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ichigopanhpff · 2 years

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Sonata Ch. 2: con Fuoco

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Didn't expect the first chapter to get that big an interest, but here we are with chapter 2! I also got an email the other day saying my TokyoRev Exhibition pamphlet finally shipped. I heard there's an interview in there with Wakui-sensei, Shin Yuuki (Takemichi's JP VA) and Hayashi Yu (Mikey's JP VA), so I might translate it depending on how long it is.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of a character death, canon storyline spoilers.

Note: If you see any notes messages being responded with ‘amaeichigo’, that’s my primary account name.

(känˈfwȯ(ˌ)kō, kōn- \): Italian musical term meaning "fierily, impetuously."

The deafening silence in the penthouse hotel suite rung in their ears, neither one wanting to initiate conversation. (Y/N) was exhausted from having to deal with her anxiety and Manjiro from syndicate activities. She knew this would go no where and took a breath to finally engage with the sleep-deprived man; this was hostess 101 with first-timers. Just as she was about to speak, the white haired man beat her to the punch.

“Do you find us repulsive?” he flatly asked after a short beat.

His question caught her off guard and reset her mind by squaring her shoulders and rolled them back to straighten her posture. “Not in particular.”

Manjiro’s dark orbs turned away from the window view to her side profile. “So why is it that you look at us like you do?”

“I find it hard to smile at my mother’s debtors,” she coldly replied with rock hard honesty and shifted in her seat uncomfortably before reaching for a bottle of water sitting on the low table. She cracked the cap and took a large gulp to soothe the mild burning sensation from vomiting earlier in the day.

“Quite the amount she left you,” he casually noted in a bored manner and rested his head on top of his left fist as if he was going to pass out in his seat. (Y/N) bit down on her tongue from saying anything that’d have unknown repercussions. “What if I could make that disappear?”

“How many times have I heard that from Kokonoi-san?” she dryly scoffed and set her bottled water back down, facing him with a dull look in her eyes. “What would you have me do, Sano-san? Be your mistress? Whore me out to a soapland or massage parlor?”

“Just your time,” he plainly answered. “Unlike my men, I prefer… quieter company.”

“Because time is the most expensive currency.”

“Compared to your debt, yes.” The platinum haired man sat up and reached for a bottle of water himself and cracked it open. “We can arrange for a two week trial period, if you like.”

“What an illusion of a choice you’ve given me,” she sarcastically drawled out.

“It is a choice,” Manjiro clarified and took a swig of the clear liquid.

“I’d be at your beck and call, no?”

“Take that however you want,” he finalized and stood up, bottle in hand. “I’ll give you three days to decide. Use the suite as you like tonight.”

He took his leave and entered the primary bedroom with a soft clack of the door closing. (Y/N) let out a soft breath from her lips and squeezed her eyes close. She turned and looked at the digital clock on the microwave in the kitchen area; the last train just left 2 minutes ago and taking a cab from here to go back home wasn’t a viable monetary option either.

She was stuck for the night.

More importantly, what the hell was she going to sleep in?!

The only thing she had were what she wore here and this dress. Hastily making her way back into the guest bedroom, she saw several shopping bags laying by the foot of the queen sized bed from various luxury brands, courtesy of Kokonoi. Rummaging through each one, she found one with three sets lingerie; a pink fuzzy teddy suit, a black lace bodice and overpriced string that covered nothing.

What the hell did that perverted money man have in mind?!, she thought irritably, glaring at her choice of “sleepwear” laid out. Searching through the bags again, she found another one with regular undergarments this time, but lacier and much sexier than what she owned.

“Whatever,” she huffed to herself. “I’ll just sleep in the bathrobe with this.”

Sitting on the bed corner, she removed her heels and immediately let out a breath of relief the moment she was able to flex her toes. Muffled cracks from her toe joints could be heard as she massaged the fleshly soles of her feet before moving to the heel. Grabbing the fancy bra and panty set and the hanging bathrobe in the closet, (Y/N) walked into the dark tiled bathroom. Everything about it screamed luxury. While she waited for the spa tub to fill with water, she walked up to the bathroom sink area to remove all the bobby pins the hair stylist put in before removing her makeup with a provided oil cleanser. Having cleansed her face, she hopped into the shower stall to wash everything else away.

Feeling the stress release from her body, she cupped her hands together and splashed warm water all over her face to remove any remaining makeup before lathering up the face wash provided by the hotel toiletries. Thoroughly washing herself off, she stepped out of the stall and dipped herself into the now filled jetted tub. She let out a relieved sigh and sunk into the warm water before closing her eyes, feeling the heavy jet streams of water massage her aching muscles.

She had three days to give Sano Manjiro a response to his proposal.

Was her mother’s remaining debt her price tag to “be free”? What did he have in mind exactly when he said he wanted her company?

–

The light from daybreak made (Y/N)’s eyes wince and flicker. Quickly turning her body to turn her back on the sun, she felt the other side of the bed slightly slope down from weight. Slowly fluttering her eyelids open, a soft groan vibrated in her throat while waiting for her irises to focus and saw Manjiro’s sleeping face right next to her; it took her brain a few seconds to register what was happening. Her body violently lurched backwards as she sharply inhaled through her nose, nearly falling off of the bed.

What was he doing here?! The first thing she did was lift the covers to look at herself; her bathrobe was still on and untouched. He didn’t do anything to her while she slept.

Huffing a stifled breath of relief, her eyes slowly looked back at the stranger beside her with a softened expression. The dark bags under his eyes hung deep on his emaciated face. A light snore emitted from him as his chest slowly rose up and down. How many enemies of theirs would wish to see what she was right now?

The head of Bonten, completely defenseless in the face of slumber.

Unable to sleep any more, she quietly rolled to the other side of bed and grabbed her phone to see what time it was; it was a little past 10am, usually the time she’d still be asleep. Just as she made moves to vacate the bed, Manjiro’s arm suddenly jutted out and pulled her into him. A light groan emitted from his throat with lightly furrowed brows. She tried to push free of his grip by beating his shoulders with her palms, only to have him wrap his arms around her tighter. The white haired man grunted and lazily opened his eyes, seeing her struggling expression. Letting out a light gasp from his lips, he immediately released before jolting up into a sitting position right at the edge of the bed. He ruffled the back of his head and sighed again before standing with the hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck at full visibility in her line of sight as he made his way out of her room.

“I’ll let you change.”

Unable to make sense of what just happened, she dumbly blinked for a beat and gathered her wits before ducking into the bathroom to wash up and change back into her regular clothes. Entering the living room, she saw a plate with a metal cloche on top covering the contents. Manjiro started picking at his food, avoiding eye contact with her. Lifting the cover, breakfast was sunny side up eggs with toast and hot dog wieners. Grabbing the warm kettle, she made herself a cup of lemon honey tea to go with her food. Halfway through their meal, the door to the suite could be heard opening and entered the pink haired man with scars on the corners of his mouth.

“Boss, car’s waiting,” he announced and plopped down on the loveseat adjacent to the kitchen area. The white haired man slowly stood from his seat and disappeared into the washroom of his en suite; she looked adjacent to her to see more than half of his food was left untouched. Piercing sapphire eyes scanned (Y/N) with disinterest and suspicion as she finished up her meal.

“I dunno what Mikey sees in a hostess like you,” he blurted out with a small glare through his thick lashes. “Just know I don’t trust you one bit.”

“Nor do you need to,” she simply replied and set her teacup down with a soft clatter of porcelain. “As you said, I’m simply a hostess, Sanzu-san.”

“You know my name?” he asked warily with his narrowed cerulean gaze through his thick eyelashes.

“It’s part of my job to be observant and remember the names of people I’ve met, even if it’s for a fleeting moment…” (Y/N) calmly stated and broke eye contact from the pink haired man in favor of the now cleared food plate. “And I assure you, I’m very aware of my precarious situation and know very well where my place is in the pecking order,” she told Sanzu with a slight bitterness in her tone. “I have no intention of doing anything that goes against your syndicate. Despite everything, I highly value my life.”

Manjiro emerged not long after and makes his way out of the suite, with the pink-haired man trailing behind.

“Please tell Kokonoi-san to return all the things in the guest room,” she requested to Manjiro as she stood from her chair to grab her belongings. “I have no need of such frivolous items.”

“Haruchiyo.” The white haired man lightly gestured his head to the guest room. The pink-haired man grumbled and entered the room.

“Why the fuck are there so many bags?!” he yelled all of a sudden.

“Take it up with your finance guy.”

The three left the suite together, not uttering a single word with only the sound of shuffling paper shopping bags hitting one another in Sanzu’s grip.

“(Y/N)-san…” Manjiro finally spoke just as the elevator reached the lobby. “Money has been directly wired to your account for your services last night. And… do consider my offer.”

As the doors slid open with a ding, the two walked on ahead with her trailing not too far behind. Manjiro and (Y/N) went their separate ways the moment they exited; him into his expensive, unmarked black car with his constituent, her to the nearest train station back to Shinjuku.

Like they were total strangers.

The following day, (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her door being pounded on frantically by something. Having only fell asleep two hours ago, she groaned and turned her back to it. Just as she inhaled, her body let out a loud cough and snapped her eyes open and felt a stinging sensation the moment she did; her apartment was engulfed in a haze of gray and the entire place smelled of smoke, a combination of burnt wood, plastic and whatever had been growing between the old planks and tatami. Her orbs watered up from the smoke burning her sight, immediately covering her face with her hand. Panic bubbled in the pit of her rising pulse as her eyes widened in fear while she violently wheezed and gasped from the lack of oxygen.

“Hey! You alive in there?! Hey!” a muffled voice shouted outside while continuing to bang on the door. “The building’s on fire! Get the hell out!”

Scrambling out of her futon, she grabbed her phone and her purse within reach. Crawling on all fours with squinting, wet eyes, she tapped the handle of her door to test the temperature; it was still cool to the touch. Taking a few shallow breaths, she inhaled and held in her breath as she stood to unlock the door and ran out choking madly from the smoke. Clumsily dashing down the rusted, weather-worn staircase, she joined the now formed crowd watching her home go up in blazes, gulping up fresh air and coughing like a maniac with strangers trying to help through the distraught and confusion.

After what felt like an eternity, the firefighters came to hose down the dilapidated building while the medics treated the tenants with the police on stand-by to question everyone. After (Y/N) was cleared by the paramedics of smoke inhalation and injuries, she gave her statement to the authorities. Just as she finished and had time to take a short moment for herself, she looked at her phone screen and groaned.

Work was in three hours. And all she was wearing was an oversized t-shirt and shorts for her pajamas with her broken-in slip on sneakers; her hair was a mess and she hadn’t even washed up.

After a 20 minute walk to La Reverie, she was already sweating from the humidity of the day, smelling rain in the air. She could feel the cool air stick to her skin the moment she entered, noticing a familiar set of colorful hair sitting in one of the lounge couches talking among themselves. Not wanting any trouble, she lightly sighed and greeted the group with a bow before hastily making her way to the dressing room to somehow fix herself up with anything.

“Did you seriously just come into work wearing your pajamas?” Kokonoi tutted.

“I would’ve changed if I didn’t have to run out of my burning apartment!” she snapped irritably at her boss.

“Wow, that still happens nowadays?” Haitani Ran haplessly remarked with a feigned tone of surprise, having lived in fancy high rise condos most of his life in Roppongi. He suddenly heard a loud slam of a leather canvas handbag down on the marble floor with a heavy thud before she walked up to their table. The admins have seemingly found themselves speechless all of a sudden, facing a raging female with a stare harsh enough to rouse an extremely small amount of fear in them.

“Not all of us were born with silver spoons in their mouths or have disposable income, so yes, apartment fires still happen.”

Before any of them could say anything, she hastily walked away and picked up her belongings, slamming the dressing room door loud enough for it to echo in the large, empty club. Realizing what she just did, her body slid down onto the floor and groaned out loud into her palms, feeling the sticky perspiration on her forehead.

Fuck.

She practically signed her own death warrant and audibly groaned again.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

“You goddamn idiot. Why. Why did you do that?! What point did you have to prove?!” she mentally berated herself and grabbed her hair by the roots. Maybe it wasn’t too late to apologize. But what then? That’s not going to fix anything. There was a time and place for pride; now was definitely not one of them.

“Screw it,” she huffed out and stood back up; just as she reached for the knob, the door flung open and hit her in the face. She stumbled back and hissed in pain, holding her forehead and nose bridge.

“Did that hit?” a voice she recognized as Kokonoi asked.

“No, I’m just holding my head for fun,” she deadpanned and rubbed the area of impact. She placed her hand back down just as the pain subsided and faced her visitor. “Is there something you need?”

“Do you have a place to stay?” he abruptly asked with a small tone of concern.

“You needn’t worry yourself over something like this,” she reproachfully dismissed and walked to her vanity to check her face; a small red bruise could be seen forming in between her brows. Great. Just what I needed right now, she irritably thought and clicked her tongue.

“Take the night off. You’re not going out on the floor like this.”

“As much as I would love to, I kinda have this giant debt to pay off,” she snarked back.

“It’s not a request.” Kokonoi’s tone was a lot firmer and crossed his arms. “Did you forget the rules of this club?”

“’Always upkeep your appearances,’” she recited and sighed again. “And don’t go out carrying personal baggage.”

A brief silence stuck between the two and the door clicked open again, revealing Manjiro.

“Boss…” the finance admin quietly greeted.

The white haired man entered and walked up to (Y/N), staring her down with his static black orbs. “You’re coming with me.”

“Eh?” both Kokonoi and the hostess said.

“You have nowhere to stay, right?” Manjiro stating the obvious.

“I was going to hole up at a nearby love hotel for the week and apartment hunt,” she revealed her half-baked plan.

“That’ll burn up your cash flow very quick,” Kokonoi pointed out.

“I’m very well aware of that,” she replied with mild annoyance. “I don’t wanna--”

“Rely on criminals like us and add to your debt?” Bonten’s boss cut in coldly. (Y/N) pressed her lips into a thin line. She hated his logic because he was right and hated the fact she’d become indebted to a syndicate for something as simple as lodging. Not having much options at her disposal, she swallowed thickly and hesitantly nodded in agreement. Oh, how far she’s fallen from her standards of a proper adult.

“I’ll tell the manager she’s taking the night off,” Kokonoi told his boss, with him giving him a slight nod. His obsidian black gaze then turned to hers.

“Come.”

Following not too far behind him, the Haitanis saw her grip her bag with Sanzu directly beside his boss. She immediately stopped and turned back to the brothers, giving a light bow and apologized. Soon after leaving the club, a familiar black car stood idle at the entrance. The pink haired man opened the door to let Manjiro and the hostess in before he took shotgun. The car ride went by with a tense, awkward silence and soon found themselves in front of an extremely tall glass pane luxury apartment in Shirokane.

The three exited the vehicle and entered the massive structure. The doorman at the far right of the brightly lit lobby of white marble and greeted them as they made their way to the elevators. Sanzu took an unmarked keycard out from his pocket and scanned it before hitting the button for the penthouse. Feeling the familiar sensation of her ears popping, the lift slowed just as they reached their destination.

Manjiro led the way down the snow white streaked hallway; the glass pane to their right had a view of the neighborhood with the main area of Tokyo far off in the horizon over the afternoon sun. The clapping of the soles on their shoes echoed in the small space, feeling like they were walking through a museum wing. With a scan of another keycard from the owner himself, the dual doors to the main entrance of his penthouse slid open, revealing a ceiling to floor span of glass windows; the view here in contrast to the one at the hotel paled in comparison. The three removed their shoes at the foyer before entering.

“P-Pardon the intrusion,” she quietly muttered out and put on a pair of house slippers neatly laid on the tan coloured wood paneled floor, gripping the handle of her bag tightly still.

His penthouse had mixed elements of concrete and wood from modern Norwegian and Japanese minimalist design; it almost looked cold and barely lived in were it not for the scattered paperwork on his coffee table and neatly tied bags of garbage from convenience store runs on the wide marble kitchen counter. He led her down the hallway after turning right; there were closed mahogany coloured doors evenly spaced out from one another. Bonten’s leader opened the second one in on the right.

“This’ll be your room. Bathroom’s the first door on the left side.”

Politely bowing, she made herself as small as physically possible as she entered. It was dimly lit with a king sized bed found near the floor to ceiling windowpane and blackout curtains. Everything in the room screamed expensive, as if every piece of furniture was custom made by an artisan craftsman. She set her bag down on a low side table.

“I take it you weren’t able to grab any clothes?” the white haired man assumed, looking at her current attire; (Y/N) turned and quickly shook her head no. “Haruchiyo, have a car bring her around where she needs to go for shopping.”

“N-No, no. That’s fine,” she immediately declined with a look of hesitation. “I can take the train for something like this.”

“You’re taking a car,” he said in a cold, decisive tone. “Understand this is for security purposes.”

She stayed quiet and fidgeted with her hands for the remainder of Manjiro’s time making arrangements and checking his schedule with his other admins, feeling her anxiety and nervousness sink in. He announced Kakucho would be accompanying her for the day before he headed out with Bonten’s number two for meetings.

“Um, Sano-san…” she called again and deeply bowed. “Thank you… for all this. I’ll do my best to get out of this situation as soon as possible. And…” she swallowed thickly and lightly clenched her teeth. “About your proposal… I’m still giving it some serious thought on it, so please be patient with me.”

A faint smile graced his dry, pale lips, unbeknownst to Sanzu or her as he made his way out of his home. Suddenly feeling embarrassed and self-conscious she’d been wearing only her pajamas this entire time, she wasn’t looking forward to parading around like this at the mall with onlookers snickering. Sighing, she rummaged for anything in her bag in hopes of making herself at least look somewhat presentable. Kakucho arrived at the apartment ten minutes later with an unmarked paper shopping bag in tow and handed it to her.

“I’ve been updated with your situation,” the scarred man tersely replied. “Koko asked me to bring this for you.”

“Is it decent enough for me to wear out in public?” she asked while taking the bag, remembering the choice of lingerie she found; the man didn’t respond with a neutral gaze.

“My apologies… for taking up your time today,” she muttered out, not making eye contact when she realized she was speaking to him so casually. “I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do than to be a babysitting errand boy.”

Before he could respond, she made her way into the bathroom to wash up first with some toiletries she saw in the bag before going back into her room to change, feeling a mild sense of guilt. She reached in pulled out a short sleeve white tunic top with a pair of dark blue fitted cropped capris and a proper bra, alongside some basic toiletries to wash up and make herself look proper. To her surprise, everything fit perfectly as if it were tailored. (Y/N) quickly fixed her hair and grabbed her bag before coming back out.

“Question…” she slowly began. “How does Kokonoi-san know my size? It’s very unsettling.”

“If memory serves me correctly, La Reverie has a copy of your measurements on file when you first applied for the hostess position in order to get dresses for you.”

“Oh right…” She put a thoughtful hand on her chin.

Grabbing the scattered bags of garbage on their way out, they threw it down the chute before entering the elevator. Escorting her out of the apartment complex, she thanked the raven haired man for opening the car door.

“Where to?” he asked after entering.

“Omotesando Hills, please,” she requested. “I think I can get all I need from there and Tokyu Plaza.”

The car slowly pulled out and the two were on their way. (Y/N) looked out the window, watching the scenery pass by. An awkward silence hung in between the two until the scarred man broke it.

“Have you… thought about where to live yet?”

“Somewhere cheap and close to work,” she sighed. “But with how real estate’s looking nowadays, that’s gonna be a challenge.”

“How much were you paying for your old place?”

“Around 35,000 yen a month. Utilities were separate. It was an old building with paper thin walls, but overall tolerable. Neighbors were nice.”

“Would you… like my help?” Kakucho mumbled, making her look at him curiously.

“You’re surprisingly kind-hearted for someone who’s in one of the deadliest criminal organizations in Japan,” (Y/N) pointed out with an amused smirk while resting her temple on her knuckles.

“It’s just that I can understand looking for a place on your own is hard,” he reasoned with a light dust of pink on his face and cleared his throat, having been homeless for a short time after Tenjiku disbanded and got evicted from his apartment from being unable to pay rent; he burnt through his savings to expense Izana's cremation and headstone. Even though Haitani Ran offered to split the cost, he declined out of pride.

“If you hear of any good ones, please let me know,” she agreed and looked back out the window.

Shocked by her response, he huffed a soft breath and quietly nodded. After hitting some traffic, the two made it to the glass and steel-pane shopping mall. Perusing the store directory, (Y/N) stopped by a few of the mid-tier boutique shops and bought a few tops, two pairs of jeans and a week’s worth of undergarments. She saw a very beautiful, lightweight blouse from Chloe and immediately put it down when she saw the price tag before heading down to Dresslave; they were having a sale on past season items and ended up buying a cardigan, a hoodie, two dresses and two pairs of casual slacks.

“You didn’t buy as much as I thought you would,” Kakucho noticed the two lone shopping bags in her hand.

“What can I say? Being poor makes me an efficient shopper,” she chuckled and suddenly heard her stomach rumble, making her shyly palm her midsection on closed her eyes out of embarrassment.

“Why is it that every time I’m with you, you’re hungry?”

“This is only the second time we’ve spent time together,” she pointed out as a matter of factly and pouted with softly puffed cheeks.

“How about we head to the third floor and see what they have to eat,” the scarred man suggested and escorted her to the elevators.

Browsing the selection of restaurants, they settled on Italian at Fratelli Paradiso. Seated by the curtained window, she watched the later afternoon sun outside after ordering a lasagnetta for herself; Kakucho went with the Tagliata di Manzo and ordered a bottle of red Tuscan for them.

“You should eat more,” he encouraged while pouring her glass with wine.

“I eat enough to sustain myself.”

“Sustaining is one thing, enjoying is another.” His dual-coloured orbs met hers as he handed her the filled glass before pouring his own.

“Enjoying food’s a luxury for a pauper like me.”

Mindlessly swirling the wine glass in her hand, (Y/N) held it up to her nose to take in the aroma of cherries and herbs. Taking a small sip, she lightly aerated it in her mouth, noting light tannins with tart cranberries on her tongue.

“You know how to taste?” Kakucho asked with a tone of surprise.

“One of my clients taught me the basics,” she revealed and set the glass down. “He brought in a really nice bottle of California cabernet sauvignon to the club a while ago and said it’d do the grapes a disservice if it wasn’t shared with someone.”

Their order came not long after and tucked in. (Y/N)’s lasagnetta with meat sauce was scrumptious in her mouth, tasting the sweet tartness of the tomato sauce mix in with fresh basil and cheese between the layered bouncy pasta. The medium rare steak Kakucho ordered burst with flavor the moment he bit into it and followed it with a sip of wine. They didn’t talk much, but rather enjoyed each other’s company in comfortable silence. Just as they wrapped up their late lunch, Kakucho immediately placed down his credit card on the bill and handed it back to the server, not even looking at the total amount just as she reached for her wallet.

“It’s on me today.”

“I can’t do that,” she declined and proceeded to take out 3,000 yen from her wallet for her portion. “I’m the one dragging you around.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he disregarded and pushed her hand back gently by her wrist. “You’ve paid with your time.”

“But—”

“(Y/N)-san, please,” the scarred man softly requested. “I was told to take care of you, so I’m just following orders.”

“Are you saying that so I’d stop fighting over the bill with you?” she playfully challenged.

“Perhaps.”

She let out a light laugh. “You really are a strange one.” She beamed a gentle smile at him and put the money back in her wallet. “Then, if we have a chance to meet again, next meal’s on me.”

“If that happens.”

Making their way out of the mall, a few passerbyers saw Kakucho looking at his phone with (Y/N) not too far behind.

“What’s a beauty like her doin’ with him?” they overheard one guy murmur.

“As long as you have money, looks really don’t matter huh,” another sneered.

The Bonten admin glared in their direction from looking up at his device, sending an ice cold chill down their spine and hurriedly walked away. (Y/N) shot them a dirty look and approached him, linking her arm with his in one smooth movement, mildly startling him.

He has never let anyone within arms reach sneak up on him like she did. Not even the company of hostesses and whores he's grown accustomed to at their clubs were able to pull a fast one like that. How could he have been so careless to let his guard down?

“You’re fine as you are,” she flatly stated. “Forget what they think. They don’t know you.”

“You don’t know me either,” he pointed out with an underlying dismissive tone and slight wary glare.

“But I know what you’re not.”

“And that is?” he inquired with an arched brow.

“A judgmental asshole.”

“A lady shouldn’t say such crude words,” he walked a few steps ahead enough to have her unlink her arm with his as he called for the car to come around. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Some shoes and beauty things at Tokyu Plaza.”

Hopping into the car, the two got out barely a minute later in front of the mall.

“Was that really necessary? We could’ve walked down the block.”

“If I was a normal, upstanding citizen, yes,” the raven haired scarred man remarked.

It was then she was reminded she’s in the company with Bonten. What the hell was she doing, getting carried away like she was hanging out with an old friend?

Entering the shopping mall, she made her way into Isetan MiRROR and Jill Stuart for her war paint. Comparing her set to some of the hostesses, this was the bare minimum to upkeep her appearance for work; on the days outside of the club, she sported an almost all-natural face with lip balm, concealer and mascara. Stopping by another shop, she picked up some basics for skincare.

“Why do you need that much makeup?” he asked peering into her shopping basket.

“To make myself completely unrecognizable outside of work,” she simply replied and analyzed a set of false lashes before deciding to buy them. “Last thing I need are some salarymen stalkers on my back giving me marriage proposals and empty promises of happiness when they're already married with or without kids.”

Before heading back to the car, she asked Kakucho to wait for her outside while she ducked into a supermarket really quick. Wrapping up for the day, the car took them back to Shirokane. Just as they were about to get out, (Y/N) reached into one of the shopping bags and handed a can of coffee to the driver.

“It’s not much but… Thank you for driving us around today.”

Surprised by her sudden kindness, the chauffeur nodded his head at her and accepted the token of appreciation. Steadying her arms with the sudden explosion of bags, Kakucho walked up and took the ones on her right hand without a word. Trailing behind the tall man, they made their way back up without incident. (Y/N) set the grocery bags on the large marble counter while he set her other ones in her room.

“Is there anything else you need, (Y/N)-san?” the scarred man asked with his phone in hand.

She shook her head. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time today,” she replied with a small, sad smile. “I’m sure you have things to catch up on, yeah?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kakucho groaned, scrolling through his phone and suddenly looked up. “I’ll let you know if I find any good places for you.” Just as he made his way out, she called for him again and handed him a can of chilled black coffee.

“Dunno if this is to your liking…” she trailed off and shyly avoided eye contact with the man, lightly rolling her lips inward. “But thought it may come in handy if you have a late night tonight.”

A corner of the Bonten executive’s lip curved up with a softened look and silently accepted her token of gratitude before making his way out, leaving her in the vast, empty penthouse.

Is this what it means to have everything at your grasp? Loneliness?

Sighing to herself, she decided to do a little exploring around the area since she wasn’t hungry yet. Casually strolling, she found a closed ebony baby grand piano at the far corner by the windows. Opening the lid, she hit middle A like she did before and the note was in tune.

“I wonder if he plays too…”

Hovering both hands on top of the keys, she mindlessly started playing various classical pieces and played around with mashing up the melodies together. Stopping for a brief moment, she took her phone out of her pocket and searched for a song to play. Listening to it through the small speaker, her hands slowly played along with bits and pieces of the melody until she was able to piece everything together in one go. Feeling comfortable enough with the impromptu arrangement, she looked up the lyrics to sing along to it.

As she played, she wondered when was the last time she had leisure time like this?

When was the last time she took time for herself?

She may be 26, but her mind and soul felt much older.

Maybe accepting Sano Manjiro’s offer wouldn’t be bad; on one hand, there’s the possibility of her being at the man’s beck and call doing god knows what, but she’d have more time to herself to explore things she’s wanted to do. Living paycheck to paycheck and the pressures of daily life made her forget what really made her happy.

However, she’d be working directly under Bonten.

Did she want that hanging over her conscience?

“You’ve certainly made yourself at home,” she heard a new voice invade her thoughts and immediately reared her head up to see a familiar set of obsidian orbs. Her hands immediately stopped playing the piano.

“S-Sano-san…” she stammered and stood from the bench before bowing like she was a housemaid. “W-Welcome back.”

“Don’t stop on my accord.” Manjiro made his way over to the couch and plopped down with a soft grunt, with slow drooping eyes until they were fully closed. “It was sounding nice.”

Shyly nodding, she resumed playing but swapped out her singing with humming instead. At a glance, she noticed how drained of energy he was.

“You stopped singing,” the short white haired man noticed, his eyes still shut and sighed.

“I figured the last thing you wanted to hear was another voice after a long day of meetings,” she divulged while still softly playing, making him dryly chuckle.

“Shows that much?” He slowly opened his eyes and turned to her, propping his elbow up on the armrest and rested his chin in his hand with a small, amused grin. “Then, what else am I telling you?”

Stopping her play, (Y/N) made her way over near the couch and bent down to meet him at eye level.

“Other than needing sleep… I say food,” she assumed. “I can whip something up real quick, if you like. I’m sure you’re tired of conbini bentos.”

“Do as you please,” Manjiro turned and leaned back onto the couch, shutting his eyes again.

Assuming his kitchen had no cookware, she was smart enough to think ahead and bought a small frying pan, soup pot, cutting board and kitchen knife from the supermarket when she picked up groceries; she needed these for herself any way from when she finds her new apartment. A medley of crinkling plastic wrap, chopping and running water could be heard from the other end of the space, followed with a soft sizzle of the pan. An aroma of cooked onions, veggies, chicken and rice caught his olfactory senses, stirring him from his half slumber and triggering his salivating glands. He gingerly got off of the plush leather couch and dragged himself to the kitchen counter.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw Emma’s back facing him before blinking wildly to clear his sleep-ridden eyes. It was a mirage, after all, he bitterly laughed to himself and sulked.

Of course she wouldn’t be here; she's been gone for so long.

The sizzle sound cut off just as she plated the food, adding final touches to it before serving.

“It’s not much, but please enjoy.”

She set down a plate of omurice decorated with a swirl of ketchup in front of him with a makeshift flag from a ripped napkin and toothpick on top. His dark eyes widened with surprise and slowly looked up at the cook.

“I used to part-time at a family restaurant back in high school,” she explained. “The kids who ordered this loved the flag; they said it makes it taste better.”

Handing him a plastic spoon as hardware, he accepted it and used the edge of the utensil to cut into the omelet. The moment the food hit his tongue, it was as if his taste buds woke up with nostalgia and brought him back to the days where he was happier with Draken and the rest of Toman. Slowly chewing through the kernels of rice, tasting the tartness of ketchup meld with the chicken meat and vegetables, he swallowed and set the spoon down.

“Sano-san? Are you okay?”

He looked up at (Y/N) with a confused expression and lightly knitted brows.

“You’re… crying.”

His fingertips touched his sallow cheeks, feeling a damp sensation roll down his skin. Hastily wiping the sudden droplets with the back of his hand, he threw his attention back to the food and continued to eat it without a word. Not wanting to butt into his business, she quietly placed a glass of cold green tea to his left before going back to the stove to make her portion of dinner. Just as she finished, she turned and saw Manjiro get up from the chair with a completely cleaned off plate and empty glass.

“Thanks for the meal,” he muttered and retired to his bedroom.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, his static obsidian orbs stared out at the nightscape with dim, glittering lights trailing the span of the city he ruled fading into visual noise. For the first time in years, he felt the smoldering embers of his inner hearth glow with small signs of life thanks to that dish.

Taglist: @xngelsau

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