An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Relationships: Igarashi Sayaka/Momobami Kirari
Additional Tags: Fluff, Useless Lesbians, A date that's not a date (if you ask Sayaka), Light-hearted (for once), A quick bet, One Shot
Summary:
Sayaka shows her the incriminating exhibit: on a dark background, fluorescent, multicolor letters yell about Lazer Krazer – Laser Tag Arena.
“Laser tag? “, says Kirari intrigued, “What is that? “
Thanks @matriarch-aethyta for the commission! This was something different from usual but it was a lot of fun to work with.
If you’re intrested in supporting me, please consider checking out my Ko-fi or commissioning me!
@matriarch-aethyta i accidentally read the last grandpa conversation before the last doctor conversation and im glad i did because that wouldve put all the pieces together for me and not sucker punched me
[3:49:38 PM] Dats Nikki: GUESS YOU SHOULDNT HAVE SUNG IT WHILE YOURE MAKING SOME FUCKING RICE BALLS HUH AZURA
[3:49:46 PM] Dats Nikki: WERE THEY DEMONIC WHEN YOU STARTED
[3:49:50 PM] Dats Nikki: DID YOU PURIFY THEM
[3:49:51 PM] Dats Nikki: WAS IT WORTH IT
Shairaxkas music duffle meme thingy. Make a soundtrack for their love!!!!
1. Teardrop– Massive Attack
Love, love is a verb.Love is a doing word,Fearless on my breath.Gentle impulsionShakes me, Makes me lighter,Fearless on my breath.
2. Speed the Collapse– Metric
And when the days that followed past–In another mansion built to last,From our window we could seeOnly possibilities
3. Baby Come Home- Scissor Sisters
I’m layin’ in bed with a whole lot of wonderGoing through my head.This ‘don’t give a fuck’Gets a little bit lonely.
4. Feel it all Around- Washed Out
You feel the thought of learning again–It’s all around.You’re tired of all the things you did–You’ll work it out.
5. This is Gospel– Panic! At the Disco
Don’t try to sleep through the end of the worldAnd bury me aliveCause I won’t give up without a fight.
6. Money- Mindless Self Indulgence
I will conformI will play ballI won’t say fuckI make a sacrifice because I want it all.
7. Aerials- System of a Down
Life is a waterfall.We drink from the river,Then we turn around and put up our walls.
8. Girls/Girls/Boys - Panic! At the Disco
Pose, you’ve gotta save your reputationThey’re close to finding out about your girlfriend.But if you change your mind, you know where I am.Yeah, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.Cause I don’t wanna save your reputation.
9. Homewrecker- Rizzle Kicks
I completely understand and you’re a sweet guyBut I completely love your girlfriend So it looks likeI don’t really care bruv (She’s mine)
10. Carmen - Lana del Rey
She says, “You don’t want to get this way,Famous and dumb at an early age.”Lying, I’m lying.
Notes: I POSTED THIS EARLIER BUT TUMBLR ATE MOST OF IT
The first thing she became aware of was that she wasn’t in her catsuit. They weren’t much, most aptly named street clothes if she ever needed to talk about it. Jacket with a hood, pants. Gloves—just in case she got a little tempted. Whatever she had been doing before this point was meant for her only. But what had she been doing?
The elevator dinged, and the doors creaked open, inviting her to a dark, dimly lit hallway. It was short in length before turning sharply to the right. Another elevator next to her, near identical to her own. The silence swallowed everything, almost peaceful, familiar, but still, Kasumi hesitated. Why couldn’t she remember anything? The day… it had been stressful, and she was going to visit someone, but everything in her mind seemed jumbled, unclear.
The elevator doors shut, and with a sigh, Kasumi began to walk. Maybe she had been meeting someone here, and maybe, maybe someone had fucking hit her head or something. The steps echoed in the high, dome ceiling, only reminding her how empty the place felt and seemed. Rounding the corner though, and the area opened up into something sleek, modern. It was a bar bathed in black with low lights that reminded her of Omega. Columns lined her way with dark leather couches circling the bar table.
“You are very late, Ms. Goto,” and she couldn’t help smiling at the familiar sound of Kiera’s voice, perched on one of the bar stools with a glass of wine in her hand. “Our host was growing agitated.”
“Please don’t speak for me, ma’am.” And he was a tall one indeed. A turian of sheet white plate without a mark on his face, and the most striking green eyes she’d ever seen. Right away, Kasumi tensed up, jaw clenched.
“… Did you set this up?” she asked before sitting beside Kiera, keeping her focus away from the turian.
“No,” which was punctuated by a heavy glare to the bartender. To his credit, he didn’t seem fazed at all by it, mandibles twitching, silent. “I was under the impression that this had been one of your pranks.”
“Kidnapping you isn’t usually on my to-do list.”
“In any other circumstance, I’d find that comforting.”
“No? Maybe we’re in trouble then,” jokes always helped in cases like this. Really, it should be worrying. Their relationship wasn’t exactly common knowledge to anyone that was in the business, beyond maybe being her appraiser. Former employees were easily threatened into silence, and in any case, the bartender didn’t look even remotely familiar. If anything, he was a little unnerving. He posture was stiff and the uniform was out of place on the weird bony anatomy that turians had.
He sighed and turned to the collection, hopefully to pour her a glass of wine as well. “I assume you remember nothing before coming here then?”
“That would be correct,” she answered with a small scowl and a glance to Kiera. “Was I visiting you?”
“Perhaps, though you came in later than I had.” Hmm. That was true, wasn’t it? She tapped her fingers against the bar table, trying to draw some of that buried memory out. Usually, whatever couldn’t be dredged up would be easily supplied by the grey-box, but weirdly, even that seemed to be failing her. Drugged then? It seemed like the strongest possibility.
A glass was set in front of her, a wine of dark red and a strong aroma that was almost inviting despite the seriousness of the situation. “So. Where are we?”
The turian remained still as a statue.
“Most kidnappers don’t serve drinks and food like this, you know,” Kasumi pointed out with a wry smile. “I mean, you’re part of the business right? I know we don’t exactly have a college for this sort of thing, but—“
“No.” the turian answered.
Real friendly, this guy.
“Then why are we—“
They were answered when he brought a big red button to the table and behind him with a clunk, a board with nine squares and an odd emblem, a design Kasumi couldn’t recognize off the top of her head, bathed in red. “It would be unwise to struggle, as is your tendency.” He pushed the button forward with two talons. “You will play a game with your lives at stake, and you cannot leave until it is done.”
Kiera was unimpressed. “Excuse us then. A hard deal like that needs some… time,” and with that she was yanked out of her seat by her investor and dragged further back in the bar behind one of the many columns.
She swallowed back a small groan. “What do you think?”
“Do you have your gun?” She nodded and then she spotted the glow of Kiera’s biotics with a sideways smile. “Then we shoot. For someone of our skills, his threats are hardly impressive.”
Something still didn’t seem right though. It was easy to let her curiosity get the best of her, even if it was easier to just shoot the guy and run. She peered throughout the bar, noting that it had been larger than she originally thought, with several rooms along the back wall. If the place was really as expansive as it seemed, could they really lock all the exits? “… Maybe we should check if he’s telling the truth first.”
Kiera shot her an amused smile. “It’s unlike you to worry about a system, Ms. Goto.”
“And this is the first time I’ve been kidnapped where I’ve been left to wander around on my own. I’m telling you, something isn’t right. Let me check the exits.”
Kiera sighed, but she could tell already she was conceding. “Likely the elevators have been shut down; however… I have not seen anything else that might resemble an exit.”
“It’s a start anyway.” She brought her hand forward, tried to start the omni-tool, but… Nothing. No spark of life, no indication that it had been there in the first place. Oh. That might be an issue. “Huh.”
“They had the presence of mind to take your omni-tool, but not your gun?” She pinched the bridge of her nose before turning on her heel, “I’ll check the elevators. Perhaps you should make sure a thermal clip is actually there.”
Sure enough, there wasn’t, but they didn’t seem to bother to limit Kiera at all. Maybe they still only saw her as some art collector—just one that had managed to get the best thief in the business under her heel. Though most asari used biotics in some capacity, didn’t they?
It didn’t take long for Kiera to return and with a firm shake of the head; Kasumi knew they were essentially stuck. They could kill the guy, but it wouldn’t get them much farther than they were now. At least playing along could get them information, even with the inherent risk. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to be thorough and confident. That alone was enough to make her nervous, if not excited for what was to come. “Looks like we have a challenge then.”
“So it seems.”
The turian didn’t seem surprised when they returned and once again, pushed the button toward them, something of a smile hidden by his mandibles. “If you would.”
Kiera never tore her eyes from him as she pressed it, a gaze that was cold and dark. Kasumi did her best to ignore it as a square on the board lit up and began to travel through the different squares for about a minute before it stopped on a square on the bottom center row. With a celebratory jingle the square flipped revealing a phrase neatly written in… was that katakana? Here? Thank god the English words were underneath.
“You… You want us to play chess? That’s all?” Kasumi was incredulous, but for all the turian cared, she may not have spoken at all. He rounded the lengthy bar table and with a fluid motion, waved to one of the doors in the backroom. “It’s a little clichéd, isn’t it?”
Kiera eased a smile. “We should be thankful for something that we are both familiar with. … Little else seems to be in our favor as it stands.” Poignant and very unfortunately true. Her hand came around Kasumi’s arm, and with reluctance inside of them, they followed the turian inside the back door.
The lighting was as dim as the hallway, nearly bathing the large rectangular room in blue. There wasn’t much else inside that Kasumi could see, aside from a large table with two chairs on either side of it. The chess set, a beautiful, carefully crafted glass set, was resting on the table with all the pieces set up and ready. From the initial look, there didn’t seem to be any catch to the request. This was strange. Very strange.
“The chess game will be standard. The first to win two games will win.”
Really? That was it? … Why? She stiffened and took mechanical steps toward the table, ever cautious for what might arise from such apparent transparency. However, there wasn’t anything that was out of the ordinary about it. At least, at first. It really was a remarkable chess set, just a quick glance telling her how expensive it had to have been, how much effort it was put in to craft each glass piece with such loving detail, and—
Wait. Didn’t the pieces look familiar?
Kiera couldn’t hide her own shock and oh, how the temper was flaring beneath her stoic expression. The look to the turian was sharp with curled fists. “You tapped into my security. Had to.”
The turian remained unfazed. “Please begin.”
Kiera’s jaw clenched. Even Kasumi had to admit it was a little creepy. They were people she knew, all of them, some she had tossed away—broken relationships that served as pawns. Chotha, the turian that had double-crossed her, an ex or two. Many of the rank pieces she recognized from the Normandy with Shepard and Kiera serving as knights. Hm. How fitting. Each piece had been lovingly crafted to near-perfect accuracy. The only damage really had been her king. But the eyes were there, always recognizable. Scratches lined his torso and his arms were gone, but that was Keiji. Her queen though? It was an asari for sure, but… huh. It wasn’t Kiera.
At least Kiera’s pieces seemed just as awkward. Like before the pawns seemed to serve the broken relationships, employees that had been disposed of over the years, people that no longer matter. Ranked pieces were the more trusted associates, the turian security chief one knight and what seemed to be her mother the other. She was Kiera’s queen and the king… hm. A girl?
“That’s… interesting.”
“You’re more nonchalant about this than I expected you to be,” Kiera mused.
“If he knows this much, I’m not sure there’s really anything I can do about it,” she admitted, chin in her palm. “I’m just glad my mother’s not on the board anywhere. That would’ve been awkward.”
Kiera chuckled. “You did have a habit of taking what you could from a situation.” She studied the pieces for a moment and with a contained smile, she moved one of her pawns forward. “It’s been a while since we played together, hasn’t it?”
“Mm.” She moved to meet her pawn.
“What was the score?”
“A tie, I think,” Kasumi said, “Though we could settle it here, couldn’t we? You were always a very ruthless opponent.”
“And few humans have ever matched me.”
She laughed. “Well that’s why you kept me, wasn’t it? I made things exciting for you. And I mean look at this. What do you bet that this is my fault?”
“See there’s that too. I’m the optimist here. You need to have me around.” For something so stressful, the air was surprisingly light. Kasumi found the smiles easy to form, and there was a softness in the edges of Kiera’s gaze, something a little gentler, a little easier to digest than her usual stoic demeanor. She was cornered on the board, but at that point, it hadn’t matter. “Sometimes I forget how attracted I am to you.”
“I do what I can to remind you.” Kasumi’s queen was exposed. Kiera had seen it too. “Among many others, of course. You seem to willfully choose to forget some important topics at times.”
“You love me that way.”
Kiera smiled, and then toppled the queen over.
It was as if something clicked, sudden and forceful. A light smile, warm and welcoming—the idea of someone being so perfect but so flawed at the same time. Sacrificial, beautiful. So… far from her. Someone better off in the distance, to watch, to care for benignly. The smile was so genuine, so much more than she had ever seen since leaving Earth. It was honesty and Kasumi had fallen for it.
“You always have a way of showing up when I need it, you know.” There’s a warm cup of tea between them, and she can count the freckles subtly framing her cheeks, know that there’s more along her shoulders, and how there’s an edge of selfishness creeping inside the consort—how she loves and nurtures it. Someone needed to take care of her. She needed to take care of her.
Entwined fingers. Honesty, always honesty there. Eased into something more, something sweeter, something she found herself craving without even thinking about it. And the looks, the invitations, always with an open hand. It was so easy to desire her when the pain grew less burdened.
“In the end, we have little control on who we end up loving.” The kiss that followed was so soft, so sweet with an open invitation that neither demanded or remained distant. Kasumi had cradled her face then and resolved to never take it all for granted. To never take Sha’ira for granted.
“Ms. Goto? … Ms. Goto!”
The glass chessboard welcomed her first. She had lost her queen, but the game was still close—Kiera had done it with a lot of sacrifice. Shepard and Tunri were in prime positions for a check. Her stomach churned though and the aching in her heart was nigh unbearable. How could she have forgotten her? She stared at her shaking hands, curling and uncurling them for a moment. Deep breath. Then she recognized the touch on her shoulder.
“Do you need a moment?” Kiera asked gently and instead of comfort, she felt bile in her throat. She would get out of here, even if that meant leaving Kiera behind.
“No…” She tried to swallow it down before she looked for the turian. Sure enough, he was still there, though closer to spectate the game. He barely acknowledged her stare. “Is… Is Sha’ira safe?”
He exaggerated a hum. “Whose to say? Loss is just part of the business, isn’t it?”
It was obvious that he was toying her, but the thought hadn’t turned to that, not immediately. There was just that sudden emptiness that she had grown so used to, like a cold companion—or a distant brother that turned up some odd years later. The numbing, cold pain, and the awkwardness that would be forced into her just from the simple act of breathing, but this time, she had a distraction in the wonderful arms of white, hot anger.
“You piece of shit!” She bolted out of her seat, fists ready, then Kiera yanked down on the collar of her hood, slamming her back in her chair.
“Don’t waste time on something so pointless,” Kiera chastised. “We will finish this and deal with him after.”
“That’s easy for you to say! What stakes do you have in this?” And she knew it was out of stubbornness than anything else. As much as she hated to admit it, there were times where she needed Kiera for this reason. The control and calm she provided had a lasting effect.
“Our lives, Ms. Goto. That’s risk enough,” and with that, she slipped back into her seat, frown clear on her features. All at once, she became aware of how the humor died between them. “Now, I believe it’s your turn.”
She studied the chessboard. Nothing had changed since she last looked at it, but the heavy air spun it into a game with more consideration. Was Kiera right about that? All of it was so strange, and if the implication had been true…. Maybe they would bite it if one of them lost. Could she stand to lose Kiera like this?
“I used to worship you when we worked together,” she mumbled, finally letting a smile break through. The decision would always be an easy one, and maybe, it was more fitting than any separation that would’ve waited for them further down the road. “… But it’s so much better to think of you as a rival.”
“I’d almost think that was a challenge from you.”
Kasumi smiled. “It is. You didn’t really think I’d let you win, Kiera, did you?”
“I hardly expected any ‘letting’, Ms. Goto. I simply don’t lose.”
“Checkmate.” It was said so plainly, so quietly, but Kiera’s face twisted. The silence swallowed up any of her words. For a few minutes they sat there staring at each other, and Kasumi saw… something within the emotions that passed. She didn’t push it, didn’t dare to, and was content in it until Kiera’s nails began digging marks into the table. “Uh.”
“Let’s start again,” but she didn’t move. Though there weren’t many signs outwardly, the shift in mood had been obvious.
Kasumi stood instead and put on her best smile for the turian. “Could we take a break maybe? Just five minutes or something.”
“If you must,” he bowed, though Kasumi couldn’t help noticing how artificial it looked after everything that happened. “Take whatever time you need. Simply inform me when you are ready.” He straightened his back and remained where he stood, still as a statue. Well, that was unnerving.
She retreated back to the table. Kiera’s shoulders had loosened in the interim, the tension a little less around her eyes. She squeezed a shoulder, but at most, Kasumi could muster a grimace. “You alright?”
“Have we been drugged?” Her voice was guarded and the leer toward the turian had been nothing but malicious.
“I mean, probably. We’re not exactly doing this for fun.” Kiera’s scowl only grew deeper. “Why? What happened?”
Her brow furrowed and she turned away from Kasumi initially, as if her question had personally offended a masterpiece. It was only a brief moment before she sighed though and caved. “I had forgotten something that would be impossible to.”
“What was it?”
“Nothing that should concern you, Ms. Goto. In any case, I’m fine. Better once this is over.”
“Now that’s hardly fair. I told you what mine was.”
Kiera huffed. “It was barely a surprise with the way you’ve been flirting today. The consort would have been less than pleased by your behavior.”
“You let it happen. You still knew.”
“Of course. It was easier when it was just us, Ms. Goto. I’ll take every opportunity to remind you of it.”
Just us. The phrase was familiar, of an angrier, more unsettling time, when she had been ready to strangle Kiera than embrace her. A freedom had been cut away from her before she even had the chance to fight for it, and there was a time where she genuinely thought she lost everything in it. But Kiera, Kiera had been different then. Killing was an art that came so easily for her, never without any thought, but Kiera--- it was like yanking on a leash.
She balled her hands into her jacket as if she would find some control there. “But it was—“
“If it’s important to you, we can discuss this after the game. We should start the round.” She began to reset the pieces, cutting the conversation short with precision.
It wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t find a way to call her out on it. Kasumi slumped into her seat in resignation. There wasn’t any point now, she knew, but it still stung. It was her fault. The entire struggle those past few years had been from her. It was only right that she snatched victory away, surely.
There was a stark difference from last round. Neither of them spoke, as if afraid that a single word would erupt the tension that filled the space. It was immediate how much more aggressive Kiera was acting. Each strategy was countered with force, bordering on overkill, but there was a nuance missing. There was a rage building in there, though Kasumi couldn’t say if it was directed at her or the situation. Each move was made with practiced precision, the minutes ticking longer and longer with each turn that was given.
It was a slow, agonizing death—Kasumi put up the best defenses she could manage, but after what seemed like hours, she was irrevocably cornered.
“Check,” Kiera muttered from the other end, this time leering at her, daring her. Yes. Now the game was getting interesting.
“This is how it usually ends, doesn’t it?” She simply moved a pawn to the side, the only move she had available left. It wouldn’t stop anything. When it came to Kiera, the only choice sometimes was simply taking the loss amicably.
“Your passion gets you in trouble, Ms. Goto. Even in chess.”
The laughter that escaped her was bitter and nauseated. Kiera knocked the king over without a word spared, and this time, felt it slam into her, gut wrenching, cold. They were in bed together, her and Sha’ira, but the tension had virtually sang in her shoulders as she was trying to hold onto whatever was tangible. But she was smiling at her.
“I’m sorry. I started this.” But no, that didn’t seem right. She had killed before, tear down reputations, Kasumi knew that. It still wasn’t… “But I want to see you grow old. If this keeps up, she’ll take everything from you. Even myself.”
“But she’s going to do it anyway now.”
Sha’ira laughed, and it was almost scary how unconcerned she really seemed. “Not if we get her first. … It’ll be okay.”
It’ll be okay.
Then why did it feel like such a lie?
By the time she came back, her nails were digging into the skin of her arms, and Kiera had been calmly resetting the pieces without a glance to her. At first, it was nearly impossible to tell where she was, what she had been doing. It was easy to pull back the smells of oil, cleanliness of the sheet, her laughter. Part of it may have been the grey-box, but it seemed so vivid for just that one, brief moment.
“I hope you take this last round more seriously, Ms. Goto.” The taunt behind it was evident the first word was uttered.
She mustered a smile. “It wouldn’t have been fun if we didn’t make it to a third round, you know.”
“If I could raise the stakes perhaps?”
The voice surprised her—the turian had been so quiet through much of the game that it was so easy to forget that he’d been there at all. This wasn’t just another quarrel between them, no. She wanted to go home. More than anything else, she just wanted to go home. Still she looked, ignoring the cracks that had begun to show, and spotted the strange device that the turian held tightly in his talons immediately.
“I suppose we can afford to have a little more weirdness.” The device seemed… old. Not so much that it was decrepit, but the wood polish on its cylinder handle gave it a classy style with white decorative ends, fanning like shells.
Kiera nodded after a moment, and the turian pressed a button on its side. There was an audible click, and certainly the silence that followed had been heavy. As far as either of them could tell though, nothing had changed.
“Please, continue as before. Whoever wins this game will be the winner.” Then he stepped away from the table, away from the dim light that shone on the table.
“Um.”
“You’ll understand shortly.”
However, Kasumi had been there long enough to be a little worried about it, especially with how little they really understood about their purpose there. He didn’t seemed to be associated with anyone they know, yet had seen and understood personal details about themselves as if he had always been there, watching. Knew enough to target the relationships she shared with no one, not even the close friends made on the Normandy. Knew enough to target Kiera as well. But none of it made any real sense.
She was about ready to call shenanigans until Kiera pushed a lone pawn forward on the chessboard. Kiera’s expression showed nothing into what she was thinking, and perhaps, that simply worried Kasumi more. “Are you sure about this?” she dared to ask.
“Has our situation improved since we started?” At the shake of her head, Kiera smiled grimly. “Then we keep humoring him to find a better solution. … In any case, it’s been some time since we’ve competed so directly.”
“Suddenly I’m thinking there was a good reason for it.” Still she matched the first move, and for while, they seemed to dance around each other on the chessboard, neither overtly aggressive, but also making a point to remain defensive. There was something underlying the tension between them, some sort of line that was growing more and more taut, but beyond the desire to survive, it seemed almost… indiscernible.
Then she lost her first pawn. The pain was subtle at first, but became more and more jarring as it crawled through the nerves of her wrist, up to her elbow. The wince wasn’t lost on her rival, nor their judge.
“Ms. Goto?”
“… So that’s the gimmick.” She picked up the fallen piece, giving it a once over. The bottom plate had been inscribed with a crudely drawn hand, either never noticing the previous two rounds or… newly added.
“That is correct. The shock and body part will differ. Higher ranked pieces will have a higher intensity and target more… vital areas.” Then naturally… the king would be the heart. One of them really was going to die there. Just to confirm it, Kasumi plucked her piece, the decrepit man that had meant so much, and peered on the bottom. Indeed, it was there, just as roughly drawn.
“Truly? This scares you, Ms. Goto?”
Kasumi shrugged, feeling a laugh bubbling in her throat that seemed inappropriate even to her.
“What have I told you?”
It was easy to think of the conversation, of both of them being predators, tigers masquerading as something else. That if there wasn’t temptation there, dangling in front of her, one of them would’ve been dead a long time ago. Kasumi had been angry for it at the time, infuriated, but… it confirmed it, didn’t it?
… Well, no. That over-simplified things, didn’t it? “It kills you to know you’re not the only person I can forgive, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t answer at first, perhaps thinking about it, maybe something else. Maybe a trigger like the last few had been for her. If it was, it wasn’t nearly as violent as the last one, instead remaining as a statue across from her. All that was left was the growing heaviness of the air between them. That was it.
For a moment, Kasumi could feel her breath coming easier since they arrived. “I don’t recall you ever forgiving me for anything, Ms. Goto,” she said simply, and that leer, that should’ve been so stressful, so heated. But she knew, she’d go home and be able to smile at Sha’ira.
“You won’t this time.”
From there, the movements were quick, exchanging pawn for pawn as if the pain had never been there in the first place. Kiera had remained tight-lipped, not unexpected, but in a way, it made the game just a little more fun. It was knowledge that a seriousness, an expectation was there, and finally, Kasumi was meeting it in her eyes. She didn’t want anything left for them to worry about, nothing that would carry them to her dying breath. At the end of it all, she knew for certain she would come out alive. It was the natural order of things.
She would finally surpass her.
It didn’t occur to her at first that Shepard had been knocked out of play, just suddenly a piece being roughly knocked off the chessboard, shattering on the tile floor. Immediately, her chest convulsed, as if someone had clutched onto her rib cage and just began to rattle it like prison bars. The pain was sudden, immediate, and it took everything for Kasumi not to curl into herself as the scent of ashes began to touch her nostrils, a thick heavy fire.
Then, a sight of a young asari girl in the flames, terrified and screaming for her—for them! Her hand stretched out, trying to reach for her, trying to soothe, to calm her down with an affection, a love Kasumi had never felt for anything else before--- a sense of protection. Just protect.
“Alma,” the name came out as a gasp before it could come to her mind as she clutched her chest tightly, tugging at the jacket. She struggled with the pain, the gasps that shook her before she shot an accusatory glance to her competitor.
“You were never meant to know her.”
“I want to!” she hissed, and suddenly, the games seemed so silly. What would she do if her mother never came home? “I have to now!”
Kiera laughed. “Please, Ms. Goto. You would never wish to be burdened in the prime of your career. She is aware of you. That is enough.”
No. No! That wasn’t right. Her daughter was hers to know. “That’s not your choice to make,” she warned, “That’s…”
“Your legacy. Yes.”
But that didn’t seem right either. Kasumi slumped in her chair. “Does she want that?”
“Rest assured, her aptitude for it is there. She is a genius.”
“That’s not my question.” Kiera huffed in response, but it was all too easy to cut her off. “You can’t—shouldn’t control what decisions she makes for the future, Kiera. Can you tell me you’d be willing to let her do what she likes?”
“You have little right to speak for a child you’ve never even met, Ms. Goto. I suggest you continue the game before you say something you’ll regret.”
“You’ve said something like that to me before, haven’t you?” Still, she moved her piece, nothing offensive, nor defensive—her last lowly knight in Kiera’s on shape off to the corner. She would kill her, like what should’ve happened the day she found out about Keiji. The pain would’ve stopped then, the confusion, listlessness, and that child would learn something of hope. She would now. For certain, she would now.
“How do you think I got into my mother’s business?” she asked. Kiera stopped mid-piece, but she wouldn’t meet her eye. That was enough proof for her. “Her love meant the galaxy to me growing up. I idolized her, worshipped her, thinking that I was simply an extension of her hand.”
“Ms. Goto—“
“When you think that’s all you’re good for, how do you move on? You’ll do the same to her, won’t you? Make a dynasty out of us. Make a monster out of us.”
She saw the biotic flash coming, but almost welcomed the outburst of violence as the lonely friend it was. Flung out of her chair like a ragdoll, she smashed into the hard carpet with a hard thump before skidding several feet from the table. Almost immediately, she could feel the ache in her arms and hips, but no. No, she could only smile as she climbed to her feet, smiling at the shaking figure of her mentor, her former lover.
“You know I’m right. And I’ll kill you for all of it.” Was it out of anger? Oh, she didn’t know, but it felt so good, so perfect as she sprinted forward. Kiera was ready as the biotics flared like an inferno, the unsettling glare digging inside of her.
She snatched a chair from one of the dark corners just as she saw it being unleashed, throwing it against the warp that had been sent her way. It smashed and shattered easily, but it was just enough for a distraction. As the wood splintered and fell, she threw herself across the table, sending both her and Kiera to the floor with fists ready. The biotics flared and struggled against her, but she held her ground as she began to throw whatever punches she could in the mess. Her hands clawed at her throat, squeezing tightly, trying to extinguish what life was left inside either of them.
But Kiera’s eyes glowed and with a strangled war cry of, “That’s enough!” She was unceremoniously thrown onto the table, the glass crushed by the biotics and her body, cutting into her back bit by bit—but that wasn’t the worst of it. The shock roared inside of her, and all at once, her nerves were on fire, and the scream, it couldn’t come out fast enough.
She saw it then—them struggling like this.
There was so much blood on her chest, her face. She could barely see, but the fight, it hadn’t been over yet. Still one last bullet left in the thermal clip.
One last well-placed shot and all she saw was fire and a light so bright as to engulf both of them, of so much pain, but so much satisfaction left in it. They were safe. She was going to be safe.
And the scream became primal, fueled by a rage that burned inside of her at the realization. She knew nothing else again, would know nothing else again, and all the shock did was accelerate her off the table even faster, knowing that her heart had stopped beating so long ago, and it was all her fault. She would feel nothing again, would never come home to warmth, to love, but she. She would know pain before it was over. And her fists came down hard against Kiera’s skull as she screamed into her ears.
“YOU DID THIS. YOU KILLED US.”
And the realization in Kiera’s eyes only made her sicker.
“I HATE YOU. YOU DID THIS TO ME.”
And the sobbing wouldn’t stop, the silence wouldn’t come again. She barely felt the turian pull them apart, barely realized Kiera’s hands had been around her neck. Sha’ira was waiting for her at home, and now, now there was nothing that could be done. The grief of it all, it was so much worse than she thought it could be.
They stood at the elevator doors when the roaring in her ears died, and she knew the void awaited for their souls. She didn’t look back to Kiera when she watched her, and the soft, “It was a pleasure, Ms. Goto,” fell on deaf ears.
Pairing: KasumixSha'ira
Words: 1,235
Time: 1:11 AM
Notes: Companion piece to this. Femslash February for me will probably go past February, but hey, femslash forever rite. Once I finish all the prompts I have in mind, I think I might post WIPs I drafted trying to write these. Went through a few ideas just with this pairing.
--
It wasn't so much the words that catch her first, but a feeling of a smile, just out of the realm of her vision. Sha'ira felt it, and then heard the low sultry rumble of her voice in the base of her throat, and before the first word could be even spoken, she had already turned her head to face her partner with an incredulousness that the consort could afford for the situation. "What are you doing."
Pairing: KasumixSha'ira
Notes: First part of another series. Playing Remember Me was amazing. I really was impressed with the universe within the story.
Warnings: Suicide, Violence
--
Do you remember him?
...Who...
The rich districts always smelled a little sweeter, as if worlds away from the worst that only existed just outside of reach by long canal ways of murky water that left such a stench that could permeate the brick and the rags that people wore. No, it was something sweet, like fresh bread in its warm flakiness and the hint of butter in its scent. There was a couple chattering below her with gentle whispers, interrupted by a shriek of laughter that cut through the early afternoon air. They ignored the crowds that waded past them, each with their own business and agendas, all within their own worlds and memories-- all of which held ignorance in its own unique way. Sort of the nice thing about memory hunting. Their lives were so compartmentalized that she could simply erase her entire existence to them. All with the switch of the hunting glove.
Kasumi didn't linger there for very long. As soon as the sun's rays crept along the corner of the building, bathing the paint with a hint of orange, she began to move, steps light against the rooftop. There was still a long day ahead of her, the beginning of a long few weeks until she got what she wanted. It wasn't much, just relying on a subtlety necessary for someone that was familiar with memory tampering. Kiera seemed confident that it wouldn't be an issue for her, and had bid her farewell that morning with only a warning to keep her updated as the assignment went along.
The target wasn't too far from the main district, which was no doubt on purpose with the woman's occupation. She was known as a 'memory consultant' on the official records, but just a cursory homework check showed that whatever Sha'ira was doing with her clients, it was far more complicated than that. People were coming out of their appointments completely new and rejuvenated, and while the criticism of the nature of her meetings had been rampant, it hadn't seemed to really stop the amount of clients she saw day to day. There was a well-spring of secrets that she held privately from the world, and with the right manipulation, it would be there's.
She had offered initially to just steal the memories, but her employer always knew best about that sort of thing. "To destroy her now would be wasteful," Kiera had said with the same cryptic smile that she always wore when she was planning, "So long as her business continues to thrive, she's of use."
So, instead, she would be an ally. That was easy enough to manipulate and compel, something that Kasumi had done hundreds of times before. The creation and industrialization of sensen tech was a downright miracle when it came to being a thief, particularly in terms of how useful the hunting glove was. The day she received hers was perhaps the happiest day of her life. It was a nice, rich red that came about halfway up her fore-arm with black metal on its under-side. Simple, but effective and uniquely hers.
The large, slanted window, tinted with a hint of blue let her know that she had arrived to the right place. The building was small, humble compared to the looming structures that surrounded it. The white walls gave a regality to it with gothic columns, and beautiful archways that led to its entrance.
Even before jumping to the sill, she could see the woman at the other side, pacing the length of the window. There was a graceful way in how she did it too, the bright warm colors of her dress flowing around her lithe body with each turn of the hip. Her dark brown skin only seemed to brighten the reds and the yellows even more, and the smile on her face, though constrained, showed bright pearly teeth. Gray eyes glinted to the window just once, not nearly enough to spot Kasumi staring before focusing back on the conversation she was having. There was just a bit of business to her, with the long black hair tied back in a loose bun, swept out of the way. She could almost imagine the heels clacking against the floor as she walked, engrossed in her own words. If she got close enough to the glass, she could hear the muffled, low voice on the other side.
The beauty in Sha'ira wasn't new to herself, or the public, but the way she seemed to guard the window and speak was almost as if she already knew of Kasumi's arrival, as if it was instinct that had guided her. As her hand and fingers splayed against the heated glass, she could feel a sense of trepidation and anxiety growing inside her, thrumming and flowing in her veins with a dread she couldn't shake away. This too was familiar, though the strength in which it rested inside her was a new sensation. As easy as it was to manipulate and take from others, she always became familiar with how much it destroyed her thoughts and morals to do so. Kill a man, fine. Steal from him? Fine. But manipulate the very fabric in which this man became who he was? That made her hesitate.
As soon as Sha'ira turned her back, she readied the hunting glove, outstretching her hand with her palm pressed against the glass. "Nothing personal," she whispered to the warm, sweet air just as the red and white squares began to form around the her wrist and forearm, and the memory started. It was always an awkward adjustment at first, in that everything was just this blinding white, and it was like seeing the world get rebuilt around you, starting from the roots of the trees to the spiraling buildings, and finally the thrum of voices and people that surrounded her. She was always aware of her body-- or conscious-- being out of place through it all, like a visiting shadow in some faint painting she'd see in late escapades, or perhaps an all-seeing, apathetic God that was merely content to observe the world created by it than to interfere.
The sidewalk and cobble-stone street materialized first, long and winding where at the crest of a hill Kasumi could see Sha'ira strolling downward, arm in arm with someone else. She was younger then, the freckles a little more prominent on her face, but not so much that the stress that weighed on her gaze had gone. She would guess a five, eight years difference between the woman she saw here and the one today, with more energy in the steps she took. The woman next to her was older, and the resemblance was almost uncanny right away. The black hair was like a wave down her back, and the dress was more earthly next to her daughter's always vibrant colors. The people around them were just as loud and enthusiastic, forming a thick crowd that filled the air with their various noises and conversations like a thunder cloud. She tried to ignore their unintelligible voices as she followed the pair through the throngs.
"The place will be good for you, I think," she hears the older woman speak, cutting through the roar as if it had never existed in the first place. The world stopped at the mother's smile, even the cars that blew past on the streets seemed to stall just a little bit more. That was something to marvel about memories, its own subjectivity. This was a world the memory-holder created, with its own biases and stage directions that the rest mindlessly followed. It was beautiful in its own way. "The view is wonderful up there, and the district is constantly busy."
"Will you visit me?"
"Of course, dear. You need not ask." She reached forward and pressed a kiss to her daughter's temple, and Kasumi could almost feel the warmth in the affection that passed between them, shades of something that was larger years before. The mother held on for a moment more, hand brushing through Sha'ira's hair, and suddenly it was like a weight pressing against her shoulders. "I am so proud of you."
"You never really hid that from me."
"I mean it, Sha'ira." Her thumb brushed against the side of her temple, gentle and loving-- affections that seemed to fill the world with its simplicity. The mother stepped closer, kissed Sha'ira's cheek, and for a moment the world seemed to stop, as if slammed against a wall that it hadn't yet known how to surmount. Her mother smiled as she parted, heels clacking against cobblestone streets, and with one last clack, stepped out into the pathway of the oncoming truck.
The sound was entirely unique to itself, with its loud sickening crunch, and the cacophony of shouts and car alarms that followed only seemed to add to it. Through it all, Sha'ira had stared numbly at the mangled corpse next to her, her face an ashen white. It was all a haze of confusing images that became more and more distorted as the realization sunk inside the young woman-- and Kasumi could feel that within her. That acute, lurching feeling.
Her head twisted toward the crowds, all stopped in their silences, but the way she looked ahead, it was as if none of them were even there. A man stood among them, arm outstretched with a hunting glove. Short, black hair, and grief-stricken eyes staring at the scene ahead of them. He was pretty built, well-adorned with a jacket in red and white, boots, beard.
He looked familiar to her. Familiar! But as she stared and stared, she couldn't find a name, and as the minutes ticked by, even after the memory had well ended, all she felt was this deep emptiness settling inside of her, for his haunting expression and his deed. For how she could blindly search and nothing came up. It was out of frustration that she tore away from the memory, out of the woman's mind.
The bright sun had nearly blinded her, and at first, she only saw her reflection at the window, of the hood that covered her face, the black jacket that was kept tight against her body, white glove pressed against the window. Parted, chapped lips from the wind, boots clinging tightly against the edge she had, jeans tucked in to keep from catching. Then, she breathed, and there was Sha'ira, eyes wide and staring at her. Shock. Even a little bit of recognition. There was a brief pause as they watched each other through the window before Sha'ira had all but leapt to the window, her hands slamming against the glass.
The shaking of the window and the intensity of her stare, now amplified by the inches that separated it, got one of those boot soles to slip, and before she knew it, Kasumi was slipping from the window like a rookie. Her arms desperately clawed for something to hold onto as she tipped backward. There was the wind that nipped her nose and cheeks, the window suddenly opening, and then she felt the tight grip on her arm just before the thoughts of how she was about to die could reach her-- and just before she was at a point of no return.
"Hold on!" The dress billowed, and even at her angle, dangling with little to no structure to keep her there, she saw gravity yanking them both over the edge and how tremendously stupid would it be, if they both died from it? Sha'ira's hand clawed at the sill of the window, fingers digging into the metal as her torso down to her thighs bent low with no power in it. It was a precarious position between the two of them. She even felt sorta angry about it, in that there wasn't any reason that the woman would reach out like this. That was a line that shouldn't have been crossed, and hell, it would be a quick way to solve things, wouldn't it? Let the pesky memory hunter fall to her death, and if not, drag her incapacitated body back inside.
Before they could make a nice pile on the ground, a strong, tan arm wrapped around Sha'ira's abdomen and began the process of yanking them inside, none so subtly, and with each tug, she felt her arm getting pulled more and more out of its socket, leaving a tingling sensation behind. It hadn't taken long for Sha'ira to disappear back into the room, and it wasn't long afterward that she followed.
While the final jerk had been more of a throw, the cold tile floor that she was unceremoniously dropped on was a welcome delight from the open air, like a soft pillow waiting for her after a long day of horrible, meaningless work. Heavy footsteps began to approach her, mini rumbles underneath her cheek, and clean, military black boots came into her field of vision. The individual knelt down, showing a woman with bright, short red hair that fell into her blue eyes, freckles dotting her pale face. A muscle shirt and what she vaguely recognized as a guardian's leg armor adorned her, and the hand was so large compared to her own as the woman reached out and took that injured shoulder to force her up. Just on her knees, still in a position of subservience.
The half of the room that she was forced to stare at was spacious and perhaps a little welcoming at first glance. A nice, what seemed to be an expensive Persian carpet was set down on a living room floor slightly raised from where she sat by a step, with two white leather couches and a matching love seat, black coffee table in the middle. Overhead light. Nice green lamp. Though it was certainly comfortable looking, there was something inherently sterile about it.
Kasumi hadn't much time to think about it before Sha'ira stepped in front of her, only about half a foot away. Any fight that might've been inside her was stopped by the strong hand that remained on her shoulder. The shock was gone from Sha'ira's face, something more darkly and serious-- a stone compared to the pure emotion she had seen in the window. Now though, she looked a little rough, dress slightly out of place, hair slipping out of its tie from her little stunt, and chest rose and fell just a little more harshly. Subtle, but no less obvious to her. The silence was no less oppressive, and the longer it stayed, the more it twisted into something strange, unfamiliar. All of it remained on the woman in front of her, waiting for her to say something to command, but all Sha'ira did was stare at her with cold, dark eyes.
Then her hand snapped out, took hold of the end of Kasumi's hood and roughly jerked it down, showing the short scruffy black hair underneath and how startled she really was without the shadow to hide it. The recognition in the other's eyes came back as Sha'ira studied every inch of her exposed face, from her round edges, pale skin, to the faded scar across her temple. Sha'ira's fingers trailed upward, up the slope of her neck and stopped at her chin, turning her face side to side to look at her cheeks, slightly flushed from the crisp afternoon air to her small ears.
Finally, Sha'ira pulled away, and looked up at the guard, hand still tightly clasped on her. "You may leave, Commander," she said.
"Uh. You sure that's..."
"If I have trouble, I assure you will be the first I will call. For now, give us a moment. Please."
The fingers dug into her jacket for just one, squeezing, burning moment, before the guard pulled away, spun on her heel, and those heavy steps reverberated further away. 10... 20 steps and there was a creak of the door opening, it slamming thud a damning noise that condemned them to silence for several moments. Through it all, Sha'ira refused to look at her, only to stare at the door forlornly before a deep sigh rushed out of her.
"Sit with me." she said.
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
She looked at her, finally with a smile-- initially tight and unreadable before it melted into a grimace that somehow seemed a little sheepish with how its edges waned and subsided with time. Then she turned and began to walk up to that raised little living room and perched on the edge of one of those leather couches. There was an unexpected patience in how she did it with relaxed shoulders and crossed legs, bright orange fabric curving and flowing around them to accommodate.
Really. Her reputation had preceded her. Kasumi had kept the looks as casual as possible as she followed the other woman, slumping into the seat across from her, close to the arm to provide some type of structure and physical comfort if needed. A more genuine smile quirked at the corner of Sha'ira lips, as if a thought touched her in a funny way. Whatever the joke was, it was lost on her.
"I suppose I should have expected this."
"You're a powerful woman."
"Indeed," and she sighed again. "This was not the sort of attention I ever expected, nor wanted."
"It'd be a little boring if we could predict everything, wouldn't it?"
Sha'ira laughed, and it was the first sound to come out of her that wasn't so tight and controlled. It seemed more like they were two friends catching up then well... what did you call it. Nothing innocent at the very least, but whatever label the situation called for eluded her. "I suppose you would have stopped yourself from falling if that were the case," she spoke lightly, "Did you change anything?"
"No."
"Really." She sounded doubtful. "You are the first Memory Hunter to have a change of heart. What memory was it?"
Suddenly, Kasumi's throat closed up, and she recalled how the world had gotten just a little more chaotic when the older woman's heart stopped. How the love had been so quickly struck down. She didn't know what it was like to lose a loved one like that. Not one that she had already lost touch with in her choices and distance. This was different, and as the moments slipped by, her words seemed to drain more and more from her. Sha'ira saw it in her, she thought, the way she seemed to steel herself with a furrowed brow, eyes drawn to the hands that were laid lazily in her lap.
"You understand why I have to ask. I have to make sure that I still know the truth."
A breath of laughter escaped her. "What a concept. You think its out there somewhere with this economy?"
"Some truths never change, Ms. Goto."
Kasumi quieted, and felt her hand tighten against the arm of the sofa. The woman had recognized her, of course. "... Where have you seen me before?"
"Your name comes up quite a bit in the right circles. One of the last memory hunters to truly call themselves independent. You have quite the talent... and as some have claimed, none of the baggage." Though she parroted the words, Sha'ira didn't seem as sure of it, and there was something uncertain about how she looked away. "You do answer to someone though. I am sure of it if you are here."
Kiera. She didn't need to say the name to know where the other woman's thoughts were turning to. While her ambition had been discreet for the most part, any quest for power was bound to be noticed, especially by those that were crushed under her heel.
"She will not be happy about your actions. Her calls have been constant these past few weeks. Intending to wear me down."
"It was your mother. ... I was gonna alter the memory of your mother."
And there was something painful about how Sha'ira's expression softened, and molded into something more wistful, withdrawn. The changed was shadowed by her movements as she quietly stood and retreated to the other side of the room where a desk had been tucked in the corner. Though small and barely noticeable, her steps had slowed, a little more practiced with it. Kasumi didn't dare move from her spot. She could hear the old wood whine as she slid a drawer open, and how objects seemed to clang together with various metals and the fluttering of papers. After a moment, the noises stopped, and Sha'ira began her trek back, heels clicking and echoing in the open and silent space.
"My mother was my first and best supporter. Even when the idea of comforting people using the sensen had seemed... ludicrous, she had been there." Then, she returned to her seat, a near perfect recreation of how she sat before, now with a pad between her hands. An article it looked like. "I cared about her very much."
"I know. I felt it."
This seemed to ease her, a small smile spreading across her lips. There was a thank you that didn't quite reach vocalization before she asked, "Do you have family?"
"No. Just the slums."
"Had they...?"
"Couldn't tell you. As far as I know, they were never there."
The look Sha'ira gave her was unreadable, a mixture of different things that touched things that Kasumi couldn't recognize-- except for maybe hesitance. "As far as you know...? I suppose memory tampering is expected for anyone that attracts enough attention."
This was going in a direction she didn't want to be involved in, and already she could feel herself stiffen by the line of questioning. The holes in her life had been something she was accustomed to. Almost everyone had been, whether it was tampering or a willful choice to forget. It was easier, wasn't it? To keep it all out for a little while. She liked to think she held onto what was important, things that formed lessons that furthered her toward her goals, made her a little stronger, a little better. She was still alive, wasn't she? Still breathing when she woke up in the morning. It was good enough. "You're awfully friendly to someone you can't trust," she brushed it all aside, tried to change the subject.
It worked, at least as well as she had hoped. "Maybe not trust, but I at least know you are honest." Sha'ira smiled before handing her the pad. Memos were always very sterile. Lot of white involved, like old business sites that mattered little in the new world.
POLITICIAN'S WIFE STRUCK DOWN
Early Wednesday morning, Nasira Dantius, wife of well-known political speaker and supporter of Memorize Corporation Ilias Dantius, had been assassinated while out in a walk with her daughter, sources say. While initially suspected as an accident or apparent suicide, a lack of motive, questionable circumstances, and several eye-witness reports indicating a suspicious man present on the scene have caused investigators to rule the case a political homicide.
A suspect has already been named in the case, wanted for questioning of the murder and supposed Errorist Movement connections, Keiji Okuda. Beyond the photo given within the article, investigators have withheld comment, due to the sensitivity of the case. Any citizen that spots Okuda are asked to report it immediately.
Many have called it a tragedy with many of Mrs. Dantius' efforts going into charity efforts and restoring the city districts...
"The man in your memory..." The picture on the side was plain to see, and the resemblance was more than uncanny. The familiarity that filled her was bitter, as if the answer was so obvious that it incensed her that it was still lost, grasping at ideas and thoughts that were no longer there or never there in the first place.
"Mr. Okuda made little effort in hiding himself." The distance in her voice was purposeful. "The Errorists believed we were part of the... corrupted, but could be turned over somehow. Into assets, sources... It was truth that my mother and I spent much of our time trying to help the slum districts, but the Errorists... she could never agree with them."
"Why was that?"
She laughed humorlessly. "A problem with an extremist is you have to convince your followers that the methods were worth it. My mother thought their 'exposure' of the dangers of the sensen system was merely a reason to abuse it for their own goals." It grew awkward for a moment, though the reason why was something Kasumi couldn't touch on, not fully. Perhaps of how open the subject was. "You should not have to tear a person's identity to make them agree with you."
Perhaps not. She never liked using the memory remix much. When she was out stealing, it barely came to mind, beyond just a simple memory grab of a particular security layout, or if she was really clumsy, to erase all evidence that she had ever been there. It was a way to keep people from dying while she went about her business, but if someone wasn't careful or if they really wanted them to hurt, everything could be changed about the person-- irreparably so. Her victories always seemed a little hollow those days. "... Do you think he meant to kill her?"
"If she had lived, they may have gotten both of us to change our minds. As it stands, I will agree with their intentions. Their actions? Never."
"That's a thin line you've got."
"Necessarily so. Are the errorists really making the city better?"
She thought about it. The months spent between the old and slum districts, and nothing had really changed through it all. The poor were still getting poorer, and the rich hardly cared enough for more than a second glance. Nothing was changing, even if it felt like the city was on the cusp of something greater. Maybe the slum districts would never get to touch that same sort of greatness. "And you think you're doing the right thing? One person at a time?"
Sha'ira smiled. "If I cannot make the big change right away, I will start with the small steps. ... Your contact seems adamant in curbing that."
"If it helps any, I respect that. It's gain you notoriety at the very least."
She laughed, this time a little freer with its sound, and there was something almost soothing about its presence. "Perhaps you could benefit from it."
Kasumi shook her head. "You're being too honest for me to be a client, I think. I already know you're human."
"A friend then, if that is what you desire. So long as you keep your contact busy from her attempts."
She let the idea settle inside of her for a moment, to simmer and weight out with its benefits and flaws. Though the discussion was open at its surface, Kasumi could feel the secrets and the dodges that lingered underneath, and perhaps, a challenge was a little better than a remix and leaving it alone. There was a knowing glint in Sha'ira's eyes as the thief offered her hand to her, one that she took with delicacy. Already she felt the softness of the skin in her touch, and how even when shaking her hand, it was done with meticulousness and dignity. Indeed, her reputation had preceded her, more than preceded her. It left something to unravel.
