't obey? Would he do something about it or would he just leave you the fuck alone?

As you debated your very limited stack of choices, you peered behind the guard, noticing two more stationed by, waiting. The three of them all wore commando gear - tight black shirts, vests ticked with small tanto knives inside and out, short range dao swords at the joined hilt on their hips, and dark green pants - staying incognito and on the ready for a fight at all times.

The one in front of you looked easy enough to take on - tall but scrawny in muscle mass, less armed and more sure of his authority in the way he puffed his chest. But the ones behind him looked brawny and skilled, armed to the brim with more muscles than they had weapons on hand. One of them tapped his boot impatiently as if he had better places to be. The other just seemed bored out of his mind, staring gaping holes through you. All odds combined, those two would definitely be harder to take down and they would probably skewer you before you took a step towards freedom anyway. Injured, dazed and unprepared, that was a big no go.

"Today, wench."

Rude prude.

You shot him a look that went ignored as he picked up your chains, wrapping the ends around his fists to pull you up to your feet faster than your legs could catch up. Stumbling over your steps out of the cell, your direction was almost changed for the wall upfront if it wasn't for one of the muscly guards reaching out to catch you before you could face plant in it, relocating you back on your feet a little more gently than the prick in charge could ever aspire to be.

"Easy there," he called to him before he glanced down at you. "She's important to the boss."

Important? Just how important am I to that reptile?

Bossy shoes just dismissed him and took off down the right from your cell with a huff. Guess it's time to find out what's down there.

The rest of the torches lined on the walls were now all lit up, all the way to the bottom of the long tunnel you turned for, leaping wildly with every lost gust of wind blowing through. Your extremely welcoming committee put hurry in his step, descending down a wide row of stairs with a short walkway in between every few steps. There were more cells littered all across your right but they were all empty. You didn't see one soul in any of them.

Sassy pants made sure to pull on the length of your chains a little harder at every last step before your foot landed on the flat surface, silently hoping you would stumble and break your neck faster. He seemed to have a lot of resentment towards you, holding his chin up high and mighty, but that was probably how he acted around all women.

As a precaution, you drew your shackles closer and pulled just as hard whenever he was about to step on the next row of stairs. Looking down ahead, you were about halfway down into the tunnel. It was a long way down and an even longer one back up and your growing nerves didn't like it one bit. The arrogant prick picked up his pace, running two steps at a time and you decided enough is enough. If he wanted a donkey he should've asked his boss for one.

You wrapped your fingers around the chains and pulled on your end, a little harder than you wanted. He nearly took a tumble backwards. To your disappointment, he didn't. Cracking his head from side to side, he blew out an annoyed breath. His temper seemed to run shorter than you gave him credit for and you were glad because that's exactly what you were trying to do - irritate and divide.

Nothing gives me more satisfaction than seeing men about to lose their marbles.

You let out an accidental snort that you instantly regretted. Slowly turning to you, he wrapped the remaining chain length putting safe distance between you around his arms, and he did pull harder, directing you straight into the stone wall this time. You crashed into it face forwards, getting the wind knocked out of you. The torch above your head rattled dangerously, sure that another thud would tip it over on top of your head to set you on fire.

In a delayed show of his authority and power, the guard pressed deep into your back, bladed elbow pushing you against the murky wall of the cave. You could taste the copper staining the tunnel top to bottom in dark orange spots, glowing amber in the light of the torch flame. Turning your head with a remark at the ready, you swallowed the words right back down your throat upon the sight of a sharp knife, drawn out of the nothingness behind you. Inching towards the corner of your eye, it sweetly caressed the side of your face downwards like the lips of a lover would, if those were deadly lips that could kill on a swift cut. The blade sat close enough to cut your cheek open if pressed against the skin, but far enough to keep writhing against the restraint behind you. No amount of struggling or pushing against him lessened his hold on you.

"I don't care how important you are to the boss. Try that shit again and I'll make sure to pull you down there backwards with this rusty chain wrapped around your throat until you beg me to stop," he spoke, marking his threat by snaking the tip of his knife against your cheek in small waves. Stopping at the edge of your lips with a thin prick of the blade, he spoke again, asking for your word of obedience. "Understood?"

You grunted, trying to shake him off and make him shove his words where the sun doesn't shine. He only pressed harder into your back, his hot breath fanning your ear. Tremors of disgust erupted all over your nape. You didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking like the righteous dick he thought he was being. So in true balanced nature you paid the warm welcome right back.

Before he saw it coming, you threw a head butt into his face hard. So hard you felt a crack in the back of your head. He did fall backwards on his ass this time, clutching the bridge of his nose in pain, blood seeping out through his fingers, falling splat on the floor in spots darker than the copper stains.

Think twice before trying to manhandle me, you moron. I hope you stop breathing properly.

The guards behind him snickered at the expense of their fallen colleague, enjoying the show more than you wanted them to. One of them moved to get a hold of your chain, while the other gripped your arm securely, almost as tight as the chains pulling on your wrists.

"Go get that checked out," said one of them chuckling heartily, before leading you down the last few flights of stairs.

The farther down you went, the colder it got. Keeping the icy chills at bay when they rattled the very bones in your body was a lost game. As you came to a long corridor leading to an arch entrance, you heard chatter and laughter. Female chatter and laughter. The closer you got to the archway, the louder and hardly unmistakable it got, cheerful and so full of life, unlike anything you've noticed so far in this place.

Rounding the corner below the arch, the guards walked you through into a well lit cave of some sort, much brighter than the dark corridors you traveled through. Rows of tall stone columns stood both at your left and right, all carved in from top to bottom, resembling the ones holding up the western monuments you used to learn about as a kid.

A much bigger fire blazed in firestone pits dug low behind them, so bright that it felt like the very sun was burning in the room. This cave was bigger than a theatre, stretching from the entrance all the way to the far end where you found the very source of the laughter.

There, a small lifted stone platform hosted a long table filled with food and people, some chatting away with merry in their voice, others just silently enjoying the food. All of them were women. Different nationalities, even different accents from what you could hear echoing back to you.

With the high columns touching the ceiling and the fire burning on the side painting them in a fair golden glow, it felt like you were looking at an army of goddesses having their holy dinner underground before bringing rueful battle above the earth. A painting brought to life and motion that took your breath away.

One of the guards took your hands into his rough hold and brought out a key. He gave you a look in fair warning not to try anything similar to what you did to his comrade since he might not be as lenient as him. A quick glance between his raw gaze and the sword sheathed at his side had you slump in defeat. Not that you could try anything that fast anyway. Trustful that you would behave, but wary it could be a trap, he inserted the key in the rusty lock and took off your shackles.

"Go and meet the others," he instructed. "We'll come collect you when it's time for you to go back to your cell."

Rubbing your aching wrists over the red indents left by the restraints, you turned to the masses and made your way over the long aisle as well as you could walk with a twisted ankle. The closer you got to the platform, some pairs of eyes took notice of your presence and the chatter drew to a mere shushing, until all eyes were trained on you like you walked the walk of shame. You noticed all of them were dressed in combat clothing. You wore a muddy, torn off occasion dress.

Way to make a first impression. I look like a damsel seeking refuge in a highly secured fortress. They might as well shoot me down now before I knock.

You walked a bit more then faltered in your step. All eyes were on yours except a pair that gave you their back. A familiar hunched over back, gobbling up food faster than your ears could cope with the sound. It was the hair that confused you. Dark mauve, almost black tangled wet locks of hair, longer and dirtier than you remembered her to keep it.

It can't be... you shook your head. There's no way it's her.

Sensing the quiet in the room, the girl you were ogling stopped eating, lifting her head to the girls in front of her.

"What? What happened?" she spoke, her voice coming out muffled through the bites still stuck in her mouth waiting to be munched away at. "Why did you all stop talking?"

Even her voice... That low, extremely pissed voice that could drop kick your attitude to outer space. It sounds exactly the same as hers.

Her hair, her voice, the very way she was leaned over the table. People don't share habits like those. Those traits could only belong to her. The possibility that it was her was as big as trying to latch a rope around a boar's neck. But all your senses believed it was her. It couldn't be anyone else.

What the fuck is this?

The girl opposite her, watching your every move since her eyes laid on you, nodded her head your way.

"We have new company," she said, low and sharp in Chinese.

The girl with mauve hair finally turned to you with an expression you couldn't decipher. One that you didn't need to because you knew that face all too well. You staggered backwards with a gasp of shock. At first glance, she quickly looked at you, dismissing your existence to turn back to the table. Then she choked, coughing up food and turned back to you once more. Upon seeing you, fully seeing you, her eyes blinked in surprise then in utter shock, doing several takes before the leftover food in her mouth ended up being spat on the floor.

In one breath, she was up and running towards you at full speed, closing the distance between you faster than you could comprehend what was happening. Her arms engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, almost taking your lungs away in it. Since she was taller, your arms wound up around her middle. You breathed in her scent, going beyond the dirt and potentially dried blood stench, unable to catch a whiff of that special citrusy perfume she used to lather herself in. Regardless, you dug your head in the crook of her neck, pulling her deeper into your hold.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she whispered, pulling away slightly to look at you every which way to make sure it was really you.

That was the same thing you did, smacking her cheeks together and looking deep into her golden brown eyes like she wasn't real and just a figment of your imagination. But it was her. It really was her.

Lyla. My Lyla.

Her hands moved from your shoulders to the top of your head, brushing through leftover leaves and twigs you failed to notice were strung in your hair like you were mother nature's plod.

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, still confused as to what was going on.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend?" asked the girl facing Lyla's empty seat. She wore a smile now, as if she waited for Lyla's approval of your arrival before accepting it herself.

"Yeah, of course," she laughed nervously, ungluing herself away from you. She walked you to the table where you were in everyone's field of vision.

"This is Miyu. She's one of the best assassins in the business I know, and an even better friend," she squeezed you closer looking at you affectionately. That squeeze, as loving and well-intended it was, it made you wince in pain, reminding you of the broken ribs that have gone forgotten in your reunion.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you grunted. "Can you just unlace this death trap of a corset a little?"

Said and done. She was behind you in a heartbeat, undoing Enishi's exemplary work on your corset a little so you could breathe. She unlaced it halfway then dug her fingers through the sides, pulling the fabric carcass wider until you tapped her arm that it was good enough. You bent over and breathed some fresh air in good gulps. As fresh as musty, humid cave air can be.

"How are you here?"

"I teleported myself here, Lyla," you deadpanned, straightening back up. She frowned and you instantly felt bad for the remark.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I was on a mission, some shit with a flying fireball happened and I woke up here."

"They took you too," she said.

The icy glare in her eyes alone, directed right behind at the archway you came through moments ago, shook a chill down your spine.

"What do you mean they took me? Too? What's going on?"

At each confused question, the wariness painting the faces around morphed into something else. Something that made them avoid

"You may want to sit down."

Another girl, much younger than the others, pulled out a chair for you and Lyla helped you over to it. She got an empty plate, filling it up with food for you as she started explaining what was actually going on in as less information and detail as was humanly possible. If abductions and arson ever went hand in hand as small talk topics, but alas.

"We've all been taken away. Kidnapped mid-mission, taken from our homes in the dead of night or literally just being ambushed while travelling around the continent."

The words coming out of her mouth made your blood run cold. Your eyes landed on the girl before you whose light nod confirmed the grim affirmations.

"All of us are really skilled assassins in our fields of expertise," continued Lyla. "Knives, guns, swords. Name your pick and someone at this table can show you the ropes. They picked us for their exclusive underground fight club."

That explains the dried blood spots on the floor from the arch entrance all the way to the far end where the dirt ground met the stone platform. But it sure doesn't explain why they were taken away, against their will, for such an unexplainable reason. The clubs you fought at, though many, were all on a consent basis from what you remembered. After all, that's how you met Lyla.

Rewinding the clock back a good decade to a few days after your parents disappeared, most of your relatives that were still alive in Yokohama refused to take you in. They treated you like you weren't part of the family. Like your parents didn't work their backs for the whole family tree line at times, always lending your aunts money or helping your uncles out with their rude specimens of children whenever they could. Being the sole survivor of the Hikari mansion massacre wasn't seen as a good omen, as if a wretched curse was following you around and would bring about their deaths too if they took you in. The doors shut tighter and faster at the sight of you, sometimes before you even knocked, treated like a stranger by your own kin and blood. And family became the very last thing you could count on.

Walking for days, hopping merchant carts from city to city, you somehow ended up in Central Edo. Begging around for food or some kind of work on the outskirts was the initial plan. But as soon as you arrived, you caught wind of fight clubs in the area being open to anyone, no matter their age or background. A fresh start from zero.

You heard it was easy money to make and even easier to track people through since most of the bigshots in the city frequented it. You attended it that day, undercover in case you'd be kicked out, only to find that most of the fighters in the ring were girls around your age. The audience sitting in on the matches loved to talk of anything and everything - crimes, mafia hits, unfinished business with snobs in high society. Nothing stayed private there. Thinking you'd find some information on your parents and have a roof over your head while going at it, you entered it that same night.

That's where you found her, sharpening her knives in a lone corner of the shared living quarters in the sewers underneath the city. Black Canary they called her. Whenever she was in the ring to fight, you'd hear that scream of hers, high-pitched like a bird of prey on the ready to send your ears into audible wreckage, symbolic of her reigning victory. She was one of the best the club ever had, keeping the public throwing stacks of money in bet tickets until they ran out, leaving the fight club with empty pockets.

Beside that triumphant scream, she didn't speak a word. She never ate, slept or trained with everyone else. All she had was fighting and the sharp blades of her knives.

With time, you learned to catch up on her habits. The way she sharpened her knives in the same pattern, up from the hilts, twice for each blade. How she trained in the tunnels far out instead of joining with the rest in the ring. That she would always come out to the weapons table when it was empty, after everyone else has already eaten, to eat by herself.

At first, you just watched her from a dark corner. After a while of building up the courage, you'd purposefully eat slower than the rest and stay around longer until she showed up, to keep her company. The first times you did it, she would get angry, shoot you a look full of hatred and leave the table with her plate untouched as if you disrespected her space or something. But as you grew older and matured, time passed and you were the only girl left around as the rest went on their ways. Only then did she welcome your presence.

Her name was the first word she ever spoke to you. Not the stage name they called her by after a successful kill that earned betting money to corrupt city officials. Her real name. The one her mother baptized her with on the cold winter's night that she was born. The name she never wanted to give up.

She never even gave her real name to anyone before you, she told you. Little by little, she spent more time with you and she opened up. You came to learn she had one of the nicest voices you've ever heard and that contrary to her silence she talked, a whole lot. But only with you and a few close friends.

Since then, you've trained together, fought together, moved ships together when the time was right. You've been at each other's side like sisters, guarding each other's back no matter what. Maybe you weren't bound by blood, but you were bound by that bond of found sisterhood. She became the only family you had left in the world, a home that you could always run to when the world got too much. The kind you'd risk anything for upon a simple ask. Even your life.

After you've left Japan, you lost contact with her for good reason, trying to protect that very bond you had since you had a moving target on your back. As good as it was to see her now, you wished it was under better and safer circumstances because these ones confused you greatly. Hell, the last few days have been confusing as fuck for you but this was next level fuckery you couldn't wrap your head around even with higher intellect.

"I don't understand why they kidnapped you all like this and forced you in here," you said, looking down at the ground like the stone floor would split open and a valid answer for why they were all gathered here would pop out on a stalagmite spear.

This was the work of the Triads for sure. But why? They were the reason you ran away in the first place. They had ties to your parents too. What could they possibly want with an underground fight club?

"Last I checked, they asked people if they wanted to join before they followed them around and took them by force," you added, subtly relating your personal experience with the Triads that hasn't been as much fun as they advertised.

"I was taken during a surprise raid of theirs in the West zone, almost off the border," spoke a girl to your left, sat at the far end of the table. Her gentle, melodious voice had your eyes snap from the ground to her instantly.

Two long, brunette braids split up to sit on each side of her shoulders. Small silver ringlets decorated random waves of the braids in her hair, from the top to the very last strand, tied tightly with leather laces at the spiky ends.

"My name's Yana. They also call me Qiang, like the spear I wield," she said with a smile.

You could tell she was confident in her wielding, much like the scabs and calluses on her hands as she extended one for you to shake. Your own palm wrapped around hers in a shake that dominated yours. Even her hold was hard like the wood used to make the base of the qiang.

"They surely didn't ask me to join their wretched cause before they set fire to my village, burning it to the ground," she said. Her eyes fell on the fire burning in the pits below, like she was living that nightmare once more.

"I fought back to protect my own, trying to help my family flee before the flames swallowed our home. I thought they were out for treasures or the small fortunes gathered together in our small quarters. But the minute I went out to fight they turned on me. Before I could know my family was safe, they hauled me away and shoved me in here."

"I'm sorry," you uttered underneath your breath, unable to process what they were capable of.

"Ah," she shook her head with a somber smile. "There's no need for that. You'll hear worse stories than mine."

Before you could make sense of her words or even begin to absorb the lengths of her story, someone else took the lead in sharing theirs.

"I'm Marissa," said the girl next to Yana. Her voice was much deeper and manlier than you expected it to sound.

The first person you noticed when you walked in the cave was her. As did she, her eyes instantly connecting with yours across the length of the rock gallery when you entered with the guards. Her blue eyes, colder than the Sea of the Arctic could ever aspire to be, pierced you in intimidation upon that first glance. Her face looked hardened by battle, used to it if you'd assume it, paler and reddish in tone around her cheekbones. Beside the tall bridge of her nose, her cheeks sat high like they were cut from hard rock cobalt.

One look at her told you she was a warrior of the caliber legends talked about, that ate battle for breakfast, won it by lunch and threw a feast fit for a queen at dinner.

Among her foreign features, what struck you the most was her ginger hair, glowing a bright auburn with the moving flicker of the firestone. It was the kind of shade you'd find on a really expensive material like imperial silk, so unique and beautiful that you'd dress her up in the finest of those silks just to see how bright she could glow.

"As you can tell, I'm not from around here," she spoke roughly in broken Chinese. Coughing dryly, she switched to Japanese in which she seemed much more confident, thing that caught you by surprise.

"I'm from Siberia. They caught me at a fortress in the North, digging up some ancient alcohol the monks were raving about," she laughed and you had to laugh with her, the rest of the table following suit. The girls seemed to be familiar with her story, certainly hearing it every now and then. It got you curious too.

"They call me the Axe Woman. I don't even wield an axe. It's more of a halberd."

She chugged down a mug of what smelled like hardcore alcohol. The scent of it wafted your way. Sensing your eyes on it like a hawk, she offered it to you with a small grin. You shook your hands in refusal but she insisted, pushing it into your hands.

"Have a gulp. You look like you need it."

You took it and had a tentative sip before you chugged it all down in one long gulp. The raw spirit went down your throat, burning out the chills wracking you all night, warming you right up. Finishing it up to the very last drop, you eyed to the bottom of the wooden cup looking for some more. That was unlike anything you've ever had before, somewhere between expensive bar liquor and ages old spirit brewed in the heart of the countryside. So strong and flavory, going right to where you needed some quick liquid smoothness.

Wiping your lips of the leftover drops, you held it back to her only for her smile to crack away into a really threatening sneer.

"I didn't mean the whole thing. That was the last of it."

A sacred rule of yours regarding alcohol was to never drink the last alcohol at the table because it could always be the last for a long time coming. A rule you forgot about that now made your hold on the mug tremble.

A loud hiccup escaped your lips out of nervousness for what could follow that threat. You jumped over your rule and drank the last of the alcohol at the table and from the looks of it there would be violent consequences since Marissa didn't seem to play about her liquor. After all, she did get caught and thrown down here as she was looking for some.

Debating your chances against her broader, much taller form had your stomach growl in protest. Then a huge burp came out from the depths of your throat before you could stop it. The eyes around the table rounded wide, all directed at you like you've committed the utmost final sin. You cursed yourself for being so selfish.

They're going to skin me alive for a mug of alcohol.

If they write that on my stone I'll become the laughingstock of pooping pigeons.

Maybe that plea could be my last words.

If I get the right to any last words.

Just when you thought the world was about to end for good, the whole table erupted in hysterics at your expense. They were just playing with you. Your face must have given away your stupid thoughts because even Marissa threw her head back howling, hand hitting the table in utter amusement that you weren't following along the trick.

"Don't worry. I had enough for today," she smirked in teasing, her shoulders rolling with a few more giggles. "Your face was priceless."

Your shoulders fell with a sigh. "Very funny. I nearly said a prayer with the last drops of it stuck in my throat."

"I love alcohol, but not enough to kill a sister. You're one of us now."

That made a smile fall on your lips. You've been here for a shitload of a few minutes and they already took you in as one of their own. The feelings were mutual, nods already falling in agreement with Marissa's words.

Suffering unites people in the worst of times. But how much of it did these girls go through that a simple good word and a laugh with you had them swear your name off their killing lists? From the fading scars on their faces and hands, way too much of it crossed their paths. The ones laying under the surface, deep in their souls, must be hurting worse. You could see it in their eyes - the haunting moments they lived in here.

The table quieted down and everyone went back to enjoying their food. Once the coast was clear of volunteers, it was someone else's turn to tell their story. Nothing could have prepared you for this one.

"I'm Mai," spoke the girl next to you. She was the one that pulled your chair over with a small smile.

A tiny thing she was, not a year above sixteen years of age. A young girl. You were a teenage girl too when you started fighting, much more younger, but at least you fought willingly and on your own terms.

"I've been here the longest," she said, cutting through your train of thoughts. She looked down at her plate with a small twitch of her lips that could barely be a smile.

Your heart thrummed in your chest at her words.

The longest? A child has been here for the longest?

"How?" was the only thing you could mutter, unable to get over the shock of what she was telling you, like it was a fable, far from reality.

"My parents used to work for the Triads. They were two of the best assassins they had. After they had me, they wanted to pull out and live a normal life but the bosses just wouldn't let them go. They ran away to protect me but the troops caught up to us," she said, her soft brown eyes filling up with unshed tears.

"They took me as revenge. It's been almost ten years since then."

What kind of animals do this shit?

"They kept me here and trained me, had me fight sometimes, welcome the newcomers. I don't go to the upper world though. It's always been off limits to me. I keep hoping that one day they'll let us all go. I don't even remember how it feels like to see the sunlight," she said, mumbling the last part as she sniffled away an angry, stray tear before it could fall away from her face.

She's been held down in this cold cave, with barely enough food to eat or a real bed to sleep in, as a killing machine for them?

For ten years?

Those weren't people. Those were mad devils walking the earth with no scruples and a slithering tail in place of a spine. These demons captured a young girl and locked her up in a fighting cave, making her call it a home when she should be in an actual home, in the comfort and the warmth of her parents' loving embrace, exploring the beauties of the world.

Your parents were snatched away, leaving you to fend for yourself in the unknown dangerous world. But they didn't take you like this, without allowing you time with them. But to steal a child that's barely been in the world for so little, taking away her right to live a life... This... this was madness. A madness that fueled your rage for the Triads even more.

"Can I hug you?" you asked, before even registering the words spilling out. "I just... you remind me so much of me."

At first she hesitated. You could see it on her face - a wonder for the comfort that she barely got to feel. Arms stretching out with a smile, you hoped she could look past the roadkill look you sported and get in there.

She passed you a slow nod and you rushed to engulf her in a delicate, gentle hug, hoping you could let her feel some of the warmth she's missed all these years she's been locked in this hollow lifeless pit. She probably hasn't had one of these in a while since she melted into your hold within an instant, burying her head in the crook of your neck. You squeezed her as hard as your wounds would let you, ignoring the stabbing pain under your ribs. The pain you were feeling didn't even compare to what she must have gone through. So you held her close, carding a hand through her soft locks, feeling her bury closer in your arms.

Maybe the others weren't the soft type. The assassin job usually meant killing off your softness in order to get things done quick and less messy. But no matter how much you or Barairo tried to get rid of this gentle side of you, it never worked. You never let the rage consume you to the point of no return. Perhaps it was the luck of being raised for more than half of your life by loving parents, a thing not many can say. Maybe keeping this kindness was what paid respects to their memory. Whatever the reason, you hung tight onto it, never letting go. You'd be dead and gone before you let that happen.

Your heart ached for her. This shred of kindness, as small and insignificant as it was, was all you've been missing growing up on the streets of Edo. Alone, scared, with no future in sight. A young girl left to fend for herself with no place to call her home, nowhere to turn to.

Pulling back from each other, you brushed her ebony hair back softly, the very way your mother used to.

"You're brave, Mai. So brave. Braver than I ever was back then," you said, cupping the side of her face. "Hold that close to your heart."

Her cheek leaned into your hand like a tigress letting herself be tamed. You could feel the anger she kept inside, but from the looks of it she was better at controlling it than you did.

The rest of the girls at the table introduced themselves and told you about their abductions. Every one of these girls braved through the odds to survive and live as best as they could, every story more tragic and painful to listen to. At one point you noticed something that raked chills down your spine. All the reasons for which they were taken blurred into a disgusting pattern that shook you to your core - they were all taken for their skills in battle. For being good, undetectable assassins in their local areas. For their expertise. For their unparalleled strength. None of them were housewives or farmers. All of them were powerful warriors.

Why they took only girls was a mystery beyond you. These girls were all well known in their fields and could hold their own against an army if they wanted to. And you found out that's exactly what most of the women at this table did if they had chance - they put up a battle in front of this unforeseen danger. Some fought legions to protect their own and keep the danger at bay for as long as they could. Others were taken as they carried out the only job they knew, trying to survive the days the only way they could, even if that meant taking a filthy life off the face of the earth in exchange for one more day or one more week to win the roof over their heads and the small meals they could barely afford to stay alive.

They were brought here to fight for their lives at the will of that smug serpent lounging in the luxurious comfort of the upper world without a worry in the universe, as if nothing and no one could take the world from under his feet.

What they called the upper world was the very world promised to them. The world they came into as little girls, to grow and blossom into amazing women and fearsome warriors, to become forces of nature that wished to protect and aid, not at all divide and conquer. The very world they now looked to from beneath the layer of the earth above this cavern, as if they were already dead corpses waiting to be absorbed a level lower than the one hosting their pain and anger at the moment.

They had a lot of it - rage. The pure kind that could tear through anything and wreak havoc on the world. You could feel it flow from them as they shared their individual stories of becoming and their changed endings before they even got to live the lives they had planned. And they had a lot waiting for them. Daughters, sisters, wives, engaged to be married to their chosen ones. So much that was taken away. So much they might never get back.

But not even channeling all that anger nor their skills, could help them get out of this hell. Twenty souls, beside you, all trapped in this dungeon until the lord of the house spoke of their use or freedom. A freedom which, from their small lettings, often came at the price of death in battle.

"You said they make you fight."

Your voice cut through the sea of silence hanging over the table, carrying out like a wake up call of what they were about to go through again and again, in a never ending cycle, as if they did not know anything of it before you mentioned it. You could tell from the way they avoided your eyes that they tried to forget about that part, fighting against the reminder of their fate at least now as they shared a meal together.

"Who do they pick against who? What are the rules? Do you get anything when you win a fight?"

Your questions shot out one after another before your brain could catch up to them. Yana simply smiled at you. A smile so full of regret and yet filled with endless compassion, that you were starting to grow fond of. She must have smiled a lot more before she was thrown in this shithole.

"They pick one of us at random," she said, picking your questions up in order. "Against outsiders mostly. Mercenaries, other assassins, big shots in the other mafias. People they have a bone to steal from, targets they want killed or taken care of. They've never had us fight amongst ourselves and for that we're a little grateful."

"Rules are simple. You fight, kill or get killed."

Her smile fell at the last one and you felt your heart twitch painfully in your chest. She didn't have to go into that one to know that some of them did refuse to fight or died in the fight. That thought alone made your insides twist and churn, not in hunger but in horror with another realization.

There were more of them locked down here and some of them didn't survive it.

Yana must have read the miserable sensation coursing through you right on your face. She gave you no time to dwell on it before continuing with more answers, though you dreaded having asked those questions now. But she needed you to know what waited for you.

"Winning a fight doesn't do much. We did agree to ask for similar things, like a full meal or a week of no fights so we could rest and heal."

The table filled with food in front of you was someone's well-earned meal, shared well with every hungry stomach. The very food you were eating was fought for with blood, sweat and wounds that were probably not healed yet.

Unable to help it, you scoured the table trying to spot the one who gave herself to battle to earn this feast. All of them were decked in bruises and cuts, some more recent, others scabbed over. You searched each girl for new, fresh wounds from left to right. Then your eyes laid on Lyla who was slurping noodle bowls by the second beside you, who turned awfully quiet all of a sudden.

Then it hit you - Lyla eats like that only after a fight. You knew her appetite was as big as a sailor fleet after her fists were locked in someone's face. Raking your eyes over her, you didn't notice it before but her eyebrow was indeed split open, as was her lower lip. Fresh cuts were littered between purple bruises on her arms too, one darker than the other as they peeked from under her torn sleeves. Her hair fell from the messy ponytail, some pieces drenched in the stench of dried blood.

Feeling eyes on her, she stopped slurping her soup, turning to you with a noodle hanging from her mouth.

"What?" she mumbled, slurping the noodle in with a pop.

"It was you this time wasn't it?" you asked, looking down at your plate in guilt.

"I did what I had to do," she shrugged. Her eyes landed on your plate that sat untouched this whole time, letting out a long sigh at your stubbornness.

"Miyu, please eat. You're hurt and this is the best we'll be getting for a while. There's no need for guilt-sulking and all that humble bullcrap. Eat. Please."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Your hand moved on autopilot. Grabbing a cloth, you raised it to her split eyebrow dabbing the blood away. She slumped in her seat and let you take care of it, knowing you'll just pester her about it until she did it, which would probably be never. She had a bad habit of letting her injuries dry up and heal by themselves, deeming it natural and less burdensome than patching herself up properly.

"Miyu," she groaned like a child, a few seconds away from shoving food in your mouth herself.

"Okay, fine," you smacked the cloth down on the table. "I'll eat."

Looking down at your plate, you saw it was ticked up with roasted chicken thighs and mashed potatoes. Dying of starvation didn't seem so bad considering it was food from the enemy. But the meatballs Enishi shoved in you before the mission were long digested. Your stomach grumbled dangerously at the sight of the chicken, the roasted smell, the way it looked so appetizing, and you couldn't deny it any longer.

Launching yourself into it, you ate that chicken like you've never had it before, chewing it on all sides like a famished wolf that finally found edible prey to eat. The meat was so tender and well cooked, you couldn't help a moan at the taste. A few girls snickered at the way you were eating, slurping the meat off the bone by the second like it was jelly.

"Slow down there, rosy," giggled Lyla.

Once you were finished with the chicken, your fork headed for the potatoes. Yana pushed a bowl of stew your way too.

Too busy inhaling the food, you failed to hear the echoing click of heels rapidly making their way along the corridor. Everyone stopped eating in a similar manner to when you entered, diverting their eyes away from the food and to the figure standing behind you. You stopped eating too, feeling someone standing there, glaring daggers into your nape.

"You're in my seat," spoke another female voice, much more pitchy and annoying than any you've ever heard.

Turning around slightly, you were faced with the very bitch from the Shanghai Club you tried so hard to kill all night before you ended up in this place.

What a surprise.

Patting your lips with a tissue, you placed it swiftly on the table and got up from your seat facing her. Her face was still swollen, cuts and bruises decorating her all over from forehead down to her uncovered neckline.

"I thought I killed you," you smirked at her, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I thought they burned you alive in that carriage along with your boyfriends," she sneered, like the evil vamp she was. "I guess we don't all get what we want."

You chuckled dryly at her, averting your eyes away from her irritating presence. That remark was enough to rail you up. Before she saw it coming, your smirk fell and your fist connected with her face, throwing her to the ground.

The night was still dark when they got back to the mansion.

Enishi made his way right to the office with the help of one of his men while Wu helped Cho out of the carriage. The older man gathered all men on duty in the room, instructing them to bring medical supplies and send for the doctor from the village, then started working on Enishi's head wound.

If there was something Enishi hated with a passion in the whole world, it was people fussing over him. Even when he simply scraped his knee on a grocery run with Tomoe and she rushed him home, he would berate her that he was capable of taking care of himself well enough, not in the need of anyone else's help. In those times, she would angle him down with a look of warning and lecture him that being hurt wasn't a weakness but a strength, a sign reminding him that he was human too. That was the same look the old man gave him, though less lecturing and more annoyed as he kept telling him to sit still. Sitting still was not in his itinerary for the night.

It took a while. At one point, he thought that Wu was moving slow on purpose, testing his patience. Wound cleaned and bandaged, he called over some of his men, delegating tasks of immediate execution and precaution, taking it from the beginning of it all.

He had to be quiet about what happened at the club, giving away only necessary details where needed.

"I want information on everything that moves inside and outside of Shanghai. Imports, exports, hidden shipments. I want to know about all of it," he demanded, tone strict and without a sliver of mercy. "Every little detail about people or stuff that's not where it should be, you have it going through my ears as soon as possible."

They all nodded, taking off out the door one by one as soon as they were handed work and locations. He sent some men back to the club to scope out anything suspicious or of interest, warning them to keep a safe distance and not get found out. If that happened, they were completely on their own and he could do nothing more for them.

Whoever sent the carriage ablaze believed all three of you were taken care of, set on fire to mere ashes tossed in the wind. Letting them believe that some more would get him places much faster.

The rest of his men were gathered in the room, but he failed to see a few.

"Is everyone here?" he asked Wu.

"Yes," he said, sticking a bandage over Enishi's wound. "Except the ones you just sent out and my own."

His fingers stopped prodding at his wound pulling back to look at Enishi's face for any leftover cuts left untreated.

Enishi's eyes bounced around, doing a mental count of how many men he left on duty, the ones that were off tonight and the ones he's already deployed. Some of them were definitely missing from today's force.

"Who did you take with you in town two days ago?"

"Just my crew. The twins, Kano, Liu and Yao."

The twins he just sent out to gather intel from the club, knowing they were the most silent weapons he had. He turned around looking for the rest, finding only Kano and Yao, loudly bickering about something in the corner as always. Those two could never get along and he always sent them out on missions together on purpose, hoping they would sort out their shit.

He kept twisting around Wu, trying to spot everyone only to fail at it. Wu himself turned around and looked for his own.

"Liu's not here," he concluded. Then his eyes widened to the size of rice balls. "I haven't seen him since we went out in the city and relayed info to you and madame a few nights ago."

Liu's been one of the older recruits Enishi picked out at the start of the mafia ensemble. He was good at finding out important information fast and promptly, often the one at the helm of interrogations. Liu made people talk quicker than he expected them to.

Enishi didn't know a lot about the guy himself. Lately, he placed him under Wu's directive since he had more connections and could reach a wider spread of information inland outside of the mansion walls.

Falling in his seat, he tapped his fingers on the wooden arms of the chair in deep thinking, zoning out of the ruckus and mobilization around the office. Someone talked in the wrong ear about his plans. He's suspected it for a while as he investigated the missing shipments, but after tonight, he knew for sure that he had a mole walking freely within his walls. Someone he's fed generously, gave a roof over their head, a warm bed at night and a secure and well-paid job to do. Someone who was ungrateful and selfish enough to throw all that away and sing at someone else's table about things that should've never left these walls.

The timing of Liu's sudden disappearance was too obvious and in plain sight not to fall under the suspicion that he was involved in tonight's shitshow. Not just that, but having been with Wu to gather intel on your parents, adding his presence the night Wu told you that, he knew enough about you to hand you over to the Triads and set up a trap to get you killed without anyone suspecting anything.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "Send your men after him. I have a feeling he has something to do with everything going to shit tonight."

"On it," he nodded, leaving him be.

Leaning on the back rest, he propped his head back and closed his eyes for a second. It felt like this night just wouldn't come to an end. It started so well that he himself was hopeful it would finally get you somewhere, that the false leads ended there at that wretched club. In turn, it all changed for the worst.

Enishi got up to walk around and stretch his legs a little, ending up in front of Cho. The village doctor was taking care of his shoulder, stitching up the open grazes slithering down to his side. He took a peek at it since it was uncovered, noticing that the whole of his right backside was covered in a long burn, bruised on the sides. The blond winced in pain wherever the doctor touched him, unable to keep still.

"You good?"

"Been worse."

Enishi's head turned to look at the window catching dawn on the slow rise. The doctor finally finished his job, helping Cho pull on his shirt to cover his back. He got up, walking beside Enishi,

"You're going back out there, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You should stay back. That thing on your back looks nasty."

"Your head being split open is nastier."

"Are you worried about me again?"

"I'm worried you'll miss out on clues since you can't see straight enough to send a punch properly."

"I don't think you want me to send a punch your way properly," said Enishi with a smirk, grabbing his kimono. "Meet me out front when you're ready to go."

Enishi left, taking a few more men with him, leaving the blonde confused with his mouth agape. He thought he had that quarrel in his hand only to be fooled. Enishi never went full on with his punches. He did made Cho believe he gave it his all though.

They were out riding back to the scene as soon as the sun rose up. They took horses this time, wary of carriages for the time being. The horses got there much faster and the rain stopped too, drawing to a slow drizzle.

Dismounting at the scene of the crash, the smoke still ebbed from the rest of the bigger remains. A low cloud of fog settled with the temperature change, but the endless puddles of rain were almost absorbed into the ground. That was a positive, but the slippery, muddy ground not so much.

"I'll take the right," said Cho, heading for the other side of the clearing.

Enishi nodded, moving to the site of the crash. "I'll take the left."

Splitting up was better than nothing. They searched and searched, flipping over even the doors or the wheels of the carriage that were still in solid state. Enishi found nothing. Not even a ripped piece of fabric from your dress or a loose thread hanging from a branch floating lonely in the wind. He looked for your necklace too in case you lost it here. But he found no track or lead on you, like you were never here in the first place.

They rejoiced on the main road as the rest of the men kept searching.

"Anything?" asked Cho, a glint of hope in his eyes that only shattered when it landed on his search partner.

Enishi shook his head discouraged. "You?"

"Nope."

"How did she even just disappear into thin air like that?"

"I don't know."

He replayed the events of the night up until the crash and from when he woke up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp what happened. He knew there was a part of tonight that was missing from his head. a part that might have been ripped away by the pain he was in. That hole between the crash and him waking up was pissing him off. He knew something happened but he couldn't recall it back.

He looked back at the bush he rolled through. Pinning down the place he was laying in and the spot he found Cho in, he looked for a way to measure the spot you would have been in after the carriage broke into pieces. Walking around the splotches of mud, he followed his gut and took off towards the woods. Something about the woods bothered him.

Thinking hard on it, he got a few steps away then it hit him like a flash of lightning touched his head - he did feel something happen. The person crashing into his chest, shaking him awake desperately and the rustles around him until everything went eerily quiet.

"It was her," he spoke breathlessly alerting the blonde.

"What are you talking about?"

"Before I woke up, I felt something. She tried to shake me awake. One moment she was grabbing onto me then the next she was gone."

His head started pounding and he had to hold onto it. That wasn't all. He saw you too, kicking and screaming through the haze as someone threw you over their shoulder. Then he blacked out again.

"I saw her."

"You saw her?! What do you mean?"

"Someone hauled her up and took her away," he groaned as he was spilling detail after detail he couldn't recall witnessing before.

"At least now we know she was here. We just need to figure out who took her."

Pacing around, Enishi took a look at the rubbles again. His eyes drew back to the road, mentally piecing together the events of the night leading up to the crash. That fireball came from the direction they left from - the club. A planned attack? Maybe. From which side present last night? The Triads? The Daos? The men behind that traitorous scum he killed? That was the mystery Enishi couldn't solve.

They were barely half an hour away when it happened. It definitely had to be someone from there. The Triads were barely armed but someone back there was loaded, both inside and outside to ensure their own safety - a mafia. If anyone had access to a catapult and incendiary ammunition on the side of town it was them.

Upon seeing the grim smirk on Enishi's face, Cho shuddered. Whenever he had that look on his face, it was either good or bad news, for him or for someone else. The blond didn't feel like playing the lottery right now so he just asked.

"What are you thinking?"

Enishi's gaze lifted up to him with a deeper grin.

"I think we need to pay the Daos a little visit."

Violence is never the answer. But it sure looked like it when this cross-legged, brunette, excuse of a human being opened her mouth.

You couldn't hold back when she spoke like it was her who ordered the attack on you and the boys and the heartless way she said it was enough to make your blood boil with rage. Once your punch flew her way, your hands wound up around her neck, planning to choke her until she spilled all her useless words and bitchy attitude out.

"What the fuck did you just say?" you gritted, pressing harder into her neck.

"Exactly what you heard," she spoke through gasping breaths. "You were all supposed to perish with that one fireball."

"How about you perish by my own two hands?"

Hooking a hand into her lacy top, you got up and dragged her along on the floor until you reached one of the stone pillars on the side. The girls watched with mouths open from the table as you lifted her up to it, smacking her head into it multiple times. That irritating grin on her face never fell away, even as you bashed her face in pretty well with just that one punch, splitting her lip open right next to the previous damage you made back at the club.

Upon hearing the ruckus, the guards came back down but never intervened, sitting at the entrance with smug looks on their faces, just enjoying their temporary entertainment.

So focused on strangling the living daylights out of her, she dug a powerful punch of her own right into your broken ribs. The pain spread worse than before, pulsing with every heartbeat in your chest. You winced and let go of her to hold onto your side, pinning her down with another murderous look.

Dirty little ass bitch. Just wait until I step on your face.

Determined to do just that, you kept your hand on your side, spinning a roundhouse kick her way. She stepped backwards, but the tip of your boots still scrapped her nose good enough to give her a nosebleed. You didn't give her time to fall back in attack, following up with a reverse side kick sending her right into another stone pillar.

"Damn, girl," howled Marissa. "You can fight in a dress and look badass in it too? Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

"Consider me putting in an order."

Your eyes widened. Your first customer just made an appearance. One you were excited as hell to dress up from the get go.

"Really?" you asked, facing her.

"If you're free of charge?"

"For you, anytime," you smirked.

In your customer scouting haze, you left your back open giving your denigrated sister an opportunity to run and jump on it. She wrapped her legs around your torso and her slinky hands around your throat trying to cut your air supply off, squeezing hard on all fronts.

Why is she like a bug you just can't kill?

Running backwards, you shoved her against a pillar, rolling for another fall and another, until she finally slid off your back grunting in pain. But she didn't slide off without grabbing onto the length of your hair to haul you on the ground instead. She wrapped a fist into it, pulling on it whichever side she wanted. Your hands wound up over hers trying to pry them away, aimlessly kicking at her until something shiny glinted in your peripheral and all your movement ceased.

She had a knife on hand. When she swiped the blade off the table, you had no idea, but before you could kick it away she flipped the handle upwards and thrust it hard into your thigh, making sure to plunge it deep through the material of your dress. Blood seeped out from the edges staining the ruby red a deeper, darker shade. You cried out in pain, letting a hand fall from her wrist tugging on your hair to sit around your new wound. Coupled with the jostle in your ribs, it hurt like a motherfucker.

The girls got up from the table in a haste, heading for you with shouts to stop her but the guards ran their way to keep them aside, pulling their swords out. They wouldn't get involved. They had no reason to as long as you both were breathing and not on the edge of death. This was unsolved business between you and her.

Her deft fingers, scarred from playing the violin, now inched deeper into your scalp with violent intent. Pulling your hair to her, she got closer and grinned widely in your face before making a tight fist and sending it to you with her empty hand while the other kept you in place. She kept going and going like she was following a written score on her instrument, replacing a musical sheet of paper with your face, drawing the notes with her knuckles instead of a pencil.

When she was satisfied with the bruises forming on your face and the black eye she gave you, matching the very damage you did to her face she stopped, leaning down to you. This time, her eyes were far from soulless, like they appeared back at the club. They were full of venom and spite.

"This is what you get for sticking your nose where you don't belong. You can't kill me in here. I'm the only one that can walk in and out of here unharmed while you all rot down here like rats." Turning her venomous sight on them, her tongue rolled with more insults at the address of the girls. "After all, that's why he collected you all. To eat up the trash and clean up the mess, getting scraps from above for food," she laughed. "Just like rats."

She had a lot of nerve to say these things when any of those girls could just wrap their hand around her wrists to snap them in two, making sure she would never play that wretched violin ever again. Why none of them did it yet was a question you were burning to ask. Once you finished this.

Spitting out the blood swimming in your mouth, you turned up a smirk of yours as your hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, silently bracing yourself for the pain to come.

"I may not be able to kill you," you grunted, twisting the knife upwards and out of your leg. Your blood dripped off the knife, inaugurating the stone floors with your presence.

"But I can make sure you keep your fucking mouth shut."

Faster than she could catch up on your move, you pulled out the knife from your thigh, flipping the handle and plunged it into her arm. You went deeper than she had the courage to stab you, making sure the hilt went through until it touched her skin like a wall decoration.

She shrieked, letting go of your hair to draw backwards until she reached the empty table, putting distance between you. She pulled the knife out and stood right back up, grabbing as many unused knives as she could find on top of the table. Pushing yourself up to stand with a bad ankle and a bleeding thigh, wheezing with the sharp air you drew in, you scoured the place for anything you could use to defend yourself. You ended up with the chair closest to you that looked worse for wear in your hands. You smashed it on the floor and broke it into pieces, grabbing a good hold on the longest parts.

She has knives and I have... wood.

Real inventive.

I can make a pyre and burn her on it. Maybe then she'll finally die. Big maybe to test out.

Your plan remained unfinished as she started throwing the knives at you one by one. The wooden planks flew out to catch them before they impaled deeply in your skin, wishing to keep the stabbing count at one and done. You let her throw all of them, avoiding the lower ones and paring the upper ones to the side, sending them right into the burning firestone at the side. She kept at it until she had no more blades to throw, seething as she looked at the forks stabbed in the meat as if she was tempted to throw those too, food included.

"Nice try, but you missed" you yelled, taking her attention away.

She smirked at you like a viper. "Check again."

What? I don't need to check again... Your eyes drifted around your arms, your heaving torso, front and back, then stopped at your legs. Indeed, there was another knife sledged in your leg. Right beside the gash she already gave you.

You've got to be shitting me.

The adrenaline of the moment might be what kept you from feeling that second knife embed into your thigh so close to the other one. It looked way deeper than the first. Your leg turned numb too, which wasn't a good sign.

On one more rage spurt, you threw the wooden logs in your hands at her, then collapsed on the floor. The first log missed but the next smacked her right across the face and you couldn't help a snort.

"Okay, this ends now," yelled a guard, finally moving to break the fight apart. He took to the brunette's aid, instructing the girls on what to do unless they wanted to bear consequences.

"One of you go pick up the new catch and help her to her cell. The rest go back to eating. If you're not done in the next ten minutes, there will be no more food for you this week, fights won or not."

That was a punishment that should've been yours, not theirs. You started the brawl in the first place.

With that warning, they left the way they came, taking the wench with them. Once they were out of sight, you let out a sigh that hurt like hell under your smashed ribs. Lyla ran over to you, followed by the rest each firing hundreds of questions at you. You waved them off unable to focus on any of them but the numbing feeling in your leg.

"Go eat guys. You need it more than me." You shot Lyla a look as you sauntered up on your legs unsteady, holding onto a pillar. "You too Lyla. I've got this."

"Where's your cell?" she asked, clearly not convinced by your words. You debated lying but she knew how far your white lies went. Not one of them went past her, no matter how hard you tried.

"About twenty-five rows of stairs upwards?"

"You've got it my ass. That's where mine is too."

She walked back to the table, packing some more food and fruits in a cloth for later, wrapping the edges tight into a small bundle. Coming right back, she hauled your arm over her shoulders.

"See you later, guys. Enjoy."

"Bye ladies," you smiled as best as you could, saluting them over Lyla's shoulder.

"Thank you Lyla! Take care," they all said in unison.

Barely, but somehow, you managed to climb all those flights of stairs. With Lyla's help and countless curses dropped here and there when the knife that was still in your leg moved in the slightest. Lyla advised against pulling it out, letting it feel numb rather than hurt.

The further you got from the bottom of the tunnel, the more looks you threw behind. You've had enough of heights to last you a lifetime. A fall from this far up would have your body shatter into pieces like a mug falling on the floor. Not something you were eager to try out.

"Stop looking down there or I'll drop you," said Lyla with a low grunt. She moved to grab you better, trying to take most of the weight off your wounded leg, almost losing the hold of the food package in the process.

"Sorry. This is one long tunnel. How deep in the ground are we?"

"I don't know and I don't wish to know."

Her tone told you she was pissed. Way more than the usual amount.

"Are you mad at me?"

She stopped walking, glancing at you briefly. "You're the smartest person I know." You were about to thank her for the surprising compliment when she continued. "But sometimes, you're the biggest idiot I've ever met."

Your mouth fell closed.

"I didn't mean to start a fight. And I mean, she asked for it."

"She does ask for it on the regular, but that doesn't mean you go and give it to her. Ignoring is a thing, you know."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that wasn't a highly requested punch session by the way you were all cheering me on."

She sighed. You had a point.

"Aim for her tongue next time."

Hopping along the long corridor, you finally reached your cell. The door was left open for you. Not for escaping but for containing. The chains were gone however, for now, but they might be back soon.

"Is your cell really up here?" you asked, suspicious if she was telling the truth.

"Right next to you," she pointed to your right.

Your brows drew together in confusion. "Why did I not hear you while I was here?"

"I was probably downstairs fighting. Those take a while."

Lyla helped you sit down against the wall, then moved to place the food pack somewhere that wasn't wet and dirty.

"Can you," you gestured to the knife poking out of your upper thigh.

"I think it decorates pretty well. Matches the dress...," she paused, tilting her head to the side, "or what's left of it."

You looked her dead in the eyes.

"Can you just fucking pull it out?"

"Yep."

She wrapped her hand around it and in one swift pull the knife was out. You caught a hold of the velvet around your arm, ripping the sleeve from the seams and wrapped it around as soon as the blood started seeping out. Lyla slumped against the metal bars next to you, watching you patch yourself up.

"That was fun," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. Despite her scolding, she did enjoy the fight back there. Your enjoyment of the quarrel was gone by now.

"If that's your definition of fun," you huffed, tying the material tighter around your thigh, "then you're not right in the head."

"That makes two of us sweetie." Your hands stopped, eyes ogling her for the meaning of her words. "Heard you've been rolling around in bed with the very crime lord of Shanghai."

When, where and from who does one find out such news?

Considerably shocked, you decided to deny all allegations upon further evidence.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"News travels fast in this shithole. People talked of sightings of him alongside a really conniving, skilled Japanese assassin, that's been assisting him on his recent missions."

Evidence proven.

"Did they really call me conniving and skilled?"

"I knew it," she gasped loudly. "They didn't say that. I just happened to hear of a poster your face was drawn on. The descriptions varied but I knew it had to be you."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know," she clapped her hands together. "Wild hair, wears mostly Western clothing, wields two golden pistols engraved with roses. Want me to say more?"

If Lyla could tell it was you from mere hearsay, you've been in the visor of the Triads for longer than you thought you were hidden well. Unfathomable to think that news travelled down in this cavern that was practically nowhere, but not to yours or Enishi's ears.

"Now tell me. What's going on between you two?"

"I'm not rolling around. We just..." you paused, at a loss for words. You tried looking for at least one word that described the relationship between you and Enishi but came up blank in the mess of every other cursed thing you wanted to call it.

"You just..." Lyla pressed on, a knowing look already on her face. But she waited for you to spell it out.

Good to know she still hasn't lost that nosiness and love for humiliation.

"We just live together. I'm his weapons person. We fight together." Your gaze fell back on your leg, fingers moving to undo the knot of your bandage and wrap it once more, trying to evade the obvious. "That's about it."

"And they were housemates," she concluded.

You shook your head with a laugh. "Trust me, there's nothing nice about living with him under the same roof."

That was the wrong lie to utter.

There were nice things about living together with Enishi under the same roof. The fact that he offered you your own room, giving you privacy and a space away from mafia things unless you wanted to be a part of it. The fact that you had a kitchen all to yourself, available at all times, night and day, as well as access to other amenities. He also trained you and taught you how to wield a sword properly. He made you tea sometimes and had deep talks about life with you in the middle of the night when nightmares kept you awake.

So, in all truth, there were more nice things outweighing the bad ones when it came to sharing a roof with him.

A small smile rose on your lips, much like a flower opening her petals after the rain to welcome the warmth of sunrays. Upon seeing it Lyla just couldn't leave it alone.

"It feels like there's something you're not telling me," she pried in like a cat looking for treats, scratching your leg until you gave them to her.

You drew in a breath. "It's complicated."

"If men weren't complicated, the world would be such a nice place."

There was immense truth in that.

"What about you? Still playing the queen of hearts or did some nice chap tame you yet?"

"Oh, no, no. I'm too wild to be tamed by a pair of balls and a dick."

"Last time I checked, you loved a pair of balls and a dick at night."

"I still do. But there's nothing you can do about it when you're down in a dungeon," she spoke, looking away through the metal bars with a sadness in her eyes that a pang of it rang through your own heart.

"Although, there is a guard here that I managed to get under with my charms. He supplies us with clothes and extra food, even outside world news sometimes. That's how I found out about you and that guy."

"Putting those skills to good use, I see."

"Oh, I didn't get into his pants yet."

That is news. Lyla was never one to wait too long before calling it like it is and having a good lay. If anything, it was her who dictated how a catch would go and not the other way around. But then again, who would sleep with someone down in this humid, smelly cave?

"How long has it been?"

"Way too long. My lady parts are riveting every time I see him and what's worse," she leaned in to whisper as if she was afraid of a higher power or the very guard she had the hots for listening in to the conversation. "He's not even my type. It must be the worst thing about being stuck here."

That begged the question...

"How long have you been down here?"

"A while," she sighed, settling in next to you. "They took me on a mission about two years ago. I was out doing the rounds for this man working in the arms trade. I was just supposed to guard and check a shipment but it was a set up. I was too blind to notice since I walked into it alone and without cover."

"Why did you go alone?"

"Because he specified it was a one person job. And he told me he was going to pay me a quarter of what he got for them. From what he was saying, it was a big shipment from overseas. It sounded like good money since no one was hiring assassins at the time."

She's been down here for two years. It's been two years since you haven't heard from her. Two years that she spent here in this pit of vipers by herself without a way to get out.

If I knew she disappeared, if I knew what happened...

But there was no way of knowing. You left and cut all ties with everyone you knew, including her, not just for yours but her safety as well. And look where that landed you both - right in the hands of the Triads for god knows what plans they had with you beside their exclusive fight club.

Leaving did more worse than good. I could've been there for her. I should've been there for her.

"I'm sorry," you said, head diving into the ground. It seemed like sorry was the only thing you could say, regret seeping through your bones like it was right at home ever since you've woken up in this dungeon.

She shook her head with a small smile on her rosy lips. "It's okay. I'm more sorry they managed to get you in here since you're not exactly an easy person to catch. What happened?"

With a grunt, you leaned behind on the stone wall to sit up in a better position that didn't hurt your middle upon simply breathing. Thinking of a place to start, since you had a duty to catch her up on everything that's happened since you've last seen each other, you struggled to pick just one thing. There was a whole amalgam of things that happened leading up to last night. Recalling one or the other would send the average human being into brain damage.

"It's a long story."

"As you can see, we have all the time in the world."

Focusing on the night before, you started with the whole mission, its objective, that was a complete fail, and how it ended with a giant fireball being thrown at you in the middle of the road. You then continued with the whole reason why you left your life behind, your search for your parents, meeting Enishi on a not so random encounter, stumbling over Cho in the midst of it all. You told her all of it.

When you got to the reunion with the blond, she stopped you. She was well acquainted with his existence - well, his existence pre-forgiveness and the redeeming talking sessions you've had in the past week. The Cho she knew was the rugged version of the man you knew now. Not that far behind this matured, upgraded version of him, but closer to the one that left you hanging in a gun warehouse to fend for yourself against a whole mafia.

"Hold on," she stopped you, blinking rapidly. "Cho Sawagejo?! The fucker that left you for money and a shiny sword job?"

You nodded lightly.

"Please tell me you held him at gun point and made him apologize with tears in his eyes."

Letting out a nervous laugh, you looked away trying to avert your eyes from the grenade next to you that was a word away from being armed and thrown out.

"About that.."

She knew that look. It was the look you had when you were too kind to people and just forgave whatever fucker did you wrong, no matter how wrong or twisted the consequences of their actions backfired on you instead of their sorry ass.

"Miyu... No. No, no, no, no. Please tell me you didn't."

"I'm not sure what you're asking."

"You know damn well what I'm asking. You welcomed him back with open arms after that shit? What the hell?! If you weren't injured right now, I myself would give you a beating."

Instead of a smack you knew was headed your way, she flicked a green grape at you, hitting you right between the eyes. If that had been one of her knives it would've hurt more. Thankfully, it wasn't.

"He's different now," you tried to convince her, dusting the grape off to pop it in your mouth. "Still has that potty mouth of his, but he's been repenting on his wrongs and he kinda did right by them."

"What if that's what he wants you to believe?"

"He wouldn't," you shook your head. "If he did, he wouldn't have made countless amends with me, Lyla. If you met him now, you'd see that too."

"If I met him, I'd break his legs and carve out his balls with his own swords and hang them on the hilts like tassels," she said, completely determined on doing it if she felt like it. You imagined that happening and cracked a smile.

"And your prince? How did he react to all this?"

You blew a huffed breath, trying to release some of the pressure in your tense shoulders. Upon revisiting the past few days after Cho's arrival, you got a whole migraine. Way too much happened, but amongst everything, the insane display of 'I'm a man and I came to claim what's mine' between the two ambulant testosterone, war-waging beings was sticking out the most.

"God, it was like watching the fucking war for the jungle in front of your very own eyes," you pointed two fingers to your eyes to emphasize the point.

"They were at each other's throats every minute of the day. That only filled up the mansion with the kind of tension you genuinely don't need to be around. Kitchen, garden, even my room!" you huffed throwing your hands up in annoyance. "I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl out of it only when they got bored of playing useless alpha male games with each other, keeping me as leverage in the middle."

"Mhm. One question."

You nodded at her to shoot it out.

"Which one did you fuck?"

"LYLA!" you screeched, leaning over to smack her arm. Her eyebrows only raised further, demanding an answer.

"None of them," you lied, but she caught up on it before you even registered the denial slipping past your lips.

"You did bone one of them! I can see it all over your face. Oh god," she gasped. "Was it gray haired dude? A wanted mafia lord?! Way to go, sister," she smacked your arm excitedly. "Now that I think about it, you did always have a thing for older guys."

"We're the same age," you pushed her hand away with a huff. "I am never talking about my life with you ever again."

"Was it good? Is it big?"

"Is what big?" you blinked up at her confused.

Putting up her palms parallel to each other, she grinned devilishly then started widening the gap between them, looking between the imaginary air pocket between her wiggling fingers and your flustered face as you figured out just what she was asking.

"Tell me when to stop," she pressed as she kept widening the gap to an insane length that looked almost inhumane to even perceive. How does that even fit inside -

"LYLA! OH GOD. He's big okay. He's alright," you hissed, running a hand down your face in embarrassment.

Knowing him, he was probably panicking right about now or gutting Cho for looking at him wrong, and I'm here talking about his-

Dear lord, I have sinned.

"How big? Come on humor me."

The current size she was left on was... close enough. But she didn't need to know that, so you slapped her hands away.

"Filling. That's all I'm going to say."

She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "That's good enough for me."

"What are you even going to do with that information?"

"That's for me to know only."

Suspicious... But it's Lyla. If there's nothing dirty coming out of her mouth every five minutes something must be really wrong. Then again, you missed this kind of girl talk and most of all, you missed her. Overtaken by another wave of sadness, you beckoned her over for another hug.

"Come here," you opened your arms. "I missed this so much."

She smiled and scooched closer, falling into your arms extremely careful not to rattle your new injuries. Your hands wrapped around her, just as careful not to press on any of hers.

"I missed you too, fiery rose," she sighed in your shoulder. "In a fucked up way, I'm really glad you're here and alive. And getting criminal dick-"

"Shut up," you laughed and smacked her shoulder.

"He must be really good in bed if you're keeping quiet about it."

"I kinda wish she stabbed me in the ear so I wouldn't have to hear any of this."

"You'd still have one I'd talk away endlessly about dick," she giggled.

She leaned into your ear and proceeded to annoyingly continue to catalogue all types and sizes she's been through, hoping you would cave in and tell her more if she got you flustered enough. But you zipped it up with a secretive smile. That was only for you to know.

By nightfall, a handful of Enishi's men armed themselves with blades from head to toe and took off marching over to the Daos territory on the outskirts of Shanghai.

Enishi stopped his small task force in the forest overlooking the path in front of the casino, regrouping in the shadows. While they hopped off their transport and checked all their weapons, he stalked forward, raven eyes surveying the scene. There were guards all around, from the front walkway to the sides, each carrying long swords. Revolvers hung in the belts of some, attached loosely next to sets of knives.

Seems like they expect company, he thought. The last time he was there, they had way less security around. Now the big guys were spurn up in front of the door, towering over it, while the rest had their own version of blackjack going on the side of the doors on top of barrels of rum. They slapped cards down as if they were playing inside the crystal-ticked casino walls with the rest of the high society they were supposed to guard.

Walking back to his men, he beckoned them closer for one last callout before going in to ruin the party. Cho had one last check over his blades then sheathed his katanas and made his way next to him.

"What's the plan?" asked the blond.

Enishi just glanced at him with a serious jaw tilt. The kind that meant controlled disaster was on its way. Though he was surprised to see the seriousness morph into a raving grin upon the words leaving Enishi's mouth.

"Was thinking of leaving plans aside tonight."

That was a first. He always carried plans at the ready in all forms, having a side save for every failed one, but all of a sudden they were all extinct from his calendar. He didn't even bother planning ahead this time, knowing all he had to do was get inside and have a heart to heart with the chief of the Daos.

"I like that," smirked Cho, looking forward to having some fun tonight. His katanas, though borrowed, liked seeing slashed skin rather than their metallic casing.

"There's no plan, but you don't kill anyone until I give the okay."

There might have been no plans in store, but they had to do this the right way or shit could go sideways tonight too. And he didn't want it to. Cho sulked, dropping the hilts of his swords back down till the metal tsubas clicked against their hold.

"That's not fun."

"I'm not looking for a war," said Enishi, hoisting his sword on his back. "Unless they give me a reason to start one."

A war was not in his cards. But if they liked to play with fire he was going to torch them good, have them think twice about where their loyalty stood at when it came to taking one of his on his territory. All he needed was a wrong move and the Dao lineage would cease existence for good tonight, right in this hedonist place crawling with liars and traitors. A tempting gamble to take.

With a swift nod, his pack of mercenaries took to the sides of the building. Moving stealthily, they took the guards by surprise, knocking them out before they could call out to the ones on the front. It didn't take long for the sides and the back to be secured, each squadron sending a glint of their blade in signal that the perimeter was clear. All sides besides the entrance.

Walking out of the shadows with Cho at his side, they marched all the way to the front doors. Two of the four muscular brutes guarding the tall, slick black doors, stepped out to block the path with a cross of their blades.

"You are forbidden access," sneered one of them, looking down at Enishi.

"I'm here to talk to your boss. We've got some unfinished business."

The guard leaned down, his sneering face falling in front of Enishi's with a scowl.

"Forbidden." He spat each syllable as if it would make him look of much higher authority.

Talking was a lost cause from the get-go. Enishi sent him a smirk before his fist connected with his face, shoving the giant to the ground. The thug sauntered back on his legs and got a hold of Enishi's neck hauling him against the door, punching his abdomen multiple times, the next fist diving harder than the previous.

Cho took on the other one with a clash of his katanas, slashing his chest open then his back, getting rid of him right away. The other two came at the blond, swiveling around to corner him. They sent their blades on par with his arms lifting the katanas upwards to catch them both. They both pressed down on his swords, his muscles straining under their combined strength. His right side throbbed with new hot pain, shaking the hold on his attack katana.

On the other side, Enishi grappled with the troll that was double his size. He grabbed a hold of the his face and thrust his head right into his, shocking him a enough to a punch of his own, cracking his nose open. He struck and struck, until his face turned to a bloody mess, but even then the brute continued sneering at him. He smiled baring his giant teeth before he smacked Enishi right back in the wall beside the door.

Cho couldn't hold the pressure any longer. At once, he thrusted his swords upwards shoving both giants off of him. Turning the hilt of his attack katana in his right, he shoved it in the torso of the one closest, using the recoil to send the blade through his comrade. The katana embedded in that bulky torso like it cut through a hunk of meat, blood leaking beside the edges to land on the ground with loud splotches.

Smirking in triumph, thinking that would end at least one of his opponents, he gasped in shock. The thug stood his ground catching a hold of the blade margin and tugged Cho forwards while he pulled on the blade backwards trying to get it out. The other threw his sword at him from behind falling right on his defense katana, getting him stuck between the two. His defence blade was completely useless without the balance of his attack partner in his other hand.

"Fuck this."

With a low sweep he kicked the legs from under the giant on his right and as he fell he drew his sword out and slashed open a big gash across his chest. Sparring the other one, he sent double cuts that sliced open the skin above his thighs, then defended using the pair of swords together. The thug got tired and with the first opening he saw he slashed both katanas in opposite ways across chest, bringing them back to slither parallel through his middle once more. Breathing heavily, he fixed up his bad shoulder with a roll, checking the two were eliminated for good.

Enishi had enough of his own dance partner. He drew out his hands going for a chokehold around the brute's long neck, squeezing harder than it was meant for a quick knock out. At this point he wanted him dead and gone, no matter the way he went about it.

The brute laced on his arms, trying to ply them off the trunk of his neck but before he could, Enishi moved behind him and delivered the final blow right to the back of his head then twisted his neck, falling to the floor with him.

Cho ambled his way to Enishi who was heaving breaths like he chased the wilderness in the forest for a hunt session.

"Rusty much?" joked Cho.

"I said no killing," deadpanned Enishi, looking over at the bloody mess behind him.

"That one looks pretty dead to me," said Cho, pointing at the grizzly Enishi dueled with.

Ignoring him, he marched up throwing the doors open. He walked the long corridor coming to the small staircase only to be faced with a full house. All tables were occupied and armed. If he had to take a guess, most of the clan was present in the casino tonight. Suddenly, the purging of the Daos didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment.

"Swords out," he roared to the troops behind.

The blond clocked him with a raised eyebrow. "You think?"

"Just shut up and fight. Don't get killed."

All hell broke loose.

The men sent their women to the back hallways then broke out their weapons to take over. Enishi led his men right into the fire, unsheathing his wato to wade through the suited bodies trying to stop him. They all failed miserably as he advanced, sending slash after slash before they could even lift their guns and point them at him, cutting through them three at a time. What went past him fell in the care of his mercenaries, tearing through the masses with the intent of not letting anyone escape.

Cho followed Enishi, moving towards the heavily weaponized side. He spotted them loading up to shoot. Quick on his feet, he kicked the guns out of the hands closest to him, tearing his blade through the rest of the barrels pointed at him, slicing through the cheap metal casing. Whoever supplied their weapons did a shit job at it.

Enishi dove through the bladed side, disarming as many as they fell in front of him, slashing the rest to shreds. Silver bullets still flew his way, bouncing off the edge of his steel with a single flick of his wrist. He moved side to side, avoiding all shots, taking down his opponents faster than they saw him coming.

The gunfire rang deafeningly over the clang of swords, drowning the angry shouts and the grunting cries of pain from both sides. The pungent scent of opium rapidly altered with the burning stench of gunpowder and the spoor of blood already in the air. Despite Enishi's wishes for a somewhat peaceful fight, the casino turned into a raging battlefield quicker than he intended it to. As much as he tried to avoid it, war was upon them. He could still control the outcome of this battle. If it didn't escalate to a point of no return.

With both of them on the attack, they ended up cornered in front of the crystal bar. Cho landed back to back with Enishi, defending each other's blind spots.

"Having Miyu here would've been so helpful," grunted the blond as his swords were dug into him by two men, each paring down their jian over his defence cross.

"She's the reason we're here in the first place," gritted Enishi, shoving off his own assailants with his wato, sending them tumbling into the bar.

"We need to get through to the hallways. If he runs off before we get to him," he grunted, curling his blade to cut up another running thug, throwing his sword away before crashing a bottle over his head, "we will never find her."

Enishi's men managed to overpower the rest of the Daos. Leaving them to take care of the main salon, he made his way through the hallway with the blond at his back, fighting the ones pooling in the front and the others coming from the back.

He buried through the force coming from up ahead. Jumping with a kick to the right to shove one into the wall, he used the boost to throw his leg up and ram it down over the head of the next one. Landing back on the ground, he barely caught the sword coming his way, wato clinging dangerously low on its hilt. That blade wasn't just any blade. A quick glance at the amber peeking under the stripes of the hilt and he recognized it. It was an odachi made from olden Japanese steel, its blade almost a meter long, curving wide like the arch of a bow.

Three more thugs coming down had them in their amateur hold. All of their handles were amber and black as onyx, the blades as sharp as if they just rolled out of the factory. That was steel made on special order, two pairs in amber, two pairs in black. Steel he just so happened to hold in his own two hands a few months ago, right before his weapons warehouse got broken into. They weren't marked with a seal yet, but he gave the measurements and details to the craftsmen himself.

Interesting, he thought, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. I wonder where they got those.

The swords came barreling down on him at the same time. They wanted to overpower him in that compact corridor. They wielded the swords messily, treating them like the shorter range blades they used on a day to day basis. That gave him an advantage. He whizzed through them, using their slow speed to smack the swords out of their hands. Soon enough they were all disarmed, inching for their pocket knives. Enishi kicked some away, spinning in reverse with a flip that sent the small knives right in the walls. The rest flew at once, aimed at his chest. One swing of his sword had the edge catch their tips with a screech, directing them into the wall.

Cho cleared the back and came to Enishi's side. Those four were the last one standing between them and their leader, the rest of the hallway cleared both ways.

Sharing a quick look, they got hold of a strategy to finish this quickly. Enishi went high, Cho went low. They wasted enough time as it is. Any more of it would have the chief running away. Two punches ricocheting from one guy into the other to knock them out cold and four slashes later, they got through those four too.

They ran all the way to the back until the room with the golden seven came into view. Without hesitation, Enishi stepped back and ran, kicking down the door in full force ripping it off its hinges, stepping over it once it crashed with a thud on the other side. Thankfully, the man he was looking for was still there. Standing right at the top of the poker table presumably in the middle of a game, his nose was stuffed with tissues, the imprint of a familiar heel left across the bridge of his nose. The look on his face gave him away - he was completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his casino.

At the sight of the two, he stood up throwing his cards on the table. One move of his fingers and the rest of his men in the room drew out in a line surrounding the table to protect him.

"Came to die again?"

"Where is she?"

"Ah, looking for that bitch that broke my nose? Unfortunately, you won't find her here."

Something moved in his peripheral. A quick look had him find Liu right in the corner about to sneak out behind them while Enishi was busy with the Daos. Cho stepped up to him, trapping him between the cross of his blades. The rest of the men around the room pulled out theirs, though not even those belonged to them. What some of them gripped in their hands were the long hilt nagamaki swords, these too part of Enishi's custom missing weaponry.

"Nice blades you got there," he spoke, voice laced with amusement at the shit he was seeing. "Where'd you get them?"

"Downtown through a really great trades person," he smiled widely, proud with himself as if he was the one who made and bought them. "If you wanted to ask me about weapons you could have done so without breaking down my door."

"Those weapons belong to me. They were stolen from my warehouse."

At his words, the chief of the Daos paled over like the cloth laying on the side of the table, stained with drops of his blood.

"Let me take a wild guess," spoke Enishi, lowering his sword. "The work of the Snake, isn't it?"

He gulped confirming Enishi's suspicions.

"How much did you pay him for all those custom made weapons? Ten? Fifteen?"

His head inclined to the side. He paid more.

"Double then? Thirty?"

"Twenty."

He laughed in his face. "Twenty for a shipment worth fifty million in raw cash. And I thought he would've used his head and charged more to get some profit. I guess he's not that great at trades as you thought he was."

That last remark was all it took for him to explode. Exactly what Enishi wanted. Stroke the lion then throw him the bone instead of the meat and see how desperate he becomes that he'll lick the very bone like the meat was still on it.

"Kill them," he rasped out to his men.

Looking back at Cho, he nodded to him to keep on Liu while he dealt with the seven leftover men in his way. He took on the two nagamaki wielders first, noticing their hold on the handles were wrong from the very start. Kicking their wrists one by one, they let go of the blades, staggering backwards. The others came at him with the odachi swords. Thrusting his wato, he caught all of them on the edge. Holding them off, he threw his leg upwards rotating it to the side to hit the weaponless men to the side. Moving his sword in a circle above his head, he gathered all the odachi, shifting the wato to press down on them. One kick above the five hilts was all it took to knock them over, getting the blades out of their useless hands.

Throwing the blades to the floor with his own, he let them come at him giving them a fair chance at a fight. They circled him, taking turns. The first one came at him with a sharp fist. He let him run into his friend on the opposite side, knocking him out cold. Returning with more anger, Enishi let him try two more punches before he slid the legs from under him watching as he hit a chair, cracking his skull open.

Three more left.

Another one came at him with one of the discarded odachi. He tried balancing the long range blade, treating it like a mere sword. He had difficulty moving it for a slash because of the smaller handle, letting the blade fall downwards. Enishi waded the messy slashes, getting closer until he caught a hold of his wrist. A hit to his throat had him choke, another one to his chest took his air away, the last one to his stomach had him fall to his knees.

The other two took off running towards the door. Cho threw one of his katanas swiftly, hitting one of them right in the back. The rest of Enishi's crew wound up by the door stopping the other one in his tracks.

Picking up his sword from the floor, he walked up to the leader of the Daos, his fallen kin that have almost gone extinct.

"Why are you really here?" he asked, standing tall in the face of the Shanghai mafia like his own would raise from the dead and come to his aid. "My men will end all of you-"

"Your men are dead. As for why I'm here," he smirked wickedly his way, "I came to finish what my girl started last night."

"You would go so far for a whore like her? Shanghai is crawling with them."

Those words were all it took for him to close the distance to him, booting his blade away to the side to sink his own sword in that hunk of an arm, silver edge curving deep enough to draw spurts of blood out of him. Hitting the back of his knees, the brute crumbled to the floor together with his superiority complex. His left hand latched onto his shirt, making sure his ears were open to hear him loud and clear.

"I would tear every inch of flesh off your body if it brought me even one soul closer to finding her."

The hold on his blade was steady, way more stable than the anger coursing through his veins. But his wato sat sheathed way too long, sheltered away from its lust for chaos, deeply yearning to taste blood and cut flesh down to the bone the way it was made to.

He had the leader of a bigger mafia kneeling right at his feet. There was a time when the pride and power that came with this sight was all he ever wanted to witness, but right now it didn't matter at all to him. Tonight, he wasn't out for blood or power or to retrieve his stolen weapons or to seek revenge. Tonight, he was out for you.

"Where is she?"

The chief of the Daos just smirked in his face, disregarding the blade slashing down his arm, severing through ligaments more and more by the minute. Enishi's wrist moved slow, digging it deeper until he trembled the way his pulse pounded through him.

"You don't know why they took her do you?"

Enishi's body stopped moving altogether. Searching those evil empty black eyes proved useless, finding only amusement at his torment in them. He let his guard down, letting the brute continue with his taunting.

"They not only took her for who she is, but more for what she is."

"What is that supposed to mean? What is she to them? Why do they want her so badly?"

Each question had him roar deeper in his face. The kneeling brute simply laughed, drops of blood flying from his lips to paint the green of the poker table in crimson stains. The rising tide of rage inside of him was reaching dangerous heights, moments away from falling over the world to swallow it whole. He needed solid information, not words in the wind.

The sword coiled back against Enishi's hold, craving for much more than his owner could give it, denying its unquenchable thirst for shriveling him to pieces with one blow. His fingers twitched on the handle, wanting nothing more than to slash it across his chest and watch the life drain from him. But reason knocked into him sober. He needed this fucker alive.

"Answer me!"

"She's something that was supposed to die a long time ago. A whisper of an existence that could end us and what we stand for. You should thank me for getting rid of her instead of going to battle with my clan."

"Most of your clan is gone," he thundered, his voice drawing low, seething with disgust for his kind. "I'm nothing like you or the other rats crawling around my city thinking you own it."

"We're more alike than you think."

"If you thought for one moment that I stood with you and this world of criminals, you're wrong."

"Is that what you told her too? She still joined you despite knowing that she's always been against it since this world is what took her parents away? The very thing that destroyed her life and had her wander the streets as no one's child?"

His jaw crunched tight, teeth grinding over each other with rage that got harder to contain inside.

"Even if she doesn't know it yet, she will be what kills us. They took her to prevent that from ever happening. To make her bend to their will before she gets out of control again."

Nothing this man was saying made any sense. You were just a skilled assassin that sometimes went rampage when extremely pissed off. But even so, under all his empty words, Enishi felt there was more this man wasn't letting on. Despite all the questions he came here with, there was only one he could bring himself to ask.

"Where is she?"

"You're asking the wrong mafia," he grinned. Enishi's hold loosened in the slightest. His eyes brimmed with mischief, gleeful that he knew more than the man cutting through his arm, unable to finish the job he started.

"You think we were the only ones part of the charade at the club last night?"

There were more parts involved. Enishi knew that. But none of his men got back with new intel to help identify them.

"All I need is a name," he bargained. "Then you're free to rot in a cell under the commander in chief for the rest of your miserable life."

That seemed like a good enough bargain to take. A name for a life of isolation. Death was an option too. The easy way out. A luxury he wasn't keen on offering so soon. Too bad the man kneeling at his feet took his own fate in his hands.

"What good if my whole mafia is gone?"

Before he could ask or demand anything else, the man pulled a hidden knife and plunged it deep within his chest. Enishi's eyes went wide with surprise, watching as he slid off his blade, falling backwards, choking on his last words with painful gasps.

"I hope you never find her."

Just like that, the captain of the ship died with his own crew and the rest of the words Enishi needed to hear were lost forever. He came here with questions only to leave with so many more. Questions that drowned his head up until this moment.

An eerie silence settled in the room. The smoking tray of opium in the middle of the poker table drew to a small vapor. The lights above flickered empty. The hallways of the casino were no longer packed with lively chatter and the sound of plastic coins being thrown around roulettes for bets. It was all quiet like the dark night outside.

Enishi's mind stopped running too. Wiping his wato clean, he sheathed it back in its hold, turning to his men who were awaiting further orders. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, like he lost the final battle but won the war, successfully eliminating the Daos and their leader, but losing all tracks that could lead to you. His men looked just as lost and conflicted, grateful to have some action in a while, but at what cost if they didn't find what they came looking for. Nonetheless, he delivered them tasks like it was the daily custom.

"Search the casino for our stolen weaponry. Take Liu in for questioning. Make sure there's no trace of our tracks here."

"And the women?" asked one of them. He could read the question on his face. Won't they talk?

"Let them go. Pay them if they need it to stay quiet. It doesn't matter how much, just make sure they're tended to."

The force dispersed to each their own. Picking up a chair, he set it upright feeling the need to sit down and recall his bearings back to him. Cho handed Liu to the crew and approached him wearily, sheathing his katanas back in their hold inside his coat.

"You have a weird look on your face. What's going on?"

"Something doesn't add up," he shook his head. "Why do they know so much about her?"

"You did have a spy planted in. For several years apparently," he added.

"It still doesn't explain why they know more about her and we don't. The disappearance of her family, her life as an assassin and the one outside of it. They knew about all of it, no matter how much she covered her tracks up. They watched her from a distance, giving her the impression they were nowhere near and consider her a threat for some fucked up reason." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Did anything he say ring a bell to you at all?"

"No," sighed Cho just as frustrated himself. "It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"It feels like there's a bigger puzzle we're not seeing. That this was just a piece of it that doesn't fit anywhere or we're not even looking at the right one or... I don't even know anymore."

Cho frowned at his words. He's not seen Enishi this conflicted and all over the place over anything. Not even in the past week when his loathing levels were at their highest.

"Let's hope that traitor has more to give us."

He hesitated at first, but his hand still landed on Enishi's shoulder in an encouraging pat that wasn't that well received. Enishi straightened and shot the blond a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the hand splayed on his shoulder with imaginary knives about to be shot into each finger separately. Maybe Cho was over the fight in the woods, as if they didn't attempt to kill each other. It would take much more than some help for Enishi to return the favor of blind trust.

"Nothing," mumbled the blond, hand flying away to scratch his neck instead.

Enishi's eyes narrowed in on him trying to gauge out his intentions. Last night, they were at each other's throats and now he was being cordial and kind of supportive. Maybe it was because they were looking for you that the lines between their mutual hatred and the care they had for you were blurring together in an odd bond of sorts. Nevertheless, it creeped him out.

His eyes fell on the poker table, mind instantly running over to the memory of you sat right beside his spot, playing the chief of the Daos with just one hand. An smile broke out on his face seeing the money in the corner, reminded of the stacks of money you had him splurge, only to lose them all in your escape before you got skewered to bits and pieces.

"What's got you smiling so wide?"

"We've been here before. Me and her. About a month ago or so," he smiled slyly, recalling that day. "We came to get intel and left a mess behind us, but before that, she played them at poker."

The blond sat down in a chair with a smile, sharing something of his own. "She always had a thing for betting. It's so hard to pull her away after she sits down to call in a game. All or nothing."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "She had me give her stacks of money to buy inside since the game was already ongoing."

"How much did you give her?"

"Two million," he chuckled. "Two million and what looked like one more half on the table. She won it all fair and square with one hand. She didn't even get to gather the money before they were on us and we had to run off."

He did remember you stacking some spare bills in your corset before he tugged on your hand to run away. The very corset he helped you lace before crashing the party, only to then rip it off of you that same night.

"That was the same night we...," he paused, debating on whether he should even say anything.

"The same night you...," pushed the blond, eager to find out what happened.

Too bad he would have to stay curious. Enishi's eyes dove at him with a teasing wink, amused at his childish scoff.

As if I'll tell you of all people what happened that night, he smirked to himself. That's for us to know.

"Have a look around, see if you find anything of help to us," he said, patting his shoulder in a similar manner. He deserved it since he had his back tonight.

Before he turned back to searching, he picked up a light blue chip from the table. The highest value you could play in poker. Holding it to the small light in the room, he smiled softly at it, then pocketed it safely on the inside of his kimono.

Ready to turn and leave, it was only by chance that his eyes landed on the open hand the fallen leader never got to play. Next to a red ten of hearts, a jack, a king and an ace, sat the queen card - your winning hand that night. Not thinking too much about it, he gathered the hand, picking up those five cards, storing them safely next to the blue chip.

Even a pigsty has more amenities.

The cell was a nice place. If you looked past the small pot left in the corner for a makeshift medieval toilet, the stench of rotten things you hoped was just leftover food and the occasional rodent visitors that resembled anything but how they actually looked like above, on the streets of Shanghai. You had your fair share of those beasts hopping from place to place in hiding but these ones liked to hiss and stare you down as if you intruded their very own sanctuary or something.

It's been days.

How could one be able to tell that the day turned into night in that underground stone cage with no sliver of light visible?

When the gust of wind blowing through got considerably colder and the torches went out completely om both sides of the walls.

Some nights, you sat and waited for the torches to be lit up again. Truthful to your assumptions, a guard came down early, from the looks of his lightly armed body, tasked with lighting up the long row of torches from top to bottom. The last lucury of the upper world they gave you. Though you wondered if the firestone down in the pit, how the girls called that horrors cave, burned at all times like an undying flame of hope, or if that one too was extinguished when no one was there and there was no hope to look for at all.

After your brawl with the violinist, you were welcomed down in the pit like you won the war against evil. As it turns out, her name is Li Wen, a walking-talking specimen of envy personified. One that was extremely hated by all the inhabitants of the pit. Her temperament at the club was dodgy, but her personality is just as such. She is just like she plays her violin, insatiable and almost never satisfied, always on the look for more. Whether she gets it or takes it herself.

What she said the night before as she tried to use your body as a darts mat was true - she did have the power to whizz between the upper world and the pit at her own personal will, or when the Snake sent her to check on his esteemed guests. That sole advantage itself turned her into an enemy, since she mostly came around to draw her claws at the girls or execute his orders.

In her eyes she was just like him, a fighter for a greater cause, thing that gave her no semblance of respect towards them. But not even the smallest bone in her body had the power and resilience these women had in their soul.

She wasn't the one going to war with death almost nightly in order to earn her right to keep on living and a meal to survive off, wondering when the next one will come. She is part of the pit. But she will never be part of the family that's made a unique promise of protection to each other.

That is the biggest ick that she will never be able to swallow down her thick reptile throat. Not as long as she sides with the wrong people.

That same night, you sat with the girls and told them your own story. Bottom to top, past to present. Everything.

For the first time in your life, you felt like someone actually listened. For the first time, someone was able to even relate to your struggle, understanding the length and impact of the things you've gone through. For the first time, someone was able to see the scars that refused to heal, scabbing over on the surface but still hurting deep within a place that would never be able to forget the pain, the loss, the shattered hope. Because they were the same unhealed scars that all these girls shared in one way or another, having been through hell and beyond.

Connecting through a bond was one thing. A bond could be just that, a one-off unique connection. But this was so much more because connecting through pain was another thing altogether.

As you talked and shared parts of your souls with each other in stories, things you liked, things you hated; honesty and trust wound up tied together in that blazing pit. Those two things, so small but so significant, were the only things that helped them endure the fear and pain of this infinite inferno, and the only things still standing real and true to their nature within the wild hellfire scorching the world.

That was what Li Wen was missing. She was free to share her story and join the family at one point until she alienated herself from the collective acceptance. This sisterhood will be something she will always long for, something she will never have the guts to sacrifice herself for.

After your heart to heart with everyone, their daily training session started. They spread out to their own corners individually or searched for sparing partners. Still healing from your injuries, you decided to keep to the side just watching. As your eyes walked around, you noticed that a lot of them still used their weapon instincts, sending their fists like they wielded their arms.

Yana was probably the best at breaking free from the hold of her weapon. She used aerial moves and kicks with her spear which made it easier to adapt to a life without one. Though she still parried the ground for balance and often lost her fighting stance.

Lyla knew some martial arts. Where she would normally train her arms to extend, open her palms to aim her knives and strike, she now sent rigid hits with the heel of her palm using that built up strength in her forearms. Kick-wise, she struggled with the direction she wanted her foot to land in, which should hopefully be through the enemy's throat and not beside it.

Marissa struggled. You could tell she leaned on her halberd for support a lot because her current hits went lucky-go wide instead of target-focused. There was immense weight packed in her punch but no technique. Her sparring partner was one of the stone columns but even so, she had much strength but couldn't send it through. You knew she had the power to.

Stretching up and out of your humble seat on the side, you walked up to her. Sensing you approach, she turned around. Her height was questionable while she was sat down at the table but being this close to her had you stumble a step backwards.

"What's up, shorty?"

"Uhm," you paused, looking for a way to say it without getting smashed or something.

Come on, Miyu. It's just Marissa. Your big, friendly giant that could mince and marinate you if she had her halberd on hand. Though she might just do well enough smashing your head between her palms.

"Can I see your fist?"

"My fist?" she asked confused. You nodded. Unsure but trusting, she held out her fist to you. Even her hand was bigger than yours.

Taking a hold of it, you moved her fingers in a better position, locking them in with her thumb, directing her to the stone column she was bruising her knuckles in.

"Don't clench your fingers. Swing with the muscles in your shoulder, not the ones in your forearms and angle your body parallel to your opponent." You nodded to the pillar. "Try it now."

Her eyebrow lifted, lacking assurance at your directions, but she did get in the stance.

"Send it on your exhale," you added in a small voice.

Her icy eyes narrowed in on you prompting you to take another step backwards, hands held up in defence to let her do her thing. She debated it but in the end she tried it your way. Taking a long, deep breath in, she spun from the right and swung wide going right for the column on the exhale. Her fist drove into the stone with a loud crack, chipping off a quarter of the pillar to dust and rocks that fell right into the firestone behind it. The others stopped training, looking over to see what happened. Shocked, she looked her fist over on every which side only to find no bleeding creases or pink indents of damaged skin on any of her knuckles. Then her blue eyes fell on you, sparkling like dew drops on plant leaves in the early morning.

"How?"

"All you were missing was technique," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. In return, she smiled just as big.

Moving to sit in front of her, hands held together behind your back, you motioned her to come at you.

Maybe Enishi's emotionally torturing, training techniques rubbed off on you. Or maybe you were batshit crazy since even the girls looked at you as if you've grown a head. But something just told you to do it and give her a good moving target to really test out her new set of skills.

"I can't do that," she shook her head, taking a step back refusing to attack you.

Her eyes fell on the dried blood stains littered all over your dress, stopping at the still fresh scratches on your face.

You beckoned her again. "Just trust me."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

You said that with so much confidence it surprised even you.

Marissa finally got into position and prepared for a moving punch. Her left foot pressed backwards while her right set up. With one step, she was right in front of your face, her huge fist headed for serious damage. You let her come as close as possible, just a few inches away from your face before you moved to the side, grabbing a hold of her forearm to push her forwards. She stumbled, turning to you with a guilty look on her face.

"You hesitated," you said, standing to the side.

"Because I don't want to -"

"Your enemy won't give you time to find a reason to hurt them," you argued. "You have to do it."

Softly caressing the knife won't make it not want to kill you. That was its sole purpose after all and what Enishi tried to teach you all along. Maybe you did learn something from his philosophy lessons, often coming as a package with the physical training.

"You need to strike first. No mercy. No remorse."

She sighed, tall shoulders dropping with the realization you were right. Ignoring your injured leg, you moved into a fighting stance, similar to the ones Enishi took with you.

"Now come at me for real this time."

Stop defending. Just attack.

And she did. She sent fist after fist, one more powerful than the other. Your body struggled to handle her speed but you willed it to in order to keep up and give her a real shot at it. Once you were happy with the form of her punches and she realized how well she sent them you both stopped. Holding up her fists side to side, she smiled widely at them. You simply bowed your head at her in respect.

Before you could spin back to your chair, the rest of them flocked your way asking for guidance.

"Can you help me too?" asked Mai, showing you her small fists.

Yana stomped over too, tapping your shoulder. "Can you help me with the kicks? I want to learn that reverse one you did to Li Wen's nose."

"Guys, guys, calm down! I'm no martial arts master," you waved your hands away. "I can't fight better than any of you. Not now anyway."

"But someone did teach you," said Lyla with a smirk.

Damn it.

You knew who she was referring to. There were two of them who tried busting off their asses to train you in hand to hand, close and far combat, including weaponry wielding. You failed weaponry... but you did overpower both of them in combat the last time you trained together. And that one was a no mercy match to the death you won fair and square.

These girls were experts in their individual weapons of choice. But they lacked combat technique. The kind of combat technique you ate at breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past two months and a half like it was the fucking military service trials.

If anyone could give them an extra chance at packing a deadly punch or a lethal kick and get hurt less, it was you.

"Fine," you blew a breath, whistling the stray locks of hair falling in front of your face. They cheered loudly, clapping you in the back excitedly.

"Get in a line."

A few days later, you were leading their training sessions from the sidelines, without getting involved until your ankle healed some more. Your ribs still hurt, but not enough to stop you from sparring with your hands here and there, correcting stances or acting as a moving target from time to time. Taking everything you learned from the sword master extraordinaire and placing it on different training, tailored to every girl and her fighting style, you managed to get them out of the rut.

Their forms got better than their wielding impulses, stronger than their sparing opponents, faster at laying a lethal blow if needed. Surprise after surprise came as you coached each one into changing little things that led them to big ones in such a short amount of time.

Marissa's punches became hunks of deadly power. Yana's aerials you molded following Enishi's. Lyla's flexibility went into quick attacks. All of them evolved.

On a well-deserved break, you sat around, passing mugs of water from the bucket that was brought down by the guards once a day.

"How do they announce a fight? Or who's turn it is?" you asked no one in particular. Already used to your question rounds, Yana picked it up like she was the pit's unofficial guide.

"You see the golden gong in the back?" she pointed behind you.

Your head whipped around to find a golden plate hooked up on two stands, reflecting the flickers of the fire around the pit. You've been here for days but have not taken notice of the percussion instrument at all, as if it just spawned there from nowhere. Not a lot of things to notice in a cave underground.

"Has that always been here or am I tripping? Are we sure those grapes weren't edibles?"

Laughter echoed around you in ripples of snorts and giggles. Another thing you grew to love in these past few days was making these girls laugh. An actual belly-flopping, cheeks hurting, eyes leaking laugh. Some of them haven't howled a true, joyous laugh in ages from how rusty their laughs sounded, but they welcomed your jokes nonetheless.

"It has," laughed Yana. "When they have someone ready for a fight, they come down and hit the gong. Another person has a bowl filled with our names written on thin paper strips and they just call it out."

"Is there an audience too?"

"We're allowed to sit in sometimes. The guards always sit in and place bets on the winning head."

That's disgusting. Placing bets as if they've ever been put in their shoes.

"Li Wen usually stands to the side-"

"If she's in the mood for being spat at, that is," added Marissa. "Someone always gets punched in the face and she is always right in the sputter of their blood."

You grimaced at that until you realised she deserved the bloody shower every once in a while.

"What about the lord of the house?"

"The Snake doesn't come down here."

Wait.

He abducted all of these girls for his own personal fight club only to not participate at all? Not even to sit in the audience to see his problems eradicated?

That doesn't make any sense.

"He didn't come for any of them? Any at all?"

"Nope," said Yuki, your other Japanese compatriot. She's been down there for the past seven years and could not recall at least one time he showed up. "Not one of them."

That same night, the call for a fight came through. The gong was hit, ringing deep in your ear drums, stopping you mid-training session.

This one had your name on it.

"Crimson Rose," called out the guard, looking for you in the crowd.

Of course they don't use real names in here.

You walked out from between the girls, dirty velvet rolling out behind your heeled steps. Chin help up high, arms crossed and jaw tightened to an angle that could cut, you gave him your most confident front. Deep inside, that courageous front was replaced for eating the walls trying to find an escape route out of this hellhole.

The guard walked down to you, stopping short of a few steps. He had a patch over his nose. It was the guard you head banged into a few days ago.

His eyes raked your body top to bottom, enjoyment disgustingly visible on his face at every curve he stopped at, only pausing his shameless perusal to look at your face. He must've read the fake façade you put up in your eyes, lips turning up with a devilish smirk.

"You're overdue for a welcome fight, rosy."

It's been a week since the night you disappeared. A week he wanted to throw to oblivion like that would just so happen to bring you right back. If only it was that easy to get you back.

Over the past few days, he's grown restless, much more than he used to be. Every word uttered the wrong way, any gaze focused on him for too long, the very sound of footsteps rolling down the hallways. All of these had him bust a nerve that never stopped ticking since he woke up that night in the middle of the woods and you were nowhere to be found.

Wherever he sat down, his eyes closed automatically. Tired didn't even begin to describe how he felt. But no matter how exhausted he was, he couldn't give into it at all. He would go into his room for a quick shower then return back to the office. Any accidental glances falling on his neatly made bed made him take a tempting step towards it only to turn for the door just as fast, like the very thought of sleeping in some semblance of comfort disgusted him. His body begged for overdue rest but he refused it time and time again. It wasn't the time to rest. Not until he found you or at the very least heard of your whereabouts, but so far he had nothing. No leads, no tracks to follow up on. Absolutely fucking nothing.

He's been up even at night searching for any word of you, the rest of the missing artillery, accidental sightings of your parents. It was all a never-ending circle of things to search for that never ceased from piling up on his desk or in his head, and he came to understand there was a second thing he hated the most in the world, beside people fretting over him. His office. This room held him mostly at his worst and he was sick of it. So sick he just jumped out of his seat with a long sigh, setting out on a walk.

Anywhere but here will do, he thought, pushing the doors behind him closed in hopes everything else that's been storming up his nerves for the past week would remain inside those doors if he shut them tight enough.

The sun brimmed bright down the hallway. A small breeze found her way inside through the open curtain, whistling it open like the veil on the prow of a boat. Light warmth drenched the air of midday, notes of the first blooms of camellias hanging sweet on the breeze.

December turned to January in the past week but the weather was so bright and pleasingly warm it was hard to tell the cold season was even present at all. As if winter skipped it's turn and let spring take it away just for this once. The ice still hugged the roads stubbornly in the crisp of morning and the scent of snow hung deeper in the night air, but no snow fell from the sky. Not even on a sudden hailing or with the gust of a storm.

That first fall of snow refused to come. He was sort of thankful for its delay. Not that it would hinder his plans or anything. His reason for it... was stupid really. He didn't want to catch the first snowfall without you.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew the meaning behind catching the first fall of snow with someone, especially if you had feelings for them. But above that foolish meaning, he knew how much you would have loved to see it.

That lone, brief thought of you basking in the white glow of a snowflake flurry brought his steps right in front of your room. Busy putting all his manpower in motion to find you, he was mostly cooped up in that office he dreaded so much. That and he couldn't find it in him to go inside your room and not see you there, either stitching up something or being cooped up in your bed with Koru with a soft smile on your face. Thinking of the feline, he realised that even she disappeared without a trace, somewhere in the depths of the mansion, probably looking for you.

His hand reached out for the door handle on a whim only to stop midair.

She's not in there, his mind echoed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his hand fell flat on the wooden door, and he let out a shaky breath. Even if you weren't in there, so many things of yours were. Pushing open the double doors, he took a wary step in your room to convince himself of the emptiness in the space.

One look around and the eerie silence got drowned in a deep chuckle.

Everything was a mess. Just the way you liked it. Pieces of cut up and unrolled material were still strewn over the work station you made for yourself in the corner, some falling over the chair like you were still working on stuff. Clothes were thrown every which way on hangers falling from the sides of your wardrobe and laying in front of it on the floor. He couldn't even tell where the laundry began and where it ended.

A chilly gust of wind blew in prompting him to turn for the window. It was cracked open. It didn't pass through his mind to check it before. You probably left it open to change the stuffy air in the room until you were out on mission. Moving to close it, he noticed the wooden pane was ajar, just a crack wide enough to lay your bedding out for some fresh air.

That's when it hit him harder - this was so domestic. Laying your bedding out. Cooking in the kitchen. Even simply just walking the hallways in a worn out shirt of yours. Like you've always lived here and this was the daily custom for as long as ever.

He grabbed your bedding, dusting it off the leaves and twigs that blew in from outside before he pulled the dirty covers off, throwing them in the corner for laundry, changing them for new ones. Then he folded them neatly, patting them down, moving to place them on your bed when he paused. On top of the white sheet lay a book he hasn't seen in a long time. Placing your bedding down in a corner, he leaned over and reached for it.

Wuthering Heights? his eyes widened at the title. Wasn't this in the library?

He turned it over on the side, surprised to see loads of paper edges hanging messily, stacked inside between the pages. Your writing peaked out on the sides of a few. He debated on whether he should open it and read some of them or not. It seemed almost too personal to even be holding it as if his hands would taint it and deem it unreadable for you.

Unbeknownst to anyone, he was an avid reader. He read all of the books in his library four, if not even five times. At times to just pass the time, to do research, to learn more about people and what drove them, maybe even to catch some surprising truths about himself. But out of his whole collection, this book was the hardest read he's ever come across. And he's read heavy shit like political thrillers and war tactic books. But this one, as poetic and straightforward of a novel it was, it remained a mystery to him and no matter how many times he's read it, tried to dissect it and understand it, he never could. This book was one of the biggest enigmas he couldn't solve.

In the end, curiosity got the best of him. He sat down on the edge of your bed and opened the book, flipping through it until he landed on the page where the last paper note hung loosely, nearly slipping out. Even the writing on it looked rushed, possibly written in a haste. It was near the middle and it looked like the last annotated note in the book.

She never got to finish it.

That thought alone angered him. Then he started reading the page and his mood instantly turned from sour to amusing.

The last quote underlined was Heathcliff's, mid-rage match with Catherine. The corner of his mouth upturned at the familiarity of the scene, happening between the two of you for the entirety of the previous week. Constant back and forth, making each other try to fall for one another but failing miserably to communicate like normal human beings. Taking a step forward with you only to fall three more behind.

His eyes fell on the quote above the note that was stuck in the middle of the spread.

"I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

The quote was highlighted angrily, black pencil running all around the quote like it swallowed it whole, a total contrast to the other pages his fingers skimmed across. His eyes fell on the note below it and his breath caught in his throat, pulse thudding in his ears like a drum.

I broke your heart? You broke it first. You played with me the way you wanted. You chased me down like I was an animal to be hunted. You're no better than them. The government, the Triads, Battosai. Name the devils we've been battling for so long and they're all just like you. But you're worse. Because as much as I want to hate you and wish you hell worse than the one you've been living in, for everything you did and said to me, for lying to me... I can't bring myself to do that. My heart doesn't let me. It beats for you and only you and I can't drown that annoying rhythm out of my head every time I see you. It just gets louder when you look at me with so many emotions I can't understand. When you hold my hand so gently before every mission. When you take care of me even after I push you away. When you're being you. Good or evil, selfish or caring, angering me to the world's end or catching my world when it comes crashing down. She's addicted to you wholly. To every part of you. I can't even wish for that beating to cease, even if at times I wanted it to with my whole being, because I know it would hurt you. And I can't bear seeing you in any kind of pain. That is how you broke my heart. But do you know what the funny thing is? That you're what I've been running from my entire life. You're everything I loathe the most in the world. And yet, despite all this, you're all I want at the same time. This... is how I broke mine.

A shaky breath he's been holding in since he read the very first word finally left him. All he could feel was pain. Pain unlike any other he's ever experienced, flooding his heart like a poison arrow that just about missed the most vital point but embedded deep enough to spread its venom like burning embers kindled to burn inside of his chest.

That note was something he was never meant to find. Addressed to him, through and through, but not to be discovered like this, in a book he couldn't understand. Because now, as his eyes darted over the words again and again at breakneck speed, he felt guilty. Guiltier than the weight of all the people he's ever sent to the afterlife with the edge of his blade could ever make him feel. This was a different type of guilt - the kind that made him feel like he was suffocating upon breathing just fine.

Having absorbed the words like a second skin, the note fell from his hand, falling right on the pages he found it stuck between. At once, he shut the book closed.

He's never looked at it in this way but having read what you've left for secret keepsake, what should've never ended up in his hands, he was nothing less than scared. That gut-wrenching fear that leapt at him whenever Tomoe decided to haunt him and laugh in his face at his idiocy, now unleashed at just the mere thought of you, way stronger and crippling than he's ever felt it course through him.

Feeling like he was intruding way too much, he placed the book back on your bed like simply touching it seared the skin of his palms. He checked the bedding once more and turned for the door. Then he paused.

Turning back to the scope of your room he glanced at it again. Contrary to the joke his mind played on him before he entered, you were here.

In every corner of the room where a part of you lingered like you just touched it. Not just in the room but even outside of it, as far as the rest of the mansion spread. In every tile of the kitchen where your feet padded tirelessly to cook up some new recipe you heard Wu talk about. In the hallways, floorboards creaking under your feet as you gazed at that favorite painting of yours that started becoming his favorite too. In his office, where you fell asleep more comfortably and cozily than in the warmth and comfort of your own bed. Outside in the garden, where you trained restlessly or down in the armory where you spent time studying weapons and learning more about them. Even in his room where he tricked you into using his shower, his mirror, his towels, his clothes, his bed.

You were everywhere.

And he realized there was one more spot you edged your way in, way before you even stepped foot on the premises of this house. A place that was so full of life despite him thinking it was as dead as the crunched leaves on the ground.

A place that beat wild, calm, out of control, ragged, steady, rumbled, bled.

A place that was so full of you he could never get you out unless he gave himself over to the hands of death like it would take him if he had a different reason this time around. But even then, when he stopped breathing and his blood ran cold, you would still be in there, keeping the walls of it together.

All his life, he's built his inner defences map by map, wreathing sharp blades around his heart like the ones on the walls in the office, in the shape of a crown that could somehow guard the last piece of humanity he had left after Tomoe died. He fought with his all to protect it, turned against anyone who tried to get too close, marred everyone he didn't want to lose before he got too attached. He did all this only for all those defences to uncover one by one and fall down at your feet the minute you stepped into his life.

You came in like a storm unlike the ones already on his shore, rumbling wild with promise of disaster, reaching out through cracks he didn't even realise were left wide open. He was so wrong about you being a tempest that would stop at nothing to destroy him. You did the complete opposite of it, saving that piece of him rather than killing it when he gave you every reason to because there, in your kind and gentle hands that have seen so much evil but did so much more good in return, that locked up humanity of his was set free. In the palm of your hands, he felt alive again.

Because his heart was yours. Every little part of it.

And he hated that it wasn't his own heart that broke that night instead of yours.

Thank you for reading :)

[pauking5]

writing is a really strange thing to be doing, cause i may not touch a draft for days or weeks or even months, and then this is what happens editing-wise in one hour and a half (with breaks) 🤐

i'm actually so proud of myself. it hasn't been an easy day but i still opened my laptop to work on it and even if i hate what i write at times, i am so grateful i can still push through and see why i love doing it in the first place.

[goodreadss]

Arm of the Seine near Giverny at Sunrise Claude Monet - 1897

[pauking5]

Deep in the shallows of the darkest night, the rain poured on to hide the sight. Deep, deep, in the corner of the street, nobody lurked but somebody peeked. Deep on the road a catastrophe was to unfold, yet the city just watched on and never helped, letting the rain wash away all their sins of yesterday.

Four souls were there that night. Only two survived. A pure-hearted, innocent child with a bright, hopeful future ahead of her. A rueful man with a heart of stone, petrified by the world that held him bound to no one. A destiny changed course. The other kept its aimless direction.

Today, they both live in plain sight. One of them in hiding, concealing her identity from the world, trying to keep living despite every danger that still lurks behind her back.

The other one and his loyal acolytes still live, very publicly, keeping all of their sins strapped tight to files stuck inside steel cold, safe places, with the hopes to never be found out.

Today, they live to rule the way of society, as above so below, righteous and fair, hiding behind masks crafted in secret mastery decades ago. Lawyers, government officials, press, television anchors - puppets, on show to hide the true murderous depths of this rotten, corrupted city, and the people who barely got to breathe their innocence before it was taken away from them.

This city broke them, made them, raised them from the shadows of their dark, turbulent pasts. And even when all the roads led them elsewhere, thousands of miles away to sweet paradise, they still returned to this city of ruin, their own history here too tangled to leave behind. But this time is different, because they are not afraid anymore.

Their destinies were entangled long before they even met.

A lone loverboy with a heart of gold, seeking warmth from any body to grace his door, even if that warmth was never returned in earnest.

A hopeful dancer looking for a dream to hold, desperately lacing onto every feeling her heart still beats for.

A ruthless man ruled by an ice cold heart, closing deals with the same urgency he closes his own heart away from the world.

And a business proposition, born of curious intent, that will alter the course of their lives forever.

But even though this proposition is followed through with strict terms and conditions, perfectly curated to each of their personal needs, they all seem to forget something really important.

The human heart is a foolish little thing.

And desire is an even stranger, more peculiar thing, that loves to play with the control of the mind and the strict rules it has in place for the heart to never stray away. To never fall.

Because desire trickles into lust. And when lust speaks, it's neither from the mind or from the heart, but from somewhere deeper. Somewhere neither of them can ever bring you back from.

In the dead of night, when all the facts were shown and worn, heart on your sleeve, mind on the moonlit rose door, only one question remains.

Who will be the one to break the rules first?

RULE BREAKER

An original AU set in modern day 2015 Tokyo

COMING SOON.

[pauking5]

she's back and breathing well, baby!!!

you've officially got a few to put in your guesses for who's gonna be the masculine mains and i swear i won't spoil 🤫 it will be silent on that field until chapter 1 comes out.

if you're looking for more details about this one, i already chirped about in the little newsletter i sent you last june. so have another read here if you want to know more. it's right at the end of the projects line.

see you soon, lovelies.

all my love, p.

[pauking5]

Deep in the shallows of the darkest night, the rain poured on to hide the sight. Deep, deep, in the corner of the street, nobody lurked but somebody peeked. Deep on the road a catastrophe was to unfold, yet the city just watched on and never helped, letting the rain wash away all their sins of yesterday.

Four souls were there that night. Only two survived. A pure-hearted, innocent child with a bright, hopeful future ahead of her. A rueful man with a heart of stone, petrified by the world that held him bound to no one. A destiny changed course. The other kept its aimless direction.

Today, they both live in plain sight. One of them in hiding, concealing her identity from the world, trying to keep living despite every danger that still lurks behind her back.

The other one and his loyal acolytes still live, very publicly, keeping all of their sins strapped tight to files stuck inside steel cold, safe places, with the hopes to never be found out.

Today, they live to rule the way of society, as above so below, righteous and fair, hiding behind masks crafted in secret mastery decades ago. Lawyers, government officials, press, television anchors - puppets, on show to hide the true murderous depths of this rotten, corrupted city, and the people who barely got to breathe their innocence before it was taken away from them.

This city broke them, made them, raised them from the shadows of their dark, turbulent pasts. And even when all the roads led them elsewhere, thousands of miles away to sweet paradise, they still returned to this city of ruin, their own history here too tangled to leave behind. But this time is different, because they are not afraid anymore.

Their destinies were entangled long before they even met.

A lone loverboy with a heart of gold, seeking warmth from any body to grace his door, even if that warmth was never returned in earnest.

A hopeful dancer looking for a dream to hold, desperately lacing onto every feeling her heart still beats for.

A ruthless man ruled by an ice cold heart, closing deals with the same urgency he closes his own heart away from the world.

And a business proposition, born of curious intent, that will alter the course of their lives forever.

But even though this proposition is followed through with strict terms and conditions, perfectly curated to each of their personal needs, they all seem to forget something really important.

The human heart is a foolish little thing.

And desire is an even stranger, more peculiar thing, that loves to play with the control of the mind and the strict rules it has in place for the heart to never stray away. To never fall.

Because desire trickles into lust. And when lust speaks, it's neither from the mind or from the heart, but from somewhere deeper. Somewhere neither of them can ever bring you back from.

In the dead of night, when all the facts were shown and worn, heart on your sleeve, mind on the moonlit rose door, only one question remains.

Who will be the one to break the rules first?

RULE BREAKER

An original AU set in modern day 2015 Tokyo

COMING SOON.

[pauking5]

i got so excited with all the opla news! so, in nice fashion, i've got a little something for you too.

i've said it before, but i've been working on an opla fic for a long time coming now. she's still in the works and might only see the light at the start of next year, but i'm excited about where i'm going with it and i'm hoping there will be readers for it.

i've had the oc for it come to me before i even knew what i wanted to write that didn't resemble something already existing on here. there were times i wanted to ditch it completely, rewrite everything and start anew, but something about this story felt like it needed me to tell it. i was ready to put the lid on it and shove it somewhere deep until i sat down one day and the words just flew out of me. so i couldn't let it go.

it's never just a fic to me. it's way more. hence why i try to give my ocs personalities and improve that x reader experience.

what i can tell you so far, it's pirates of the carribean universe inspired and the oc is exactly what i dreamt of being at one point in my childhood. she's a fearless justice seeker, a good old friend for one of the straw hats, and a pain in the ass for one grumpy swordsman who considers loyalty to be worth everything.

can't wait to give it to you. hoping it will be good 🫶

[pauking5]

just because someone liked this, she's on her way 🫠🫡 just waiting for my other works to get posted so i can get back to this one.

and she may or may not have three parts... just saying 🫶

[pauking5]

if you have not hit play on season 2 yet what are you waiting for?

i am hurdling it with my sister over facetime since we're apart, but if i have to wait until 8 pm every single day to watch this with her, you're damn right i will enjoy every bit of it. and taking my time with it makes it a little more special than binging it all in one go. like letting the cake sit until it's ready to be eaten and savoured.

and i missed my zoro 🫠🫶

[pauking5]

she's going through the big final edit.

part 1 is 49k + alone.

see you on the other side ❤️

[oli-disaster]

MUTUALS . EVERYONE GET IN .

[kottasnightmode]

I have random followers I have an attachment to for no reason and whenever I see them in my notes I'm like "awww it's them :)" and it makes me happy. Listen to me....you never know the full enjoyment you bring to other people's lives

[pauking5]

hellouuuu! it's been a while since i've been around here so i thought an update would be nice :)

i'm back home for the week, in between resting, doctor's visits and writing heapsssss. i'm sort of trying to find out what's wrong with my internal flow and i'm waiting for test results and all that jazz to come back. it's stressful and scary at times. but thank you to those still writing to me to see how i am or just to check up on me. it means the world to hear from you. it makes it all less scary.

i've got stuff coming for you soon. something happened with my writing and it feels like i've unlocked a new, very different level of depth that i wasn't touching before, especially with characters and world building. it just sucks that my body can't keep up with my mind to push through and finish stuff. but i hope i can get at least one little surprise to you this month. just one completed thing and i may feel great again.

i miss writing on here so much. and i miss all of you more.

i also want you to know that you're never truly alone. no matter what you're going through, you always have someone to listen if you look in close enough. listeners need listeners too. healers need protectors. so i guess that my advice to you, if you're someone who gives their heart away to lift and care for other people, is to care and lift yourself too. prioritise yourself too. keep healthy, eat well, well rested, go outside, do something you love. do more of something you love and let it heal you.

about healing stuff... i think i've been gushing about rule breaker a lot lately, and i think it's healing something in me and it makes me feel a little more mature and well-centered. you'll see what i mean soon.

for now, look at how much i've been working on it for the past few months! and i started this notebook in september 🫠 it's nearly done haha

i think that's all from me. for now. see you soon.

maybe sooner than you think <3